Category: Thought

What I’m Reading: Firearms and Weirdos Edition

My reading habits tend to vary pretty wildly; not long ago I was reading The Age of Innocence at the same time as an early Guy Gavriel Kay fantasy, while popping in and out of Clay Shirky’s text on crowdsourcing, Here Comes Everybody. And this was shortly after juggling a book on education lessons from video games along with the literally and figuratively weighty tome The Meaning of the 21st Century. Historically I’ve tried to avoid sharing everything that I’m reading, for fear that I might start unconsciously self-editing my reading list. But hey, I’m past thirty now, and who really gives a crap what anyone else thinks?

So here’s all the books that currently crowd and shove each other for supremacy on my nightstand (…and living room table… and dining room table). First up we have Chuck Palahniuk’s Fugitives and Refugees: A Walk in Portland, Oregon, along with a few other Northwest-related books: an old National Geographic picture book of the region, and a guidebook to Portland from the late nineties. Lots of strange stuff in the Palahniuk book that could be useful. No, I’m not planning to head west anytime soon. The novel I’m working on is mostly set in a fictional city in the Northwest that bears some resemblance to Seattle and Portland, so I’m filling in some background info to add to my personal experience of those Northwest cities to make my city a little more convincing.

The King’s Coat? Why, it’s the first in a fourteen-volume naval adventure series by Dewey Lambdin that I stumbled upon in the Portsmouth library. Wow, make that seventeen volumes… it’s still going!  Like I didn’t already have a shelf crammed full of books on my to-read list! I’ll let you know if the first book’s any good.

House of Leaves— I am rereading this classic by Mark Z. Danielewski, since I received my very own copy via paperbackswap.com after being on a yearlong waiting list. If you like horror even in the slightest, check it out. Do it.

I’m reading a history of firearms called The Illustrated World Encyclopedia of Guns, because I was curious when and where they first came into practice, and how long it was until they could reliably be fired and thus supersede things like bows and swords. Lots of interesting notes on the mechanical progression, e.g. from matchlock to flintlock, and great illustrations of guns throughout the ages. This will be useful for multiple projects, but in particular one that’s set around the technology level of the late 17th century. My girlfriend is still a little worried.

Buried underneath House of Leaves is a freebie I got from my last visit to Crown, called The Book of the Dead:  Lives of the Justly Famous and the Undeservedly Obscure. I’d read a previous book by the authors, called The Book of General Ignorance (given to me by my friend Emily), so I’m interested in checking this one out once I have a chance.

And we have Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale. Started off as a lunch break read but was too slow to really look forward to. Now I’ve read 100 pages, and I have to ask– does anything ever actually happen? So much walking around and sitting and lying down. This may be headed for the dustbin if our heroine, whom the author has not bothered to name yet, does not pick up a shotgun very soon and start kicking some ass.

Finally there’s the first book in the Bartimaeus trilogy, The Amulet of Samarkand, by Jonathan Stroud, which is currently the book I read on lunch breaks at my temping job and which I find pretty engrossing so far. I may actually be quoting from it soon over on the Great Typo Hunt blog.

Calorie Binges Around the Nation

I’ve been busy lately going through all my receipts from the book tour, to determine just how much I can deduct as traveling business expenses (rough answer: a hell of a lot). It’s been an odd experience, reminiscing about every gas stop, motel crash, and grease pit visit over the space of three months. Life on the road certainly has its tribulations and headaches, but there are also great joys along the way– such as the chance to discover some delectable food.

In the spirit of those joys, I would like to share with you some of the best burger and sub places that I came across in my journeys. This is by no means a comprehensive list. Some are local or regional chains, so it’s not a “best of the indies” list either. It’s simply some places that brightened my odyssey hawking my wares across the nation.

Panini’s – Cleveland, OH — So here was one of the weirdest conversations on the book tour:  walking into a place called Panini’s, ordering a panini, and being told by the guy that not only did they not serve paninis, but that he wasn’t quite sure what one actually was.  What they serve instead are magnificent creatures like the specimen pictured above– gigantic sandwiches stuffed with fries.

Cousins Subs – Madison, WI — Not sure whether there are actual cousins behind this place, but I had a club on herb bread along with fries and it was delicious.  The free cookie thrown in was a bonus.  Okay, I did the research, and it was founded by cousins– keeping it in the family.  The sub shops are found around the Midwest and Arizona.

Jimmy John’s – Kansas City, MO — There are Jimmy John’ses all over the place (though not in New England, or at least not yet), but they bear mentioning.  Their motto is, or at least was at some point, “Subs so fast, you’ll freak,” and the Ultimate Porker I had in KC was indeed served up so quickly that I might have freaked a little.  It’s kind of the same vibe as Potbelly, except without the guy with the guitar (that’s another sub place not in New England, but we New Englanders have plenty of other options– almost warrants a separate entry).

Fatburger – Highlands Ranch, CO — I had them serve me up a Fatburger with Pepper Jack (no relish) and skinny fries just a half hour before our Colorado reading, at the Tattered Cover. Maybe not the smartest idea, considering my last-minute rush to the lav, but it was so tasty it was worth it.  Looks like they have expanded their operations to the United Arab Emirates, so the next time you’re in Dubai, go all out with a Double or Triple King and just bathe in the capitalism.

Burgerville – Portland, OR — Benjamin introduced me to this place when I visited Portland last summer, and I couldn’t wait to have another one of their burgers when we returned to the City of Roses during our book tour.  I can taste that Tillamook cheddar even now. Rivals In-N-Out for taste– and the ingredients are all local and their practices are sustainable.

Wipeout – San Francisco, CA — Pier 39 is a big tourist draw in San Francisco, not just for the adorable sea lions you can watch lazing around, but for all the little shops and eateries where you can fill up on grease and chocolate. At Wipeout, you can either sit down and get the full surf shack experience, or just order something from a guy peeking through a little window in the wall.  I chose the latter and obtained a fine BBQ Burger.

Buc-ee’s – Madisonville, TX — The highways of Texas are home to a strange phenomenon:  every few miles, signs featuring a cartoon beaver beckon you to rest stops known as Buc-ee’s, even when the closest one is hundreds of miles away.  It was the most aggressive roadside advertising campaign I’d ever seen, and Benjamin and I made sure to stop at a Buc-ee’s on the book tour after not getting the chance during the original typo hunt.  I picked up a tasty chipotle club sandwich and a t-shirt for Jane featuring that cartoon beaver, a t-shirt she is too embarrassed to wear in public.

Tropical Isle – New Orleans, LA — What’s the most natural thing to crave at eleven pm on Bourbon Street after a couple of hand grenades?  Why, a cheeseburger, of course.  Even better if you can get one while musicians play on a nearby dais.  Truth be told, I have no idea whether the burger actually tasted good or not.  By the way, Tropical Isle’s website is totally worth a visit for the hand-grenade blues tribute song and the looping pirate gif.

Firehouse Subs – Goodlettsville, TN — Not only does this chain serve up supremely delicious subs, but you can donate at the register to help firefighters and other first responders.  All around a winning concept, and nice folks too, at least at the Tennessee franchise we visited.  I had a great club on wheat.

A Fair Slice of the American Cheese

On Saturday, Jane and I took a stroll in downtown Portsmouth. It was a chilly day, as is the wont in New England in late February, but a great crowd had gathered in Market Square. Rather, I should say two crowds– one on one side of the street, one on the other. They were arguing out the heart of the Wisconsin debate in a public form, with waving signs and frosted breath.

What was a little strange, though, was that nobody seemed particularly angry or upset. The anti-union side of the street was giving chanting cues to the pro-union side. And among those anti-union signs (e.g., “I <3 Chris Christie” and “If You Don’t Like It, Quit”) were a couple of pro-union sentiments. I began to wonder if the whole thing was a setup by the pro-union side, a mock battle.

I checked my e-mail later and found a MoveOn e-mail talking about the great success of Wisconsin-related rallies nationwide on Saturday.  So it hadn’t been a spontaneous gathering by any means, but MoveOn isn’t the type to fake its own opposition either.

I’d like to think that the great convivial spirit of New Hampshire infused the protesters on either side, that that was what caused everyone to keep things civil and even inject a note of jollity into the whole thing. People on the Seacoast in particular, I’ve noticed, tend to be warm and welcoming, combating the stereotype of the coldblooded New Englander. I find this entirely appropriate for a demonstration centering on events in Wisconsin, which from my experience is full of equally warm and reasonable people– the New Hampshirites of the Midwest, if you will.

As far as my thoughts on the debate itself, those will have to wait for another post. Suffice it to say that Scott Walker is a huge douche.

Market Square

The Daring Independent Life of the Editor

So it has come to this. If you are an editor, you are probably either looking for a job or will soon be. And the prospects are uniformly grim, even for a world-famous author like yrs trly. The work is gone. Well, that’s not quite right. The full-time, health-insurance kind of work is gone– but that doesn’t mean that editorial labors are forever vanished, to Bangalore or the archives of obsolescence.

Nope, text still needs someone to futz with it, and people still need editors. Sometimes. They have discovered that they don’t really need to keep them around all the time, though– where’s the immediate profit in that?– and so the field has largely become contract work. As someone who may have little other career skills to her name besides editing, you may be thinking dark thoughts at this point. Stable employment is a sweet thing, only truly appreciated (like most sweet things) when lost.

Oh, but be cheery, my literate friend! The life of the freelancer is ultimately the life of an adventurer. Once you pick up the right entrepreneurial tricks, you will discover that being a free agent has its perks. Sure, you won’t be able to afford to get that molar crowned anytime soon, but you are free to seek competing bids for your time and talent. You are effectively building a small business with little overhead, as the product emanates directly from that shapely brain of yours. (Such ridges!)

Eventually, as positive word of your brand spreads, you’ll be able to take work more in alignment with your interests, rather than just the work that will keep the lights on and keep the PBR stocked in your fridge. And you may just end up with better opportunities than if you’d stayed chained at the copyediting desk of HVAC Monthly for several more years.

We are being shoved out into the cold plains of competition and commerce, my friends. Might as well have some fun with it. And as far as the health insurance goes… Psst, you can sign on with Mediabistro and then get a shitty plan for as low as a hundred-spot a month. The teeth will go, and forget about prescriptions, but death and dismemberment can at least be forestalled.

Talking to Other Humans

I’ve been back in New Hampshire longer now than I was out on the road for the book tour; it’s been more than three months. And the distance from that adventuring time keenly manifests itself now in my interactions with other people. The other week, I attended a gathering of strangers and lost the nerve to talk to people, even in the interest of brazen self-promotion, which was the concern of most everyone else. At an early opportunity, I fled. O regard him, the man who gave hundreds of interviews, including at least a dozen on TV, who faced Al the Mad Roker, and who coolly deflected dick jokes from Australians and spoke in radio-friendly bites and learned to smile into a dark lens– ridiculous! Where was that calibrated persona now?

I’ve seen flashes of him in recent job interviews, perhaps because they more closely resemble media appearances than do ordinary conversations. Questions like “What was a recent work-related challenge and how did you overcome it?” are begging for a canned response and a shit-eating grin, wouldn’t you say? (Though occasionally there is the temptation to go off-script and say something like, “Hmm, in five years I see myself swaying gently beneath an oak branch.”) So now the goal is to take that glib bastard and apply him to more informal scenarios, where humans tend to meet and converse, the world somewhere outside the frosted windows of my Portsmouth apartment.

It’s been a womb of sorts, or perhaps a tomb. New England winter and cold tongues outside, while inside we have warmth and writing and my books and games, and Jane returning regularly to warm things still further (though not over this particular, particularly long weekend). Too easy to stay inside and let the Skill of relating fall dormant, while other Skills wax.

No more, friends! (I address this to the furry, stuffed friends lounging on the blankets.) To the outer realms once more I go, to re-remember what it’s like to be a certified member of the human race. I’ll gather my threadbare clothes about me, and name myself Writer, and I will be interesting and congenial and I will share stories and listen to those of others and occasionally steal them for later.

By the way, the bloom is off the rose for this WordPress app. Why should link pasting be so effing difficile?

Bamboo
One of the furry friends