I’m sure I'm pirating some form of trademarked advertising phrase (way to go you mass marketing peeps!). Regardless, I thought I’d share a peculiar experience with you today.
A and I enjoyed take out pizza last night. We were excited to discover the local pizza joint now offers whole wheat pizza dough, so we gave it a try. We get pretty psyched for anything that resembles a healthier alternative to the usual fare. It wasn’t too bad, really – a little heavier and drier than the typical artificially-enriched, chewy white crust - but it was packed with fibery, vitamin-rich, whole wheat goodness. The brown, sandpaper-like texture was an interesting change too – I could have sanded our chopping block with the toasted crust. But I should also point out that it maintained absolute firmness and crispness in the face of a moisture onslaught. Our usual veggie/mushroom toppings tend to saturate take out pizza, and leave us with limp-crust syndrome.
Due to the robustness of the new crust, we each ate a bit less pizza than usual – probably a good thing seeing as we’re heading to the beach in February. So we dutifully packed the leftovers into serving-sized portions for the next few days’ lunches. A, being her usual kind and thoughtful self, made sure I had a few leftover slabs for consumption today (I use the term “slab” instead of “slice,” because slice seems like a gross understatement for this particular species of pie). So she lovingly placed my portion into an innocent looking previously used zip lock bag, and tucked it away in the fridge for me to grab in the morning. Little did I know that this seemingly innocent bag would really kick up the fresh flavor of my humble repast.
So 11:39AM rolled around today at the office, and my stomach was engaged in its usual lunchtime alarm-ringing. I enjoy leftover pizza cold and coagulated - straight outta da fridge, yo. So I eagerly retrieved the slabs, and started devouring the first of two. I got through the first slab and was licking my fingers when I detected the faint "smell of fresh laundry". Or was it fresh-laundry taste? Initially, I wrote it off as a rising waft of the clean, freshly pressed pants I was wearing. As I continued working online, I casually reached for the second slab and failed to notice the small, gauzy napkin-looking thing left at the bottom of the bag. I made it half-way through this slab only to taste/smell “laundry” again - this time it was stronger, and tainted my mushrooms! I was finally suspicious enough to take a look in the bag. To my surprise (and quiet concern) I pulled out a slim stack of pizza-greased-but-otherwise-unused fabric softener (dryer) sheets. Alas...my rough and ready pizza had been...snuggled.
I dropped the remaining crusty portion, and immediately proceeded to google “dryer sheets+toxic,” only to be dismayed by the rather horrific reports I found - many of which claimed that dryer sheets contained a plethora of harmful chemicals, and were considered by some to be among the most toxic offenders in a typical American household. While I won’t be rushing to call poison control just yet, when you stop to consider that these industrial chemicals are impregnated in your clothing, and you wear that clothing against your skin - the body's largest organ - day in and day out, you can’t help but wonder what it’s potentially doing to you. I honestly hadn't thought about it before this perfumed pizza moment. I mean, static-free, fresh-smelling clothing is definitely worth rubbing known carcinogens (like limonene) against your bum every day...right?
Needless to say, I’ve decided we’re going to try NaHCO3 (sodium bicarbonate, AKA baking soda) in the wash next time. Yeah, it's also an artificially produced industrial substance, but it's water soluble, and a probably a lot safer. Supposedly it softens your clothes rather well, and ironically, prevents farting too, if you cook with it (cripes! why haven't we tried that yet?).
In the meantime, we obviously need to make sure we’re not being overzealous in our zip lock re-use program at home. Our marriage is good (as far as I know), so how a bag of leftover dryer sheets got into my leftover lunch bag will likely remain a mystery...
Monday, January 7, 2008
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
HNY
Happy New Year!
Yes, I know - I got off to a roaring start here, and then became distracted by the holidays (and suffered from a bout of general laziness). So I haven't posted in a few weeks. Now that 2008 has begun, I have made it a "sorta" resolution to try to post more often. That said, this is going to be a short one, so cheers to you all, and I wish you a very happy and healthy 2008! More to come, I promise...
Yes, I know - I got off to a roaring start here, and then became distracted by the holidays (and suffered from a bout of general laziness). So I haven't posted in a few weeks. Now that 2008 has begun, I have made it a "sorta" resolution to try to post more often. That said, this is going to be a short one, so cheers to you all, and I wish you a very happy and healthy 2008! More to come, I promise...
Monday, November 19, 2007
Then Beowulf spoke, Son of Ecgtheow
OK, so being a big fan of historical epics, war/adventure films, and Dark Age legends in general, I went to see the new chest-beating testosterone fest, Beowulf, this weekend...and in 3D no less.
Not my first 3D experience recently - we had just seen Tim Burton's Nightmare Before Christmas in 3D on Halloween night, and it was pretty cool. But as far as this film, I went into it thinking I'd check my brain at the door, and just enjoy the ride. I have to admit though, once I got used to the hybrid animation, poor accents, and seemingly cheesy hero-talk, I found myself completely engrossed. It was an entertaining telling of a familiar story, and I had a great time.
So good, in fact, that I immediately re-read the original epic poem the next morning - over dark coffee and an almond croissant (a most heroic breakfast, if I've ever heard of one). Needless to say, I enjoyed Beowulf a whole lot more the 2nd time around, which was not surprising considering I hadn't cracked the cover since I read it in Mr. Hodermarsky's high school English class. Not only was I awed by the stunning beauty of the text, but also by the complex layering, allusions, repetition, and many textural themes of the story, interlaced with other heroic and tragic legends (that would have been familiar to the original audience). It made me want to be there at the moment of its first telling, when such verses may have been composed on the spot, and recited aloud by the skilled bards of the day. In fact, this oral composition tradition reinforces for me just how much we underestimate our ancestors, and their vast creative powers. It is easy to imagine the extreme emotions a performance like Beowulf must have stirred within the hearts of its listeners, literally a thousand (or more) years ago. And those over-the-top, heroic speeches that Hollywood writers like to pepper the movies with - the ones we proud pseudo-intelligentsia like to snicker at - actually have their roots in a rather ancient art form, which remains quite effective today (whether we want to admit it to ourselves or not). Everyone enjoys a little inspiration in their life. Alas, Beowulf has enough inspiration to fill any movie.
Yet, before I immerse my head too deeply into the mists of time here, the point I want to make is that, whether or not you can stand an extra helping of fromage in your films, even the silliest of epics translated to the Big Screen can still inspire you to go back to the original art forms...and that's worth the price of admission.
Not my first 3D experience recently - we had just seen Tim Burton's Nightmare Before Christmas in 3D on Halloween night, and it was pretty cool. But as far as this film, I went into it thinking I'd check my brain at the door, and just enjoy the ride. I have to admit though, once I got used to the hybrid animation, poor accents, and seemingly cheesy hero-talk, I found myself completely engrossed. It was an entertaining telling of a familiar story, and I had a great time.
So good, in fact, that I immediately re-read the original epic poem the next morning - over dark coffee and an almond croissant (a most heroic breakfast, if I've ever heard of one). Needless to say, I enjoyed Beowulf a whole lot more the 2nd time around, which was not surprising considering I hadn't cracked the cover since I read it in Mr. Hodermarsky's high school English class. Not only was I awed by the stunning beauty of the text, but also by the complex layering, allusions, repetition, and many textural themes of the story, interlaced with other heroic and tragic legends (that would have been familiar to the original audience). It made me want to be there at the moment of its first telling, when such verses may have been composed on the spot, and recited aloud by the skilled bards of the day. In fact, this oral composition tradition reinforces for me just how much we underestimate our ancestors, and their vast creative powers. It is easy to imagine the extreme emotions a performance like Beowulf must have stirred within the hearts of its listeners, literally a thousand (or more) years ago. And those over-the-top, heroic speeches that Hollywood writers like to pepper the movies with - the ones we proud pseudo-intelligentsia like to snicker at - actually have their roots in a rather ancient art form, which remains quite effective today (whether we want to admit it to ourselves or not). Everyone enjoys a little inspiration in their life. Alas, Beowulf has enough inspiration to fill any movie.
Yet, before I immerse my head too deeply into the mists of time here, the point I want to make is that, whether or not you can stand an extra helping of fromage in your films, even the silliest of epics translated to the Big Screen can still inspire you to go back to the original art forms...and that's worth the price of admission.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
How much is a statement worth?
Up to 23 million, apparently: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071115/ap_on_en_ot/art_auction
I normally leave this issue alone. Having my own artistic sensitivity, limited artmaking skill, and having made small profits from some of my past work, I am naturally hesitant to debate whether "art" should be bought and sold as commodity. I mean, who wouldn't want their big steel heart to sell for $23M? Your Clever Vision, Larger Than Life. Sounds fabulous.
But could you live with yourself (that is, once the laughter dies out)?
When I see things like this - especially because it's this particular artist -a part of me dies inside. He's made a career out of kitch, and it's not even all that creative. It was novel once, and he's the first one to be truly recognized for it, and whatever the statement was worth. But now that he's famous, his work must be "culturally significant" - worth every penny, right? Riiiight. That cold hollow heart really resonates inside my soul...how about you?
Despite whether you consider this work art, or merely the aftermath of an untrustworthy fart, there are other ripples in this puddle. For instance, maybe it's the sinister socialist in me - or just humanitarian leaning - but when I think about the fact that some fool decided to spend $23M for a hideously overdone "expression," rather than using that enormous wealth to, say, fund a disease research lab, or raise the standard of living in poor communities, or rebuild a crumbling city school, you can't help but want to scream. Well, I guess if you're me.
So why is this particular object worth so much? Some might be tempted to beat me over the head with the oft-repeated "because it's what the market will bear." Indeed, Adam Smith, you're obviously able to supress your shame. But if for a brief moment you can take a step outside market forces, I think you might also consider what that behavior tells you about the market. I know it's a slippery slope to try to moralize Capitalism, but should we not pause to consider our collective madness, from time to time?
That said, I have to end abruptly here, my publicity agent is calling. A 50-foot pumpkin pie sculpture made of 3 tons of felted wool - part of my "Home Cooked" series - has to be installed before Thanksgiving. I expect that's the auction announcement now...
I normally leave this issue alone. Having my own artistic sensitivity, limited artmaking skill, and having made small profits from some of my past work, I am naturally hesitant to debate whether "art" should be bought and sold as commodity. I mean, who wouldn't want their big steel heart to sell for $23M? Your Clever Vision, Larger Than Life. Sounds fabulous.
But could you live with yourself (that is, once the laughter dies out)?
When I see things like this - especially because it's this particular artist -a part of me dies inside. He's made a career out of kitch, and it's not even all that creative. It was novel once, and he's the first one to be truly recognized for it, and whatever the statement was worth. But now that he's famous, his work must be "culturally significant" - worth every penny, right? Riiiight. That cold hollow heart really resonates inside my soul...how about you?
Despite whether you consider this work art, or merely the aftermath of an untrustworthy fart, there are other ripples in this puddle. For instance, maybe it's the sinister socialist in me - or just humanitarian leaning - but when I think about the fact that some fool decided to spend $23M for a hideously overdone "expression," rather than using that enormous wealth to, say, fund a disease research lab, or raise the standard of living in poor communities, or rebuild a crumbling city school, you can't help but want to scream. Well, I guess if you're me.
So why is this particular object worth so much? Some might be tempted to beat me over the head with the oft-repeated "because it's what the market will bear." Indeed, Adam Smith, you're obviously able to supress your shame. But if for a brief moment you can take a step outside market forces, I think you might also consider what that behavior tells you about the market. I know it's a slippery slope to try to moralize Capitalism, but should we not pause to consider our collective madness, from time to time?
That said, I have to end abruptly here, my publicity agent is calling. A 50-foot pumpkin pie sculpture made of 3 tons of felted wool - part of my "Home Cooked" series - has to be installed before Thanksgiving. I expect that's the auction announcement now...
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Finding my "blogging voice."
So I sat down to start this blog, and I happened to be listening to a Johnny Cash shuffle in the background. My wife - the founder of Type B&B - was lounging beside me. Suddenly, she felt the need to alert me to the fact that she thinks the current song "is a turd." I quickly glanced at her, and flashed her a now-familar eye roll, before returning to the blank screen and the silent keyboard. Between JC crooning "I focus on the pain" and "that old familiar sting" I began wondering what I'm supposed to be saying here - you know, now that I'm up on this electronic-soapbox-stage. As I stared into space, darling wife followed up her incisive music critique with, "Don't worry, it'll take you awhile to find your blogging voice." Immediately, she spoke truth to my internal struggle.
She was absolutely right. I do "technical writing" all the time for a living...but this personal, put-myself-out-there style is something entirely foreign. Besides an occasional (but often verbose) email to a friend, or a rare yahoo group post, I don't really do much opinion publishing, for myself, or a broader audience. It's funny, but there's almost a palpable pressure to say something clever, or witty, or ironic...or cynical. Through a jumble of impulses, I kept thinking how do I stay true to myself? Will I sound crazy? Dull? Profound? And then I realized I had already started typing, and the words were flowing fairly naturally. So I guess I'm just going to have wait and see how this works out. The only way to get in the saddle is to start posting, and not worry too much whether any of the aforementioned adjectives will apply.
In fact, I rather hope you'll discover the chameleon in me. If there's one "interesting" thing I might offer in this world, it's the alternatingy sublime and smelly seepage of the fickle, easily distracted organ in my skull. Ideally, I wanted to focus this blog on my interests in Western history - hence the selection of the Greek "oikoumene" (the inhabited world). But in the end, I'll also want to share other "distractions" with you - some photos I've taken, the books I'm reading, and the activities I'm participating in...the everyday passions I waste time, energy, and resources on. Enjoy it...or don't. But feel free to chime in! I love a good discussion...
To be ignorant of what happened before you were born is to be ever a child. For what is man's lifetime unless the memory of past events is woven with those of earlier times? - Cicero
She was absolutely right. I do "technical writing" all the time for a living...but this personal, put-myself-out-there style is something entirely foreign. Besides an occasional (but often verbose) email to a friend, or a rare yahoo group post, I don't really do much opinion publishing, for myself, or a broader audience. It's funny, but there's almost a palpable pressure to say something clever, or witty, or ironic...or cynical. Through a jumble of impulses, I kept thinking how do I stay true to myself? Will I sound crazy? Dull? Profound? And then I realized I had already started typing, and the words were flowing fairly naturally. So I guess I'm just going to have wait and see how this works out. The only way to get in the saddle is to start posting, and not worry too much whether any of the aforementioned adjectives will apply.
In fact, I rather hope you'll discover the chameleon in me. If there's one "interesting" thing I might offer in this world, it's the alternatingy sublime and smelly seepage of the fickle, easily distracted organ in my skull. Ideally, I wanted to focus this blog on my interests in Western history - hence the selection of the Greek "oikoumene" (the inhabited world). But in the end, I'll also want to share other "distractions" with you - some photos I've taken, the books I'm reading, and the activities I'm participating in...the everyday passions I waste time, energy, and resources on. Enjoy it...or don't. But feel free to chime in! I love a good discussion...
To be ignorant of what happened before you were born is to be ever a child. For what is man's lifetime unless the memory of past events is woven with those of earlier times? - Cicero
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