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These past few weeks Geist moved out of our Gastown office, and by no small feat, we managed to pack our whole existence – both material and in essence - into small boxes, big boxes, piles, heaps, and elastically-bound rolls of literary paraphernalia that range from posters and photos, to glass plates, wooden Mounties, mugs, rubber rats, pens, pencils and poetry.
Three months from now we will move into a brand spankin’ new office with white walls, high ceilings, and a nice big corner window. It has been frustrating trying to apply an order to a patchwork and dusty eco-system that resisted every effort to contain it, and just maybe the process of rebuilding, recreating and the daunting prospect of starting anew will be too much to handle; Geist buckling under the immense weight. More likely though, the new white walls and sterility of emptiness will yield to the antiquity of Geist and before too long we will be right at home again.
Geist is like an old rotary telphone, or a Norman Rockwell painting, or just about anything that smacks of nostalgia – the kinds of things people who purchase new condos decorate their house with to ‘give it chracter’. To others, all the long-time readers, Geist is a pocketwatch attached to a gold chain that you keep tucked inside your pocket; a trusty friend that never lets you down when it comes to telling time, but every now and then you have to take it out and polish it up and wind it with the little winding key you keep in your nightstand. Right now, in our period of transition and until we move into our new home, we wind the watch.
This fall, from the comfort of 'the living room', Geist will release the Twenty-Year Double-Wide special issue.
