Text
May 22, 2012
4 notes

Mistakes were made

This is how the last half-hour played out.

I was reading a book, drinking incredibly strong coffee, and, like most of the time when I’m reading a book, I was desperate for a distraction.  I settled on the old standby, the classic “I’ll just grab a quick snack.”  After all it had been hours since breakfast, and I was famished—famished?—ok not really famished, or hungry at all, but I decided I’d better eat something anyway, you know, just to be safe.  

My first instinct was granola, but then I saw some apples on the counter, and knowing my history with buying apples and then letting them go bad, and seeing how history was, right there in front of me, in the process of repeating itself, I opted for an apple themed snack.  But how to eat the apple?  ”Bite into it” was ruled out immediately because the skin always gets stuck in my teeth, and “cut it into segments and put peanut butter on it” seemed appealing at first but was then vetoed when some voice inside me lazily protested against the…umm…tedium of cutting?  I’m not really sure what happened exactly, except that all I know is a few moments later I was hypocritically cutting up a couple apples and putting them into my VitaMix (which I got for Christmas, and is better than any Red Rider BB gun, ever) with the intent of making apple juice, because I thought maybe that was a thing I could do with that blender.  

Two minutes later I had a steaming blob of apple pulp.  Far from refreshing juice.  Added some water and ice (to combat the steam), blended, poured a sample, and drank a few sips of what tasted like apples but had the mouth feel of watery apple slime sauce.  More water.  More ice.  Still gross.  Fast forward a minute and I’m holding a chinois, slowly straining juice into a measuring cup, next to like nine dirty dishes on a counter-top that was clean five minutes before when I decided that cutting an apple seemed like too much work.  

I taste the strained juice and…Delicious!  Success.  So now I just need to clean up and get back to readin…but wait!  There’s pulp in that strainer!  I couldn’t just throw that out right?  Right!  

Oh god.  I hate my brain.  

Two minutes later and I’m micro-planing a nugget of nutmeg into a bowl of whisked apple pulp, brown sugar, cinnamon, and a splash of cider vinegar.  I had decided to make apple pancakes because fritters needed too much oil to deep fry in and that was, somehow in my stupid head, simply just too much work.  I add some flour and baking powder and then get this idea that I need to add soda water because the carbonation would help the baking powder make the whole thing more puffy, but my roommate took the bottles for her Sodastream to work with her and my Isi whipper has been broken since I made the coffee infused vodka, and now I’m consoling myself that it’s going to be ok, you’ll be fine with just the leavening power of baking powder.  But I know I’m lying and I’m depressed about it but lying to my other lying self all like, yeah, you’re right, it’ll be totally fine.  But we both know.  

And then I’m like, shit, did I just make vegan pancakes?  Oh no.  So I melt some butter in a pan to salvage the whole operation and they turn out pretty good but still a bit too dense and I know it’s because of the missing carbonated water, but I’m trying to suppress that and not be all passive-aggressive “I told you so” to my other more optimistic defeated self.  I grab some pecans and maple syrup, leave the kitchen now full of dirty dishes, sit down at the dining room table with my pancakes and fresh apple juice, and begin to confront the fact that I’m probably never going to be able to finish reading a book ever again in my life.   

Photo
May 20, 2012
4 notes
I decided tonight while at work that if I ever need to name a thing I make (not a band), it’ll be called “Bats Aren’t Bugs.”  This sums up so much of so many things.  

I decided tonight while at work that if I ever need to name a thing I make (not a band), it’ll be called “Bats Aren’t Bugs.”  This sums up so much of so many things.  

Photo
May 18, 2012
53 notes
believermag: Some time ago, I transcribed many of the “final thoughts” offered by the talk show host Jerry Springer; thoughts about transsexuals, mothers who slept with their daughter’s boyfriends, criminals and freaks. Then I thought, “What if each time he was talking about artists?” - Sheila Heti 1. Some of us might wonder what make a person come on a show like this to divulge their problems to millions of people. It seems sick, or we say to ourselves, “I would never do that.” But even the people who do come on this show have to, in the end, square their choices with their morality and their God. It’s all about being honest and asking yourself what you really can do, and whether the price is worth it. Because whatever you might think the price is now, you won’t ever know the true cost, not until it’s way too late. 2. A good many people want to make a living in art — you see them all the time; they have fantasies of being a writer or a painter or a dancer. The truth is, very few of these people will actually make a living in art — the rest will end up back in the service sector, waiting on tables, some might even get into exotic dancing, others might take up posts at the university and start teaching. None of these lives are bad ones, but they’re not the ones these people had the hopes of living. Are we to condemn them forever? Or are we going to try and understand that the situation is oftentimes beyond their control? They simply do not have the talent, or the connections, to allow them to live the lives they want to live. If this was our own son and daughter, would we stop loving them simply because they had dreams of making it big on the stage, or in a career that few people actually respect? No way. 3. It’s hard enough being an artist without people looking down at you all the time. That’s what makes these people act out in ways we often find intolerable. But we must understand that it is the condemnation of the many that makes them take that path. If we tried to treat them like everybody else, things would turn out differently — they wouldn’t feel the need to act out. One only acts out when one needs attention and love that is sorely lacking in their lives. I hope things turn out well for our guests, but I’m not so sure they will. 4. We call them freaks, oddities — we might even point and stare. But to point and stare is not why I brought them on the show today. I wanted them to be able to express their point of view for a change, so we could all see where they’re coming from. You see, in a free society, a person is allowed to make all sorts of choices, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else or impinge on anyone else’s freedom. These artists are not impinging on anyone’s freedom, because we all have the choice — whether to go into that gallery or not, whether to pick up that book or not, whether to buy that painting and hang it in our house or not. We might not like what these people are trying to represent, we might even disagree with them about what our society’s ills are, but we all know that society does have problems, and that it is the artist’s job to use the outlet of art to express the problems he or she perceives. We may not like it, but there it is. We cannot have our sensibilities offended unless we walk into the place where they’re sure to be, and we can’t accuse someone of a crime if we’ve walked onto the crime scene ourselves. 5. A person has every right to do whatever they want with their life so long as it doesn’t harm anyone else. When you have to start questioning your behaviour is when it does begin to hurt the people you love and care about. Sure, there will always be gossiping, and there will always be people who are looking at what you do, and don’t like it. The place to look is inside yourself, to ask yourself truthfully what effect your work is having on your audience: are they free to leave if they’re unhappy, or are they stuck to you despite whatever unhappiness they may experience? Are you manipulating them, or being dishonest with them? Are you leading them on? Are they unaware of your hidden motives? If that is the case, you have to let your audience into the closet and show him or her all the scary skeletons hanging there. But if you really are doing your best to be honest, then who cares what the neighbours think? Just erect your fence a little higher and go on with your life.

believermag:

Some time ago, I transcribed many of the “final thoughts” offered by the talk show host Jerry Springer; thoughts about transsexuals, mothers who slept with their daughter’s boyfriends, criminals and freaks. Then I thought, “What if each time he was talking about artists?” - Sheila Heti

1. Some of us might wonder what make a person come on a show like this to divulge their problems to millions of people. It seems sick, or we say to ourselves, “I would never do that.” But even the people who do come on this show have to, in the end, square their choices with their morality and their God. It’s all about being honest and asking yourself what you really can do, and whether the price is worth it. Because whatever you might think the price is now, you won’t ever know the true cost, not until it’s way too late.

2. A good many people want to make a living in art — you see them all the time; they have fantasies of being a writer or a painter or a dancer. The truth is, very few of these people will actually make a living in art — the rest will end up back in the service sector, waiting on tables, some might even get into exotic dancing, others might take up posts at the university and start teaching. None of these lives are bad ones, but they’re not the ones these people had the hopes of living. Are we to condemn them forever? Or are we going to try and understand that the situation is oftentimes beyond their control? They simply do not have the talent, or the connections, to allow them to live the lives they want to live. If this was our own son and daughter, would we stop loving them simply because they had dreams of making it big on the stage, or in a career that few people actually respect? No way.

3. It’s hard enough being an artist without people looking down at you all the time. That’s what makes these people act out in ways we often find intolerable. But we must understand that it is the condemnation of the many that makes them take that path. If we tried to treat them like everybody else, things would turn out differently — they wouldn’t feel the need to act out. One only acts out when one needs attention and love that is sorely lacking in their lives. I hope things turn out well for our guests, but I’m not so sure they will.

4. We call them freaks, oddities — we might even point and stare. But to point and stare is not why I brought them on the show today. I wanted them to be able to express their point of view for a change, so we could all see where they’re coming from. You see, in a free society, a person is allowed to make all sorts of choices, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else or impinge on anyone else’s freedom. These artists are not impinging on anyone’s freedom, because we all have the choice — whether to go into that gallery or not, whether to pick up that book or not, whether to buy that painting and hang it in our house or not. We might not like what these people are trying to represent, we might even disagree with them about what our society’s ills are, but we all know that society does have problems, and that it is the artist’s job to use the outlet of art to express the problems he or she perceives. We may not like it, but there it is. We cannot have our sensibilities offended unless we walk into the place where they’re sure to be, and we can’t accuse someone of a crime if we’ve walked onto the crime scene ourselves.

5. A person has every right to do whatever they want with their life so long as it doesn’t harm anyone else. When you have to start questioning your behaviour is when it does begin to hurt the people you love and care about. Sure, there will always be gossiping, and there will always be people who are looking at what you do, and don’t like it. The place to look is inside yourself, to ask yourself truthfully what effect your work is having on your audience: are they free to leave if they’re unhappy, or are they stuck to you despite whatever unhappiness they may experience? Are you manipulating them, or being dishonest with them? Are you leading them on? Are they unaware of your hidden motives? If that is the case, you have to let your audience into the closet and show him or her all the scary skeletons hanging there. But if you really are doing your best to be honest, then who cares what the neighbours think? Just erect your fence a little higher and go on with your life.

Photo
May 10, 2012
6,821 notes
iheartclassics: “Yes, I know most of you just grab the book and open the cover, but this is about respect, people! Follow protocol, and your reading experience will be technically enjoyable.”Lol.   maloriebrooke: I just loved this. We must care for the things we cherish. :) I received my first of three Luis Alberto Urrea books in the mail today (see this post).  Perfect timing, internet.  

iheartclassics:

“Yes, I know most of you just grab the book and open the cover, but this is about respect, people! Follow protocol, and your reading experience will be technically enjoyable.”

Lol.  

maloriebrooke:

I just loved this. We must care for the things we cherish. :)

I received my first of three Luis Alberto Urrea books in the mail today (see this post).  Perfect timing, internet.  

(via theatlantic)

Photo
May 06, 2012
2 notes
Ok, so I recently got a job bartending at a new place in Richmond called, Don’t Look Back.  The name is in reference to a line from my boss’s favorite Belle and Sebastian song, which is itself referencing a Bob Dylan documentary (which is great, by the way).   Regardless, if I were to make a fiery, let’s say jalapeno infused, tequila drink made with blood orange juice and then line the rim of the glass in salt, and I were to call this drink, Lot’s Wife, at the bar Don’t Look Back, would I be alone in getting that joke?  

Ok, so I recently got a job bartending at a new place in Richmond called, Don’t Look Back.  The name is in reference to a line from my boss’s favorite Belle and Sebastian song, which is itself referencing a Bob Dylan documentary (which is great, by the way).  

Regardless, if I were to make a fiery, let’s say jalapeno infused, tequila drink made with blood orange juice and then line the rim of the glass in salt, and I were to call this drink, Lot’s Wife, at the bar Don’t Look Back, would I be alone in getting that joke?  

Video
May 06, 2012
2 notes

I turned on the TV an hour ago in a lazy effort to deflect looming responsibilities and stumbled across this Bill Moyers interview with Luis Alberto Urrea, a writer I had never heard of but whose incredibly coherent, compassionate, and compelling understanding of the Mexican/American experience had me glued to the television.  In the ten minutes that have passed since the interview concluded I have already ordered three of Urrea’s books online, and I can now be found anxiously waiting by the mailbox for their arrival.  

Watch this.  

Video
April 27, 2012
3 notes

Essential.

Photo
April 24, 2012
1 note
A link to this 1945 U.S. Military pamphlet has permanently distracted me from the Atlantic article on Francophobia that contained it.   Read all the gripes here and may it distract/entertain/inform you, according to your disposition.  

A link to this 1945 U.S. Military pamphlet has permanently distracted me from the Atlantic article on Francophobia that contained it.  

Read all the gripes here and may it distract/entertain/inform you, according to your disposition.  

Quote
April 19, 2012
1 note
"There’s a time and a place for everything. The time and place for extra cheese is pizza hut at 3am. Not at a nice restaurant at 8. Don’t 3am yourself at my restaurant. It’s embarrassing."

— Me quoting me texting Kendall whose artwork, featured in the last post, you should buy all of.

Link
April 13, 2012
6 notes
This sums up tonight's show pretty well.

I finally put a stop to the nonsense when I said, “I did not drive all the way from Austin today so I could be the background music to you hula hooping.”

Goddamn hippies.