rismckeemakingnonsense
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ChristinaPhelps
Thursday, October 6, 2022
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Thursday, March 7, 2019
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Christina
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From: Christina Phelps <rismckee@yahoo.com>
Date: Thursday, March 07, 2019 06:12:51 PM
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To: <rismckee.makingnonsense@blogger.com>
From: Christina Phelps <rismckee@yahoo.com>
Date: Thursday, March 07, 2019 06:12:51 PM
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To: <rismckee.makingnonsense@blogger.com>
Friday, April 20, 2018
Friday, December 25, 2015
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
readings and readers
I went to a reading a few weeks ago at KGB Bar, and I was struck by how different the two readers were. The first read a short speech about how the recent US publication of his first published novel came about, and he then read the first two chapters of his novel. The second gave a short introduction (a sentence or two) and read two nonconsecutive chapters from her novel (also her first, I believe).
He was less expressive (though I overheard an audience member breathlessly tell him that his acting experience showed in his reading ability - gag me), almost monotone, and when he read the female characters' dialogue in his deep monotone voice, I nearly laughted out loud. The style of his writing was thesaurus-use-evident, the words overly expressive, overly explanatory in content, overly allusion-heavy, overly un-lyrical. Almost hard-boiled without the crime or the detection.
She was expressive leading toward the way people read to small children - but in the most enjoyable way possible. There were a lot of characters speaking in interesting ways. It was so funny and real, and I can't wait to buy her book.
I went to the reading at KGB last night too (really, any excuse to order Baltika 6), and it was such a pleasurable experience. Gary Lutz and Robert Lopez.
First Gary lutz. So funny. And sad and seriously human and whimsical and wonderful. Such unexpected word usage and phrasing. Read a story called "Divorcer" with a dozen or so segments, some in first person some in third, and I want to reread it so I can keep track of the points of view. And because it was so lovely and pleasurable. It's funny though, thinking about his reading style, which was unpolished but very comfortable. He knows that piece and he has practiced, has read it before, but his voice is a writer's voice, not a performer's.
Favorite line: "She moved to the devouring city, though it barely nibbled her." So beautiful.
Robert Lopez's book of stories, Asunder, just came out, and he read a few short pieces. He read also like a writer, but like a writer who is the only authority on how his fiction should sound. How it sounded when it came to him. When it hit the keys. Phrasing and emphasis that might not jump off the page at the reader. His reading added a layer in the most wonderful way. There was one place where it particularly delighted me: the way it came out: "there was spittle on his chin. And beard." As if there was beard on his chin and not spittle on his beard. I'm actually not sure which way it should be...
Favorite line: "She wants me to touch her places." With the emphasis on places.
Something also so human about Lopez's prose but in a more pointed way than Lutz's. More aggressive somehow. I want to read more of both of them. Really enjoyable evening.
There's more where that came from.
He was less expressive (though I overheard an audience member breathlessly tell him that his acting experience showed in his reading ability - gag me), almost monotone, and when he read the female characters' dialogue in his deep monotone voice, I nearly laughted out loud. The style of his writing was thesaurus-use-evident, the words overly expressive, overly explanatory in content, overly allusion-heavy, overly un-lyrical. Almost hard-boiled without the crime or the detection.
She was expressive leading toward the way people read to small children - but in the most enjoyable way possible. There were a lot of characters speaking in interesting ways. It was so funny and real, and I can't wait to buy her book.
I went to the reading at KGB last night too (really, any excuse to order Baltika 6), and it was such a pleasurable experience. Gary Lutz and Robert Lopez.
First Gary lutz. So funny. And sad and seriously human and whimsical and wonderful. Such unexpected word usage and phrasing. Read a story called "Divorcer" with a dozen or so segments, some in first person some in third, and I want to reread it so I can keep track of the points of view. And because it was so lovely and pleasurable. It's funny though, thinking about his reading style, which was unpolished but very comfortable. He knows that piece and he has practiced, has read it before, but his voice is a writer's voice, not a performer's.
Favorite line: "She moved to the devouring city, though it barely nibbled her." So beautiful.
Robert Lopez's book of stories, Asunder, just came out, and he read a few short pieces. He read also like a writer, but like a writer who is the only authority on how his fiction should sound. How it sounded when it came to him. When it hit the keys. Phrasing and emphasis that might not jump off the page at the reader. His reading added a layer in the most wonderful way. There was one place where it particularly delighted me: the way it came out: "there was spittle on his chin. And beard." As if there was beard on his chin and not spittle on his beard. I'm actually not sure which way it should be...
Favorite line: "She wants me to touch her places." With the emphasis on places.
Something also so human about Lopez's prose but in a more pointed way than Lutz's. More aggressive somehow. I want to read more of both of them. Really enjoyable evening.
There's more where that came from.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
the game cheats
This is long overdue, but when I was visiting my family at Thanksgiving, my sister and her husband and I were playing Carnival MiniGolf for the Wii (is it the Wii or just Wii? I don't even know these things), and we were taking turns playing to unlock something - at one point he would get the ball to bounce just right so it went into a hen house and then hand the controller to one of us to try catching the eggs and medallions, or something like that - it was a lot of fun - and then there was another part where you play against the character, and someone - I'm not sure who - decided that he was cheating. The character.
And I tried to explain that saying "the game cheats" is completely illogical, but I think it was completely lost on them, not because they couldn't grasp it but because they didn't care. To me, it was very important. (This is your brain while studying for the LSAT.)
The game can't cheat because the game is a set of rules. The game can't violate the rules because if it does (it can't, but let's just say), then that violation is one of the rules, in which case no rules have been violated and the game didn't cheat.
Actually what I have in my notes: "the game cheats" is a nonsensical statement because the game sets up its own rules and therefore can only abide by them. If it is "cheating" - i.e., benefiting from actions the (human) player is (highly) unlikely to be able to perform - it is still playing by the rules because by definition it can only play by the rules - meaning this ability to outperform the player is a rule and therefore cannot be construed as cheating.
I believe their exact response was, "No. It's cheating." Use your words.
And I tried to explain that saying "the game cheats" is completely illogical, but I think it was completely lost on them, not because they couldn't grasp it but because they didn't care. To me, it was very important. (This is your brain while studying for the LSAT.)
The game can't cheat because the game is a set of rules. The game can't violate the rules because if it does (it can't, but let's just say), then that violation is one of the rules, in which case no rules have been violated and the game didn't cheat.
Actually what I have in my notes: "the game cheats" is a nonsensical statement because the game sets up its own rules and therefore can only abide by them. If it is "cheating" - i.e., benefiting from actions the (human) player is (highly) unlikely to be able to perform - it is still playing by the rules because by definition it can only play by the rules - meaning this ability to outperform the player is a rule and therefore cannot be construed as cheating.
I believe their exact response was, "No. It's cheating." Use your words.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
still researching
I was reading this article by Haruki Murakami, and where he writes, "In an age when reality is insufficiently real, how much reality can a fictional story possess?" I couldn't help but think of my research of apocalyptic fiction in the mid-twentieth century. I find myself wondering if this threshold crossing that he feels so acutely is a personal journey and not a global trend.
Or, perhaps more accurately, I'm wondering if this wasn't very similar to the way certain novelists felt in the years after World War II - Vonnegut comes immediately to mind - and it's just that another global/local tragedy was what did it for Mr. Murakami.
I have to admit here that I've never read his fiction. I've read a few of his essays. (The list just keeps getting longer, doesn't it?)
But, conversely, perhaps one of the reasons I've been interested in mid-twentieth century apocalyptic literature (and backshadowing and the representation of memory and all that) has to do with my own specific historical experience. Maybe the chaos I feel in my historical moment is what led me to the literature of that era. Who knows?
On a sort of tangentially related note: I watched Alejandro González Iñárritu's lastest, Biutiful,last night, and I wrote a little review for it on my magazine's blog. Good times.
Or, perhaps more accurately, I'm wondering if this wasn't very similar to the way certain novelists felt in the years after World War II - Vonnegut comes immediately to mind - and it's just that another global/local tragedy was what did it for Mr. Murakami.
I have to admit here that I've never read his fiction. I've read a few of his essays. (The list just keeps getting longer, doesn't it?)
But, conversely, perhaps one of the reasons I've been interested in mid-twentieth century apocalyptic literature (and backshadowing and the representation of memory and all that) has to do with my own specific historical experience. Maybe the chaos I feel in my historical moment is what led me to the literature of that era. Who knows?
On a sort of tangentially related note: I watched Alejandro González Iñárritu's lastest, Biutiful,last night, and I wrote a little review for it on my magazine's blog. Good times.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
literacy and efficiency
On the train this afternoon, I was reading an article in the New Yorker about energy efficiency and the Jevons paradox, which is basically that greater energy efficiency will not lead to as much of a reduction in energy use as might be assumed because it will lead to greater demand and greater productivity.
Doing some reading around the internet when I got back home, I came across a review of Dennis Baron's book, A Better Pencil: Readers, Writers, and the Digital Revolution, which examines the technological improvements in written communication over the last few thousand years.
And I really feel like the two have something in common, or at least that my opinion about the second can be expressed using the sentiment of the first. Yeah, there's a lot of noise out there. Yes, I spend far too much time on Facebook.* And yes, I am extremely fortunate to not only have my own computer, but two computers and an iphone, which means that I have access to the internet at virtually all minutes of the day, and there are a lot of people who don't have the kind of access I've become dependent on. But.
Computers allow us to write more, to write a lot more, to self-publish, to read more, to read a wider array of things - nonsense or otherwise - and all this reading and writing makes reading and writing more widely available because of the increase in productivity and the subsequent demand for more reading and writing. So arguing that digital media in some way impairs literacy doesn't really make any sense when you get down to it.
*I wish to point out here that most of what I'm doing on Facebook is reading the articles that my friends post, seeing if anyone's playing or reading or publishing or showing or whatever, and all the posts about your baby being sick or the laundry you are or are not doing, I don't care. I'm just kidding, I care deeply. And also I'm stalking you. And reading your blog.
Read my magazine.
Doing some reading around the internet when I got back home, I came across a review of Dennis Baron's book, A Better Pencil: Readers, Writers, and the Digital Revolution, which examines the technological improvements in written communication over the last few thousand years.
And I really feel like the two have something in common, or at least that my opinion about the second can be expressed using the sentiment of the first. Yeah, there's a lot of noise out there. Yes, I spend far too much time on Facebook.* And yes, I am extremely fortunate to not only have my own computer, but two computers and an iphone, which means that I have access to the internet at virtually all minutes of the day, and there are a lot of people who don't have the kind of access I've become dependent on. But.
Computers allow us to write more, to write a lot more, to self-publish, to read more, to read a wider array of things - nonsense or otherwise - and all this reading and writing makes reading and writing more widely available because of the increase in productivity and the subsequent demand for more reading and writing. So arguing that digital media in some way impairs literacy doesn't really make any sense when you get down to it.
*I wish to point out here that most of what I'm doing on Facebook is reading the articles that my friends post, seeing if anyone's playing or reading or publishing or showing or whatever, and all the posts about your baby being sick or the laundry you are or are not doing, I don't care. I'm just kidding, I care deeply. And also I'm stalking you. And reading your blog.
Read my magazine.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
having to prove it
My friend J gave me the best advice the other night. "We all know you're smart," he said. "You don't have to go to law school to prove it."
Because, in one sense, that would be what I would be doing. I just hadn't thought about it that way. I think I would be really good at it. That's not the same thing as wanting to do it.
Because I don't actually want to be a lawyer. I already have a master's degree. ("How's that working out for you?") I'm already a hundred thousand dollars in debt. Research, analysis, argument? Totally my thing. Yes, please. But in a completely different setting. I have no qualms about not wanting to be a teacher or professor. So why have I been thinking about law school again so much?
(Re "again": Anyone remember when I decided at the very last minute not to take the LSATs a year and a half ago? I remember that moment very clearly.)
Because I've been feeling a little directionless. That's not actually accurate, but that's how it feels. I feel like I'm going in a few different directions and neglecting the one that means the most to me.
(So fix it. - It's not that simple.)
This is not a new feeling, it's sort of a constant tide that is flowing more than ebbing at the moment, and it's exacerbated by the fact of itself. The anxiety only makes me more anxious.
But it will fade. There are a lot of projects I'm working on, the magazine is off to a nice start, and work (while having nothing to do with my academic/artistic life) is going smashingly. I really do enjoy my job, and my colleagues are my best friends, and I do a better than good job, and I try to do a great job (although beginning the composition of this blog entry while behind the bar on a Saturday night might not support that statement).
So going back to J's statement, if this is partially about proving it, which of course it is, if only in the sense that success is proof of itself, then the only way to do that is to do the work and to not worry about it because worrying only means that it doesn't get done. So what that I'm reading (or not reading) like seven books at the moment and working on (or not working on) like ten pieces? I should start five more of each! Bring it on. It will all get taken care of.
Because, in one sense, that would be what I would be doing. I just hadn't thought about it that way. I think I would be really good at it. That's not the same thing as wanting to do it.
Because I don't actually want to be a lawyer. I already have a master's degree. ("How's that working out for you?") I'm already a hundred thousand dollars in debt. Research, analysis, argument? Totally my thing. Yes, please. But in a completely different setting. I have no qualms about not wanting to be a teacher or professor. So why have I been thinking about law school again so much?
(Re "again": Anyone remember when I decided at the very last minute not to take the LSATs a year and a half ago? I remember that moment very clearly.)
Because I've been feeling a little directionless. That's not actually accurate, but that's how it feels. I feel like I'm going in a few different directions and neglecting the one that means the most to me.
(So fix it. - It's not that simple.)
This is not a new feeling, it's sort of a constant tide that is flowing more than ebbing at the moment, and it's exacerbated by the fact of itself. The anxiety only makes me more anxious.
But it will fade. There are a lot of projects I'm working on, the magazine is off to a nice start, and work (while having nothing to do with my academic/artistic life) is going smashingly. I really do enjoy my job, and my colleagues are my best friends, and I do a better than good job, and I try to do a great job (although beginning the composition of this blog entry while behind the bar on a Saturday night might not support that statement).
So going back to J's statement, if this is partially about proving it, which of course it is, if only in the sense that success is proof of itself, then the only way to do that is to do the work and to not worry about it because worrying only means that it doesn't get done. So what that I'm reading (or not reading) like seven books at the moment and working on (or not working on) like ten pieces? I should start five more of each! Bring it on. It will all get taken care of.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
(my) girls and (some) clothes; poetry
A week or so ago I'd been reading an article in the New Yorker about the CEO of J. Crew ("The Merchant," Sept 20,2010), and a few paragraphs in I thought of emailing the article to my sister, as she has aspirations that include merchandising for a clothing company. A few days later I got to the fourth page - because I am only on the train for ten or fifteen minutes at a time these days as my commute is mostly walking and much shorter than it once was - and I happened on Brenda Shaunessy's lovely poem, "I wish I had more sisters." Instantly I decided I would tear out the article and send it to my sister instead, so she could share the poem with me (and our other sister) and also because I knew she would enjoy getting actual physical mail from me.
A few days later, still only halfway through the piece, our 92-yr-old grandmother died. Deep breath. So, long story short, I was able to give it to her in person. I was able to share it with both of my sisters at once, and also with my mother, who has two sisters as well. (And two brothers and sisters in law and cousins and nieces and nephews and an additional generation going to boot. We're a tight family.) But this poem is about sisters. But it's also about family and about close friends and it really meant a lot to me in this moment that happened just after the poem appeared in front of me. Serendipitous.
The J. Crew article I found more compelling at the beginning than toward the end - it was a long article. But I delighted in it at times, and I thoroughly enjoyed the article that followed it: "Tavi Says." It took me back to poring over Harper's Bazaar when I was thirteen, when I ironed my jeans at the prompting of a book about French women sensibility that I bought at Express when it was still what I thought of at the time as European, classic, and chic. (Wow, that seems long ago.)
The piece inspired me to actually go through with cleaning out my closet once and for all and doing a major thrift shopping therapy. It's a new season and I am settling into my new neighborhood. It's time. Am I going to start reading her blog? I don't even read my friends' fashion blogs - or literary blogs or political blogs for that matter. I have a feeling that this will in fact be changing. The creation of trans lit mag was intended to get myself to focus more on the literary world than I had let myself because of my other career in the restaurant business. "So I'll just have two careers!" I said to my father a few hours ago.
I have the feeling I've pushed a very large boulder over a cliff and just realized it's tied to my foot. Here we go.
A few days later, still only halfway through the piece, our 92-yr-old grandmother died. Deep breath. So, long story short, I was able to give it to her in person. I was able to share it with both of my sisters at once, and also with my mother, who has two sisters as well. (And two brothers and sisters in law and cousins and nieces and nephews and an additional generation going to boot. We're a tight family.) But this poem is about sisters. But it's also about family and about close friends and it really meant a lot to me in this moment that happened just after the poem appeared in front of me. Serendipitous.
The J. Crew article I found more compelling at the beginning than toward the end - it was a long article. But I delighted in it at times, and I thoroughly enjoyed the article that followed it: "Tavi Says." It took me back to poring over Harper's Bazaar when I was thirteen, when I ironed my jeans at the prompting of a book about French women sensibility that I bought at Express when it was still what I thought of at the time as European, classic, and chic. (Wow, that seems long ago.)
The piece inspired me to actually go through with cleaning out my closet once and for all and doing a major thrift shopping therapy. It's a new season and I am settling into my new neighborhood. It's time. Am I going to start reading her blog? I don't even read my friends' fashion blogs - or literary blogs or political blogs for that matter. I have a feeling that this will in fact be changing. The creation of trans lit mag was intended to get myself to focus more on the literary world than I had let myself because of my other career in the restaurant business. "So I'll just have two careers!" I said to my father a few hours ago.
I have the feeling I've pushed a very large boulder over a cliff and just realized it's tied to my foot. Here we go.
Monday, May 31, 2010
First days of a new summer
I was looking forward to blogging on the train earlier, about the fact that it officially felt like summer, and then I actually got on the train. It was full. On a Sunday at 7pm. Wtf? I wondered quietly. It was full of families on their way home from Coney Island. Which should have added to my cheerfullness but really just terrified me a little. So much energy. A friend of mine told me that she looked up how to deal with with living across the street from a school in and there wasn't one. This is the second home I've had in New York a block from a school and I can see why. So much energy. And it's beautiful and powerfully creative and in theory I sort of worship it. I just don't want to be around it. I need my solitude. However when a little boy touched my ring where my hand held the pole above his head and then looked at me, waiting for my reaction, I couldn't help but smile. Little moments.
I spent the better part of the rest of the evening preparing an elaborate pasta salad for tomorrow's festivities in Prospect Park. I mixed whole wheat and semolina fusilli pastas with tuna, capers, olives, tomatoes, some hard boiled egg, a little onion and garlic, and in the morning I'll stir in some chopped parsley, baby spinach, and arugula, and a shake of crushed red pepper for a little kick, a little olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Yum.
I spent the better part of the rest of the evening preparing an elaborate pasta salad for tomorrow's festivities in Prospect Park. I mixed whole wheat and semolina fusilli pastas with tuna, capers, olives, tomatoes, some hard boiled egg, a little onion and garlic, and in the morning I'll stir in some chopped parsley, baby spinach, and arugula, and a shake of crushed red pepper for a little kick, a little olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Yum.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Normal
What is a normal life? Is it a choice one makes or is it a series of decisions one is forced into? Having found oneself not with a normal life, can one elect to suddenly have one?
The definition of normal is "conforming to the standard or the common type; usual; not abnormal; regular; natural."
Let's look at that a bit. Conforming. To the standard. Common. Usual. Not abnormal. Regular. Natural.
Wow, that sounds boring.
And it always has to me. I've never been one of those people who naturally conforms to the standard, who either naturally or very carefully fits in -- or who longs to be like everyone else when I'm not.
But neither have I swung the other way, overtly rebelling or simply unable to fit in. I fit in just fine, but I wouldn't say I'm normal. Thank heavens.
Several things have prompted these musings. One: I watched a ridiculous number of episodes of Mad Men last night. (It totally counts as research.) Two: a very dear friend of mine wished for a normal life the other night. I believe my exact response was to wrinkle my nose. "Why?" I didn't ask. "What does that even mean?" I also didn't ask.
What it seems to mean, when someone wishes for a "normal" life, is that they feel their life is abnormal and therefore any difficulties they are experiencing are in large part due to a series of much larger decisions that they have made over time that have led them to their current (abnormal) state. But that seems to me a counterproductive way of thinking about things. Wishing for a "normal" life is the opposite of making decisions and choices in one's everyday life that will change the aspects of one's situation that one is unhappy with. Because if you would really have been happy with a "normal" life, then you would have "naturally" fallen into one.
And you'd be just like everyone else.
Ew.
The definition of normal is "conforming to the standard or the common type; usual; not abnormal; regular; natural."
Let's look at that a bit. Conforming. To the standard. Common. Usual. Not abnormal. Regular. Natural.
Wow, that sounds boring.
And it always has to me. I've never been one of those people who naturally conforms to the standard, who either naturally or very carefully fits in -- or who longs to be like everyone else when I'm not.
But neither have I swung the other way, overtly rebelling or simply unable to fit in. I fit in just fine, but I wouldn't say I'm normal. Thank heavens.
Several things have prompted these musings. One: I watched a ridiculous number of episodes of Mad Men last night. (It totally counts as research.) Two: a very dear friend of mine wished for a normal life the other night. I believe my exact response was to wrinkle my nose. "Why?" I didn't ask. "What does that even mean?" I also didn't ask.
What it seems to mean, when someone wishes for a "normal" life, is that they feel their life is abnormal and therefore any difficulties they are experiencing are in large part due to a series of much larger decisions that they have made over time that have led them to their current (abnormal) state. But that seems to me a counterproductive way of thinking about things. Wishing for a "normal" life is the opposite of making decisions and choices in one's everyday life that will change the aspects of one's situation that one is unhappy with. Because if you would really have been happy with a "normal" life, then you would have "naturally" fallen into one.
And you'd be just like everyone else.
Ew.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
why I don't want to get published in 2010
I am a writer. I'm not writing at the moment. (How nonsensical is that? That is the very thing I am doing.) I want to have the presence of mind to sit down and write. I want to sit down and let streams of (in)dependent clauses loop away from me without hoping I'm making sense. I want to be inspired and to be given the time and the support that allows for the fostering of that inspiration into what may one day be a work of art. I want the time to work. I want to create art. I want to write without an audience. I don't want my train of thought to be interrupted by thoughts of "I wonder who is going to or would want to read this, and what their lives are like, and what they will think and why and when, and if they will pay me." If I have deadlines, I want them to be self-imposed, and I don't want to send out a story before it's ready just because I'm supposed to be sending out stories. I don't want to send a story to 10, 100, 1000 publications hoping someone likes it. I don't want to pay to enter contests because entering contests gives you a better chance at getting published. I don't to pay someone else to read my stories. I want to workshop without discussing publication, or rules ("How to Write a Ten-Minute Play," "Perfect-length Short Stories According to Publication Type"). I want there to be no rules. I want the most pressing question someone has about my piece to be, "What's with all the bird imagery?" (Thanks, Rick Moody.)
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Letters to the Editor
The year 2009 has already been the deadliest year in Afghanistan for U.S troops. 867 Americans have died to date. And even more Afghan civilians have died as ‘collateral damage’ from US air bombardments as well from the sharp increase in suicide bombings. It’s no wonder that Afghan opposition to our presence is growing. Far from solving the problems, our aggressive military operations are part of the problem.
So what is the alternative? True security will not come through military means. It will come from a negotiation process involving all groups in Afghanistan, a regional diplomatic push, and a long term commitment by all to building up Afghan institutions.
We're now passing eight years of war in Afghanistan, one of our country's longest wars. War has had its day and failed. The war in Afghanistan is neither good nor necessary. Now give peace a chance.
*Thanks to the American Friends Service Committee for the above text.
Please rewatch Charlie Wilson's War.
And as Bill Van Auken recently wrote:
"The debacle confronting U.S. imperialism in Afghanistan is one of its own making. Al-Qaeda and the Taliban are both the products of previous U.S. interventions in Afghanistan. Beginning in 1979, Washington funneled billions of dollars in arms and aid to Islamist guerrillas seeking to topple the country’s Soviet-backed government. It deliberately instigated a Soviet invasion and war that claimed over a million lives, turned another five million into refugees and wrecked the entire society."
Rebuilding can only happen when we put the guns down. We only have two hands.
So what is the alternative? True security will not come through military means. It will come from a negotiation process involving all groups in Afghanistan, a regional diplomatic push, and a long term commitment by all to building up Afghan institutions.
We're now passing eight years of war in Afghanistan, one of our country's longest wars. War has had its day and failed. The war in Afghanistan is neither good nor necessary. Now give peace a chance.
*Thanks to the American Friends Service Committee for the above text.
Please rewatch Charlie Wilson's War.
And as Bill Van Auken recently wrote:
"The debacle confronting U.S. imperialism in Afghanistan is one of its own making. Al-Qaeda and the Taliban are both the products of previous U.S. interventions in Afghanistan. Beginning in 1979, Washington funneled billions of dollars in arms and aid to Islamist guerrillas seeking to topple the country’s Soviet-backed government. It deliberately instigated a Soviet invasion and war that claimed over a million lives, turned another five million into refugees and wrecked the entire society."
Rebuilding can only happen when we put the guns down. We only have two hands.
Friday, September 25, 2009
writing about a photograph
A friend of mine is a photographer studying at FIT, and she recently told me she was inviting people she knew to write responses to her photographs. I looked at her portfolio online this evening, and I really like what she's doing, and there is one picture in particular that I think I could write about.
Oak Grove by Erin Kennedy
I think what it immediately speaks to me is some reminder of my childhood, growing up in rural southeastern Pennsylvania, rolling hills and farmland and new lower middle class housing developments, state parks and small towns, factories and outlets. Getting lost in the woods or wanting to, the dry autumn grass crunching beneath our feet, already tread by so many others, or laying down because of habit rather than footsteps. Small branches left where fallen. Owls and deer and country roads. All those trees older than I ever was. And ultimately, a feeling of tranquility that can be destroyed in an instant when adolescent girls reference legends and fear. I remember wanting to feel at ease and being absolutely unable to. Because of the wind, because of the bare tree limbs, the unobstructed view of the sky, the moon, the snow covered ground. The sound that might have been footsteps crunching leaves under.
But in terms of writing about a photograph, I feel as though I know very little. Funny that the more I read, the more I write, the more I research and absorb, the less qualified I feel to make a statement about anything at all. I mean, really, what do I know?
So, very quickly because I'm supposed to be working on a short story, here are a few things I've found about writing about photography:
http://uwp.duke.edu/wstudio/documents/photography.pdf
http://www.brown.edu/Students/Watershed/images/stories/pdfs/watershedissue5.pdf
http://interactive.usc.edu/members/akratky/W13_Camera_Lucida.pdf
On Photography by Susan Sontag
A Dozen Truths Every Writer Needs to Know About PhotographyBy ERNEST H. ROBL
"Though writing and photography are the two processes that fill up the majority of the editorial space in publications, few journalists manage to be successful at both because the two processes are not only fundamentally different, but also place different, often conflicting, demands on the practitioner."
- That seems as though it deserves more time than I have to give it at the moment.
As does the topic in general, but it's a start.
Oak Grove by Erin Kennedy
I think what it immediately speaks to me is some reminder of my childhood, growing up in rural southeastern Pennsylvania, rolling hills and farmland and new lower middle class housing developments, state parks and small towns, factories and outlets. Getting lost in the woods or wanting to, the dry autumn grass crunching beneath our feet, already tread by so many others, or laying down because of habit rather than footsteps. Small branches left where fallen. Owls and deer and country roads. All those trees older than I ever was. And ultimately, a feeling of tranquility that can be destroyed in an instant when adolescent girls reference legends and fear. I remember wanting to feel at ease and being absolutely unable to. Because of the wind, because of the bare tree limbs, the unobstructed view of the sky, the moon, the snow covered ground. The sound that might have been footsteps crunching leaves under.
But in terms of writing about a photograph, I feel as though I know very little. Funny that the more I read, the more I write, the more I research and absorb, the less qualified I feel to make a statement about anything at all. I mean, really, what do I know?
So, very quickly because I'm supposed to be working on a short story, here are a few things I've found about writing about photography:
http://uwp.duke.edu/wstudio/documents/photography.pdf
http://www.brown.edu/Students/Watershed/images/stories/pdfs/watershedissue5.pdf
http://interactive.usc.edu/members/akratky/W13_Camera_Lucida.pdf
On Photography by Susan Sontag
A Dozen Truths Every Writer Needs to Know About PhotographyBy ERNEST H. ROBL
"Though writing and photography are the two processes that fill up the majority of the editorial space in publications, few journalists manage to be successful at both because the two processes are not only fundamentally different, but also place different, often conflicting, demands on the practitioner."
- That seems as though it deserves more time than I have to give it at the moment.
As does the topic in general, but it's a start.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
bio
I wrote a little bio blurb for a friend of mine for an email announcement tonight, and it's got me thinking about - well, writing little bio blurbs. How does one condense (summarize) the sum of one's experience into a paragraph (summary) or even a few paragraphs?
It all depends on audience, of course, but taking that for granted for a moment, there are a few assumptions we can make about writing a blurb about a person. 1. We will not get everything in there. 2. Things will be left out. 3. There are ways of saying things that allow a phrase to tell the whole story, because 4. Assumptions will be made based on those few short sentences. Or long sentences. Long complicated sentences with lots of clauses, the structure of which the author probably attempts to vary in order not to sound boring and in turn making the person being bio'ed sound boring.
So now I might wonder how I would summarize myself (the little about me to the right of this post is super out of date - I'm not really on my way to a PhD, so why not amend it?), but in my current state of mind I'm wondering more who my audience would be. As I just alluded, I've decided not to apply to PhD programs again this year. Maybe next year, but there would be no point now - I haven't done anything new. I'm barely even writing, let alone publishing.
That is not to suggest that I haven't had a lot of experiences in the last year that have been beneficial, but they're not exactly cv-worthy. And that's fine.
But I'm at this point where I am writing cover letters, and I'm really bad at it. I've never liked my statements of purpose either. Is it because I don't like trying to summarize myself? I just wrote a paragraph about my friend in less than half an hour. Is it that I don't think I have the proper qualifications (I know I don't), and in trying to sound like I might be able to do the job anyway I sound a little bit like a fraud? Hm. The thing is, I could be beginning a PhD program right now, and I could definitely do that. (I've already gotten a master's degree, so I can't help but thinking getting a second one would be easier. I'm sure the third through sixth years would be immeasurably more difficult.) I also think I could totally be a bar manager. I don't know everything I would like to, but I know a lot and I learn super fast. When I want to do something.
It's because I think I sound defensive.
"I know stuff. Really. Honest. No, I do. It doesn't look like it, but I know stuff. I can do it. Promise."
Would I hire me? Probably not.
And yet...
The thing about my job right now is that the chefs/owners have made it easy for me: we have amazing food and amazing wine, and the two go together really well. And I've tasted almost everything on the menu (minus a few of the pricier reds). But it does require selling - it's not a cuisine a lot of people (myself included) are familiar with. And I'm pretty successful at selling this food and wine.
And sometimes people just want to hear that it tastes good.
It's a last resort. There are a million more specific ways of describing a dish (sweet, spicy, crispy, peppery, unique, interesting, traditional, rich, light, etc.) or a bottle (earthy, spicy, fruit-forward, fresh berries, jammy, tannic, creamy, acidic, etc.), but sometimes, no matter how good something sounds, people want to hear that you like it. Which is why I know closeted vegetarians and vegans working at restaurants - people believe you more if they know you've tasted it. And if they believe you like it.
So does the same thing go for selling myself to prospective employers and admissions committees? Of course. I'm not so naive as to not already know that. And I've nailed some interviews, I've charmed some of the more resistant-looking, but I've also thought I nailed interviews and never heard from my prospective employer again.
I'm just feeling self-conscious about my resume. I moved the master's degree to the bottom for my bartending resume. I added a list of restaurants without dates because I have the experience, just not long-term experience, and I think that's important too. But none of them scream high-volume, and I remember that job that looks like it's not high-volume, and it was in fact as demanding as any other bar I've been to (if for a shorter time period, perhaps), and we had to be nice to people, cultivate regulars, have conversations. And I feel weird because I hated it and I miss it.
Oh, existential crises. Maybe I'll just run away to somewhere sunny. Work in a bar for tourists. Lay on the beach. Yeah, maybe I'll just give it all up and settle for that.
...After realizing that the bartending job she worked at to support herself through a BA in English and an MA in Humanities and Social Thought was the job she wanted to do - if not in the right city - Christina decided to... to what? To make it happen.
It all depends on audience, of course, but taking that for granted for a moment, there are a few assumptions we can make about writing a blurb about a person. 1. We will not get everything in there. 2. Things will be left out. 3. There are ways of saying things that allow a phrase to tell the whole story, because 4. Assumptions will be made based on those few short sentences. Or long sentences. Long complicated sentences with lots of clauses, the structure of which the author probably attempts to vary in order not to sound boring and in turn making the person being bio'ed sound boring.
So now I might wonder how I would summarize myself (the little about me to the right of this post is super out of date - I'm not really on my way to a PhD, so why not amend it?), but in my current state of mind I'm wondering more who my audience would be. As I just alluded, I've decided not to apply to PhD programs again this year. Maybe next year, but there would be no point now - I haven't done anything new. I'm barely even writing, let alone publishing.
That is not to suggest that I haven't had a lot of experiences in the last year that have been beneficial, but they're not exactly cv-worthy. And that's fine.
But I'm at this point where I am writing cover letters, and I'm really bad at it. I've never liked my statements of purpose either. Is it because I don't like trying to summarize myself? I just wrote a paragraph about my friend in less than half an hour. Is it that I don't think I have the proper qualifications (I know I don't), and in trying to sound like I might be able to do the job anyway I sound a little bit like a fraud? Hm. The thing is, I could be beginning a PhD program right now, and I could definitely do that. (I've already gotten a master's degree, so I can't help but thinking getting a second one would be easier. I'm sure the third through sixth years would be immeasurably more difficult.) I also think I could totally be a bar manager. I don't know everything I would like to, but I know a lot and I learn super fast. When I want to do something.
It's because I think I sound defensive.
"I know stuff. Really. Honest. No, I do. It doesn't look like it, but I know stuff. I can do it. Promise."
Would I hire me? Probably not.
And yet...
The thing about my job right now is that the chefs/owners have made it easy for me: we have amazing food and amazing wine, and the two go together really well. And I've tasted almost everything on the menu (minus a few of the pricier reds). But it does require selling - it's not a cuisine a lot of people (myself included) are familiar with. And I'm pretty successful at selling this food and wine.
And sometimes people just want to hear that it tastes good.
It's a last resort. There are a million more specific ways of describing a dish (sweet, spicy, crispy, peppery, unique, interesting, traditional, rich, light, etc.) or a bottle (earthy, spicy, fruit-forward, fresh berries, jammy, tannic, creamy, acidic, etc.), but sometimes, no matter how good something sounds, people want to hear that you like it. Which is why I know closeted vegetarians and vegans working at restaurants - people believe you more if they know you've tasted it. And if they believe you like it.
So does the same thing go for selling myself to prospective employers and admissions committees? Of course. I'm not so naive as to not already know that. And I've nailed some interviews, I've charmed some of the more resistant-looking, but I've also thought I nailed interviews and never heard from my prospective employer again.
I'm just feeling self-conscious about my resume. I moved the master's degree to the bottom for my bartending resume. I added a list of restaurants without dates because I have the experience, just not long-term experience, and I think that's important too. But none of them scream high-volume, and I remember that job that looks like it's not high-volume, and it was in fact as demanding as any other bar I've been to (if for a shorter time period, perhaps), and we had to be nice to people, cultivate regulars, have conversations. And I feel weird because I hated it and I miss it.
Oh, existential crises. Maybe I'll just run away to somewhere sunny. Work in a bar for tourists. Lay on the beach. Yeah, maybe I'll just give it all up and settle for that.
...After realizing that the bartending job she worked at to support herself through a BA in English and an MA in Humanities and Social Thought was the job she wanted to do - if not in the right city - Christina decided to... to what? To make it happen.
Friday, September 11, 2009
someone after my own heart
This article makes me so so so so so so happy.
But what I'm chuckling about at the moment is the fact that when I read the title (The Coin Flip: A Fundamentally Unfair Proposition?), my initial reaction was that there was something some of us - the more successful, of course - knew that the rest of us didn't which kept a smaller number of people in the successful camp and the majority neatly excluded.
As if the world was full of business executives, entrepreneurs, celebrities, chefs, bosses, artists, movers and shakers, etc., who wouldn't be where they are today without knowing a thing or two about coin flipping.
But what I'm chuckling about at the moment is the fact that when I read the title (The Coin Flip: A Fundamentally Unfair Proposition?), my initial reaction was that there was something some of us - the more successful, of course - knew that the rest of us didn't which kept a smaller number of people in the successful camp and the majority neatly excluded.
As if the world was full of business executives, entrepreneurs, celebrities, chefs, bosses, artists, movers and shakers, etc., who wouldn't be where they are today without knowing a thing or two about coin flipping.
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