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WELL, here I am in Victoria. It's nice to be off the plane, let me tell you. :V

Popped into Munro's after supper... oh gods, I need to avoid going in there. The amount of books - well, not just books, but books I would actually want to read - is overwhelming. They have an entire set of bookshelves filled with poetry! Like, not just one shelf, but the whole damn rack! So much of it! Huge! Every time I go in there, my brain can't process the amount of it. Far different from back home's "half of one shelf, and half of that selection is made up of Leonard Cohen".

Discovered that Gregory Scofield has a new collection out - Witness, I Am. Had to get it, of course. AND ALSO I discovered that he'll be holding workshops at the Festival of Authors... which I am going to miss by only a handful of days, arrrrgh goddamn. If only I could extend my stay!

See, his writing means a lot to me - when I read Singing Home the Bones, it was the first time I'd come across a 21st-century poet whose work I actually liked. Before that, it was all... [/vague handwave] Epics and medieval stuff. The Harley lyrics, Homer's works, the Kalevala, Beowulf, that sort of thing. But there was something about Scofield's work, I can't put a finger on what.

So, that's a disappointment. But oh, well. Maybe some time another opportunity will present itself.

Regardless, I'm looking forward to doing glorious nothing for an entire week. It'll be nice to just do whatever I please and not have to think about... anything at all.

Also: my room has a proper teakettle. I'm delighted. No sad mediocre microwaved tea this time. Brilliant. <3