You never know when you’ll have to wait out a rocket attack. I prefer real books but a kindle or iPad gives you a ton of options. I keep “Against the Grain” by Huysmans on my phone for anytime I get caught unprepared at a doctors appointment or the DMV. Someday I’ll finish it.
One of the great joys of being a reader is the discovery of books and writers at the time in your life you need them most. But, alas, sometimes you miss the bus and discover those books and writers later in life. It seems to me that a young man’s life should be lived somewhere between these two books.
Alright, this one jumps to the top of my favorite reviews ever. So simple, and clean. Right to the point. Nasty!
My wife likes to tease me that through my twenties I only had three pieces of furniture: a futon, a rocking chair and a weight bench. It was all a young man needed. It covered all the main food groups, all the essentials. Now that I dabble in woodworking I think I might try building a rocking chair because because futons are for poor young men and wooden weight benches are sketchy.
A complete gym in the desert. The 463L pallet with the bricks on the left is the deadlift station. We never could get that level and you had to use the bricks to keep the bar from rolling off into the gravel and sand. Nothing is adjustable. It just is. Spartan in the true sense of the word.
I’m fairly comfortable with dangerous things: guns, large machines, war. What scares the shit out of me is a kitchen mandolin. I don’t even like making eye contact with the motherfucker. Someday it’s going to jump off the hook it lives on and trim my fingernails to the second knuckle. If it wasn’t such a useful tool I’d throw it in the river. Nah, I wouldn’t do that. It’d probably cut ten fish in half on the way down. Don’t even make eye contact.
Happy Labor Day from your favorite writer of labor. Okay I just made that up but it sounds pretty cool and obviously labor is one of my top three themes- the others being sex and love. But what is labor? Is all work labor? No. Unfortunately in the Navy I spend a lot of time on computers. That is work but not labor. Is writing a book labor? Absolutely not. Labor is physical and there is physical cost to the laborer. Labor transforms one substance into another- metal into cars, concrete into foundations, fish into food. For more insights into my thoughts on labor I recommend A Hell Called Ohio and Ballard Redoubt. In the meantime, enjoy some random pics of labor.
Driving through Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and listening to True North by Jim Harrison. It’s good but I wonder how much better it could have been had he read the book himself. It’s the same thought I have when I think of Shelby Foote and Larry Brown. Those wonderful voices gone from the world. What I would pay to hear them read their own stories, hear the inflections and accents, hear their words.
Do you remember the banana at Art Basel? We talk about art in my house a lot. What it means, what it should mean, etc. I know some painters who refer to themselves as painters instead of artists because of the total devaluation of the term. Well, that’s a conversation for another day. I was deployed in Iraq when the banana made its debut and I took my own take, or takes, on it. And no, I don’t believe it is art.
I always enjoy notes from my readers. Sometimes they point out mistakes in the book. Modern books are almost all print on demand. That means when a customer or bookstore orders a book, a book printing machine spits it out. This descendant of Gutenberg can print Hell then War and Peace then 1984 then Sundog then Hell. It’s truly a modern marvel and it allows a writer or publisher to fix or edit a book at any time. Of course, it’s even easier with ebooks. Did you know Leaves of Grass had nine editions? This technology might have driven Whitman insane. There’s a joke in my house- “Do you know what’s under a Michael Deas painting?” “Another Michael Deas painting!” Constant revision can be its own trap. Anyway, thanks to my wonderful readers who keep the book improving especially Ian, Roggan and Nada.
You are going to die. You are going to die sooner than you would prefer. You only have one life and therefore one chance to write the book you want to write. Choose wisely.
Publishers want to sell books. You should want to sell books. This does not mean what publishers want and what editors suggest coincides with the book you want to write. You are going to die. Choose wisely.
I am a fan of Mishima’s novels. Sometimes I just have to shake my head and laugh. Only he could say such things.
“Covered by a slightly faded green plaid skirt, her bottom in the winter sunlight seemed crammed with the very essence of life, as voluptuous as any painted by Renoir. She exuded the kind of glossy freshness one might find in a brand new tube of toothpaste just taken from its box, with its promise of a crisp morning.”
-Life For Sale by Yukio Mishima
My luggage is mostly books.
Sometimes in life you have to go to the bunker and wait while the big lopsided wheel spins deciding who lives and who dies. It helps to have music, written and performed by friends, while you wait on fate.
I was looking for a missing pair of sunglasses, digging through all my bags and boxes, when I came across three new pairs of socks. It was a gift to myself from myself. And it is a very thoughtful and timely present in the forth month of a work trip. They are even made in the USA!
My memory has never been good. My sister has the same problem so maybe it’s genetic or maybe it was the ground water. When I was a kid I worried about my memory after reading of Hemingway’s perfect recall. I worried that I lacked one of the requisites for writing. So I made a deal with myself, as only the very young can. I would forget the events and remember the emotions. In hindsight, it wasn’t a bad plan.
And yes, I number my socks.
“I don’t read fiction,” a coworker said. It’s a common thing to hear, especially from men who live an active life. He liked books with facts, things he could use. It’s a very rational thought. It’s almost a confession once someone finds out that I write fiction. Hell, I like non-fiction too. Most of the books on my shelf are non-fiction. But they serve different purposes. Non-fiction gives you knowledge. Fiction gives you wisdom. At least it should. If yours doesn’t, you might need to switch genres or authors.
My work life summed up: I was in my room studying Plato, reading The Republic again and getting nowhere except to the opinion that Socrates would be a pain in the ass as a friend. But I have worked at studying philosophy for close to thirty years and it’s something that I can’t seem to give up.
There is a knock at the door. It’s one of my guys. He says that a piece of equipment is broken. “Hard down,” in the parlance. I put on my boots and go to investigate. They had accidentally sucked a shackle (or a clevis depending on your geographic origin) between two boom sections on a crane and now it was wedged solid. Long story short- I used a chain fall and some WD-40 to pull the shackle free. We are “back up”, in the parlance again.
And this is the sum. I’ve always been more handy than smart no matter how much I study or read. But I’ll continue trying because I’m also stubborn.
It takes a lot of effort to write simply. Like anyone who has spent a life reading and writing, I can sometimes get ornate with my language. That’s when the red pen comes along and murders the wordy words. When I see a review like this I think, ‘Wow, this guy really gets it. He really understands me. That’s exactly what I intended with my labor.’ I’m sure that’s not what he intended but language is a negotiation between minds, not an exchange. Also, “have women sleep over”, cracks me up.
I’m a little obsessed with finding things made in the USA and supporting companies that make good products. It comes from growing up in a manufacturing family and in a manufacturing community. I’ve been carrying this little beauty for around 30 years. This Leatherman multi-tool has gone fishing in Alaska, repaired trucks, served in Afghanistan and Iraq, and been to every construction job site I’ve worked. Recently the sheath gave out after a long sweaty day in the swamps of Mississippi. I repaired it with a little electrical tape but ponied up to get her a new sleeping bag. It’s on my belt right now and I expect it to be there for the next 30 years. Support your local team.
Sometimes for work I get to drive big trucks. It warms my heart and nourishes my soul. I love driving.
There comes a time in every boy’s journey when he must choose between Holden Caulfield and Robert Jordan. That choice creates the man.
