To be clear–I didn’t delete all my archives, I just unpublished them! They’re still there.
I think I will be going back and kind of selectively republishing and just generally curating things a little bit better.
I am happy to answer any questions you have about these goings-on, or indeed about details of the past you may have been interested in knowing more about but now never shall (this is directed specifically at a commenter who said they had only made it up to 2010 and wanted to know how I got out of the midwest. The answer is: I packed up a UHaul truck and I moved!!! This reminds me though that I definitely need to re-publish the story of my horrible arm wound because that is truly a touchstone moment in human history (jk))
Speaking of the arm wound, I can’t believe it’s almost been a year! It’s FINALLY getting less tender, although one edge of it is still grody to the touch. It is a very smooth, straight, pink line. It was so ugly when it had stitches but now it looks very man-made and presentable. I still get a shiver whenever I wash the two remaining bowls.
I’m reading Giants of the Earth, which I am not enjoying, but it’s making me think about how different concepts of risk are now than what they used to be. When my old man and I decide to take a risk–when most of us decide to, I imagine, in modern America–what we are really risking is potential unhappiness. Should I take this job, or what if it makes me unhappy? Should I take a pay cut to pursue my dreams or will having less money make me unhappy? Should I leave my boyfriend / date this guy / have a baby / etc. Always weighing current amounts of happiness against potential future amounts. But for many people, and for most people in the past, it’s so different! These fucking Norwegian settlers, man. The risk they are taking is DEATH. For the pioneers, the Vikings, for pretty much anybody historically, the risk is death! The risk of trying ANYTHING! “Should we try for a better life across the country? The risk is that we could all easily die. Lets do it!”
Knock on wood but I have never made a decision with those terms! Only relative amounts of happiness have ever been on the table, for me. What decision would make me most not unhappy.
Did happiness even enter into those kinds of decisions of yore? I am wondering. Living in a small fishing village in Norway seems okay to me. What makes you decide to randomly cross the sea and learn English and hitch up some oxen and walk for months into hostile uncharted land, knowing there’s maybe a 50% chance you will survive/succeed? And some of those people were PREGNANT LADIES. I can not even imagine the horror. But there’s another great example: should I get pregnant even though I will very likely die in childbirth? I guess you didn’t have much choice back then. Maybe you didn’t have much choice regardless–maybe the risk for every decision was just death and everyone was used to it.
Romantic individualism is so weird
Also that NYT article about children who are psychopaths.
Ok now I’ll go republish some entries. Happy to take suggestions, if anyone gives a shit!
I’m happy to hear that you didn’t delete your archives. If you are looking to republish any, I’m partial to funny stories about Beardy, silly pup tales, travel anecdotes and references to restaurants with good burritos.
I’ve been quietly reading and admiring your posts from afar since probably around 2005. Even now, I am a rare commenter. That being said, having followed the events in your life for so long, I really wish I could send you a list of my personal faves. Like ALL OF THE LISTS, or the Shakespeare word post, or the one about the Mitford Sisters, or the one about the Snoopy running with the leaf over his face, or some of the sentiment ones about searching for Bird, in addition to the Epic IKEA Bowl Gash Story. Really, there are so many. Sometimes I read one of your posts and I think, “NO, THIS ONE IS DEFINITELY MY FAVORITE” only to have you write something the following day that becomes my new favorite. I respect that you want your internet privacy to not really co-mingle with your “straight life,” as you called it, but I guess I really just want to know why you are not a paid blogger making millions and writing books, though I am sure you are a fine professor.
Some of my favorite entries are the ones where you talk about your childhood. Living in Texas, and then moving to Colorado and not having electricity and being afraid of the dark. And the ants in the maple syrup thing and all that. Also any stories about Telluride and the boarding school you went to. Specifically I remember a story about watching JAWS in a pool, which seems crazy to me and maybe I made that up?
Also any entries that are about your travels: Paris, Phoenix, etc. If you love a place or hate it, it doesn’t matter, it’s always funny and entertaining.
AND OF COURSE, any entry that reviews a book/film/TV show. Those are probably my absolute favorites.
Jesus, you still have the other bowls?
Get rid of the bowls!!
Epic Xmas house demolition/raid story is definitely my favorite. Also, the one about what it smelled like in the Romantic times. And all the practical ones about how to file things, how to get on with writing a dissertation, how you like to get things done immediately, etc. And what Mary R. said above.
I concur with J. You need to get some wooden bowls and be done with it.
Third vote for eliminating the bowls.
Also, you had a holiday season entry one year about a cabin in Arizona(??) where some strangers prayed at you and then a trip to Texas where you and A sat around the dinner table with your relatives pretending it was the 17th century. I’d like to read that again, if you’re taking requests.
First off. Arm scar picture for the lord’s sweet sake, we need to be seeing that shit! And seconding you need to throw those deathbowls the fuck away!
Bird still makes me want to weep uncontrollably, not so much for sadness that he left but for the beautiful jam you guys had together when he was in your life, and how he was just such a centered, peaceful kind of dude, and who knows what he has seen with that little eye? I like to believe Bird is out there bringing that kind of zen to others (or perhaps “takin ‘er easy for all us sinners”), like that is his purpose, he is a wandering sage with his one wise eye looking into people’s souls and seeing what they need and also if they are suckers who will give him fish paste.
HOUSE DEMOLITION STORY!! I have retold this story many times to other people. I can’t remember, was this a story someone told you or an article? Whatever it is, it’s unbelievable. REPUBLISH, RELINK.
Frenchy honeymoon story–giant cheese plate! (Also perhaps Japan stories–are those still around on the internet somewhere??)
That story about the psychopathic children was awesome. My favorite parts were when the child calmy told his mother “you didn’t think through that very thoroughly, did you,” and when he was at the special camp, how he would be screaming L’s name when he was dragged away to punishment. L!!!!! I DID IT ALL FOR YOU!!!! That L. must be some kind of child….
I’ve been reading since 2004! Too many favorites to name. I am still totally freaked out about the arm wound photos, maybe I shouldn’t have looked at them. I really liked reading about your time in LA. Bird! Oh and the New Yorker entries! Did you once have a boss that gave you an ipod in a brown paper bag?
Yeah honeymoon and house demolition!