For Shame!

So this daily shaming of predatory men is disconcerting. Today it's Matt Lauer's turn on the naughty step. I've made jokes about ”Wonder who goes tomorrow?” and I am seldom left without my daily dose of schadenfreude. There is someone nearly every single day (although some of the more surprising ones like Charlie Rose get more days). It feels a lot like a witch hunt or McCarthyism, but I keep telling myself, ”These are actually communist witches!” These bastards deserve what's coming to them. Burn 'em at the stake or do whatever one does to communists for all I care.

Cabinet Cards

Fannie Fenn of Charlotte, Michigan, c. 1900.

I collect Cabinet Cards. <---- That’s a link. | So is this! ----> Cabinet card.

This post is not going to be a history of cabinet cards or even what defines them. (I don’t know enough to speak to either of those topics.)

I don’t know why I like them. I can’t articulate how I feel when I hold one. I can’t explain why some speak to me, while others do not. I just like them. I like imagining the life lived. I like the feeling of history in my hand, the tangible object and the intangible existence of one long dead. I make up stories in my head of who the person was, what made them special, and stories of who they loved and who loved them.

Dear Diary

Marbles the cat

For pretty much as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to be the kind of person who keeps a daily journal. I’ve wanted to produce years of writing and sketches and document my growth as a writer, artist, and human being; a ledger of a life; a record that I was here, that I created, and there was significance to my words. I imagined shelves lined with mostly-complete notebooks jammed full of ideas and observations, a reckoning of emotion, an honest reflection and historical record of life’s event.

I’ve never been this person.

American Health Care Act of 2017

Today I was getting ready to rant on Facebook, but rather than firing off a bit out outrage, I remembered, That’s why I have a blog again. So rather than a few dozen hastily written words, this is what you get.

GOP Health Bill Kept Secret From Senators Assigned to Write It <--- Read this.

The only reason the GOP is so fixated on repealing Obamacare is they don’t want to allow the Democrats to have a win. That’s it. There’s no other reason. It’s 100% purely spite.

They know their own bill is a shit bill that’s going to hurt a lot of people or they would let people read it. Members of their own party haven’t read it. They haven’t submitted it to the Congressional Budget Office for a CBO score. I would suggest the GOP are ashamed of what they are doing behind closed doors, but I am not sure they are capable of knowing shame.

Writing & Writers

I've known a lot of writers over my life, and I've met hundreds. After all, I worked for a newspaper for nearly a decade and a half, and I worked in a bookstore for over half a decade before that, and I was a literary studies major as an undergrad. Most my adult life I've been surrounded by people who make a living stringing words together. I've even had a paid gig or two in my day. There are basically two kinds of writers; those who can get the job done no matter what tools they have at hand even if this means dictating a story over a satellite phone, or those who need everything to come together just right to write. This second group can't get shit done if their favorite coffee mug is dirty or it's too late in the day or because the gibbous moon is waning. These sorts spend all their time allowing external influences to dictate when their ass actually gets in the chair. They spend more time trying out new software packages to find the perfect word processor. They can't write if they are uninspired or if their muse is uncooperative. Every writer I've met imagines themselves as the first sort, but most are the second.