The Maple Street streetlight blinks on and off and on.
Dear Authors:

I'd like to talk to you about making money now that traditional publishing is dead. First, here's John Scalzi on the subject:
Book publishing is a sinking ship. The former passengers on the ship have given in to their feral instincts and are dismantling the ship board by board. The remaining crew are being wedged further and further back into what little of the ship remains above the waterline. Eventually the whole ship will disappear beneath the waves and all the crew will drown. The thought of possibly jumping off the ship apparently doesn’t occur to the crew; rather, their ambition is simply to be the last person to drown.

Screw ‘em. Let them drown. . . . .

Listen to me now: Writers are not in the publishing industry. The publishing industry exists to handle the output of writers and distribute it in an effective and hopefully profitable way; however it does not necessarily follow that writer’s only option is the publishing industry, especially not now. Congruent to this: Books aren’t the only option. I write books, but you know what? I’m not a book writer, any more than a musician is an LP musician or an MP3 musician. The book is the container. It’s not destiny.
Wait a second. That's Scalzi writing five years ago about Writing in the Age of Piracy.

And, okay, I'll confess, that first paragraph is out of context. The article only supposes the total annihilation of traditional publishing (via piracy, not e-books) as a way to talk about alternate revenue steams. Specifically, he talks about how Penny Arcade has built a media empire by creating things that they gave away totally for free. The big takeaway is:
Multiple revenue streams are a writer’s friend.
That's what's getting to me about the whole Amazon/MacMillan/e-book/print/online/offline mishigoss. Print may not be dead, but there are a lot of other rings, and there's no reason to tie all your hopes onto just one.

Authors, let me tell you, when I buy a traditionally published book, I do not feel like I am supporting you as the author. I am supporting the publisher, and I am supporting the bookseller, but I am not supporting you. There's just too much in between. So when Scalzi calls for readers to support authors, I'm constantly surprised when he suggests that we find a book published and distributed elsewhere. I mean, if you want to support Macmillan, then, yeah buy Macmillan's books. But, I want to support you, not the corporation who licensed your work with a cash consideration and then rebranded it and distributed it nationally.

I think it's even worse when it's badness. When Bloomsbury whitewashed a cover again, there were very appropriate calls for a boycott. Bloomsbury thinks that they can portray non-white characters in their novels as white characters on their covers as a way to increase sales. A boycott will divorce them of this belief.

But authors balked because of the damage it would do to the author. To pull support from the publisher is to pull support from the author, and so we shouldn't boycott.

Authors, are you really that close to your publisher? Perhaps you are, or perhaps you aren't. But why can't I support you, the author, the one I'm a fan of, when I disagree with the company that paid to license your work?

What's more, I don't have a very large budget for buying stories anyway. My reading pace is slower, and I've got bookcases and second-hand shops and libraries all around me. So I've stopped myself from buying most books to keep my finances under control. So if I spring for a new book, it's probably only because I have a gift card. But I do still read. And I read stories online. I read author blogs online. And I listen to Escape Artists podcasts at work. I have a number of authors of whom I am fans.

Authors, I am your fan, but I am not buying books, print or otherwise. How do I give you money outside of using your Amazon link to buy the book that somebody else published?

The traditional publishing model is what it is, and it's clear from that it's still really, really good at taking a novel and sending out to a wide audience. And really, that an end of itself. Those novels get you fans. But you might not have gotten money from the person who read the novel and became a fan. You may never get that money by publishing novels (on your own, or through a corporate publisher). But we're still here, and we still want to support you. Whether we have the money or not, we feel that tug, and how able we are to resist that pull varies with what you're using to tempt us.

Honestly, I think I spend more money on T-shirts than new books now, because the LA library does not allow me to borrow T-shirts. And a number of those shirts refer to movies, TV shows, and videogames. And I don't have a lot of wiggle room in my budget for Paypal tipjars, but I still contribute more to them than to my out-of-pocket print fiction budget.

Authors, why can't I buy a shirt, a shirt with a jaunty quote of your devising?

Publishing may be in trouble. It's not just that there are all those middlepeople, but those middlepeople may also be turn out to be idiots, and then your link to the Amazon page of your book isn't going to be a great option. You don't have to switch everything. You don't need too many Girl Who Navigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Makings, because you'll always have that one there, waiting for fans.

Authors, listen to time-delay Scalzi. You are not in the publishing industry. You can escape the not really sinking ship and also still probably leave all your stuff on the ship, 'cause it's not really sinking, and then you've got like a resort vacation on the island without having to move all your stuff and still getting access to the nice galley (which may now have fresher fruit from the shore anyway). There's no reason to only stay on the ship. There are other places to meet your fans (and get our money into your pocket). Use all of them.

Edited to Add: As often happens when I write a post from three different locations (go cloud computing), I deleted a chunk and forgot to compensate it. It's created some confusion, so let me just put back in the chunk I forgot to deal with, which is a portion of text from the Scalzi quote:
Because here’s the thing about that “sinking ship:” Even if we grant it is sinking (which we should not), and that the passengers are scurvy pirates (which we ought not), this ship is sinking in about five feet of water and the shore is fifty yards away. And if you haven’t the wit to make it to shore, then by God, you deserve to die.
To see how much I thought I'd addressed that, look at how I referenced it in the last paragraph.

Anyway, what's "dying" about the publishing industry isn't the industry itself, it's the author's ability to make money from it, which has generally been decreasing as the money for buying books has been diverted elsewhere. Hypothetically and hyperbolically, it could get to the point where an author might be able to get a novel prepared for print and distributed, but not be able to make any money from it (which is the point at which we join Scalzi's hypotehtical and hyperbolic essay).

What then? Do you take out the middlepeople and publsh the novel by yourself so that you can get the money that results from selling directly to a smaller audience? Or do you have the publisher prepare, print, and sell the novel; draw a wider audience; and earn money by encouraging the audience to do things other than buying the books?

Most likely, it'll be a combination. But you can still make money licensing novels to be printed traditionally, you can still make additional money right now.

So, again, sell me a T-shirt.
Two women put the star on a Christmas tree.
We're already in a countdown to Christmas. Various things like [livejournal.com profile] ojouchan's new job and some annoyingness with banks have meant we got a really late start. And it was only yesterday that I fully realized that I wasn't going to have any more free days before Christmas Eve. (Thursday and Friday are my days off, so my last pre-Christmas weekend just finished.)

But yesterday, Ojou and I cleared up some of the bank stuff, then we went with [livejournal.com profile] twilightsyren to Downtown Burbank. I got a lot of stuff done; I've pared down my budget this year, and I'm doing pretty good with it. I think I can get everything else done pretty quickly; my biggest regret is that I'm not likely to get to my regular used bookstore unless they've got expanded hours, or I make a rush to get there on the 23rd.

Still, since I've been thinking more about it, I thought I'd expand the Holiday/Birthday lists:
  • Puzzle Books.I mentioned Mutant Sudoku last time, but there's a lot of other good stuff out there.
    • Nikoli Books. A few years ago, [livejournal.com profile] cramerica got me Penpa Mixes 1-3, which were loads of fun. They were especially useful once I dropped my nikoli.com membership. I still really love the puzzles, but having them in book form means I can forget about them easily. I'd love to see Penpa, Fillomino, Slitherlink, Masyu, Nurikabe, and Heyawake. (Obviously, they won't get here in time for Christmas, but whatever.
    • Nikoli by Sterling. Sterling Publishing puts out some real quality stuff, and recently they've been publishing Nikoli puzzles in books mixed with Sudoku. I've already got Slitherlink (which I've finished), Masyu, and Nurikabe, but I'd still like to get my hands on the other varieties listed above.

    • Crosswords. Also from Sterling, Frank Longo's Vowelless Crosswords looks good, as do Patrick Berry's Crossword masterpieces.
  • Tea. Specifically looseleaf tea, not bagged/packaged. Our tea reserves are dreadfully low, and we haven't had time to restock. I like most kinds, black, green, white, oolong, herbal infusions, etc. I'd avoid Teavana and Lupicia because they're overpriced. We usually shop at specialteas.com or dragonwater.com online, and when we want something in person, we go to Wing Hop Fung in Chinatown, which stocks birdpick.com. (It looks like they have a store in Pasadena too.)
  • One-Time Maid Service. Ojou and I are way behind on cleaning, and a burst of professional help would go a long way, especially now that we rarely have a full day off together.
  • New Year's Eve Plans. I'm working most of the Christmas weekend, and as a result, I've got a nice five-day weekend from December 29 to January 2. Ojou's got a sexy, sexy Foxy Brown outfit to wear . . . and a lot of our friends are going to be out of town. We need something to do, something big. Scrabble with Ellen isn't going to cut it this year.
And that's the end of my proactive gift list.
Two women put the star on a Christmas tree.
Some things wanted this gifting season:
  • A new backpack. I love my trusty Jansport, but at some point, the stuff that's supposed to keep the weight off my shoulders melted on the left side. And recently, It's been leaking out red goo if I try to wear it other than one-shouldered.
  • Tablesaw. [livejournal.com profile] ojouchan wants some new furniture. We've been talking about getting a new coffee table from IKEA for ages, and she'd like to replace our big dining room table with something more functional. We're probably goign to swing by St. Vincent de Paul, but I guess IKEA gift cards would make us pretty happy.
  • Untables. Speaking of new tables, we'd like to get rid of our old ones. The coffee table is nice. We'll entertain all offers, and I'll drop it off pretty much anywher in the LA area you'd like. The dining-room table is nice too, but I'm not sure if it fits in the car. Pictures soon, I think.
  • XBox 360 Ojou's been eying it seriously, and now that we have the HD TV, we're ready for it. The system's about five years old, which means we've got a backlog of things we can get used (though Ojou's got her eye on Dragon Age). This may wait until birthday, though.
  • Mutant Sudoku. I've been looking forward to [livejournal.com profile] motris and [livejournal.com profile] onigame's book of sudoku variations for a while. I usually find sudoku boring, but these two are able to bring out some amazing things out of the structure. It came out a little while ago, but I thought I'd leave it for giftability.
  • Clothes I hate buying clothes, so come December I always need new ones. I had some bad luck with pants recently, and I could do with some new shirts too.
And that's really it. Once again, we're going to try to get rid of stuffs and clean house, as well as trying to sock away some money for the wedding. And as usual, I prefer most gifts to be used whenever possible, especially when it comes to things like music, books, games, and DVDs.
A tablesaw in action. The blade disappears when it comes in contact with a hot dog.
Follow Friday

Here's the plan: every Friday, let's recommend some people and/or communities to follow on Dreamwidth. That's it. No complicated rules, no "pass this on to 7.328 friends or your cat will die". Just introduce us to some new things to read.


[personal profile] flourish is reading pop-culture-studies books for National Blog Post Month. Her blog's pretty awesome otherwise too.

Let's Play

My current read is the entire Quest for Glory series by Bobbin Threadbare. There are lots of Sierra games that I've always wanted to learn more about, and this series is a lot of fun to read about.

Pictures

My dad has a Flickr account ([syndicated profile] dedalus1947_flickr_feed), recently featuring children in costumes and Dia de los Muertos festivities.

Fandom

When the intensity of [livejournal.com profile] whedonland subsides, I like to dip into [livejournal.com profile] tvpassiton

Puzzles

A little while ago, I refound my Nikoli books of Slitherlink and Nurikabe, and I've been solving them on my commute. I think I'm only a few puzzles away from completing the Slitherlink book.

I also have the Naughty Crosswords for bathroom solving.

Print

For a while, working on the Nikoli books, I wasn't reading as much. I'm back in trying to finish This Small City Will Be a Mexican Paradise by Michael J. González. It examines Mexican Angeleños' relationship with the state of Mexico and the "Indians" who were already living in the area.
A tablesaw in action. The blade disappears when it comes in contact with a hot dog.
Work: We are understaffed; I've been dealing with lots of stress.

RPG: Unknown Armies is fun. Look at my map. Cthulhu next.

Videogames: I just keep playing Mr. Driller; need to restart DDR.

Wedding: June 19; looking at Marrakesh House; working on guest list.

TV: Lots of fun stuff, Mercy's a surprise winner for me.

Fandom: Joined [livejournal.com profile] whedonland on Team Angel. Having lots of fun playing.

Books: Reading LA history slowly, catching up on Escape Artist podcasts.

Weather: Rained two days, then back to heat. I miss the rain.

Clothes: Bought new shoes and pants; sitting between 36" and 38" waist.
Gaff, from <cite>Blade Runner</cite>
I've got Photoshop at work, now. So I've been spending downtime haphazardly learning how to use it. This is my first attempt at a Gaff icon. I may replace it, especially if I get a chance to take my own screencap.



[livejournal.com profile] evilprodigy has a post about invoking the historical oppression of Irish-Americans, "[IBARW] It's Not The Same Thing (Or, Leave Your Irish Ancestors In Their Graves)." The comments touch on American assimilation, directly and cluelessly indirectly.

The extent to which "assimilation" is contingent on whiteness, or the acceptance of white supremacy, is rarely discussed during "melting pot" idealism. It reminded me of this passage:
A 1933 report submitted to the FHA by one of its consultants, Home Hoyt, reveals the FHA's assessment of racial worth and its acknowledgment of the fluid and contingent boundaries of white identity:
If the entrance of a colored family into a white neighborhood causes a general exodus of the white people it is reflected in property values. Except in the case of Negroes and Mexicans, however,these racial and national barriers disappear when the individuals of foreign nationality groups rise in the economic scale or conform to American standards of living. . . . While the ranking may be scientifically wrong from the standpoint of inherent racial characteristics, it registers an opinion or prejudice that is reflect in land values; it is the ranking of race and nationalities with respect to the beneficial effect upon land values. Those having the most favorable effect come first on the list and those exerting the most detrimental effect appear last:
  1. English, Germans, Scots, Irish, Scandinavians
  2. North Italians
  3. Bohemians or Czechoslovakians
  4. Poles
  5. Lithuanians
  6. Greeks
  7. Russian Jews of lower class
  8. South Italians
  9. Negroes
  10. Mexicans
Thus, FHA officials recognized the inherent instability of ethnic hierarchies, but remained vigilant toward racial distinctions between white and nonwhite. This recognition provided a material basis for the development of an inclusive white identity predicated on suburban home ownership, and in Southern California, where the FHA maintained a most vital role in shaping regional patterns of suburban development, the settlement of places such as Orange County and the San Fernando Valley created a space where a diverse array of whites and white ethnics could "conform to American standards of living."
—Eric Avila, Popular Culture in the Age of White Flight: Fear and Fantasy in Suburban Los Angeles

I believe the emphasis wasn't in the original. Of course, by the 30s, the Irish had clearly ascended to whiteness, but you can see the stratification of other groups whose status would change with the next World War. Except for those two groups at the bottom, of course. I wonder what they have in common.
Tablesaw
Hulu adds lots and lots of stuff during the summer, since they don't have to worry about the popular shows updating every week. The promotion is Days of Summer, but there's so much going up, not all of it is marked.

For example, not on the list is M.A.N.T.I.S., an awesome superhero show starring Carl Lumbly, and The Mysterious Cities of Gold, a longform animated show from the '80s. Also among the cool:

[livejournal.com profile] ojouchan and I went to A&M Book Cellars for the semiannual sale (still going on for a few more hours). I picked up a few things, as did Ojou (but they're all at home, so I can't list them). I wondered to myself why I haven't been reading as much the past few weeks, then I realized that my new netbook obsession had replaced books that were less net recently. I imagine that will wear off. Eventually.

No Con Do

Jul. 8th, 2009 05:14 pm
--
The NPL Convention is this weekend in Baltimore, and I'm not going. Instead, [livejournal.com profile] ojouchan and I will be taking part in my sister's wedding on Saturday, which is a midge more important.

Between now and then I have to get myself a haircut, and Ojou's got all manner of things she plans to do. We've also got to get started on planning our own wedding, which we will do by taking notes the entire weekend.

But it's always weird not going to Con. I was reminded the other day that the NPL Con is a defining fact of my life for many people, since it features so prominently in the story of how I met Ojou. Some friends had heard Will Shortz talk about it on NPR last week and were wondering when I was leaving. And there are still plenty of folks at the Con who probably expect me to show up.

Luckily, the internet has come a long way, and a number of the puzzles that are going to be in circulation will become available on the internet. I've already solved my first handout, a quick cryptic by [personal profile] canadianpuzzler.

And speaking of quick cryptics, National Puzzler's League Cryptic Crosswords is a brilliant collection of 45 crosswords from the NPL's magazine The Enigma. As the book has gone out of print, a PDF of the book has been made available for free download.
--
But it's slow between work, nonwork, and burnout, so Part 2 is still simmering.

In the meantime, I beat two videogames, both puzzles. The first is available online: Blocks with Letters On. It combines several block-moving games with a bit of wordplay, as the blocks need to line up to spell a word at the end. It's pretty simple for most of the 64 levels, but there are a number of very clever designs, and the last few puzzles are killer. In between each level, there's an amusing animation. And there's a sequel, More Blocks with Letters On which brings the total number of levels up to 94.

At home, I finished The Adventures of Lolo, which has been sitting on my Wii Virtual Console for a while. The puzzles were fun, but it did make me long for the later sequels where the puzzles were insane and plentiful.

In books, I finished reading Murder at the Sleepy Lagoon and moved on to Popular Culture in the Age of White Flight: Fear and Fantasy in Suburban Los Angeles. I also picked up a few new fiction books from Central Library on a lunch break. I guess I need to start actually writing up the [livejournal.com profile] 50books_poc thing, huh?

Season finales have come and gone, and the DVR is a bit empty right now. Still no idea why Dollhouse survived and Sarah Connor didn't.

I don't listen to lots and lots of music, but this song has been makig me happy today. I think that I'm going to enjoy the chiptunes more than the Weezer originals.



Interlude

May. 13th, 2009 11:05 pm
Sketch of an antique tablesaw
Part 2 is not tonight because (a) I am wiped out from the week and (b) having focused my preliminary thoughts in Part 1, I keep thinking of more things for part 2, which make

I was thinking today about the Introduction to American Literature course I took in my freshman year of college at GW. It was a two-books-a-week survey course and the teacher had lots of conflicting goals. But as I get older, I find I rely on what I learned from it very often, which is impressive. Someday I will have to track down the teacher to see what she's done since then.

Anyway, a question she asked early in the class seemed to resonate with my thoughts today.
What is the oldest piece of literature that you were assigned to read as part of an American History or American Literature class?
The teacher pointed out that most classes focused on a very narrow set of texts at the beginning of the course, focusing on Protestant (usually Puritan) English immigrants before quickly giving way to the writings underpinning the American Revolution and the works of the "Founding Fathers."

(I'm not revealing my own answer just yet.)
Sketch of an antique tablesaw
I'm going to break this into two parts, because it's long and because it's late

For a while now, I've been trying to read Murder at the Sleepy Lagoon by Eduardo Obregón Pagán. I've become a slow reader, and much of my leisure time is dedicated either to puzzles or television. I've returned it to the library twice and gone back for more. I will probably continue to do so. Today, on my shiny, new, one-hour lunch break, I walked to the LA Central Library and pulled it off the shelf again.

Right now, I'm reading about the lead-up to the "Zoot Suit Riot." In the forties, a Naval Reserve Armory was erected in the middle of a poor, predominantly Mexican-American community in Chavez Ravine. It was used as a training center during the war, which brought a huge influx of men with privilege into that community. Pagán opens the chapter by giving us a sense of the "social geography" of the area before the Armory. For example:
Segregation cut a deep swath through Los Angeles, disfiguring how residents interacted with one another and dividing areas of town, employment, recreational sites, cultural production, and even material consumption along racialized lines. Conversely, . . . local clubs, cafes, restaurants, and movie houses owned and operated by Mexican Americans or African Americans became important loci of communal interaction, where social ties could be reaffirmed and renewed in private by peoples otherwise disenfranchised from "public" Los Angeles.
The people of these communities became deeply invested in these "private" geographies as a matter of necessity. So much was closed off for various reasons that what remained was vitally important.

In describing how things changed after the armory was built and the training center was established, Pagán talks about conflicting geographies, and the quote really stuck with me.
"Different societies," wrote Anne Godlewska and Neil Smith, "practise different kinds of geography," and the conflicts between local youths and military men grew, in part, out of competing fictional geographies of Los Angeles. In expanding public space, the city of Los Angeles imposed its own vision of geography upon the land in erasing the past and erecting a "modern" city over the "condemned" Mexican American neighborhoods that once stood there. White naval officers stationed in the Chavez Ravine and the sailors who trained there "saw" the streets as public venues and acted upon assumptions that they were entitled to a free and open access to all of Los Angeles by virtue of their citizenship, race, class, gender, and military service. However, the local youth who patronized these same clubs, cafes, and movie theaters "saw" that same space very differently. Their places of socialization had yet to become "public" regardless of the changes around them, and they actively resisted the unwelcomed presence of outsiders, particularly those who tried to exercise assumed privileges of whiteness.
The youths of these and other areas of Los Angeles refused to cede their social geography to the "privileged" geography of the interlopers, and the methods of resistance became a sequence of escalating events leading up to what became known as the Zoot Suit Riot.



Which, obviously, made me think of MammothFail.

If you're not familiar with MammothFail, or RaceFail continued, or RaceFail 2.0, or RaceFail Section 13(c), the short version is this: Patricia C. Wrede wrote a book called Thirteenth Child. Jo Walton wrote a review of the book, including a very particular line which concisely summarizes the world-building assumption of the book:
This is an alternate version of our world which is full of magic, and where America ("Columbia") was discovered empty of people but full of dangerous animals, many of them magical.
Several people pointed out that the racial issues raised by such a story were problematic. Several other people objected that no such issues were raised.

A more detailed recount is being compiled by [personal profile] naraht here. With my new job, I haven't kept up with the minutiae of this one (I've barely had time to check my standard journals.) That's important to remember—I don't know everything that's been said, and I don't know how much of what I'm saying has been said before.

[livejournal.com profile] ojouchan and I had almost identical reactions to Walton's precis: "But that's what happened!" That is, if you were to ask any number of White people (very likely including Columbus himself) throughout totally non-alternative history whether America was "discovered empty of people but full of dangerous animals, many of them magical," they would say yes, or close enough. So it's not really an "alternative" history, then.

Many other brilliant people have had different and similar takes on the problems presented by such a story, looking at the role of fiction within history, the relationship between history and narrative, the role of both in maintaining oppression, and the context of eliminationism in which Wrede's built world is the wet dream of racist mass-murderers.

The thing is, what's in contention here is not only history, it's geography. And it's a socio-geographical conflict that's similar to the one which, today, I saw described by Pagán. Here's how he describes the decision to use "blighted" areas like Chavez Ravine:
Since the 1930s, city planners and politicians envisioned a modern city connected by extensive roadways, with a civic center in the heart of the downtown surrounded by cultural sites that celebrated the diversity of the populace and the advancements of the arts. Yet that vision of modernity projected into the future the racialized realities of the day. The envisioned citizens who staffed and utilized that civic space, the patrons of the arts, and the consumers of local "culture" were, without question, white. City planners furthermore inscribed the growth of public space not over unused and unpopulated lands or even through neighborhoods of the white middle class. Much of the reconstruction of Los Angeles would pave over neighborhoods long occupied by predominantly Mexican American families.
It's a meme that began during colonization and has, clearly, continued into the 20th Century. Those places over there are functionally empty, and we must make good on them. And so the Europeans began moving into occupied lands in the name of building a "New" World.

The pioneer story is critical to supporting this social geography. Little House on the Prairie is cited as a major influence on Thirteenth Child, but Wilder's influential "historical" (that is "non-alternative-historical") young adult novels also presupposes an "empty" land that, in actuality, was already filled with a people with their own pre-existing geography:
Little Laura Ingalls, her sisters and their beloved Ma and Pa were illegal squatters on Osage land. She left that detail out of her 1935 children's book, Little House on the Prairie, as well as any mention of ongoing outrages—including killings, burnings, beatings, horse thefts and grave robberies—committed by white settlers, such as Charles Ingalls, against Osages living in villages not more than a mile or two away from the Ingalls' little house.
"Little House on the Osage Prairie," Dennis McAuliffe, Jr. It's part of Oyate's series of because of their inaccurate and insulting portrayals of Native Americans.

In comparing Pagán's thoughts of geography as seen by the privileged to the history of geography in North America (and in many other places), I started thinking about three aspect:.
  • Discoverability. Spaces do not exist unless and until they are learned of by the privileged. A continent's existence begins when it is first seen by a European. A restaurant does not exist until it's reviewed in a magazine, or on yelp.
  • Emptiness. Once discovered, all spaces are empty until they are filled with the privileged. They can (and truly must) be modified at will and whim. They have no meaning or importance until it has been constructed by the privileged. Continents are empty until filled by Europeans. Neighborhoods are bad until filled by the rich (or at least richer).
  • Bordelessness. Because empty spaces cannot have any meaning, there can be no barriers of access into and within the space that applies to the privileged. There are no distinctions of nations within an empty continent. There is no country into which modern Americans cannot enter and still demand the security and privilege they expect.


And in thinking about these concepts, it's hard to limit that thought just to space. I start thinking about the way this kind of geography maps onto ideas and culture and discourse. I think about cultural appropriation, in which the privileged learn about something only through the distorted tales of other privileged, decide what it means based on faulty information, and take for themselves whatever they wish from wherever they wish. I think about Led Zeppelin "forgetting" to credit its sources.

And I'm backing into what I was really thinking about when I read that chapter. Reading about civilian Mexican-American youths contesting white military youth's privileging a "public" reading of their "private" spaces, I was thinking about the way that similar contests have played out, and are playing out, in the virtual spaces of ideas, discourse, journals, blogs, conventions, and fandom in the dialogue of RaceFail, and now MammothFail.

But I'm going to have to try to bring out my thoughts tomorrow night (or hopefully by Friday).
A tablesaw in action. The blade disappears when it comes in contact with a hot dog.
I'm hoping to do more reading this year, newly purchased television notwithstanding. Here's some of what I've been reading.

Currently Reading
  • The Haunting of Hill House—Shirley Jackson. I've made considerably more progress since the last time this book went AWOL, and I'm enjoying it. I saw the 1999 version of the film, and thought it was awful, but saw enough interesting things in the margins to make me think that the book would be reading (especially after I learned it was by Jackson).
  • City of Quartz—Mike Davis. One of my goals this year is to learn more about the history of the Los Angeles area of Southern California. Davis's outlook feels overly Marxist to me—one endnote bewilderingly asks the writer for sympathy toward Aleister Crowley because he once wrote letters to Trotsky. But while I sometimes question the conclusions, the far-left position provides a good vantage point to deconstruct the various mythoi of Los Angeles across its history. Sadly, my library branch did not have the revised edition.
  • How Did You Get to Be Mexican?: A White/Brown Man's Search for Identity—Kevin R. Johnson. I was about to put this in finished books, but I just recalled that I haven't read the final chapter. I have mixed feelings about it. The theoretical sections are interesting, and because Johnson is a law professor, I have access to most of his cited sources at my workplace. On the other hand, the autobiographical sections feel meandering, as though he were shying away from driving strongly toward a thesis (in many cases, perhaps, in deference to those in the field in which he still works).
Recently Finished
  • Továngar = World: A Gabrieliño Word Book—Anne Galloway. Only a smattering of words from the language spoken in Los Angeles before Spanish colonization. I had been hoping for more information.
  • Unmasking L.A.: Third Worlds and the City—Deepak Narang Sawhney (ed.). The book contained the line I criticized earlier. It was an uneven collection of work, and I ended up skipping much of it. It did point me toward City of Quartz, because nearly every essay derived in some way from the line of thinking put forth in Davis's book. In retrospect, I think that the reliance is in some cases so strong that the Quartz (or some other legend) is needed like to prevent the slide into incomprehensibility. That line still doesn't make any sense, though.
  • I would've sworn I read something else last month. I need to look more closely.
And while I'm thinking of it:

Short Fiction
  • "Until Forgiveness Comes</cite>—K. Tempest Bradford. Perhaps I'm a little weird in that the facts of the story—a terrorist attack and the discourse over how it should be remembered—pale in comparison to my interest in the form of the story. Bradford has an excellent grasp of the rhythm of an NPR segment (down to the reporter, with a name suspiciously and whimsically similar to the "musical" Sylvia Poggioli), to the point where I could easily hear the ever-present, but rarely informitive ambient sound that would accompany the piece. Made me tear up at work, which makes it memorable.
  • "The Men Burned All the Boats"—Patricia Russo. As a tale told in dialogue, it's hard to tell at first, whether the protagonist is simply being ironic. But while there is certainly a great deal of deception, the core of grief and despair clarifies itself, and is not overtaken by hope.

    It made me think that there's a tendency in all storytelling—though particularly, I suspect, in science fiction and fantasy—to use Hope as not merely a cure for grief, but nepenthe, relief by forgetting, or ignoring, or otherwise discounting the source of grief. In that context, the narrator's commitment to mourning is a brave and startling decision, one that challenges the reader to imagine what is to come, but what has gone before, which is far more than merely the boats that were burned.
FriNYTX: 16:30.

Onna stick?

Jan. 6th, 2003 12:52 pm
A tablesaw in action. The blade disappears when it comes in contact with a hot dog.
I went over to my mother's school this morning to pick up my heavy winter coat (which had been hanging dormant in the closet of my parents' house since I can home from Washington, D.C. for good almost five years ago) for my upcoming Providence trip. While I was out, I stopped by the old Borders to use the gift certificate my grandparents gave me for Christmas. I forgot to bring my ATM card, which saved me from buying much more than my certificate was worth, and in the end I picked up a copy of Games World of Puzzles, which has a highly recommended set of cryptic crosswords by Patrick Berry, the constructor of the cryptics in Harper's Magazine; a copy of The Nation, whose lefter-than-me stance is enjoyable and interesting to me (I'm thinking about subscribing); Los Angeles Times Sunday Crossword Omnibus, Volume 1, all clues of which are written by Barry Tunick, whom I know from NPL parties; and what seems to be a rather standard fantasy story called The Glasswright's Apprentice, which just gave me good vibes.

I also stopped by the Topanga Plaza Shopping Center, thinking I might be able to also use my Sam Goody gift certificate, but there wasn't a SG shop in the mall. (Why did I think there was?) Visiting the food court, I had a hankering for a Hot Dog On A Stick, but there didn't seem to be anyone manning the front, so I left. Instead, I finally visited Ruby's Red Hots, a hot dog place right around the corner from my house. It doesn't open until eleven, so I usually miss it, but today I made it my business to go there. As an old Cherub friend would say, "That is a hot FUCKING dog!" This thing was not only a quality hot dog, it was covered with everything one would want on a hot dog: tomatos, jalapeños, a long pickle wedge, several slices of nonpickled cucumber, onions, a mountain of relish and, of course, mustard on an onion bun. I also ordered cheddar fries, which made for a fine, but extremely messy dinner. Yum.
A tablesaw in action. The blade disappears when it comes in contact with a hot dog.
I'm going to go to bed, wake up early, watch The Sound of Music, pop open my lone bottle of wine from Rwth, and toast the bestest ever teacher I ever had while reading her book, A Problem Like Maria: Gender and Sexuality in the American Musical.

Ah life. Why are the good ones always gay?
A tablesaw in action. The blade disappears when it comes in contact with a hot dog.
Many people have been doing it, and I think it's an interesting thing to do. Here's a listing of the gifts I received, and the gifts I gave thus far. (Subject to inaccuracies; I'm at work and not at my tree right now.)

To me:
From Mom: Three pairs of pants.
From Dad: Monty Python's Flying Circus DVD Pack.
From Mom and Dad: A set of pots and pans.
From Sister: Monty Python and the Holy Grail poster and a multi-function clock.
From Paternal Grandmother: Book of the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels and cash.
From Paternal Grandmother (with major coaching from Aunt): Discman, CD jacket and gift certificate to Sam Goody
From a different Aunt: Wallet and Tin with Clock.
From Godfather: Two volumes of Rising Stars.
From Maternal Grandparents: Gift certificate to Borders.
From Maternal Grandparents via "White Elephant Gift-Giving: Bi-Polar.
From Confirmation Sponsor: Some books, including a New Jerusalem Bible.
From [livejournal.com profile] wjukknibs: They Might Be Giants, No!; Metroid Prime promo DVD; and Powerpuff Girls Movie DVD.
From K: Mensa cards and M.C. Escher sliding puzzle.
From Ex: A Problem Like Maria: Gender and Sexuality in the American Musical
From Landlords: See's chocolates.

I think that's it for now.

From me:
To Mom: Original art by independent artist and an episode of Once and Again.
To Dad: DVD of The Man Who Would Be King and three episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation.
To Sister: and Independence Day action figure
To Paternal Grandmother: A miniature topiary of dried flowers.
To Godfather: Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol on DVD.
To Maternal Grandparents: Till Then: The Music that Helped the Allies Win the War
To Confirmation Sponsor: Stationery and butterfly rubber stamp.
To Sister of [livejournal.com profile] wjukknibs: Fun & Games: Things to Make and Do.
To Another Sister of [livejournal.com profile] wjukknibs: Powerpuff Girls calendar.
To Yet Another Sister of [livejournal.com profile] wjukknibs: Edward Gorey Calendar.
To Brother of [livejournal.com profile] wjukknibs: A Storm of Swords.
To [livejournal.com profile] wjukknibs: Trip to Vegas (date to be determined)
To K: Gift certificate to Gamestop.
To [livejournal.com profile] fauxpas: We Got the Neutron Bomb : The Untold Story of L.A. Punk.
To [livejournal.com profile] luxnightmare: The Rose and the Beast: Fairy Tales Retold.
To Ex: A Problem Like Maria: Gender and Sexuality in the American Musical
To Landlords: Upwords.
To Childhood Friend and his Father: Shell Shock!, an out-of-print board game.

Along with a few that haven't been given out yet. It's almost time to go home (thank God), and I'll see if I missed anything. It was a good Christmas. I got several things I will be able to make great use out of and am proud of most everything I found to give. Nothing left to do but wait for my birthday. (Thirteen more days!)

FriNYTX: 25:30. 54A? I am totally lost.
A tablesaw in action. The blade disappears when it comes in contact with a hot dog.
Dear Anna,

The next time you ask yourself dejectedly "Who would ever want to read what I write?" please pick up a copy of Depth Takes a Holiday or A Year in Van Nuys, or listen, as I did today by chance, to Act III of "First Day" of This American Life entitled "Bad Sex with Bud Kemp," all by bona-fide writer-person Sandra Tsing Loh, who was my literary crush for quite a while and who should remind you that bittersweet, painfully humorous (and/or humorously painful) writing is always welcome when skillfully done.

Sincerely,
[livejournal.com profile] tablesaw
A tablesaw in action. The blade disappears when it comes in contact with a hot dog.
It occurred to me earlier that I was probably one of very few people at one of the opening night showings of The Two Towers who had not seen Fellowship of the Ring since that movie's opening night. It inspired some questions:

[Poll #85249]

Vignette.

Dec. 17th, 2002 01:54 am
A tablesaw in action. The blade disappears when it comes in contact with a hot dog.
I wake up slightly to the sound of the river passing over my head, water that would cause flooding and gridlock and agony for the city while I slept. My body is wrapped in sheets and quilts, and my eyes flick between a grey cloudy light and black cloudy dark, and my mind drowns in the sound of rain, and my soul is disgorged like an overbloated corpse from the sea of dreams. A sudden splash of impetus twists my body like a rag, and my arm falls onto the empty side of the bed, resting on something other than mattress. And for a less than a moment I feel a warm body, peaceful, her oblivion to the tempest outside offering me a sweet, second-hand solace, a warmth to fold myself into. Soon enough, though, the form defines itself: cold, small, rigid. It was my dictionary, left at my side during a recent bout of insomniac solving.

Thank you, Life, for interrupting my dreams with a taunting metaphor. No, really, it made my day.

My life isn't empty. But it's not as full as it could be. And as long as there's an empty space next to me, it'll be filled by whatever's handy, usually from my bookcase. A book has many things to offer me, of course, but what have I to offer it?
A tablesaw in action. The blade disappears when it comes in contact with a hot dog.
Something about the Amazon Wish List appeals to me greatly. I like the ease and privacy it affords one to send gifts all around the country. I'll most likely be sending out cheap gifts to people who have theirs available. At the same time, it's a good way to put out a Christmas list for people who may have to actually buy real gifts. This year it isn't really representative, I'd much prefer house things in general, but I still am obsessively overhauling it.

In the giving mood? Send me some [book]bound lovin'! Don't worry if you're late, my birthday's just around the corner too. And don't worry about price, I added my favorite book publisher right at the top: Dover Thrift Editions!

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A tablesaw in action. The blade disappears when it comes in contact with a hot dog.
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