Just got back from the 7ième Salon du livre anarchiste, which was great, with an armful of books. It was so hard to choose — fortunately, I was limited by the contents of my wallet. I eventually went with a few buttons & pamphlets, a beautifully illustrated graphic novel about a sex worker, and a roman à clef about a young trans MtF growing up as a choirboy.
I never really described myself as an “anarchist” but I used to spend a lot of time at various activist functions and have known a lot of them and their fellow travellers. Somehow that’s fallen by the wayside in my life, although certainly not for lack of a scene here in Montréal. I’m really not sure why I don’t participate in that sort of thing as much anymore, but I’m glad to have been involved and the bookfair was a nice nostalgia trip if nothing else.
I was also interested in going because I’ve noticed that I don’t read as much as I once did. I suspect part of this is a side effect of having a partner: for as long as I can remember, I’ve read for an hour or so in bed most nights before falling asleep, but only when I’m alone. I clearly need to develop new habits. In furtherance of this, I called the toll free number from the May Harper’s and bought a year’s subscription. That issue was a little disappointing, though, so I started reading some old back issues of Geist I’ve had for ages but never opened. Now I sorta wish I’d called them instead…
In other news, yesterday was fun, too; I had been sitting at home lamenting not having friends to see that night, when I remembered Olivia’s coffee house, and headed out for a night of anglo geekboy postrawk featuring appearances by Freida, Russell, Laura McD, most of whom I rarely see these days. One of the above lives in Holland but I have no excuses for not seeing the others, alas.
From Pfloide: a very smart New Yorker article on homelessness, abusive cops, smog, and statistics.