roughage

Berf.

(go ahead, sound it out)

It's what seems to come to mind.  I've apparently been an on-again, off-again blogger, and life has gone on in the meantime.  I'll not bore you with protestations that "I'll be better, I'll write, I swear"... but I've been sensing lately that I've got mental blockage lately - something is stopping up the works, so best to clear out the pipes, and maybe exercising the narrative muscles will help.  The inevitable have passed in the meantime: time, death and taxes, gravity. The entertaining have visited as well: sex-drugs-rock-and-roll, art, the big wide world.

So much to chronicle, so little attention span.

The most pivotal, momentous, life-shift? I accidentally listened to reggae today during some tedious work stuff, and it didn't annoy me like it usually does.  It was weird.  I'm not really sure what it means.

So anyway, in the interest of blasting them out as markers, for elaboration later, the following topics in no particular order:

• Death - Uncle, and more recently, Jeff's mom.
• Genealogy
• Autoimmune patchiness
• Fear of Forty
• Toxic workplaces (and whether I'm just too much of a grumpy curmudgeon)
• Hair, a broken car, and a messy apartment
• The merits and detriments of secret blogs, and the utility as diary
• Craft Beer In Michigan

In the meantime, I continue sorting photos...

Eco-rection

I don't really get it... Eco-rections, that is.

I get THAT they happen. I can understand that people have reasons. I just don't identify with them. There's plenty of reasons why people get aroused over "green-ness", being eco-friendly, trying to change the world.

I can understand that people really and truly believe that the single most important thing to do "in all the world, right now" is to clean up the environment. That they believe it is more important than all other political, economic, religious, technological, etc. issues.

I can understand that the pleasure of a personal crusade. How it gets ones nipples pert and erect with excitement over having a project, doing something, affecting the world. Some people want to make the world better, some people just want to affect the world. Others want to preach to others from a position of superior piety about how they are pure and proper and right in the world and therefore better than someone else who they've deemed inferior due to their different choices, or life, or situation.

But the thing that I really don't get is why people derive personal internal pleasure from "being green". I roll it over, looking at it from different angles, and it still doesn't trigger anything in me. If you choose to live your life in a way that consumes less, pollutes less, etc... that's fine. It's the way you live your life, and everyone lives their life, neh? You can make choices or have a plan for yourself and make changes. But if you're not actively organizing, or advocating, or trying to be holier-than-thou, or preaching-and-screeching, then why does "reducing my carbon emissions" become a source of pleasure in and of itself?

Where does all this come from, you ask? I was emailing with a friend that also rides a bike, and as the topic diverged from the original conversation, I made some sort of comment that "I just like bikes, that's enough for me". And she came back with how she loves that when she's riding her bike that she thinks about how good it is for the environment, and how it reduces traffic congestion, and all of that.

I'm trying to put myself in her head and understand what it is about that - what kind of pleasure or satisfaction she gets and how I can understand it by comparing it to my own experience. There's all kinds of pleasure that I can identify - a lively discussion, a job well done, a good cup of coffee, an elegant solution to a difficult problem, pleasant company, a delicious meal, swimming in the aromas of fancy beers, a hard workout, a beautiful vista, sex, friends, cool widgets, cool friends with sex widgets...

But the "I enjoy my reduced carbon footprint" pleasure? I'm just not built that way.

Art and Sex (de la Heinlein)

Also known as "today's installment of Notable Quotables" - in this case from Stranger In A Strange Land... which was kind of a good thing to read. I'm a little aggravated with all the dystopic science fiction out there with post-apocalyptic whachamajiggers. SIASL isn't exactly utopia, but there's a utopian imagining to it.

On Art:

"Because the world has gone nutty and art always paints the spirit of the time. Rodin died about the time the world started flipping its lid. His successors... failed to see was that the master [Rodin] told stories that laid bare the human heart. They became contemptuous of painting of sculpture that told stories - they dubbed such work 'literary'. The went for all out abstractions."

Jubal shrugged. "Abstract design is all right - for wallpaper or linoleum. But art is the process of evoking pity or terror. What modern artists do is pseudo-intellectual masturbation. Creative art is intercourse, in which the artist renders emotional his audience. These laddies who won't deign to do that - or can't - lost the public. The ordinary bloke will not buy 'art' that leaves him unmoved. If he does pay, the money is conned out of him, by taxes or such."

"Jubal, I've always wondered why I didn't give a hoot for art. I thought it was something missing in me."

"Mmm, one does have to learn to look at art. But it's up to the artist to use language that can be understood. Most of these jokers don't want to use language you and I can learn; they would rather sneer because we 'fail' to see what they are driving at. If anything, Obscurity is the refuge of incompetence."

On Sex:

"...the ethics of sex is a thorny problem. Each of us is forced to grope for a solution he can live with - in the face of a preposterous, unworkable, and evil code of so-called 'Morals.' Most of us know the code is wrong, almost everybody breaks it. But we pay Danegeld by feeling guilty and giving lip service. Willy-nilly, the code rides us, dead and stinking, an albatross around the neck."

"You too, Ben. You fancy yourself a free soul - and break that evil code. But faced with a problem in sexual ethics new to you, you tested it against that same Judeo-Christian code... so automatically your stomach did flip-flops... and you think that proves you're right and they're wrong... Sex should be a means of happiness. Ben, the worst thing about sex is that we use it to hurt each other. It ought never to hurt; it should bring happiness, or at least, pleasure."

"The code says, 'Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife.' The result? Reluctant chastity, adultery, jealousy, bitterness, blows and sometimes murder, broken homes and twisted children - and furtive little passes degrading to woman and man. Is this Commandment ever obeyed? If a man swore on his own Bible that he refrained from coveting his neighbor's wife because the code forbade it, I would suspect either self-deception or subnormal sexuality. Any male virile enough to sire a child has coveted many women, whether he acts or not."

Gone Beering, etc.

This weekend (tomorrow) is the Winter Beer Fest, which I won't hesitate to say I'm pretty stoked about. Gonna make a long day/weekend out of it - breakfast/lunch/brunch, then schlep out to Lansing, sample beer all afternoon, hang out with Georgina, Stacey, Andre, (Pete & Wendy?), goof around in town, then crash in Lansing, sleep in, and eventually come home sometime on Sunday. Not a bad plan, if I say so myself.

Finally am making "the switch"... I put my TV away in the basement storage locker some months ago, but somehow neglected to discontinue cable service because it's also my ISP. Well, I ordered up the DSL, the modem came in the mail yesterday, I'm waiting for it to get activated, and then I'll be free of the crappy Comcast service once and for all. I'll admit, I really don't miss TV. Sure, it's fun to watch the Toob and all, but I haven't had a speck of withdrawl.

I've been ignoring movies out there in the world for a couple weeks - I got the annual membership to Michigan Theater a while back, but haven't used it as much as I expected... I think I'll go see Sweet Land tonight (hopefully it's not playing in the cramped screening room). Either that, or Breach.

Oh yeah, and maybe later I'll tell the story about how one of my neighbors threatened to kill me yesterday. That one's pretty interesting...

your local adult literacy program

... something that I got involved in recently that I'm going to shamelessly put in a plug for: Adult Literacy. When you shop around for community organizations that in need of volunteers to make a difference in other people's lives, what you discover is that adult literacy programs are almost always in need of people to help out. In a county where 27,000 residents have low literacy skills, there's a lot of folks that might have trouble reading this. So if you're so inclined, think about helping someone out - imagine what it would be like without basic literacy (reading signs, filling out job applications, etc.). Even if you're not into tutoring, there's fundraising, advocacy, etc. etc.

If you're in Washtenaw County, there's Washtenaw Literacy, where they have both basic literacy and ESL programs. If you're somewhere else, call your local library - I'm sure they'll know how to get in touch with a program in your area that needs volunteers.

Found... and constructed

"The Napkins" - now they live In The World. Just think of it as a little bit of urban anthropology... a one-time single episode of Found Magazine. Notes scrawled on napkins found in a bar, long after the band has packed up and the stale beer has been sloshed into the alley. Are they all the same conversation? Are they all the same people? We can see 5 different people by the handwriting. But who is it? And what are they talking about? It seems to have been important enough at the time, or are they just treasured because the voyeur in each of us wants to see, to snoop in the medicine cabinet, rifle through the dresser drawer without getting caught.

Why? Who? What?

Read what you want into it. Make your own story. Exercise your fanatasy muscles. Make them fit your need for art and ephemera.

Shadow Art Fair

Went to Shadow Art Fair today at Corner Brewery in Ypsi... saw some nifty stuff, and bought a little too. It was pretty chock full of people at the fair, but I heard that Friday was ridiculous busy - as in how-many-people-can-fit-in-this-building full.

Stuff I liked...

Miranda Tarrow's "Circus Peanuts" (which now hangs on my wall)

...and there's just something about "A Half-Sucked Egg" (Miranda Tarrow & Howard Forbes) that I really like. Didn't buy the work, but got the postcard...


Chris Sandon, a part of Dirty Bros. had some alluring/disturbing work available, and lastly, I think I'm going to get all my greeting cards from SappyCards from now on.

One square foot at a time

Seen while riding out to Chicago Critical Mass this past Thanksgiving weekend - a fine way to make your neighborhood a little nicer, one square foot at a time. Wondering if the local constabulary haven't seen, don't care, or even might like such community embellishments. Heck, as vandalism goes, it's the nicest form I can think of.



... and as I sit here in a cafe in Evanston, coffeed to the gills, the random shuffle of music in the headphones turns to some Hüsker Dü, then some fast punk hardcore, and all of a sudden I'm transported back though to memories of high school days. Nostalgia - an indicator of stagnancy, or just a natural temporary condition? Hell, I'm not even that nostalgic - maybe just that it is a thing I can be certain knowing when life these days has so many undecideds, unknownables, unrevealeds, etc.

Of course, it could just be benign annual mid-holiday reminiscing, too.

Fear. (prologue)

Something that's been on my mind for some time... Fear. Not my fear of the unknown, or anxiety at high altitude... societal fear.

How people don't seem to make eye contact with each other as they walk down the street. How they don't even walk down the street any more. How a bloke going for a walk in park gets dirty looks from parents who have seen too many episodes of "FOX News at Eleven: To Catch A Predator". How there are all these ridiculous "gated" communities to give a perceived sense of security, when there is no exceptional need for security ("This is reflected in an increasing fear of crime that is unrelated to actual crime trends or locations") and, most amusingly, when they don't even have functional gates (photo coming soon...)

How everyone seems to be afraid of their neighbors and whether they are ex-cons or not. How there's a registry for this and a registry for that. How all of this only serves to isolate one from another in little huts at night while being captive to American Idol and 24-hour re-runs of Law and Order.

And it's not just how we isolate ourselves from each other but every other way we live in the world. How we drive around in metal boxes with the windows up tight and the air conditioning on with our mocha-chinos in one hand, raging at the injustices on talk radio as we road-rage our way back and forth between the office and the subdivision. How we're somehow able to give up on personal freedoms in exchange for a color-coded Threat Level. How we play both roles - as Predator and as Prey, aggressor and victim... depending on the mood of the mob at the moment. Afraid that gas prices will go up. Afraid that the interest rate on the home equity loan will go up. Afraid that Johnny will fall off his skateboard. Afraid that Suzy will get picked last for the cheerleading team. Afraid that the appraised value of the house will fall.

It seems that so much of what we do is controlled by fear. Trying to keep away the things we have been taught to fear instead of drawing near the things we cherish. 150 Suggestions for Giving a Shit About Your Neighborhood ... #54, #61, #85 and #118 seem like pretty easy ways to start.