I've been working on Lincoln, you know. I like the idea of gambling on the "better angels of our nature"... look at how that worked out for him, though.
The editing job is involving a lot of rewriting, which is work that lights up my brain in pretty colors.
The idea is that the book will talk about Lincoln's importance to today, but it keeps dropping the ball.
I just rewrote the part where Lincoln suspends habeas corpus. The book doesn't mention that this sets the precedent of a president doing that in a time of war (so the military can arrest and hold people without showing just cause or taking them to trial), or that that the United States has been doing for the past dozen-plus years.
At the same time, I'll be scraping and repainting the windows. They are on new tracks (they go all the way up!) but still need restoration. That will be a good physical distraction, and I like to see the immediate results of such labor.
Then, as the weather cools, I'll bike some of the longer trails. And I just found out about a free bike-repair group that meets twice a month--starting this week––at a nearby bike shop.
Oh, and also I'm working on a zine about Rice Pudding! with Crow.
Good work is its own kind of win.
___________________________
Screencaps from TrekCore of the Star Trek episode "By Any Other Name". Kirk asks the crew to go on a dangerous mission, saying, "Risk is our business." That's actual dialogue. (I made up the other stuff.)
There's a kind of American glorification of risk--"Go on! Take a chance!" -- that doesn't take into account that it's called "risk" because you risk losing. Like, getting turned into a bath cube and then crushed to dust, as happens to this poor crew member.
That's not a reason not to take risks, of course, just a reminder that you might not be the Kirk in the episode. You might be a glorified extra, like Crewman No. 6 in Galaxy Quest.
Expendable.
Or, comic relief.
What is white, has rasins and is very dangerous?
ReplyDeleteShark infested rice pudding.
I learned this joke in grade school, could you tell?
Z
ReplyDeleteOh, Zhoen, I am learning your communication style, I think.
I was puzzled by your comment for quite a while, and then it dawned on me:
It's meant to cheer me up!
(Right? Did I get it?)
THANK YOU for that.
The joke's reply that I learned in grade school goes,
"Ha. Ha. That's so funny I forgot to laugh." :)
(P.S. Your comment got sent to my spam folder.)
Everyone else will say some version of, so sorry, poor dear. Which is nice , but it certainly never helps me. So I send levity and absurdity with a tangential connection. In this case, rice pudding. Indeed, the intention is cheerful distraction from pain. Sorry if it hasn't been working, or perceived as such.
ReplyDeleteZhoen
No, no, your cheerful distraction was delightful,
ReplyDelete. . . once I figured out its purpose! [I did get the pudding connection.]
I am laughing fondly at how very different people's conversational styles are, and I marvel at how helpful it is to realize that!
Just read this...That's hard. I try to keep in mind that some connections have a term, but damn it's hard sometimes. I do wonder if it is hard to owe someone as much as Marz owes you (for springing her). It's a lot easier if it's a piece of pie or a cup of coffee.
ReplyDelete(Frex is Fresca)
ReplyDeleteOh, good point ARTSPARKER:
The weight of help (and history) can be hard to bear.
Still, I did always say to Marz that when the time came for her to go, she should go, freely. So at least I tried to recognize, as you say, that connections may play themselves out.
But I myself am no lightweight... I am as heavy as water.
Now it's more than a week since she's moved, things feel airier again.