So long, and thanks for all the … ~ Fish writer in residence #18 (?)
Ah, the memories of a successful writer-in-residence completion! Remember that in-depth breakdown of Latitude 53’s administrative structure? The long-form interview of musician/painter Gord Downie, talking about his poetic influences? The video map of director Todd Janes’ impossibly taut muscles? The interviews with Aaron Sorkin, Werner Herzog and David Lynch?
No?
Well, yeah, I suppose you can’t really remember best laid plans that never quite made it, like so many barn kittens in the winter, to see the green and verdant bloom of spring. Wait, cats don’t have kittens in the winter. You get the point hopefully. If I had to gauge my barely-over-half-fulfiled expectations of commenting on art and ideas in our community using Hustler magazine’s famous rating system, let’s just say there would not be a glut of engorged genitals on the page. Despite what I thought were some pleasant, curse-laden rants on millionaire-funding schemes, stupid censorship of established cultural material and a few name-dropping travelogues, I kind of blew it.
The travelogues, of course, reflect the problem. Compared to being permanently crippled – which I foolishly believed would afford me more spare time to ruminate and shed light on local artists – travel with the short film killed a number of my dreams, including putting any more work into National Portrait Gallery and co-writing a 99-page book about the skewed arena politics. Not that I’m complaining about success, just making pathetic excuses.
