December 6 th,

is an important date,

for me.

I remembered only recently,

that it was,

my granny Grace’s birthday,

she passed long ago,

I was only ten.

My granny Grace,

was a woman born,

at the wrong time,

she was lovely,

and,

charming,

and,

quite a party girl,

in her day,

she didn’t make for the best,

of mom’s,

dad kind of got,

the short end of the stick,

there,

but,

I believe later,

in his life,

he appreciated her joie de vivre,

he inherited her charm,

and,

Scottish complexion,

he didn’t have her blue eyes,

but,

neither did he have,

my grandfather’s cold,

steel trap mind ones,

he had her charm,

he had her weaknesses,

they were both,

wonderful,

sometimes,

very hard to take.

I am most like my dad,

boisterous,

and,

indignant,

a wide streak,

of melancholy,

and,

grumpiness,

runs through us,

both,

and,

we got the gift of gab,

from granny.

People who know me,

and,

never knew my dad,

think I look like my mom,

in my middle age,

but,

really I don’t,

recently,

I showed,

my friend the anarchist,

a picture of my dad,

taken at an age,

very similar to mine.

He said,

that it was disconcerting,

how much we looked alike.

December 6 th is also,

and,

most,

for me anyway,

a day that will live,

in infamy,

in 1989,

at the University of Montreal’s school of Engineering,

La Polytechnique,

fourteen young women,

were murdered,

by a little little man,

weak,

evil,

crazed,

a misogynist.

My dad was a man,

of his generation,

a little bit,

macho,

in that way,

those men,

were,

and are,

but,

he was no misogynist.

I was raised to believe,

that women,

were every bit,

as good as men,

in some ways,

maybe better

(his opinion, not mine:-)

Not only did dad,

not think women were less,

he was no homophobe,

either,

when he learned,

I was gay,

he got it.

Least you think,

dad was perfect,

nope,

he sure,

was not,

but,

he left me with many lessons.

After the killing at Poly,

he said,

‘never say that creep’s name,

remember the girls’

that struck me,

and,

I have never said,

that lowly scum’s name,

and,

I never will,

I know it,

I won’t say it,

and,

maybe,

I hope,

someday,

I will forget it.

A great man,

passed,

yesterday,

Nelson Mandela,

he was a good,

brave and smart,

man.

Not a saint,

a flawed man,

as we are all,

real,

and flawed.

He lived his life,

by,

principle,

and,

a spine of steel,

Godspeed sir.

So December 6 TH,

is a day full of memories,

good,

and,

horrible,

A few dates like that,

in one’s life.

Remembering,

is important,

giving thanks,

for what we had,

and,

still do,

is as well.

Not drifting into cynicism,

and,

complacency,

being kind,

but,

staying tall,

in your principles,

and,

righteous indignation.

Today is about,

remembering,

Granny,

Dad,

the fourteen young women,

and,

Mandela.

Be well.

Later girls,

BB

 

 

 

I have a new job,

it is a new job,

like a very old job,

I once,

had,

when I was a student,

and,

twenty years young.

Funny,

how life brings,

you back to where,

you once were,

sometimes.

So this new job,

well,

I work,

doing,

telephone surveys,

I was pretty,

convincing,

when I was twenty,

now that I am,

ole and grey,

more so.

I guess,

the voice speaks,

of experience,

doesn’t sound,

like a bothersome kid.

I work with an,

odd assortment,

of people,

lots of kids,

I mean kids.

Pants worn,

halfway down,

their underwear,

kids.

It is a humbling experience,

to work with people,

so young,

to whom,

you are practically invisible,

humbling,

indeed.

And yet,

I have to say,

in spite,

of the amateurism

of the management,

and,

the outdated crappy tools,

I like it.

Strange.

The pay sucks,

not much respect,

or professionalism,

but,

I’m good at it,

I like it,

I like talking to people.

I don’t have to,

make myself,

crazy

and,

yet,

it is engaging,

and,

stimulating,

and,

I do it with,

ease and rigor,

if that makes sense

in a novel fodder,

sort of way.

There is no shame,

in earning an honest buck,

ever.

The same sort of people,

work,

in telephone surveys,

as did almost,

thirty years ago.

Kids,

people searching,

creative types,

who need to pay the bills,

and,

enjoy the flexibility,

this sort of job,

gives you,

add to that,

recent immigrants,

who need a job,

and,

you have,

an interesting,

ragtag bunch.

It ain’t boring folks,

and,

for that,

I am grateful.

Wanted to share that with you.

oh and something else,

I received an email,

this week,

it lifted my spirit,

which was pretty low,

sometimes,

you need,

something out of the blue,

from someone,

who isn’t a friend or family,

to help you get,

through the,

murky, grey,

times.

Dear …..;

It has been many months now since  I discovered that your wonderful book store was no longer there on Wellington St.

I was very shocked  and it felt like a very good friend  had disappeared.

 

I just found your business card from Encore Lire  and am  taking this opportunity to write to you, with the chance that this  e-mail is still valid.

 

It must have been a difficult decision for you to close the store  after all your years of developing such a unique collection of books in both English and French.

I think of you each time I pass by the store  and want to thank you for the countless introductions to new authors you offered  me  over the years.

 

I hope that you have continued to find a way to share your passion and knowledge of literature.  If your book store continues in another location, please let me know.

 

With my deep appreciation  and best wishes

Choked me up,

made me feel,

better,

made me feel,

as though,

I did not toil in obscurity,

and,

the demise of the bookstore,

was important to people.

Be well, hang in there,

all of you.

Later girls,

BB

 

I’ve said it before,

and,

I meant it,

but,

at this moment,

I believe I mean it,

most,

I need to step back,

from bookishbutch,

it has become stale,

and,

whiny,

and,

boring,

I have become,

stale and whiny and boring.

I don’t know how long,

it will last,

the break,

I don’t know.

I wish I did,

I also wish,

I had something to say,

but,

I don’t.

I won’t cheapen,

what I have done,

here,

more than I already have,

in the last few months.

My pilot light,

has gone out,

occasionally a match or lighter,

can reignite it,

but,

the pilot,

still needs.

to be,

repaired.

Maybe I can get a quick fix,

maybe,

I need an overhaul,

or,

perhaps,

I will have to,

brace myself,

for a rebuild,

new parts,

tools,

drilling,

welding.

Could be a few days,

a few weeks,

a few months,

I may even decide,

to get a new stove.

Thanks for being around,

through the borringness,

and,

I promise,

I’ll let you all,

know.

Be well,

all of you.

Later girls,

BB

Hey girls,

got a new job,

pay sucks,

but,

it comes with,

the flexibility,

I need,

give and take,

you know

All is well,

I won’t be around for a few days,

be back next week,

with a review of a strange book,

The Black Biker,

and,

some more on ,

Joseph Mitchell’s,

Up At The Old Hotel.

I’ve read Joe Gould’s Secret,

and,

it is an astounding,

piece of non fiction,

truly,

a masterpiece,

if you haven’t read it,

do,

worth your while.

More soon.

Later girls,

BB

 

It’s the little things,

that make me happy,

and/or,

ape shit,

depends on the day,

I guess.

Some days,

a good,

cup of coffee,

a blue sky,

are enough,

to lift me up,

allow me to soar,

even.

Time to read,

laugh,

pet the cat,

these things,

make me happy,

and,

then,

some,

silly,

inconsequential,

event,

remark,

the premature death of my cordless mouse, the state of municipal politics, a dumb question, whatever

and,

I am,

in deep funk,

sometimes,

tethering on the irrational,

even rage.

I don’t know,

if I always was,

like this,

or,

if it’s a result,

of,

pre-menopause,

I don’t know.

I do know,

that I am much,

more conscious of it,

then ever before.

Is that a result,

of prolonged,

navel gazing?

a by product,

of nothing much,

to do?

maybe,

don’t know.

Funny,

I think,

the better,

I get to know,

myself,

the less I know.

I know, I know,

clear as mud

I’m kind of lost,

right now.

aimless,

narrowed down,

what I don’t want,

but,

having trouble,

articulating,

what I do want,

is that a new,

set of circumstances,

or has it always been?

Do any of us,

ever know what we want?

or,

do we get.

caught up in ,

something,

dragged into,

something,

happen upon,

something,

and,

that,

something,

brings us along,

the road,

’til the next,

something.

Or,

do we stay with things,

because of obligation,

or fear,

or habit,

or laziness,

I think I may be,

lazy,

easily,

bored,

or,

I am delusional,

and,

think,

I get bored,

and,

in reality,

I’m just,

scared,

and,

want to hide out.

I don’t know,

but,

this,

I do,

know,

the minutia and ephemera,

of life,

isn’t important,

the petty annoyances,

the slights,

the small spills,

but,

the little things,

liking petting the cat,

hugging your mom,

having dinner with your friends,

taking time to be kind,

with strangers,

stopping,

looking around,

playing cards with the kids,

kissing your girl,

with passion,

with meaning,

with softness,

and,

joy,

these are small things,

too,

but,

these are the things,

you remember,

that make life,

worth living.

For me,

I guess,

what I am seeing,

and,

in a meandering and convoluted,

way,

trying to convey,

it’s about the right,

little things.

Later girls,

BB

 

 

 

Today is November 11 Th,

Remembrance Day,

in Canada,

Veteran’s Day,

in the U.S.

a day to remember,

the carnage and horror,

that is war.

Many of us are blessed,

to have not lived in a war torn country,

and,

those of us,

who are old enough,

to have had grandfathers serve,

in WW II are also old enough,

to have seen them pass,

my grandfathers didn’t serve,

in the war,

they were both married,

with children,

and,

my mom’s dad was kind of,

deaf,

small blessings.

You would think,

after all the carnage,

and,

senseless deaths,

because of the two World Wars,

that the world would,

have learned,

alas,

it has not

(:

Let us,

today,

remember the fallen,

soldiers,

civilians,

and,

the innocence of the world.

Let us work, hope and pray,

for a world of peace,

where Remembrance Day,

becomes about something,

that no longer exists.

let us dream,

of world peace.

Later girls,

BB

Good morning you all,

well,

the call center,

banking experiment,

was a flop,

good organisation,

nice people,

just not a good fit,

learning curve was too high,

can’t do that kind of work,

anymore,

don’t like it,

takes too much,

out of me.

I guess,

I have worked for myself,

too long,

can’t go back.

I tried,

really hard,

more than,

the ole college try,

wasn’t meant to be,

NEXT!

I have a few ideas.

Initially I said I didn’t want to back,

the corporate structure,

but

that seemed to be all there was,

live and learn,

right?

Dee had warned me,

and,

I sort of knew,

but,

sometimes,

you lie to yourself,

and,

think maybe it’s the right thing,

even though you know,

in your heart,

in your guts,

in your bowels,

I was nauseous and gassy,

for almost,

four weeks,

no joke,

I feel better,

now.

Back to the old drawing board.

Be well.

Later girls,

BB

My new job,

has a dress code,

buisness casual,

a bit of a stretch for me.

You see,

for years,

all I wore to work,

was jeans,

old shirts and sweaters,

attire befitting an eccentric bookseller

Now,

I work for a very respectable and reputable,

financial institution,

so,

no jeans,

no slogans or big logos,

that I don’t mind,

but,

the,

no jeans,

is tough.

I think I have found a compromise,

jean cut khakis and cords,

you can dress ‘em up,

or dress ‘em down,

a few ladies ‘dress’ shirts,

that my ex gave me after,

her big weight loss,

and,

some v-neck sweaters,

I should be good.

Once I am on my regular shift,

which is evenings,

I should be able to be,

more casual,

than buisness,

which suits me just fine.

I am ,

urban butch,

a little bit,

preppy butch,

but,

not tie butch,

or blazer butch,

I just can’t,

maybe I could.

professorial,

tweed,

corduroy,

button down,

I quite like those

but, girlie suits,

never.

I wonder how you girls,

and,

guys,

handle this.

Let me know.

Be well

Later girls,

BB

 

Hello you all

I apologize for my recent,

absence.

Been crazy busy, stressed out,

and,

frankly,

exhausted.

Started the training for my,

new job,

last week,

day after Thanksgiving.

I will be working part time,

and,

evenings,

but,

the training is full time,

and,

days,

I’ve been getting up at five,

in order to be,

sharp by,

eight.

I’m not a morning person,

so it’s tough,

and,

I haven’t worked in this kind,

of setting for ten years,

and,

I haven’t worked in six months,

so,

I tell ya,

my ass is draggin’

But, it’s good,

I am working in a very positive,

and,

dynamic atmosphere,

these people are the real deal,

and,

honestly,

I think,

I’m gonna like it a lot,

if it doesn’t kill me,

first

just kiddin’

Just wanted to drop in,

and,

let you guys know,

what’s up.

I’ll write a little,

this weekend.

I’m thinking,

elements of butch style,

business casual version.

“Talk” to you soon,

be well.

Later girls,

BB