Don’t write “rap poems”. If that’s what the job requires, for goodness sakes turn it down. (Or, at least do a better bloody job of it.) By the way, I side with many of the commenters: it’s embarrassing, and I think it says something about the monarchy that this is what is offered and accepted.

It’s strange… when I read someone else’s poems, about their life, I always understand the poems that are written at a specific time or from a specific experience or mood or notion to be timeless in a sense, an encapsulation of a moment. But when I look at my own work, it’s somehow different to me. I just found out about the breakup of a couple of friends of mine who were dating; I was looking through some of the archives of my writing and found a poem I wrote for them, and felt somehow uncomfortable with it, as if …

Finally, a literary post, after so many photos and personal updates. I think my computer is working okay. Hm. So I am going to go ahead and talk about what I read while I was doing all those installations and reinstallations and waiting for the formatting jobs to finish. This weekend, in Seoul, I was looking at the “Classics” and wondering which one I should read. I try to pick up one “Classic” novel every once in a while, just to fill out my knowledge of how people used to write. I didn’t get a lot of this kind of …

Jonathan Goldstein was one of the people I met during my first year in Montreal. We never really become close, but then most of the people in our class never became too close to him, as far as I know. But he was always cool.