Friday, February 29, 2008

In California news…

Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger and Attorney General (and former Gov.) Jerry Brown have formed an unlikely coalition against the U.S. Forest Service and its plan to allow for more road-building and oil drilling in some of California’s largest national forests. The state filed suit against the Forest Service over plans that would open more than 500,000 acres to road construction and 52,000 acres to oil development. According to the L.A. Times, these four forests—Los Padres, Angeles, San Bernardino and Cleveland—include more than 3.5 million acres that stretch from Big Sur to the Mexican border. They provide habitat for 31 threatened or endangered animal species and 29 such plant species.

As an environmentalist and someone who grew to love this rugged country with its spiky yucca and warm sandstone boulders, I think the Forest Service’s reneging on a promise to protect these lands is despicable. In my eight years in Santa Barbara I spent much time hiking and camping in the Los Padres. It’s not the most easily lovable forest—it’s mostly very dry chaparral and is only wet in creek canyons, where bay trees and sycamores provide dappled shade. But still, it’s wild. Uncontaminated by man and his projects, and a refuge for wildlife. The idea of oil wells going up and trucks rattling through the canyons makes my blood pressure rise.

At the same time, as a realist and a former forester’s daughter, I recognize that fire suppression is a huge concern and will only grow more so as dry conditions worsen in the West. The Forest Service argues that roads are needed to help in these efforts, and they are not wrong. Just last year the Zaca Fire scorched 240,200 acres of the Los Padres, and from what I can tell most of my favorite backcountry hikes are now inaccessible due to the fallout from this devastating blaze.

Land management makes for a fascinating debate, and I can’t even imagine all the factors that need to be weighed in a situation like this to determine what’s best. But at heart, I think the state has made the right decision in trying to force the Forest Service to honor its commitment to preserving this wilderness for future generations.

Read about it in:

The Ventura County Star
The L.A. Times

It’s Leap Day!



I’m all for celebrating random holidays, or even just quirks of the calendar. Makes my banal workdays entirely more lively.

Some interesting tidbits:

* There’s a folk tradition of disputed origin that women may only propose to men during leap years, or only on Leap Day itself. According to Wikipedia, another component of this tradition in England was that if the man rejected the proposal, he should soften the blow by providing a kiss, one pound currency, and a pair of gloves. I could use myself a nice pair of gloves—don’t know about the husband part.

* I miss the days when leap years were also the years for presidential elections and the Olympics (before they split off the summer and winter games into separate two-year cycles). Made it all so much easier to remember.

* A person born on February 29 may be called a "leapling." My absolute favorite leapling is Rex Smith in the 1983 movie version of “The Pirates of Penzance.” He gets chastised in song by Kevin Kline and Angela Lansbury for thinking he has turned 21 and so has finished his apprenticeship to the Pirate King. They remind him he was born on February 29, and therefore has only technically had five birthdays, and since he’s bound until his 21st birthday, he’s out of luck. Hilarity and duets with Linda Ronstadt ensue.

* The town of Anthony, on the Texas-New Mexico border, is the self-proclaimed “Leap Capital of the World”, and hosts a Worldwide Leap Year Festival to celebrate people born on this day. I think this sounds like a very dull event, and it can’t hold a candle to the Calaveras County Fair & Jumping Frog Jubilee. (Ask me later if you want more details on that.)

Happy Leap Day! And Friday! And almost-March!

It’s cold. Really cold. Again.


Raise your hand if you’re tired of daytime temperatures in the 20s.

Thursday, February 28, 2008

How to read on the subway


You thought you knew how to do this. You were wrong.

Lesson #1: Do not attempt to read the New York Times on the subway. I learned this the first summer I lived here, when I tried to get my daily dose of news on the A train from 175th Street. All I succeeded in doing was annoying my neighbors with my incessant page-turning, snapping, and folding. A broadsheet newspaper just takes up too much square footage. If you must read the news, be kind to your AMNY or Metro barker and pick up one of their subway-friendlier publications. Sure, there’s no article longer than 2 inches, but how could you need more than that anyway?

Lesson #2: To read a hardcover or heavy paperback, employ this trick: hold the book with one hand and rest it on the arm that’s holding the pole. There’s no reason to let finger fatigue keep you from reading War and Peace on your commute. (See yesterday’s post.)

Lesson #3: Don’t read certain kinds of books that might embarrass you, i.e. many of the books published by my imprint. People will look to see what you’re reading, and they will judge you. (And by “they” I mean me.) There are no secrets on the NYC MTA.

Lesson #4: Magazines seem like a good choice due to their light weight, but you have to factor in the frequency of page-turning. Every time you turn a page you have to take your hand off the pole, and inevitably this will happen just as the train slows, speeds, or turns, making you stumble moronically into your neighbor. So anything you’re looking at just for the pictures is better left at home (including People, National Geographic, and girlie mags, which you shouldn’t be looking at on the subway in any case—see #3, above).

Lesson #5: Don’t try to write in a notebook. I scribbled this post while on a rush-hour subway, my arm wrapped precariously around a pole, and the resulting illegibility made transcribing it a bitch. Plus, people will unfailingly read over your shoulder what you’re writing, as Brian witnessed some schmoe doing to me recently. And even if not, they will look at you funny. You’re supposed to be reading the Post or staring glassy-eyed into space while listening to your iPod, not writing down thoughts or composing poetry. Who do you think you are?

I know there are some people reading this blog who actually drive to work. (Hi, California and Oregon!) And don’t you wish you got to read during those 45 minutes instead of being pissed off at traffic? Of course, you don’t have to suffer the indignity of squishing in with your fellow (smelly) man, so it’s really a draw, I suppose.

And there are always books on tape!

Photos of crowded trains from lauratitian on Flickr. Why is that one guy reading a camera manual?

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

At least there’s bubbly


Note: One thing about this job: it’s the only one I’ve had where you periodically get to drink champagne at work. We have these parties whenever a Berkley-Jove author hits #1 on the New York Times bestseller list, and today’s was for Alex Berenson’s The Faithful Spy.

So there’s that at least…and summer Fridays.

I think I can...

Here’s a discussion question for all of you: What are your perennial unfinished books? (Reading, not writing, you MFA kids.) I am currently 153 pages into a 1,188-pager, The Penguin History of the World, and I think I should start taking bets on how many tries it will take to actually finish it or whether I have any chance of making it past the Middle Ages without my eyes permanently glazing over.

My shelves are littered with tomes that have bookmarks stuck hopefully in the middle somewhere, waiting for me to come back. I’ve begun Jared Diamond’s Guns, Germs, and Steel countless times since I bought it on the recommendation of my friend Eric in about 2001. I also have its larger cousin, Collapse, which held me for about 2.5 chapters before my attention faltered and died out. I’ve read the first page of War and Peace about a trillion times, and my excuse now is I’m waiting for the Richard Pevear-Larissa Volokhonsky translation to come out in paperback. Then, I’m sure I’ll read it. I even have an early 1990s edition of Irish Fairy & Folk Tales by W.B. Yeats with a bookmark hand-embroidered by my mom that has been trapped where I left it since, yes, the early 1990s.

What books are you determined to get through one day? Are you someone who absolutely must finish books even if you don’t like them? Or are you totally fine with quitting books that don’t engage you by page 35?

Dorothy Parker once said in a review, “This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force.” Sometimes that’s all too true; for the other times, all I can do is persevere.

Garfield without Garfield

I try not to link to things that have already been commented on ubiquitously on the Internet, but this is just too awesome, if you haven’t already seen it. (Which you probably have because you all read the same blogs I do. Too bad.) It’s what happens when you remove Garfield from Garfield comic strips. It becomes all weird and depressing Jon looks like the craziest, saddest man ever. Some favorites:



There are tons more here: Garfield Minus Garfield

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Signs of Spring #4 (for real this time)

Today is gray and gloomy, but pick up your chin because I have irrefutable proof that spring is coming, even for us New Yorkers who haven’t seen anything green in months.

I wandered through what I call the “secret garden” during lunch yesterday and what I saw gave me hope. No, I won’t tell you where it is—then it won’t be secret, silly. But it is near Bret Harte’s childhood home. (Go Bullfrogs!)






There was still snow on the ground, but peeking up through it were bulbs that in my professional estimation will be tulips or daffodils or irises. Hooray!

There were also several bushes that were budded. Maybe my mom can tell me what these are. I think one may be a rhododendron?

This bizarre tree has already exploded into cool yellow pom-poms of blossoms.

And look! The very first crocus I’ve seen this year. A real, bona fide spring flower, everyone. Please try to contain yourselves. We still have to get through at least this cold, crappy week. But March is on the horizon! Then April! Then, dare we say it? Summer!

Update: 4:16 p.m.: I accidentally found out what the crazy yellow tree is: witch-hazel! Apparently it always blooms in the winter, so I don't know if that counts as a harbinger of spring, but I'll take it. And hey, what's up with the no comments? Youz guys don't like spring, or what?

Monday, February 25, 2008

In Defense of Public Television

PBS has responded to last week’s New York Times “article” by Charles McGrath, who pretty much thinks he can spout his opinion on any old thing he likes. (Dude, you’re a journalist, not a blogger.) McGrath, apropos of nothing, pontificated that PBS is unnecessary and irrelevant, and nowhere near as cool as NPR. That last part might be true, but as the PBS ombudsman points out, NPR also has riches flowing in from the Kroc estate (the McDonald’s people), and not quite the kind of stiff competition as PBS has from cable channels.

I agree with PBS that McGrath’s piece should have been more clearly labeled as news analysis or a column, since it had a clear slant and had no quotes from anyone. More importantly, I want to say he severely undervalued the offerings on PBS. “Frontline” provides the kind of in-depth, well-informed reporting you rarely see from network or cable news. “Nature” and “Nova” have stood up to the challenge of cable by putting out beautiful, timely, and fascinating nature and science documentaries. Henry Louis Gates, Jr.’s series on the DNA and genealogy of African-Americans has been absolutely riveting and thought-provoking. And Jim Lehrer continues to be adorable as the host of “The NewsHour,” which is just about the most unbiased (if a bit dull) news show on TV.

Lastly, I will declare from the mountaintops my undying love for “Antiques Roadshow,” wherein not only do you get to learn about art, artifacts, history, and pop culture, but you get to see what real Americans look like. (It’s not always pretty.) “Roadshow” also offers the kind of high drama (outrageous joy! sudden wealth! crushing disappointment!) that network reality TV shows would kill for.

I may be limited because I haven’t had cable in eight years, so I only get to choose from five networks and two PBS stations. But far more often than not, I find myself rooted to PBS. (When I’m not reading Proust, of course, as I’m wont to do.) So Charles McGrath can kiss it.

Is PBS Still Necessary?
Is The New York Times Still Necessary?

Photos: Henry Louis Gates, Jr. with Chris Rock on “African American Lives 2”; Jim Lehrer; and “Antiques Roadshow”.

The Academy didn't listen to us

Well folks, I agree with all of you who voted that There Will Be Blood should have won Best Picture at the Oscars last night. (Although I have a sneaking suspicion there might have been multiple votes from Brian.) I haven’t experienced a more terrifyingly fascinating film in a long time. No Country for Old Men was also great, of course, and is a deserving winner in its own right. Just watching clips of it last night during the awards made me instantly tense again. (Anton Chigurh gets hit by another car—bam! Anton Chigurh plays evil mind games with a gas station owner—crap, is he going to kill him?)

At least Atonement didn’t win. And scary-gangly Keira Knightley didn’t appear to be in attendance to weird me out, so that’s good. I won’t bore you with more post-mortem than that—you’re getting enough of that from every other media outlet. Feel free to throw any of your own thoughts my way, though.

Mostly, I just like to look at the pretty dresses.

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Happy Birthday, Brian!

I'd like to send cheery, sunny Sunday birthday wishes to Brian Hurley, the best friend a girl could have.

What better way to express this than with birthday stuff on cats?



Saturday, February 23, 2008

Happy Birthday!


I want to wish a very happy birthday to my mom, Vicki. I miss you very much and I wish with all my heart that I could be there today. I hope you have a very relaxing and lovely day, and enjoy not having to deal with 8-year-olds.

The above photo is by my brother Steven. Rose photos by me.

















Friday, February 22, 2008

How not to get ahead at work

While on the clock…

· Write blog posts
· Write your novel
· Cycle endlessly between Gothamist, Gawker, Curbed, and GalleyCat, and all your friends' and relatives' blogs
· Cruise Facebook and MySpace for people from high school you don’t even like
· Make multiple trips to the vending machine before you figure out which snack will most entertain you for five minutes
· Look for other jobs
· Google everyone you've ever known, including yourself
· Rearrange your book collection, again
· Peruse the take shelves even though you know it’s the same tripe it always is
· Read each day’s New York Times online in its entirety
· Be surly to your coworkers, even if they are annoying
· Make a rubber band ball
· Read links Brian Hurley sends you periodically throughout the day
· Stare wistfully out the window
· Avoid at all costs touching your slush pile
· Check the news sites for every place you’ve ever lived
· Read your friends’ novels in manuscript
· Obsess over how much you don’t want to be at work
· Comment on your own blog posts

Did I miss anything?

Guess what...

It’s snowing! I think we’ve gotten about four inches so far, and it's still coming down.

It’s snowing on my fire escape…



And on my roof….

And on the cemetery…

And on people on my street and sign store next door…

And on the empty, trash-filled lot…

And on the graffiti-decorated auto repair shop…

And on the abandoned gas station at the corner…

And on our glorified bodega…

And on my subway stop….

And on the Manhattan Bridge…

And after a 45-minute commute, it’s snowing on my office building!

When did this blog turn into the Weather Channel, you ask? Shut up. I like how snow makes everything pretty.


I really really really want to be outside playing in the bounty of snow. When I was a kid in Murphys if it snowed like this we’d be out making awesome sled runs in the pasture or down the hill, across the driveway and almost into the creek. (You had to bail out just in time!) Then I’d go in, peel off my moonboots, and curl up with a Ramona book.

Now, I just whined until my cubemate opened the door to her boss’s office so I can see out the window to snowflakes swirling in front of the federal immigration building across the street.

Not quite the same.


Snowstorm blankets New York

City Sees Biggest Snowfall in Two Years

 

From Peppermint Creek © 2008. Chaotic Soul :: Converted by Randomness