Context

I thought that I should put the “lovey bunny” quote in context. Malika was talking about how surprised she was by some of the dark turns her novel-in-progress was taking. “But I’m just a lovey bunny epiphany poet!” she said, with wonder in her voice. It wasn’t like she walked up to me and said, “Hello. I’m a lovey bunny epiphany poet. And you are?” Just so that’s clear.

I really probably shouldn’t blog about the people I meet. But anything’s better than blogging about myself.

In that spirit, rumour has it that Dan Ackroyd is currently staying in this hotel. According to my sources, he arrived yesterday in a fleet of limousines and when he got out was immediately surrounded by a team of burly, black-suited body guards who looked ready to take out anyone who posed a threat. Perhaps permanently.

This is Dan Ackroyd we’re talking about here. Not the leader of the Chechens. What the hell?

In my days here at the Calgary Writer’s festival, not one writer has had an entourage outside of their significant other, or, in a few cases, a publicist. Not Giller winners, not Booker winners. Jane Urquhart, one of the finest novelists working today, shook my hand and didn’t wear a glove or have an assistant apply antibacterial handi-wipes immediately afterward.

Perhaps some of the biggest writers in the world, J.K. Stephen, etc., might arrive by limousine, but only for special occasions and certainly not TWENTY YEARS after their career has peaked. (That’s right: I think Ghostbusters was Ackroyd’s finest achievement.

Which is maybe why I prefer writers.

Thanks, Wordfest. I had a wonderful time. Special thanks to the festival organizers and volunteers, to Brenda for a lovely lunch, Sandy for a lovely dinner, and esp. T.O. for taking me on a tour of Spruce Meadows and some of Calgary’s most interesting neighborhoods.

Now where the hell are my body guards! I want to make my exit in a way people will remember! What’s this? I’ll be heading back to the airport in a TERCEL? But I haven’t finished eating my M&Ms; (minus the red ones, which I had to pick out myself). Why will no one allow me to be a pain in the ass in the manner to which I’d like to become accustomed!