61 & still kickin'
a gratitude list w/ music thrown in
Image description: I am standing in front of Mark Rothko’s painting No. 16. It is a white square in orange. I am wearing a silk green and pink scarf, a purple top and green pants, and black shoes. The floor is shiny wooden and possibly pine. Photo by Charles Earl on Tuesday, October 8, 2024.
Today is my 61st birthday.
I am grateful to be alive. Life has been tumultuous at times, and the world is an absolute shitebox, yet I feel grateful for every breath, every moment, every bite of food, for my darling husband, Charles, for every living thing. I still remember how disoriented and frightened I felt when in hospital during my health crisis. I was having ICU psychosis. The delusions felt real to me. When they ended, I felt such a great relief. I love life. I love Charles and my friends and community. We are all in this together.
Image description: a three-ish year old me in a bathing suit standing in the grass in front of an old car and a tent.
I am grateful for my stubborn insistence that whimsy, exploration and connection with kindred misfits are what I need to drive my creative work. A little voice inside will sometimes tell me that I am supposed to be focusing on things that make money, and yeah, but not if they don’t gibe with these things, WCE, the big three. And love. I take on projects and activities with my whole heart. If I can’t devote myself fully to something, I have to say no. It’s a lesson I always have to learn. There simply is no time to waste on bullshit.
Image: description: the words “exploration” (in green), “whimsy” (in blue) and “connection” (in pink) in a circle around my name, Amanda Earl (in black). This has become my logo, by the way.
I am grateful for my years of debauchery and wild impulsive sex with so many lovers I lost count years ago, but I remember the joy of it, the sheer pleasure and feeling of taboo, of exploration and fun, and connection. I shared pics, I had wild cyber sex adventures and I met strangers in cafes, in the woods, near Parliament Hill, in elevators, in stairwells. I combined my imagination with my libido and it was a powerful combo. I am grateful to have explored all manner of sticky, sexy, hilarious, fun, ecstatic, consensual kink. I am grateful that I have been a shameless and unapologetic pleasure slut, a sub in the bedroom, a control freak everywhere else for the last three decades, and that this openness about sex has helped others to feel that they are not alone. I may be in my platonic-with- everyone-except-Charles-and-myself years, but I regret nothing about that side of me. I was never good at flirting. If I wanted someone who was either non-monogamous or not in a monogamous situation, I let them know. I still don't understand why sexual intimacy is treated as a precious commodit. For me it is just another form of connection and intimacy. Ive respected people's need for monogamy but ive always been confused as to why sex can't be a form of comfort, or even why it isn't ok just to go to bed to cuddle and find solace together with two or more people who need it. I adore the idea of the puppy pile.
From 2004 to 2014, I was a member of the amazing writing group, Erotica Readers and Writers Association. I learned how to write, edit and publish my writing through this group, and I will be forever grateful to its organizers and members, some of whom are still friends today. L, is a dear friend and fellow writer. I cherish all our conversations about writing, life and music in cafes over the last two decades.
I have all 3 editions of the Ethical Slut, and a huge library of kink reference books on Japanese rope bondage, Dominance and submission, fetishes. Not to mention a wonderful library of erotic texts, many of them written by me! I am a supporter and celebrator of sex workers. They deserve respect, fair wages and a safe environment. Support sex workers and help ensure a safer work environment: https://sswork.org/about-us
I am grateful for my unlimited imagination. All the creative stuff I have done and am still doing. All of those who have supported my creativity through grants, readings, publications, help with my work, SHARING their own brave and daring experiments in literature and art, and pep talks. Having an imagination has rescued me my entire life, when things have seemed scary or impossible or stupid and mean. I have found refuge in being able to dream, to have hope. One day I will write a gratitude post specifically for all the publishers who’ve dared to publish my weird work. Thank you!
I am grateful that I figured out in my late 50s that I am not straight, that I am queer. That i am attracted to people, not based on their gender, but based on the light in their eyes, a sense of mutual excitement about creativity, their fellow misfit nature, their unwillingness to accept societal conventions as the only way to live, their rebellion, their values, their love of books, music, film, art, walking in the dark night, sitting in cafes, their social justice beliefs, their love of good food, cardigans, colours, moonlight, soft kitties, puns, palindromes, good wine, scotch, starlight, wonder.
I am grateful that I am not alone in my weirdness. I am increasingly finding fellow misfits. I am grateful that Charles is around these days during the times that I used to feel very alone. I am grateful for moments of solitude and an ability to be alone when I need to be, but I am extremely grateful that I seldom have to be. I am with the stars, the sun, the trees, the flowers, the sky, and you. Keep on, keeping on.
Image description: me at about 8 or so on a beach with a striped shirt, red pants and long hair.
I am grateful for the discipline that causes me to do a 75-minute thrice weekly fitness routine and walks every day in order to maintain good mental and physical health. I am grateful for the sheer joy of movement, the speed at which I can walk to cafes is astonishing :) I am grateful for this sexy, shapely body with its scars from three abdominal surgeries and all my imperfections. I am grateful to be 61.
I am grateful to have known Ron Saper. We were a couple for 18 years and dear friends for 42 years. I still grieve his death, and greatly feel his absence, but I feel his presence too. We had many beautiful memories. Here’s one of his and my favourite songs. We played it a lot when we were together, and were big fans of Lynn Miles. We discussed it via FB messenger a month before he died. He quoted the lyrics: “Spirits in the halls and ghost behind the walls.” He’s still here.
Image description: Ron on a blue motorcycle in front of trees.
I’m grateful for M, a dear friend, an artist who loves film and has similar quirky aesthetics to ours. She introduced us to the great movie, Les 5 Diables, which is one of the many films she’s recommended. I am also grateful to her for sending little handmade brilliant and rebellious booklets. I have many wonderful friends. I love them. “Love,” to quote myself ha! from Saint Ursula’s Commonplace Book, A Book of Saints, is the reason for my actions and my thoughts.”
I am grateful to have been able to adapt to whatever life has thrown at me so far, whether it was having to leave parents in my late teens, getting enough money together, working in factories, adapting to health struggles and financial struggles in my 40s, 50s and 60s and doing all of this with Charles. I hate the expression that something isn’t for the faint of heart because I don’t believe anyone is faint of heart, but I do feel that ageing requires a certain amount of stamina, resilience and optimism, even when I am not always that optimistic. I have an ability to endure and to find joy.
I’m grateful for rabbit holes and the luxury of having time to follow them and of having a husband who also adores rabbit holes. Sometimes we declare a day “Rabbit Hole Day,” and we drop everything we had planned and allow ourselves to just follow the strange and serendipitous things that come up. This is part of my need for exploration. Curioser and curioser. I was a huge fan of the Alice stories as a child: Alice Through the Looking Glass and Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. I couldn’t recite all of Jabberwocky, but I loved it just the same. I love the fun of inventing words and pronouncing them aloud.
I am grateful for my rebellious nature. My willingness and ability to push against the patriarchy. I get told off and scolded and shamed by dudes on a regular basis, but fuck ‘em. Fuck the patriarchy, fuck racists and homophobes and transphobes and fatphobes and ableists. I am grateful for all who push back against the patriarchy. I am grateful to Joakim Norling of Timglaset Editions, and all the contributors and supporters of Judith: Women Making Visual Poetry. To this day that book is one of the most important achievements of my life. And it wasn’t done alone, but with a whole host of people, a community of visual poets, small presses, and supporters.
I am grateful for my ability to combine unlike things in weird ways, especially when it concerns my writing. I am grateful for the Lazarus Corporation’s Remix Desk, which inspired me to make guided remixes, such as The Before and the Seasons, excerpts from Welcome to Upper Zygonia. I am very grateful to the small presses who are willing to put up with and support my wild combinations. And thank you to Katy Wimhurst for her enthusiasm and support. Here’s a lovely interview she did with me on 3 a.m. Magazine.
I am grateful for my whitening hair. When I was young I had mousey brown hair, then in my 40s, I died it jet black. The jet black hair suited me, but the white hair is part of my entrance into my crone years. I’m excited about becoming a crone. To live long enough to have some wisdom peppered with whimsy.
Image description: I am sipping a drink. My hair is black. I wear a red blouse, open at the collar. There’s a lime in the glass. Photo by Charles Earl, 2008.
I am grateful for the joyous days Charles and I have had since his layoff. When he was laid off, I was out of my mind with anxiety and feelings of insecurity. We have managed to reduce our costs greatly by eating whole foods, spending much of our time finding the best deals for groceries and avoiding non-essential expenses. For that, we have this great amount of unexpected time together. It’s a delight. Here’s an example of a perfect day. I am grateful to Theresa Smalec, not only for publishing my odd little memoir-ish essays on finding joy in difficult times in the Typescript, but also for paying me.
I am grateful for the apartment Charles and I have lived in together for 21 years. It is between Centretown West and Chinatown in Ottawa. It is a 2-bedroom apartment on the 19th floor. The light is beautiful, in the autumn especially. I love watching the clouds and the pigeons which flock in front of our balcony. And the storms! I love watching the way the sky fills with rain in the distance, the sudden bolts of lightning. We have spent many an afternoon on the balcony, listening to music, eating Charles amazing chicken wings and drinking cans of cheap beer.
Thanks to rent control, it continues to be affordable and even includes utilities. It is set up exactly the way we like it. We share an office. It is an apartment full of books. It has a southern exposure and our indoor plants, Rosey, Jade, Sylvia and the radish love it. It is within walking distance to all our favourite cafes, near transit and near wonderful inexpensive Asian stores.
Image description: a bolt of lighting as viewed from our balcony.
I am grateful that I have family in Charles and dear friends. I don’t have much of a connection with blood family. I was fortunate to be able to escape childhood trauma in my early 20s; although its effects continue to reverberate. I have found a community of kindred creative misfits who celebrate and try to cope with whatever life throws at us and sometimes we even manage to get together via Zoom or in person, at readings, in cafes, over lunch, on walks, via mail and e-mail, messages. I am grateful too that I am making new friends at this time in my life. Darling creatives who are generous with their time and their creativity. Creativity shared is much more interesting to me than creativity hoarded.
I am grateful for all those who are no longer with us who have had a great effect on my life, the ghosts who continue to play guitar in our living room, or walk with me in the sunlight. . I am driven by Lorca's Duende, which acknowledges the presence of death at all times and creates with flamboyance, passion and risk. If I had the money for another tattoo, it would be the word “duende,” which literally means goblin in English.
I am grateful for change. I don’t always like change, but every time I have made a major change, it has led to enrichment and a deeper understanding of my self, and growth. I left home at the end of my teens. That was scary as fuck, but I did it. Then I left my first husband in my mid 30s, and I felt terrible about doing so, but it was necessary. I married Charles and we have had a glorious life together. I have had to adapt after a near-death health crisis and then diabetes. Now due to Charles’ lay-off we are learning to lead a life that isn’t as focused on career and making money, cherishing our time together and time with dear friends.
I am grateful for developing a love for poetry in my mid-thirties. It saved my life. I was depressed and feeling trapped by my life. I looked up via whatever version of a search engine was around at that time (Ask Jeeves?) and typed in the words “poetry as solace.” I don’t know what kind of whack-a-doo Jeeves was at the helm when I put my query in, but my query yielded Mary Oliver, Gwendolyn MacEwen, Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton. Not really solace per se, except perhaps for Oliver, but it was. Because by reading their poems, I learned I had been writing poetry all my life. I hadn’t realized. This gave me impetus to start sharing my work, to take a creative writing poetry workshop at the University of Ottawa and to get involved in Ottawa’s literary community. I am grateful for Bywords.ca, which for over twenty years has been such a great opportunity to engage with Ottawa’s literary community, to publish both emerging and established poets, and to work with amazing volunteers who help us put the magazine out every month!
I am grateful for my unconventional little teenage soul who wore my sister’s platform shoes and black velvet pants with red stars on the them in Grade 7, who pretended to be a spy, who started a band named “Fragile” with a friend, and neither of us played an instrument. I am grateful that this spirit is still with me. I am grateful for all the young folks who are marching to the beat of their own drummer. I see you. I recognize you. I am with you. If you haven’t seen the film, Gasoline Rainbow yet and you relate to the stuff I wrote in this bit, do it. Here is a playlist i made for my teen self.
I am grateful for my ability to be honest about my life, for my integrity. I know this is a privilege, but since my health crisis especially, I just don’t waste time on bullshit. I am grateful for my ability to recognize my own bullshit and call myself on it. I like to think the 17-year-old girl at the end of high school in 1981-82 would have been pleased with who I’ve become. I wish I could tell her everything would be alright. That she should play more, risk more, make art, find her community.
I am grateful that I have had so much love in my life. That I have been well-loved. I feel cherished. Ron was my first love and we navigated the perilous bridge that crosses youth into adulthood together. Darling readers, many of you have already heard how we met in a self-serve gas station I was working in on a Saturday night when he was 18 and I had just turned 19. I almost can’t imagine myself back then: so young and afraid of life. Ron was fearless. At the end of his life, he still seemed fearless. He wasn’t afraid of death, he just wanted to make sure those he loved were prepared. I thought I was, but I guess I wasn’t. I still grieve, but I also celebrate. I remember the passion and the love, and the longlasting friendship. I am grateful that we grew up together.
I am grateful for my raven tattoo, which I got last year to mark my 60th birthday. i didn’t realize until I got the tattoo that what makes it special for me is that it is carved into my skin, it is not on the surface. It doesn’t matter if it fades, it will always be there. Part of my gratitude is to the raven is to the Carleton University Senior Ravens, a fitness program for people over 50, and its leader, Tom Sherwood, a former United Church minister, a Carleton U professor and former chaplain at Carleton, and a fine writer. Through that program and his leadership and friendship, I grew fitter and stronger and had a great time in the process. Now I have a fitness regime I can rely on to help me with my physical and mental health as I move through my 60s and hopefully beyond. Ravens are intelligent and communicative birds. They are survivors.
I am grateful for all my experiments with paint, colour, magic markers, doodles and whimsy. I am grateful that I don’t really care about perfection in my art. I care mostly about sharing it. I make a ton of mistakes, and if I have to rely on traditional means of sharing it, I admit that not a lot of it would get out there. I like to think that kindreds find me, as I find them. I did a whole project a number of years ago that combined these wild and wonky doodles with my love of colour and community and gave out books of whimsy to friends. It was so much fun. Sometimes I think if I could just spend all my time with Charles and friends making art and wandering around drinking coffee, I’d be at my happiest. Who will pay me for this?
Image description: a table of whimsical objects.
I am grateful my eczema seems to be doing better, almost healed after 10 weeks of phototherapy at the Civic Hospital last spring. I loved those times with Charles. We took the bus together, he often went on to Food Basics on the same fare, then we met up after at Ten Toes for coffee. Three times a week. I love ritual. I suppose it might not seem like whimsy and ritual can go together. I think they can.
I am grateful for my flower quests which begin in the spring with the first crocus and don’t really stop until snow falls. I love wandering my downtown neighbourhood, which is greener and more blossomy than the burbs I used to live in. I am grateful for community gardens and green space and trees, especially trees.
Image description: purple crocuses coming out of the new green grassy ground.
I am grateful for my wild, wandering ways. In 2022-23, I walked from home to Carleton for my fitness class and back, a total of about 8 kms. I love it. I have a chapbook coming out from Florida’s Red Mare (run by dear friend Su Zi) called This Monster, Anxiety, at the end of this year, all being well, that remixes an audio narrative of my trips. Read more about Red Mare’s origin story on the wonderful online magazine, Periodicities, run by dear friend rob mclennan.
I enjoyed this ritual of walking south on Bronson, over the bridge and onto campus. It made me feel strong. I passed my favourite Russian olive tree, an old cottonwood and a willow laurel. There’s something about walking, about being able to walk for long stretches that make me feel independent. That satisfies a wild urge in me. The wild urges in me. I am so wild. I dreamed I was turning into a bird. “I’m taking a chance on the wind…”
Turning Crow for Billie on a ledge, stark black against fresh snow returning in the blue hours once upon a time in November on her deathbed she watched as crows gathered the pain is no longer life threatening but this ageing body aches more than it doesn’t in her dreams she turns crow a slick backed blue black winged bird, restlessness transformed by flight after a night of rowing the air she leaves the murder to its roosting shakes the cold from her wings untucks elbows, uncurls claws into hands sweeps feathers off the bedsheets turns night’s liquid black into bones
29 . I am grateful for winter early mornings when snow glistens with the sun rise. Being able to bundle up all safe and warm and enjoy the squeak of my boots over the snow, as the only sound. I am grateful for the silence, and the cold blue night, and the warmth afterwards, a hot mug of coffee at a beloved cafe, good company, an xmas turkey dinner, candles, a warming dram of Scotch. And I’m grateful for the poetry of Tom Waits. Here is my fav song of his (thanks to my dear friend, L., who gave me his entire collection).
I am grateful for the energy I have in the mornings and my ability to take naps in the afternoons. My brain wakes up about 4 or 5 in the morning and I swear I’m in a different time zone. I’d love to go out and meet someone early for coffee, but there’s no place here open at that time. I am restless in the mornings, often reading or writing between 4 to 7 am until it’s time to get moving. Then between about noon to 2pm I am completely toast. I can do nothing. Sometimes that goes into about 5pm. I will often sleep again after dinner for an hour or so too, and still be able to go to bed around 10 or 11pm.I am grateful to be a champion sleeper. The only time I have trouble sleeping is when I am worried about something I cannot control. I am grateful that Charles is a morning person too.
I am grateful I took guitar lessons in my 30s. I wasn’t particularly good. I didn’t practice. Then eczema meant I couldn’t keep it up, but I loved it. I love the guitar. I still have my acoustic and an electric Ron got for me, plus a sound effects box. I have written a lot of songs on my guitar. Ron introduced me to the music of Ron Sexsmith back in the late 80s/early 90s and Sexsmith has been one of my favourite singer-songwriters. He’s great on the guitar too. For my 50th birthday, when he came to Ottawa, I asked for this song, which is actually a Leonard Cohen song, but it is done so beautifully here. “I greet you from the other side, of sorrow and despair, with a love so vast and shattered, it will reach you everywhere.” Yes! I am working on recording a video of a chairs of ottawa song with a new friend, B., who is already becoming a dear friend. We spent my birthday eve making a recording with dear Charles’ help and it was so much fun!
I am grateful that although I am a great worrier, I can find peace somehow. I find peace by walking, through acts of creation and community, through nurturing and supporting the creative work of others, through my time with Charles. The world is a shitebox and not very peaceful. But it’s necessary to find some way to cope. Being here also helps me cope. You help me cope, fellow Substack writers. I am grateful for you, especially
, , & so many more!I’m grateful that I haven’t had to go to ER this year (& superstitious about saying so). My lack of colon often leads to visits to ER to deal with bowel obstructions. Sometimes I get admitted to the 7th floor of the Ottawa General when the obstruction doesn’t clear on its own. Ah the fun of the nasogastric tube! Sometimes the obstruction clears because the dye for the CT scan acts as a laxative. Or the stuff they use for the small bowel challenge, another horrid bitter elixir, also clears it. That happened the 2nd time I was in ER last year. So far this year, no obstructions. I’m grateful for my well behaving bowels! I’m writing a collection of essays on all of this, my health crisis, healthcare experiences etc, a kind of memoir called “Gutless Wonder.” Stay tuned!
I am grateful to know and be friends with those who are dealing with health issues, and living with disabilities. I wish the world was a place that celebrated and properly cared for all, not just able-bodied heterosexual cis white men. I am grateful that my world includes neurodivergent, queer, crip folk. Some of the most interesting, wildest, unhemmed art comes from crip folk. And while I’m at it, let me tell you about a new anthology a dear friend,
of mine is one of the editors of. Yes, my grammar sucked there. So bad. Eff-able will be a spicy antho of queer crip poetry. Starting October 17, they are accepting submissions and they pay! We’re all broken in one way another: by capitalism, by patriarchy, by social injustice. I celebrate the broken, strongest, funniest, most heartful folk I know.I am grateful for music. So much great music. I used to spend $30 a month on music. I bought it from Bandcamp primarily, but also dipped into Itunes. We have a huge collection of music. I listen to it on my headphones, Hypurply, when I take long walks alone. We listen to it in the office when we do stuff that doesn’t require too much concentration. In the tub during a bath. Doing the dishes and tidying up. I make a lot of playlists, for all kinds of reasons. Even for this celebration. Here’s my Spotify profile where you can find all my quirky, themed playlists. As a kid, when I lived in Mississauga, I would take the Mississauga Chance-It bus, then the subway to go to Sam the Record Man where I would buy one 45 single every week. It was a luxury.
I am grateful for love. Every day. I remember I was so excited when I read that Songs in the Key of Life by Stevie Wonder was coming out, a double album! I pre-ordered it from Sam, the Record Man on Yonge Street. I was 12 or 13. I loved so many songs on that album. Especially this one…
I am grateful for my love of French and the years I spent learning it. Even though I no longer work as a translator and loathed the job, I love the language in all its wonderful variations. I always used to say I would never be fully bilingual until I could have full immersion: a lover who spoke only French. Readers, alas that never happened. But I continue to love French films, especially Le Retour de Martin Guerre, Les Glaneurs et la Glaneuse, Sans Toit, Ni Loi (Agnès Varda should have her own gratitude post on here), Germinal (I also loved the novel by Zola, which I studied in university), Cocteau’s Orpheus trilogy which appears in my first poetry book, Kiki. The Quebec film trilogy from Denys Arcand: The Decline of the American Empire (1986), Jesus of Montreal (1989), and The Barbarian Invasions (2003). Magnifique! I used to dream of being a literary translator from French into English. That also never happened, but I have done some wild adaptations of Baudelaire and Rimbaud. I wish I had studied women French writers. The only one we studied in my French program at U of Toronto and U of Waterloo was Marguerite Duras!
I am grateful I have synaesthesia, specifically grapheme synaesthesia. I see colour for letters of the alphabet, numbers, people’s names, months of the year, week days, and pain types. I have always had this, but I didn’t know it was anything unusual for the longest time. Then in university I found out about writers who had it, and learned it was a condition. It is the reason for my lifelong love affair with colour. I have amassed a small collection of books on colour. A dear friend, E, gave me a copy of Alexander Theroux’s amazing essay collection, The Primary Colours back when I was in hospital in 2009, during my health crisis, and it was such a perfect and lovely gift. It began my collection of books on colours, dyes, and paints. Colour is an important element in my visual poetry.
Image description: the word “colour” in black on an orange background with a yellow square and digital paint curls and streaks in purple, blue, brown.
I am grateful for a recentday when I walked over to Ten Toes Coffee and Laudromat at Somerset and Rochester, Hypurply, my headphones in my ears, listening to dear friend, Christine McNair’s playlist for her new book, Toxemia. Then had coffee with her at Ten Toes. We had a most glorious chat. I love fellow writers Christine McNair and Sandra Ridley like sisters. I am grateful for them. So very grateful, especially for all the support they gave me and Charles during my health crisis, but even after. We each have our challenges and joys in life, but we will always be friends, even when we can’t see one another often. Once we went to Christine’s cottage where we and some other friends had a blissful time celebrating Christine’s birthday. I love their writing and how all 3 of us focus on long forms and series.
I am grateful for my polyamorous nature and a husband who has the same orientation so that we are able to celebrate love in all its various and myriad articulations. Love is not something that is finite to be hoarded; it is infinite. In my experience, the more I let myself love and be loved, the more love I receive in return.
I am grateful for the small press community, from the wonderful local presses to publishers in UK, USA, Australia, India, Europe…which have dedicated people usually volunteering their time and money to share good work they believe should be published. I am grateful that Charles has amazing design skills and has made it possible for us to run our own small presses. There is something about chapbooks: they resist capitalism and are independent creations that can be done outside of the patriarchal machine of literary convention. I am especially grateful to rob mclennan of above/ground press, who has published 10 of my chapbooks. ten! huzzah! I also recognize that not everyone can give their time freely and I fight every day to try to ensure that artists and cultural workers are paid for their labour. It is not acceptable that small press folk have to do everything for free and it tends to create a homogenous white culture that doesn’t properly recognize or support marginalized voices. This is a problem I am concerned with all the time.
I am grateful that thanks to my near-death health experience, I know how precious life is. I am learning to live in the moment, to cherish the moment. I always cry at my first sight of spring flowers: the crocus, the magnolia tree beginning to bloom. I savour and celebrate all the moments. I remember in hospital when I was first coming round on the ward, after apparently having been in ICU for ten days. I was really confused. But the pain let me know that I was alive. And maybe this sounds strange, but I was so fucking grateful to be alive. And I still am. For all the moments. I had a delusion in hospital where I was still alive but everyone thought I was dead so they ignored me. It felt like oblivion to me. And it scared the fuck out of me. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be consigned to oblivion. I want to dance.
I am grateful for the Riverbed Reading Series, run by dear friends Ellen Chang-Richardson and nina jane drystek. The series has hybrid events on Zoom and in-person, out of Club Saw, an accessible space. The Ottawa International Writers Festival also always holds its events in accessible space, and for that I am grateful. I love the Writers Festival and it deserves its own gratitude post! See further down!
I have tried to get the City of Ottawa to provide free space to literary event organizers. There are many institutional spaces in Ottawa that are accessible, but the cost is prohibitive. I simply wish I had more time and energy to devote to the cause of accessibility because it is one of the most important issues in the literary community (and everything else) today. Performers and audience members have the right to be in accessible spaces. There should be absolutely no events in inaccessible spaces. Ever. I am continuing to work via Bywords.ca on Access Word Ottawa, a guide to accessible literary, spoken word, storytelling and nonfiction spaces, but it’s not easy. Most pubs and cafes have stairs and narrow, tiny bathrooms. Stages don’t have ramps. It’s frustrating and my heart breaks over this, but I am still hoping to make a difference and to effect change.
I am grateful to the Ottawa International Writers Festival, for its many great events, hosting writers from around the world. It has been my tuition as a writer, with readings and interview sessions with authors. Of particular excitement to me is when OIWF hosts events by queer writers. I had the pleasure of hosting an event with Amber Dawn, Joshua Whitehead and Casey Plett in 2018 and we had the greatest time. They remain some of my fav writers. I made a playlist of the music that featured in their books. You can listen to it here.
I am grateful to know and love fellow cultural workers, artists and writers who are dear friends. Their work questions the status quo, challenges convention and traditional ways of thinking. I like to count myself as one of them, and I hope I am.
I am grateful for you. Whether you are a dear friend, an acquaintance, a secret admirer, a passing stranger. I am fortunate to have so many dear friends, whether they live here in Ottawa or elsewhere. I love to celebrate with you whether it’s a small telephone conversation or time on Zoom, attending a reading together, after parties at pubs, lunch at a cafe, sitting beneath a bench in the park. I am grateful to dear friend, M-A for our monthly coffee chats. It feels like we are seated on the teetering edge of the apocalypse. let’s keep dancing.
I am grateful for the National Gallery of Canada, especially all the amazing Indigenous art that has finally, finally been centered. For years Charles and I had memberships. We went on his birthday or mine and then had lunch in the nearby pub. I used to sometimes just stop by to visit a few of my favourite paintings: the Tangled Garden and Rothko’s No. 16. There are numerous galleries in Ottawa, but the NGC has always been the one that I have loved.
I am grateful for my mellifluous voice. I love to read my writing in front of an audience, partly because I love the way my voice sounds. I practice and take special care to give the audience a reading that will captivate them. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time. I love to sing. I adore singing. I sing a lot in my daily life. For years I was in the choir from grade school to second year university. There’s something beautiful about harmonizing.
I am grateful for hope. Sometimes it’s hard to hope. The world is a shitebox. This is a refrain of mine, you read here a lot and hear me say. All these power/ego-driven politicians are ruining things for us all. But amidst all of that, I have a tiny sliver of hope that things can change. Leonard Cohen said it best: there’s a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in. On the cusp of the US election, I dearly hope that is true.
I am grateful to all the creative spaces which host limitless creativity, especially open mics. I learned to love local music through the Cafe Nostalgica Thursday night open mic hosted by Trevor Tchir and Kristy McKay back in the early aughts. Musicians such as Marie-Josee Houle, Melissa Laveaux, the band members of the Soul Jazz Orchestra and poets such as Jessica Ruano, Steve Sauve came to that open mic. Now the Art House Open Mic has filled that void. It’s an amazing community of supportive established and emerging artists, musicians, writers. I am happy to be one of them. I hope you come join us some Monday. You have to sign up ahead of time, or sometime there’s a few spots if you show up around 6pm to sign up.
I am grateful to live in the city, close to cafes, great inexpensive stores and a thriving arts community. I love to walk. I can walk everywhere. I dream of doing a long walk (not a hike) but it would need to be in urban spaces. I love the forest but I need my city spaces. That’s where I feel alive. In the early mornings with traffic on Bronson, navigating the downtown one way streets and sharing the paths with cyclists, fellow pedestrians. I once wrote a proposal to do an Ottawa Tour of Whimsy. It would stop at various whimsical sites in Little Italy, Centretown, and Lowertown. There’s a lot of whimsy here. Including my #chairsofOttawa series on Instagram, which is something I started to photograph all the abandoned chairs because they have a story. And it intrigues me. Terri Witek wrote a lovely piece about #chairsofOttawa in Periodicities! It was also part of Report from the Earl Society, lovingly published by above/ground press. I was so thrilled that folks contributed to that chapbook and that rob published it.
I am intrigued by the people of Centretown, and concerned for those who are undergoing hardships, living on the street. In Ottawa, you can support Cornerstone, the organization that helps women who need shelter.
I am grateful for all the women and non-binary creators and cultural workers trying to do what they do, despite or perhaps even at times to resist the misogyny and patriarchy we face daily.
I am grateful for women and non-binary musicians who are brilliant and delightful and i have massive crushes on them.
I am grateful to all queer people. I wish I’d known I was one of you years ago. I always related more to those who are queer than I did straights. In high school, my best friend was in the closet because he would have been beaten up if he came out of it, that’s the toxic environment we had back in h/s, ugh. but to me, he showed his fabulous self. and i am grateful that he could do that with me. He put on pink feathered boas and sang Scott Joplin. He introduced me to art, culture, theatre. He even directed me in a play where I sang a song “I wonder if you miss me sometimes” as a little girl ghost, all dressed in grey. Queer friends are my kindreds, creative and brilliant, all about community. I love you. Recently Charles and I attended Hallow Zine and it was utterly joyful. A shout out to the amazing Wyrdsmyth Press for creatinga welcome environment for creative small press folk, especially queer crip creators. https://www.instagram.com/wyrdsmythpress?igsh=aWlvbnc4bWlod3Fq
I am grateful for tea. I adore it. Mostly black tea. Especially Irish Breakfast, the smoky blend from my favourite local tea shop, World of Tea, and lapsang souchong, which my ex-husband introduced me to. I combine it with lavender to make my own blend, Lady of the Lake. W, a dear friend is allergic to lavender so now I want to create a blend for them and it absolutely will not contain lavender. I also love milky oulong tea, mint tea, chamomile. Hey, I love good coffee too, as long as it is really strong. As a kid growing up with Yorkshire family, I was used to be given strong milky black tea poured from a big brown teapot as a child. Mine was simply made with more milk. I love to get up early in the morning, take a thermos of tea, my Yeti, with me as I wander before the light and sit out on a cold crisp autumn morning, sipping my tea and watching the world come alive. Some here may remember my bringing this thermos with me to local Versefest events at the Knox Presbyterian Church and little plastic cups to share the very strong smelling lapsang souchong tea with them. Dear S,.do you remember? And J, a poet,.series organizer, amazing singer! I love you all. A small rabbit hole diversion now to dear n, a wondrous and generous person I love who dresses I'm beautiful gowns in fields, runs a small press that has made an anthology in support of women and non binary folk who have been abused. I am so grateful to n for her big heart and advocacy.
I am grateful for really comfy clothes with no seams that irritate my body. I have a particular love for colorful socks, as long as they are cotton. I love seeing the beautiful clothes that others wear, but I have to be comfortable. I can’t stand tight or scratchy or clothes that mess with my colour sensitivities due to my synaesthesia. I like to wear silk scarves around my neck. I love to layer. I adore cardigans. I do like to wear dresses as long as I’m layered up. I’m not a nudist. I do not like to be naked unless I have to. I wear a nightgown to bed. I feel the cold more now than I used to. I love wearing leggings and thick socks. I adore leather jackets. I look sexy in red. I have great legs.
I am grateful for the fog. To wander around in a foggy early morning is a gift, and it is rare. To watch it roll in on xmas morning from my balcony is one of my favourite things. Ottawa is often foggy at xmas. I love music that evokes the fog. Fog is inspiring for writing. Sunny days don’t necessarily block my creativity, but fog, snow, thunder, rain…these provoke creativity more to me than sunshine and blue skies.
I am grateful for good conversations. I love talking. When I was a kid, after I had my tonsils removed, the nurses had bet on when I would start talking. It was as soon as I woke up in the recovery room! My dear friend Marcus McCann and I used to walk home together after our poetry workshops with other dear friends Sandra Ridley, Pearl Pirie, Roland Prevost and Nicholas Lea.
Image description: Whack of Clouds: Amanda Earl, Marcus McCann, Nicholas Lea, Roland Prevost, Pearl Pirie: clouds in the background with blue sky. a Royal typewriter (loaned to me by a dear friend, M. a Jack of clubs in front of the red and black ribbon with “whack/of clouds” typed on it. An early AngelHousePress publication.
The workshop took place in Lowertown and we both lived in Centretown. I adored those talks. To talk with a friend while taking a long walk… that is my idea of heaven. I cherish all of the conversations Charles and I have, especially on walks and in cafes. We sit on the Art House Cafe patio and discuss our philosophies, my ideas for new projects, the current state of our budget and ways we can eat deliciously and cheaply. We have always had this amazing chemistry and compatibility.
I am grateful for the unknown. Readers, if you know me, you may be surprised to hear me say this (or rather write this), but it’s true. I am grateful for all the possibilities of what is coming. I am enjoying ageing. I am stronger and healthier, both mentally and physically than I have ever been. I am not someone who believes in an afterlife, but I believe those we love keep us in mind and that’s a type of afterlife. I hope that when I die, I will have done good things in this world for others. That’s the greatest achievement.
I am grateful that I am a romantic. When I was 16, I was going out with this 18-year old heartbreaker named Jimmy Ballantyne. He was really pretty: he had blonde hair and a beard and he wore really strong cologne which clung to me after our kisses. I went over to his place one afternoon with an Electric Light Orchestra 8-track tape and a silk rose. I wouldn’t sleep with him, so he kicked me out and I walked home, the dye coming off the silk rose in the rain.
I am grateful for every breath, every moment, every day, every word, every motion, every drop of rain, every breath. And you.
I am grateful for Charles, the love of my life, my friend, my confidant, my love. Thank you everyone for sharing in this celebration of my birthday. For now I am 61. huzzah!
Amanda, happy birthday! This is very cool, what you've done here. I've bookmarked it for return trips. Have a great 61! I'm not far behind.
Happy birthday, Amanda! What a rich life you’ve had. Thank you for the mention, and I hope this new year is even better for you than the last.