I don't think i'm a particularly "effective" person. At least not in that way that "highly effective" people are. As it is, I just sort of run rough-shod over concept to concept. I wish I weren't this way. I don't think it's a lack of intelligence; I'm hoping that it's just a matter of discipline (or some equally onerous word). One day I guess I'll learn to behave...and i would do that now except that....well, i guess that right now I'm just too distracted by the small and the silly.
Anyway, the reason for the "not effective" confession is to assure other not-so-effective people out there that they can still get little things done here and there without entirely having to change everything about themselves. Case in point:
I made dirt.
And I'm really excited about it.
Here's the deal: One of my favorite bits of writing in the whole world is from a Wendell Berry essay called "The Work of Local Culture." This essay is collected in the book What Are People For? and, if you don't already own the book, I suggest you purchase it as soon as possible. Here is my favorite part:
For many years, my walks have taken me down an old fencerow in a wooded hollow on what was once my grandfather's farm. A battered galvanized bucket is hanging on a fence post near the head of the hollow, and i never go by it without stopping to look inside. For what is going on in that bucket is the most momentous thing i know, the greatest miracle that i have ever heard of: it is making earth.
I have huge plans. I have vast, head-swimmingly grandiose plans. And I rarely ever get anything done. This year, however, i finally managed to compost my leaves. I cordoned them off in a little corner of the backyard and, on occasion, i would go out there and turn the pile over a little bit. Week by week the leaves broke down. Attractive, wiggly earthworms started to make appearances. The leaves grew darker and, it seemed, much heavier. The pile didn't even get that much smaller. And since it appears that Spring has rolled around here at last, this past weekend i did what I've waited to do all winter: I dug into that pile of rotting leaves. I got a shovel and used every bit of it in our garden spots. I never stopped being amazed at what i saw. Man, i helped make dirt!
When i was around 7 years old the next door neighbors pulled up in a ridiculous, orange go-cart with the letters CVCC at the bottom of its tiny doors. The car was a Honda Civic (CVCC stood for compound vortex controlled combustion). Me and my family laughed at them and finished putting the fender skirts back on our 4 door Pontiac.
Well, it's 2007 now and my mama drives a Honda. I know why this is--and so do you: Even back in those days Honda made an excellent car, far superior to the American competition. They also did the right thing at the right time, which was to introduce a very fuel efficient automobile when some serious shit was fixin to go down with gasoline.
I thought about all of this this past Saturday afternoon when i went outside and started up my own Honda: a 1976 550four. Here's what it looks like:
Charleston doesn't really get what i'd call winter, but i've gotten kinda wimpy in my old age and don't like any cold. As a consequence, this bike sat outdoors, uncovered--and unridden--for all the winter months. I don't guess i've ridden it since like September.
But do know how many kicks it took to start it? (i have to kick start it because the starter is broken) It took 3! Kick, kick, Varoooom! Here i am, 38 years old and afraid of the cold AND i got to spend my entire winter indoors, and here is my sweet motorcycle, a mere 7 years younger than me, braving the elements (however, i did get it a cover for christmas),ready to come to life at a second's notice after all that neglect. Ain't that somethin?
I could hold forth here, but ill leave it at this:
My country (tis of thee) has its head up its butt.
Quickly, i have this for you before you get on with today's real news in Alison's post below:
I want to take an oath (that includes a little editorializing) here and now:
I am not going to look at, read, pay attention to, or otherwise care about anything that has to do with presidential hopefuls at least until next year's first primary. Until that point i want the candidates to know that any dollar--of the billions they intend to spend for america's most miserable job--will be a dollar shoved up a monkey's butt. Every air polluting mile they log on a jet will not serve to help any of us breathe easier at night. That every time they call the other one an evil name on national television will not be confused with a plea for unity.
I want them to know that what they are currently doing is not helpful, is not newsworthy and only serves to reinforce our country's current inclination to turn everything and everyone into some sort of celebrity contest/package.
So from this moment on, i'm finitoed. Please feel free to join me, y'all.
Today's Post and Courier gave a small update on a piece of legislation making its way through the system. This legislation mandates that women seeking an abortion have an ultrasound and be forced to look at the image before their abortion.
I was interviewed about this legislation a few weeks ago, and the reporter then told me that the legislators are trying to sell this bill as something for women's health, because it's medically important to have an ultrasound before you have an abortion. I told the reporter that women already have ultrasounds before abortions so that the clinic can make sure they're not too far along. The reporter said, "Oh, really?" She was surprised, because the lobbyists are acting as if this ultrasound idea is some brilliant thing they've come up with, when in fact all they've really come up with is the "medical necessity" of the woman's looking at the fetus.
Carla Harvey, who works at the Lowcountry Crisis Pregnancy Center (for those of you not in the know, "crisis pregnancy center" is code for anti-abortion, anti-contraception, anti-truth centers where women who are unexpectedly pregnant are pressured to keep the baby), said, "In ultrasounds, a baby at eight weeks will jump on the screen and suck their thumbs."
When I had my abortion, which was at about eight weeks, I looked at the ultrasound image. It was a dime-sized blob. It did not jump. No thumb-sucking. There wasn't a Gerber baby in there.
The antis have done a great job of shaping the public conversation about abortion. They've humanized the fetus--they've coopted our warm, loving feelings about babies and said, "Feel this way about the fertilized egg, too." And if someone is pregnant and wants to be, then all those warm, loving feelings are great. But if she doesn't want to be pregnant, if she doesn't want to be a mother, then it doesn't help even if the fetus is reciting Shakespeare--she still doesn't want it. I didn't want it.
The reason I'm talking about my own abortion so much here lately is that I think the rhetoric of "choice" that feminists have been using is a little thin in comparison to the rhetoric of "fetal personhood" that the antis are using. The person I'd like us to focus on is not the potential one but the unambiguous, fully realized one, the woman herself. Her life, my life, is what we should be concerned about. How does our society benefit if a sixteen-year-old--or a college student--or a young professional like me--is guilted into bearing a child she can't raise, or just doesn't want?
Since i appear to be mostly powerless over whether these guys continue to send me catalogs in the mail, i guess i'm just gonna have to use one of the few public voices i have and out their company here on this blog as BIG FAT PAINS IN THE ASS!
I have begged, i have pleaded, i have cajoled, implored and fussed and nothing--lo, nothing!-seems to make these guys quit sendin' me these damn things. They are being sent to the former resident, and evidently also, to all of his friends. Fortnightly i receive 2 (2!) copies addressed to 5 (5!) different people. They must have signed on for a lifetime subscription for this wildly fascinating paper waste concerned with supplying the industry of copying DVDs and Cds.
Yesterday i made my 30th and hopefully final call to Disc Makers. I explained to the guy on the phone that i knew that he was simply doing a job. He did not deserve to be fussed at. But I thought it was important for him to know that his bosses were sending me 134 trees per week in my mailbox and I wanted them to quit. I told him my cd and dvd copying needs were presently met. That the Halloween Mega Bites special was not tempting to me. I was not interested in Easter's CD Salvation either. That i found Thanksgiving's "If The Indians Had Our Dvds, They Wouldn't Have Been Wiped Out by Influenza Sale" just plain tacky.
PLEASE STOP THE MADNESS," i said.
Anyway, dear readers, whatever you do, NEVER EVER give your name to those lousy tree-wastin' bastards at Disc Makers. If i get one more catalog in the mail, i'm gonna go down there to that place in Tijuana where the owner of Disc Makers hangs out (did i mention he only has one shriveled testicle and has sex with animals?) and punch him right in the nose job.
Sometimes , when i begin a post, i wonder how many total strangers might see this? Like how many people might be reading here that don't already know about bannedfromwalmart.com? Probably no one. Therefore i'll continue without any background story.
I was just thinking yesterday that i hadn't received a good "banned" story in a while. I've only gotten a handful anyway, and many of those are from angry walmart lovers or people's amusing but unusable tales of getting banned for shoplifting or fired for smoking grass in the bathroom, but still, there has always been a slow but steady trickle. So i was delighted to find--even as i thought i wasn't gonna get anymore--an email from a Mr. Chase. He has an interesting world view. Here is his letter:
My story is that you should be banned. I would have done the same thing to you were I there. Wal Mart as we know is the largest corporation in the world. It took a lot of brains to reach that goal. Not everyone agrees with their tactics, BUT they got there. How far along are you to reaching your goal? Maybe if you had some experience in business you never would have spoiled one of your Tee shirts with your childish message. No I do not work for Wal-Mart, nor does any member of my family. In fact I don't know a damn soul that works there. I just respect the fact that, they got there!!!
Mr. Chase's name in his email address had the word "Colonel" attached. With reasoning powers like that I'm hoping he's connected with fried chicken and not soldier's lives.
Here's some info for you, something that i learned from a good picker here in Charleston: next time you're playing a gig and you're finishing up that last song make sure one of your band members (or your tech, if you're fancy enough to have one) has a finger near the cd player. The moment you hit that last note, turn on your background music.
When my buddy Allen told me about this i realized i'd heard it done hundreds of times at larger shows, but never really considered how important it was. But even playing a little beach bar it makes a big difference. It re-directs what is usually an awkward and silent expectancy from your audience members toward a new business-as-usual tye of background noise.
Number two on the bill:
Singer/songwriter Tim Hardin wrote a song called "If I Were a Carpenter" long about ...oh, say, 1965. It was made popular by singer Bobby Darin. Not that it really matters, but Tim Hardin died of an overdose in 1974. And not that this really matters that much either, but had he stuck around he would probably be laughing into his mailbox because of the number of near-daily royalty checks he would receive because of this little tune.
You've probably heard it:
If i were a Carpenter would you be my lady? Would you marry me anyway? Would you have my baby?
Well, this is one of the tunes on the cd player that we turn on between sets--just like in the way i described above. It's a fine bluegrass version by Bill Emerson and Cliff Waldron. Today at a show i thought--much like i think at every show--Man, i gotta learn that song.
Alright. #3: When you're gonna do a cover of someone's song, you gotta know somethin' about its provenance. The art of doing a great cover is (1) to pick a great song--known but perhaps not too known and one you think you might improve with your own twist, and (2) to recognize the double responsibility of making the song your own while paying homage to the original version.
(a quick note: now, in bluegrass music there's really no such thing as a "cover" by the way. any bluegrass song is practically community-held property from the moment it is written. Now, that doesn't mean that you don't do the "pay homage" thing, it just means that doing someone else's song in bluegrass is so business-as-usual that you don't even call it a cover--you just call it a song.)
You know something? I couldn't write a short post if my life depended on it.
Anyway: So i did my homework.... Because of this cover thing..... And because of the responsibility thing and everything. You with me?
Okay, so i got on itunes to get both the Bobby Darin version and the Tim Hardin version. I already know the Emerson/Waldron version. Well, get a load of this: here is a partial list of people that have done covers of If I Were a Carpenter:
Johnny and June Carter Cash, Harry Belafonte, The Four Tops, Luka Bloom, Doc Watson, Ramblin' Jack Elliot, The Small Faces, The Seldom Scene, The Warren J. 5, The Electric Rubyyat, Thomasina, Dave Moody, Randy Newman, Robert Plant, Swanee...and on and on. Give it a listen. You'll have to hear it on there. i don't think i'll be doing it.
Happening tonight! 7 p.m. in Physician's Auditorium on the College of Charleston campus. I found out late last week that I'm doing the "spotlight monologue" (which explains the V-Day theme this year--Reclaiming Peace--and actually isn't about vaginas at all). And Biffle designed the poster, below. All blog readers in the Charleston area should come out to the show!
I have several things to blog about today. I'll try to keep them short and not include too much information. Including too much information is one of the common pitfalls for academic writers who are trying to pitch a book to trade presses. I learned this tonight in a really cool online/teleconferencing seminar called "Making It Pop: Translating Your Ideas for Trade." It's a five-week seminar being led by Deborah Siegel of Girl with Pen, in collaboration with the National Women's Studies Association. And she knows what she's talking about, because her book just got reviewed by the New York Times. It looks like it's going to be really useful, not least because the other participants include several feminist writers I admire a great deal. Perhaps it wouldn't be right to out them here on the blog, but trust me--they're cool.
Another thing I'd like to blog about is Black History Month. I was going to write a whole post about the fact that Harriet Tubman led a Civil War campaign at the Combahee River not far from Charleston and freed around 750 slaves, but then I saw a clip from The Daily Show on Afrogeek Mom and Dad in which Larry Wilmore points out that all we ever hear about during Black History Month are Harriet Tubman and the Tuskegee Airmen...and I realized he was right. So rather than give you information you probably already know, I'll direct you to Conseula and Brian's blog, where you can find out an interesting black history fact every day in February.
And finally, let me recount this story that may give you a picture of life in South Carolina. As some of you know, the Women's and Gender Studies magazine, Cheek, was held up at the printer's this fall because at the very last minute, the printer told us he wouldn't print the cover because it featured a painting of a nude woman, and it's their policy not to print nudity. We were on a very tight deadline and couldn't find another printer on such short notice, so the editor had to Photoshop a drape onto the painted woman's body.
Today I was making calls to find a different printer for our spring issue. I recounted our previous experience to the folks I talked to, to make sure that we wouldn't be dealing with the same situation with our new printer. I spoke with the representative of one large printing company in Charleston, who, when he heard the story, said, "Well, was the painting tasteful?"
Hmm. "Yes," I said. "It was very tasteful."
"Well, I'd print it as long as it was something you could hang in your dining room, in front of your kids."
At this point, it was clear that this guy wasn't the printer for us. I'm not sure why, but I kept going. "Well," I said, "we're a Women's and Gender Studies magazine, so we often have articles about controversial things. For instance, we might have an article about abortion. Would you print that?"
"Well, that depends," he said. "Would you present both sides?"
I paused. I had no idea what to say. In my head, I'm thinking, "Don't be the angry feminist! Don't be the angry feminist!" How am I even supposed to respond to this?
Because I wasn't talking, he kept going: "We're a family company. So we'd print anything that you'd share with your family."
I wish I'd said, "My family is comfortable talking about everything from abortion to whether or not the word 'cunt' should be reclaimed, so I think we'll be fine." But instead, I said, "You know, I don't think this is going to be a good fit" and got off the phone.
I realize by posting this particular video on a blog i've reached some kind of sad zenith for pop-cultural schmarm. I feel like i should be wearing stirrup pants.
