Another Black Friday has come and gone and, fortunately, with fewer fatalities than usual. If reading that last sentence made you feel patriotic, then you are not my intended audience, please stop reading. If it made you think " we are the legion of the damned," then congratulations, you can stay. No, really, it is good news. I don't want to see anyone maimed or worse over a really unbelievable deal on a flat screen television. But you can't go putting yourself in harms way without fear of consequences. If you haven't figured it out yet, finding yourself in a Walmart store during the predawn hours is an indication that you are not doing something right. It's just fortunate that enough people are unemployed right now, and thus unable to get really excited about any doorbuster special, that the crowds were less unruly than usual. To Walmart's credit, they did take some measures this year to prevent a recurrence of the tragedy that took place in their Valley Stream NY store a year ago when a shopper was trampled to death. For instance, they stayed open through the night on Thanksgiving day, thus diluting the concentration of people who would normally be storming the doors 4:00 am. Smart. They also beefed up security so that altercations could be handled quickly and without loss of life. According to the New York Times, the worst Black Friday hooliganism of 2009 occurred at a Walmart store in Upland CA, forcing authorities to close the store for a few hours when fights broke out over merchandise. Let's think about this for a minute. The main reason for shopping on Black Friday is to buy Christmas gifts, right? So, presumably, these folks setting the alarm clock for 3:00 am and heading out to Walmart are Christians, right? Does it not seem kind of un-Christian to assault someone over cheap merchandise?
The day after Thanksgiving is called Black Friday because it was traditionally the day that retail establishments moved into "the black," or became profitable for the year. This doesn't really happen anymore, but that's beside the point. There are other reasons to call it Black Friday. Retail sales people call it Black Friday because it is the worst day of the year. Having to get up at an inhuman hour to go to work and deal with crazed consumers and then stay late to put a ransacked store back together, all for a wage that comes in somewhere under the poverty level, can be discouraging. And of course, there is the danger. Black Friday is most likely the deadliest day of shopping all year. I'd like to see some traffic statistics. Not only are you likely to come to fisticuffs with your fellow shoppers, anytime you have a convergence of giant sport utility vehicles such as you have in the typical Walmart parking lot, you are bound to have accidents and examples of road rage. Murderous Friday, maybe, would be more accurate.
It's nice to have Black Friday as an add on special day for the Thanksgiving weekend. Spend some time with your family, have a nice meal and contemplate the things you have to be thankful for. Maybe watch some football. better take a nap too, because tomorrow is going to be grueling. Get up early on Friday and put your game face on. It's time to consume. Thankful my ass. Repeat your mantra "must own Blu Ray, must own Blu Ray." You are not taking no for an answer. You have HD TVs in your house that do not have Blu Ray players and you are not going out like that. "Listen lady, I did not get up at 3:00 am to come home empty handed. Now give me that Blu Ray player or I'll slash the tires on your Amigo!"
Monday, November 30, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
eLiterature or iLiterature?
As you all know, I am a devotee of haiku. Maybe you didn't know that, actually, but you do now. I am attracted to haiku mainly for it's economy; it's ability to convey a sentiment or idea or universal truth in a very concise way. But, like most westerners who are not tenured staff members of Asian Literature departments at major universities, I don't really understand the intricacies of true Japanese haiku. I do know that there is a lot more to the form than the three lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables each rule that is routinely taught to elementary school children in this country. I know that traditional haiku are nature inspired and have a seasonal component, that the 5-7-5 thing is product of spoken and written Japanese that doesn't translate to English very directly, that there are conventions in the traditional form that probably make the scratchings of typical American haiku laughable to Japanese poets. I suspect that cultural differences between the Japanese and myself make the likelihood of my actually being able to write real haiku in English pretty small. Still, as I said, I'm intrigued by the form.
Another form of writing I've been interested in for a while is called flash fiction. There are no clear cut rules for flash fiction other than it has to be short. Perhaps the best known example of the form is Ernest Hemingway's famous six word story: "For sale: baby shoes, never worn." A complete work of fiction in six words, how is that for efficiency? Still, Hemingway is reputed to have considered it his best work. But again, there don't seem to be any clear cut rules for the length of flash fiction. Six words is nice, but we can't all be Hemingway. Personally, I'd probably need more. Fortunately, social networking (or social notworking as most employers call it) has given us the answer. The twitterpoem (prose and verse) twitterstory, and twitternovel. The rules, or rule actually, are simple: 140 characters or less. Now anyone can publish, right from their cell phone, even if they are hobbled by archaic non 4G service (like myself.) It's very democratic, don't you think? And who doesn't have time to string together 140 characters? Judging by the constant onslaught of inane tweets fired across my bow, everyone in the world has time to string together that many words. Now get busy writing and send your resulting works to me for publication right here on NFOT. You can even tweet them to me @youngdavevt. Just do me a favor and try not to write your twitternovel while driving. I don't want any cyclists or pedestrians maimed in pursuit of literary greatness.
Another form of writing I've been interested in for a while is called flash fiction. There are no clear cut rules for flash fiction other than it has to be short. Perhaps the best known example of the form is Ernest Hemingway's famous six word story: "For sale: baby shoes, never worn." A complete work of fiction in six words, how is that for efficiency? Still, Hemingway is reputed to have considered it his best work. But again, there don't seem to be any clear cut rules for the length of flash fiction. Six words is nice, but we can't all be Hemingway. Personally, I'd probably need more. Fortunately, social networking (or social notworking as most employers call it) has given us the answer. The twitterpoem (prose and verse) twitterstory, and twitternovel. The rules, or rule actually, are simple: 140 characters or less. Now anyone can publish, right from their cell phone, even if they are hobbled by archaic non 4G service (like myself.) It's very democratic, don't you think? And who doesn't have time to string together 140 characters? Judging by the constant onslaught of inane tweets fired across my bow, everyone in the world has time to string together that many words. Now get busy writing and send your resulting works to me for publication right here on NFOT. You can even tweet them to me @youngdavevt. Just do me a favor and try not to write your twitternovel while driving. I don't want any cyclists or pedestrians maimed in pursuit of literary greatness.
Whassup
I haven't posted in a long time. I've been warned not to apologize for such things so I won't. My temptation is to say I've been so busy that I haven't had time to write but that would be an outright lie, unless you equate napping with being busy. No, I have not been particularly busy. I've been facing a bit of a creative block and a bit of apathy. And yes, I have been napping. I have not been standing still though. I have been reading a lot, purging my life of unnecessary material goods, procuring as well as preparing more of my own food, and thinking deep thoughts that would make Jack Handy crap his pants.
Most of my exercise is coming from walking these days, often to the supermarket to buy food. I've been trying to shop every couple of days so I can eat fresher food and food that I'm craving. I also take long walks in the woods of my lovely local park, about a mile from my house. Walking is just the speed that I feel like traveling these days.
I joined a CSA which, for those readers not immersed in a culture liberal do-goodery like we have here in Vermont, is Community Supported Agriculture. It allows me to know the farmers who grow my food on a personal level and contribute to the farm's viability. I give them a specific sum up front and each week of the harvest I go to the farm and pick up a box of just picked produce. It's very inspiring. I like that they hand me a selection of the freshest possible food and I then have to figure out creative ways to prepare it. It forces me to branch out. I had no idea that Brussels sprouts grew on a stalk. I had never seen kale before. I can't recommend CSA enough.
I am trying to rekindle my yoga practice. I went to a class last Tuesday and by Saturday I could walk without a limp again. Not that I was ever a really avid yoga practitioner, but I wish I was. It always makes me feel so good. Tuesday night I slept soundly through the night without waking once and I can't remember the last time I managed that. On a side note, I have mentioned before that when I was riding my bike to Michigan, cycling 65 miles a day and sleeping on the ground every night, my body felt fantastic. I think I figured out why. I wasn't sitting slouched in a chair or on a couch. I had very little access to furniture so my bad posture wasn't sabotaging my ability to be athletic. That's something to think about. I think we Westerners rely a little too heavily on furniture.
I am counting down the days until I go back to the ski shop. Carpentry takes on a whole new aspect this time of year. And by aspect I mean level of discomfort. Because Working in cold rain, standing in the sucking mud, going through five pairs of gloves a day in a futile attempt to preserve some kind of dexterity, all of these things discourage me. Does that make me a wuss? I know people who work outside all Winter, and I do like being outside in the winter, but I kind of like maintaining a level of physical activity that prevents frostbite on toes and fingers. I think it has to do with the kinds of tasks carpenters are charged with. Ever try picking up a stainless steel siding nail with ski gloves on? It's not gonna happen. Which means taking your left glove off and working feverishly to nail up a couple of boards before your hand goes numb, then quickly putting your glove back on and, hopefully, suffering through the burning sensation/nausea of thawing extremities. Believe me, I've had my share of frozen extremities and sometimes it's worth it, like when there's three feet of blower powder and it's ten below but you keep convincing yourself that one more run won't result in amputation, then when you finally get your ski boot off, you're not so sure anymore. That's worth the risk. But for putting siding, or worse yet, roof trim, on a house on the top of a mountain somewhere, well, unless it's your house, not so much worth it. Now, the well organized carpenter, and by well organized I mean lucky, will have planned it so he is working inside for the winter. Which presents it's own set of problems. Like alternately freezing and sweating bullets. No I proffer that it's better to hang up the tool belt for the winter and take a job, oh like, maybe, writing a daily ski report or something, for the Winter. Here's a tip: unless you want to pay 30% more for your construction project, don't have it done between November and April. Unless the work is almost entirely inside. Working outside in the winter around here is just plain inefficient. Do you really want to pay carpenters to spend half the day shoveling snow, chipping ice, and trying to nurse blood back into a frozen left hand?
Most of my exercise is coming from walking these days, often to the supermarket to buy food. I've been trying to shop every couple of days so I can eat fresher food and food that I'm craving. I also take long walks in the woods of my lovely local park, about a mile from my house. Walking is just the speed that I feel like traveling these days.
I joined a CSA which, for those readers not immersed in a culture liberal do-goodery like we have here in Vermont, is Community Supported Agriculture. It allows me to know the farmers who grow my food on a personal level and contribute to the farm's viability. I give them a specific sum up front and each week of the harvest I go to the farm and pick up a box of just picked produce. It's very inspiring. I like that they hand me a selection of the freshest possible food and I then have to figure out creative ways to prepare it. It forces me to branch out. I had no idea that Brussels sprouts grew on a stalk. I had never seen kale before. I can't recommend CSA enough.
I am trying to rekindle my yoga practice. I went to a class last Tuesday and by Saturday I could walk without a limp again. Not that I was ever a really avid yoga practitioner, but I wish I was. It always makes me feel so good. Tuesday night I slept soundly through the night without waking once and I can't remember the last time I managed that. On a side note, I have mentioned before that when I was riding my bike to Michigan, cycling 65 miles a day and sleeping on the ground every night, my body felt fantastic. I think I figured out why. I wasn't sitting slouched in a chair or on a couch. I had very little access to furniture so my bad posture wasn't sabotaging my ability to be athletic. That's something to think about. I think we Westerners rely a little too heavily on furniture.
I am counting down the days until I go back to the ski shop. Carpentry takes on a whole new aspect this time of year. And by aspect I mean level of discomfort. Because Working in cold rain, standing in the sucking mud, going through five pairs of gloves a day in a futile attempt to preserve some kind of dexterity, all of these things discourage me. Does that make me a wuss? I know people who work outside all Winter, and I do like being outside in the winter, but I kind of like maintaining a level of physical activity that prevents frostbite on toes and fingers. I think it has to do with the kinds of tasks carpenters are charged with. Ever try picking up a stainless steel siding nail with ski gloves on? It's not gonna happen. Which means taking your left glove off and working feverishly to nail up a couple of boards before your hand goes numb, then quickly putting your glove back on and, hopefully, suffering through the burning sensation/nausea of thawing extremities. Believe me, I've had my share of frozen extremities and sometimes it's worth it, like when there's three feet of blower powder and it's ten below but you keep convincing yourself that one more run won't result in amputation, then when you finally get your ski boot off, you're not so sure anymore. That's worth the risk. But for putting siding, or worse yet, roof trim, on a house on the top of a mountain somewhere, well, unless it's your house, not so much worth it. Now, the well organized carpenter, and by well organized I mean lucky, will have planned it so he is working inside for the winter. Which presents it's own set of problems. Like alternately freezing and sweating bullets. No I proffer that it's better to hang up the tool belt for the winter and take a job, oh like, maybe, writing a daily ski report or something, for the Winter. Here's a tip: unless you want to pay 30% more for your construction project, don't have it done between November and April. Unless the work is almost entirely inside. Working outside in the winter around here is just plain inefficient. Do you really want to pay carpenters to spend half the day shoveling snow, chipping ice, and trying to nurse blood back into a frozen left hand?
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