snaps

One of the main ways I use the phone in my camera is as a memory aid. I take pictures of products at a store so I can look online at home and compare prices. In New York, I take a picture of where the car is parked, since we have to move it every other day and the days and parking spots blur together. I take a picture of a passage in a book if it mentions something I want to remember, like the name of another book. (I also use the notepad in my phone for things like that, but quelle chaos. I have 25 separate notes, each one listing dozens of fragments of things I must’ve thought I’d remember, but looking through them now it’s a disastrous approach.)

Yesterday I had to clear up some space on my phone and realized that I’d been collecting things with a similar tone. (I also had a couple of screen shots of Amelia’s pavlova recipe, and I’m dying to make it so I kept those.) A kind of theme emerged and showed me where my attention has been collecting:

kierkegaard

Isn’t that true — how horrible to lose yourself, and how invisibly it happens? How quietly? You just wake up one day and don’t recognize yourself, maybe you’ve been giving yourself away and there’s nothing left, or maybe someone has been chipping away at you and you flinch and diminish yourself until there’s no you left. Both have happened to me, and when you finally have that moment of clarity and see it, it’s shocking. And he’s right: it’s the greatest hazard of all.

mad

I think this one goes with the one above in an inverse way — and maybe especially for those who have needed to reclaim/rediscover/rebirth themselves. And if you’ve disappeared yourself, it was because in some way you were willing to choose what other people thought over your own thoughts or experiences or even who you were (or maybe you had to, to save yourself in some way). So coming back around to yourself, and being willing to be knowledgeable, willing to express your power, and especially willing to be angry . . . well, folks never like that. I’ve learned that, too.

pretty

YOU DO NOT OWE PRETTINESS TO ANYONE. Be pretty to yourself, the way you feel pretty. You don’t have to wear make-up and dye your hair for anyone (do it for yourself if you like it). You don’t have to wear shoes that hurt your feet. You don’t have to squeeze into clothes that make it hard to breathe. You don’t have to smile because a man on the street tells you to. Of course this is still a fraught thing for women, because you can be killed for resisting those demands, and in the United States, the political tenor is flying so fast towards Handmaid’s Tale it’s FRIGHTENING. Especially in states controlled by Republicans, like Texas, where you get the double whammy of federal and state constrictions on being female. (Or rather, not-male.) But I think this bigger view, “you don’t owe it to civilisation in general” makes it clear what a ridiculous idea it is that we have to spend so much time, energy, money, and discomfort on “being pretty.” Fuck pretty, man. Fuck it. If you are pretty and enjoy that, if you are pretty and like making yourself pretty because it pleases you, then go you. Do that thing. Otherwise, fuck it. I’m so done. I get to participate in a Handmaid protest at the Texas Capitol next Tuesday and national press will be there; we have to agree to be interviewed in order to participate, and I’m going to need to rehearse answers to possible questions, because I AM SO ANGRY my responses would likely be incoherent otherwise.

rape

The specific article that we were discussing in the thread is no longer available on the site, unfortunately, but I strongly recommend The What’s Underneath project. (FOUND IT! It’s by artist Diane Goldie.) Obviously I was moved by the comments of a woman who had been raped (who hasn’t?? Fewer than those who have, I fear), and still feel a chill at her perfect description of what it can do. If you have time for one video, you might enjoy this one: God is a Black Woman With a Good Sense of Humor. The article opens with this great quote: “My favorite thing about aging? That I’m still alive.” Me too, Roselyn Lionhart. Me too.

tas

The least we can do is try to be there. I love this quote that beautiful Maggie shared, because it resonates with something I always say, which is that the sky is just there, day in and day out, putting on a big dramatic show, new in each moment, and we don’t even usually notice it. (I mean, I tend to be one of the oddballs who does notice it, and when I point it out to someone they often seem a little bewildered, like yeah, clouds. 🙂 )

(Also, follow Maggie on IG. She’s a glorious writer of books and articles, and lives on a farm in Tasmania, and her photographs knock my socks off so often I just wear flip-flops.)

Happy Wednesday. After a cold, rainy, windy time in NYC it turned gorgeous yesterday, on my leaving day….and I arrive in Austin after a period of gorgeous days to a period of upcoming rainy days. Life, you jokester.

words

Yesterday I was listening to an episode of Fresh Air, an interview with Kory Stamper, a lexicographer and associate editor at Merriam-Webster. The interview was about how the decisions are made to include words in the dictionary, and how best to accommodate words like the N word, which have complicated usage. Context changes the meaning so profoundly, and determines whether it’s a hate word or an affiliative one. (I would’ve thought that would be an easy issue to accommodate — multiple definitions — but that’s not right, apparently. They manage some of this kind of complexity with usage notes.)

Anyway. Stamper said that she gets letters from people about the N word especially, demanding that it not be included in the dictionary. Similarly, when they expanded the definition of marriage to include same sex marriage, oh the letters they received. And parents write all the time, apparently, to demand that words like “fuck” be removed because they don’t want their kids to say those words. To know about them.

AS IF PEOPLE LEARN WORDS AND LANGUAGE BY READING THE DICTIONARY. I’d bet that 99.9% of the time they already know of a word when they reach for the dictionary, so they’re looking for the meaning and usage, or the pronunciation. Obviously there are people like me, who read the dictionary for fun, but I think we are such a tiny minority we shouldn’t count on this issue of word inclusion. The complainers didn’t seem to be upset by a concern that the inclusion of the word means something, that it is now legitimately part of our language. They simply didn’t want their kids to learn about it.  That’s just so strange, to me.

Part of the conversation was about “English,” and she said we all speak a dialect. Standard English is used for writing, it’s what we’re taught in school, but we really don’t speak it. And we don’t even always use it in writing. She said she never EVER corrects people when they’re talking — jerkery of the highest order, she said and I agree — but even in writing she doesn’t correct them. Of course there’s a time and place for proper language usage, but language is fluid. Gosh I could not agree more. People think it’s funny to be a “grammar Nazi” and seem to take a kind of pride in it, a way they get to feel superior; they also assume that since I work as a freelance editor I must be a grammar Nazi too. (My response: I will if you pay me to do it but otherwise nope. I also care much less about what a rule says and much more about clarity of expression.)

And this was fascinating: so many of the “rules” we go by (never split an infinitive! Don’t end a sentence with a preposition!) are holdovers from other languages. The split infinitive rule stems from Latin . . . where it is simply impossible to split an infinitive because it’s one word. So a long time ago people thought Latin was the fancy language and English needed to be fancier….hence more like Latin…..hence no splitting of infinitives.

It’s a fascinating conversation, and I recommend the podcast episode! This is one domain in which the Internet has improved the landscape; not only can lexicographers more fluidly change the dictionary — no need to wait 10 years for the print update — but they can also track usage more easily with the massive databases that are available. I wonder how one becomes a lexicographer (I’m always looking for a career, what I will be when I grow up); I just found this fascinating article in the NYTimes, worth a quick read. Apparently lexicographers are born, less than made.

this would’ve been me, but I had blue cat-eye glasses. With rhinestones.

It made me think of the search for the new Dalai Lama when the old one dies: monks go out into the world looking for the new incarnation — maybe a search for lexicographers would involve knocking on doors and pulling little girls who are hiding under the covers reading the dictionary. They would’ve found me, for sure.

And then I came across this quote I’d saved:

“DEFINITION NOT FOUND IN THE DICTIONARY Not leaving: an act of trust and love, often deciphered by children” —Markus Zusak

and I think about all the ideas, feelings, experiences we have that we don’t have words for, that can’t be found in the dictionary. That’s why we all seem to love those lists of words in other languages that we don’t have in ours, like schadenfreude, and saudade.

Many of my friends love words and language as much as I do — there are so many of us! I don’t despair over some decrepitude in English; it changes, because that’s what language does. Anyway. This one’s for the word nerds among us. xoxoxox

three things: 1/17/17

FEED: My Sunday was incredible — I attended the National Poets Against Trump protest and the National Writers Resist protest here in Austin, and wished with all my heart I could’ve been at the ones in New York City. The writers’ protest there was held on the steps of the New York Public Library, and how I would’ve loved to be there.

At the NYPL

I also attended a training session for nonviolent protest, organized by the women organizing the Austin Women’s March (they’re expecting more than 22,000 people!), so all that comes together to lead me to share this powerful poem.

A Woman Speaks (Audre Lorde)

Moon marked and touched by sun
my magic is unwritten
but when the sea turns back
it will leave my shape behind.
I seek no favor
untouched by blood
unrelenting as the curse of love
permanent as my errors
or my pride
I do not mix
love with pity
nor hate with scorn
and if you would know me
look into the entrails of Uranus
where the restless oceans pound.

I do not dwell
within my birth nor my divinities
who am ageless and half-grown
and still seeking
my sisters
witches in Dahomey
wear me inside their coiled cloths
as our mother did
mourning.

I have been woman
for a long time
beware my smile
I am treacherous with old magic
and the noon’s new fury
with all your wide futures
promised
I am
woman
and not white.

From The Collected Poems of Audre Lorde.

That feeds me, sisters, it does.

This is amazing, amazing Joe Brundidge.

SEED: Even though mine is such a heavily literary life, I’m not hooked into the quite large literary community here in Austin, though I want to be — especially after attending the writers protest and seeing a good portion of it. I sat there at BookPeople thinking These are my people. All of them, these are MY people. I thought it at the poets protest too; we who need words, who value words, who understand the power of words to fight, and who turn to them in times of trouble. He was at the poets protest too, but I must have been distracted because I didn’t really GET Joe until he spoke at the writers protest. He read two pieces, the first of which I remembered from the poets protest a few hours earlier. But then he read the second one, and he is such an amazing speaker it just felt like he suddenly started talking to us, and with urgency. It was about the critical importance of doing your work, of not waiting, and of how important it is, and he spoke right to the things you say that stop yourself, and he was right there ready to step into the muck and lift you out, rinse it off of you because he needs you, he needs your voice. I just sat there crying and feeling LOVED, and held. When he finished speaking, the next speaker was Sarah Bird — actually the person I was most eager to hear — but I couldn’t pay attention because I was afraid Joe would leave, so I just kept my eye on him.

As soon as Sarah quit speaking, while the next speaker was being introduced I jumped up (I was on the front row) and dashed over to Joe, who didn’t know me from Adam. I asked, “Can I hug you?” And with his giant smile, this tremendous bear of a man reached out his arms and hugged me so tight, so solid and still, and for so long. I moved slightly, to end the hug, just because I didn’t want him to feel stuck, and he didn’t let go. So I just relaxed, and I’ll bet we hugged for two solid minutes, maybe three. I thanked him and told him how much I needed to hear what he said, and my eyes filled with tears. Then I got shy and embarrassed and ducked back to my seat, but for the rest of the night I was held by him, and his words, and I felt better than I have in a very long time.

Joe is a host on Writing on the Air (here are his interviews), and he’s the director of the Austin International Poetry Festival. Here’s Joe in action, at Austin’s wonderful, wonderful independent book store Malvern Books, host of the poets protest and so many other wonderful events. He’s not as intense and passionate in this video as he was at the protest, but you get a feel for who he is.

That’s one thing I love about life. You can just be sitting there, expecting so little, and encounter someone who blows you over, envelopes you with love and acceptance and wonder, and you come away healed. I love that.

READ: I will just share some good thoughts and reading if you’re in the same general mindset I’m in this week, as we prepare for ….. ugh. Well, you know. Think about, remember, do these things:

  • “My existence requires no one’s permission.” (Joe Brundidge, beautiful Joe)
  • Someone at the poets protest said, “Aesthetically and philosophically, any poetry is against Trump.” No Republican president has ever had a poet at inauguration. Shocked? Nah.
  • “Don’t just sit there simulating a free person.” ~Austin poet Greg Liotta
  • When he takes the oath of office on Friday, January 19, you take the oath too. Take the oath to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution (against him and his swamp monsters).
    https://www.wall-of-us.org/taketheoath/
  • Here’s a list of 27 books every woman should read if they’re going to the women’s march or NOT. I’ve only read five, how can that be…..gotta get busy.
  • A pivot: Harvard’s photography courses are online, and free. If you complete all the modules, you get a certificate. The software they use is old (~2009, I think), but the basics of photography haven’t changed.

three things: 12/19/16

a gorgeous scene from the movie Moonlight, one that made me cry

1)  For someone who really loves movies, I don’t get to see too many. My taste in movies is extremely different from Marc’s (I like foreign/subtitled, subtle, slow doesn’t bother me, etc., and since he is profoundly dyslexic he can’t do subtitled, and he likes a movie that “holds his attention” which means not slow or subtle), so in NYC I never go see movies. When I’m in Austin, I’ll occasionally see a movie, but I’m so busy trying to fit in time with my people that my rare spare time is spent with friends and family. Still, I did see Moonlight and absolutely loved it, and I’ll see La La Land one way or another, ditto Hell or High Water and Manchester By the Sea.  Here are some lists — have you seen any of these?

  • NYTimes — and Moonlight is on all the reviewers’ lists, here.
  • Esquire — but hmm, they ranked The Lobster first, and boy did I hate that movie.
  • AV Club — good ones on this list
  • Washington Post — again, Moonlight makes it to #1. It’s SO GOOD, y’all.

2)  I love my bed — do you love yours? My bed in Austin is the best bed I’ve ever had. I chose every detail of it, concerned only with what I wanted, for the first time in my life (and I had enough money that I didn’t have to make-do with the cheapest thing I could possibly find, as I’d had to do my whole life). The mattress is exactly what I want. The bedding, soft white sheets, the pillows exactly the soft/firm I wanted. A beautiful piece of furniture with a big headboard and a low footboard. And since I sleep all alone in Austin, I can sleep exactly as I wish, too. In New York, Marc sleeps tucked right up against my back so I only really sleep on my right side and don’t have much option to move around. In Austin, though, I have pillows on both sides, so I can roll around and always have a pillow for between my knees, and cozy covers, and always always my kindle in bed with me. I read all night long, every single time I wake up.

my kindle is in an orange cover so I can spot it easily

Beds are so personal, so intimate, such a quiet space where so much happens even when we sleep alone, as I do. We cry there, feel lonely there, we think there, we dream there, we make plans, we rest, we are sick, we read and watch television and movies, we luxuriate there. I adore my bed, it’s my favorite place in my house and the place I can’t wait to get back to, every time I return to Austin. I make my bed every single morning after I finish my coffee, just because I want the pleasure of pulling back the covers at night, to rearranging my bed for the night.

In New York, our bed doesn’t have a sheet, just a comforter, and I don’t like that at all—it’s Marc’s preference. When he sleeps in Austin with me, he pulls the top sheet out from the bottom so it’s not tucked in, and moves it all over towards me — such an important detail to him, and to me, the presence of a top sheet. In Austin I always wear my nightgown (which is really just a long t-shirt) because I feel most comfortable that way, but in New York he sleeps naked and wants me to, too, so I do. It’s not my favorite. People have such definite opinions about how they sleep, which is fascinating if you think about it.

3)  Being a mother to my grown daughters, who are mothers themselves, is very important to me. Since I didn’t have a mother, and often longed to have one especially after I had my kids, I want to give that to my kids. If you’ve read this blog for long, you know this, I write about it a lot. But the girls don’t seem to have the same thoughts or feelings about it and I struggle with this. I’d hoped they would ask me for advice, ask me questions, be glad that I was there for them, and it doesn’t really go like that. They ask everyone but me. They trust everyone else’s thoughts, even strangers in Facebook groups. They acknowledge help from everyone else but me, in private and in public. It’s hard, it hurts, it makes me sad. Sometimes I think maybe I just need to pull back and not knock myself out, since it doesn’t matter to them — and in fact this is my deal, not theirs!

I’ve heard other grandmothers say the same thing, so I know it’s not just me. Maybe this is something about this generation of young mothers, maybe with all the resources they have available to them, online groups and all the information they could ever want at their fingertips, maybe they just don’t need the kind of help we used to need. Or maybe I did a good job and raised daughters who are self-sufficient and know how to take care of things, who know how to manage themselves and their lives. And anyway, what is it I’m wanting? Thanks? (well, yes….sometimes) Acknowledgement? (well, yes….sometimes) This is a painful thing for me and I’m trying to find my way through it. It’s bigger than this, it’s also about disentangling my identity and self as Lori from my identity as mother, and maybe few of us ever really get that done to our satisfaction.

hi, beautiful

2015And here we are in the new year, 2015. The year my second daughter will turn 30, staggering to the mama. The year I will turn 57, a little less staggering to the mama somehow. The year I’ll go to Colombia, and Iceland, and back to southeast Asia. And today the day I will see almost all my book club women (but no Faith, to my sorrow), my boon companions here in Austin. We’ll eat well, laugh a lot I have no doubt, and Marc will be in the mix, which will be . . . interesting.

Someone in London, Ontario has been slowly and systematically reading her way through my blog, month by month. It’s been very interesting to observe; she (I assume she) doesn’t know what’s to come in late October 2012, and I wish I could warn her. She’ll be as shocked by the sudden crumbling of my whole life as I was (well…..kinda, not really). Periodically I’ve wanted to see what she was seeing, so I’d open a month page and read through the posts for that month, in that year. It’s been a lot of fun, actually, revisiting those days, seeing the kinds of things I wrote about.

One thing I did a lot of a year or two ago was to share links, things I wanted to read or think about. I haven’t done that in a while, so I thought I’d do it today; in case you’re in a lying-around kind of mood maybe something will strike your fancy. Here are some links I’ve saved:

Links about books and literary stuff to read

Life stuff

Movies

Food

OK! Happy new year. Thanks for following my blog, for commenting here or on Facebook, and emailing and messaging me about posts, or other things my posts make you think of, or for any reason at all. I look forward to seeing how this year unfolds for us all. Peace on earth is too much to hope for, but I’d settle for a quiet weekend here and there, wouldn’t you?

And p.s. Since my daily gratitude email system has apparently gone down for the count, I’ve decided to put it here. There may be days that’s all I post, just a short note about what I’m grateful for. Dang, that system was so great . . . I really miss it. For 616 days in a row I made note of what I was grateful for, beginning right after Gracie died. Usually my daily gratitude was about someone specific, and that may well be you. I’m just going to use first initials, so since I know a bunch of people whose names begin with K, and with D, you’re just going to have to wonder, I guess. Since I write my posts the day before, and schedule them to go up at 7am the next morning, there’ll be a tiny bit of a lag. So here goes:

gratitude: 01/01/15: Today I am so grateful for my wonderful little home, with a landlord who takes such good care of me and with friends N&B just on the other side of the wall who turn this into a home depot, where we watch out for each other as we come and go. I never take having a home for granted, but I really hit the jackpot here.

01/01/13: Struggling to feel grateful about anything today. (I remember that day.)
01/01/14: Grateful today for a new year of life.

lots of good stuff

Well, dear friends, I know I’ve been away for a while and here I am just sharing some links, but I want to share these with you! So much good stuff, and I hope some of it appeals to you. Since it’s coming from me, it’s about books and movies and poetry:

BOOKS

MOVIES & TV

POETRY

MISC

Winding down 2013, looking ahead to 2014 — arbitrary divisions, but they still feeling meaningful. Much love to you all……xo

Friday AGAIN

I know everyone loves a Friday — weekend, yay! — but they come whizzing by so fast and there are only 52 in a year, and then WHEE! It’s already a different month, a different season, the next year. I’m telling you, time is scary fast. My time in NYC is winding down, and I head home very early Monday. It was a blur, as the weeks generally are these days.

There are 31 tabs open in my browser right now. Thirty-one. That’s insane. My computer is so slow and don’t even ask me to open task manager and see how many instances of Chrome are filling up that little screen. It kind of freaks me out. How can my computer do anything, with all its resources going to maintaining Chrome and all my tabs. Jesus. So here, in case any are of interest to you and (hahahaha!) so that I’ll come back and find themhahahahahah oh that is so funny, here are the tabs I haven’t been able to close all week:

Have you written a manuscript but can’t really afford a professional edit? This page gives you 10 ways to fake a professional edit. Good advice all around.

Two from the LA Review of Books (consistently outstanding writing there, I highly recommend the site. Friend them on facebook for easy access):  Here’s an interview with the author of The Woman Who Lost Her Soul, a book I want to read. The book is kind of a political thriller and about a father-daughter relationship. Sounds good to me. And here’s an interview with Michelle Orange, who is described as the love child David Foster Wallace and Joan Didion would’ve had.

Here are two from The Millions — if you love books and don’t follow The Millions, why?? Here is a list of the Booker Prize shortlist, with links and excerpts! Wonderful! And here’s a bit about Pynchon’s new novel, which I will soon be reading. (And here’s a review from NPR books of Pynchon’s novel.)

Are you thinking about self-publishing? Here are 10 counter-intuitive tips for self-publishers, and here’s an article on self- vs traditional publishing.

From The New York Times, a review of Edwidge Danticat’s new book titled Claire of the Sea LightI keep hearing about this one and it sounds amazing. Also, a truly gorgeous essay by Pico Iyer on the value of suffering. It’s a beautiful piece, very thoughtful — no surprise. And finally, a piece in the NYTimes Magazine about Justin Timberlake, because COME ON. Justin Timberlake.

From The New Yorker, I love this piece because it’s about neuroskeptics. Seriously, just because you can show me an image where the brain flashes blue when presented with something DOES NOT MEAN YOU HAVE FOUND THE SOMETHING CENTER. I hate that reductionistic crap. And here’s an article about Claire Danes, who is frankly kind of amazing in Homeland. I think that most episodes. The piece asks where her volcanic performances come from and I want to know, too.  In this era of reading “books” on our phones (which I do at night), this piece asks what it means to own a book. It’s an interesting question….

And then from all around the web:

OK, so that’s that. All my tabs are closed, my browser is clean. I’m ready for the weekend — how about you? I hope to see Nick Flynn on Sunday, in Brooklyn (André Aciman, Edwidge Danticat, Thomas Drake, Nick Flynn, Rachel Kushner, Leonard Lopate, Francine Prose, Jeremiy Scahill:  Recent leaks have revealed the breathtaking reach of the National Security Agency’s secret surveillance programs. Should writers and readers be concerned? A fast-paced mosaic of readings by leading PEN members, an NSA whistleblower, and others to provoke reflection on the dangers surveillance poses to the freedom to think and create, and to celebrate the role writers have played in defying those dangers.) But we’ll see. Sunday is a long ways away. Happy Friday, y’all. Hope it’s a good one.