Second cup of coffee and two crumpets consumed whilst sitting
in front of computer going thru FB and Twitter. Mostly just seeing gentle posts.
Listening to our recently added music playlist on Sonos via ITunes. Shuffling
thru Sexsmith, Chesnutt, Marling and Ghostpoet. It’s a good mix.
Yesterday on CBC’s Ontario Today call in show, the
question Rita Celli asked callers was “will
you ever crave a crowd again?” I admit I listened to only a bit of the show
and then mused about craving crowds. I can honestly say I have never liked
being in a crowd or anything to do with the concept of crowding multiple folk
in a space. The worst memories I have of outdoor concerts were when the Blues
Festival and the Folk Festival moved from Confederation Park/Britannia Beach
and added mainstream acts to their lineups, causing huge crowds with drunken
louts and rain sodden teens splashing mud on me from their stomping around in
the rain. My best memories of both of these concerts involved lawn chairs, plenty
of space, slide guitar, a little rum in my Coke. So, no, Rita, I don’t crave
crowds.
I’ve had plenty of opportunity to enjoy live online
events since the pandemic lockdown began. I haven’t done it much. When Charles
and I first met, we used to attend a lot of literary events together. Then,
after my health crisis, I attended but not as often. In the last few years, my attendance
at events, literary or otherwise has been sparse.
I think it’s time to admit that for now at least, and I
don’t know how long this feeling is going to last, I am just not into going out
to events. I don’t like being out at night, I’m tired by about 9pm if not
earlier. I’m not comfortable sitting on hard chairs for long periods of time. I
cannot abide small talk and I don’t like being alone and feeling like an
outsider, which you’d think wouldn’t happen to me, given my twenty-year involvement
in Ottawa’s literary community, but it does. It makes sense that it does. Not
attending a lot of events means not being recognized by people.
Many of the friends I made in the early and mid-aughts,
when I went to a lot of events, are also no longer attending events. Age,
health, different priorities…all of these factors contribute to this.
Younger poets and organizers are taking on the mantle of organization
of literary and other events. I’m pleased and highly supportive of this. But I’m
happy not to have to go anymore, including the online events. If they’re recorded,
I might nip in to listen, but in general, I’m happy to quietly read the work
myself and cheer everyone on from the sidelines.
From time to time, once things are up and running again,
I might go to the occasional reading, to try out a new poem of mine at an open
mic or support a friend, but I don’t anticipate this happening much.
Instead I prefer one-on-one interactions with dear
friends, whether it’s through e-mail now or in person over a libation and a
meal or a good, long walk.
This is something I have learned about myself during the
shutdown. I enjoy solitude. This realization and acceptance of my solitary
nature is the only good thing, I think, to come from the enforced isolation.
I can’t feel positive about something that’s killing people,
causing financial and emotional hardship and stress for so many people, but I
am glad to have learned a bit more about myself and how I’m changing. I’m not
saying this is how I’ll always be, but for now…I’m content with solitude and intimacy
over crowds and public gatherings.
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