essays & ephemera

Kindling

    via The Penguin Blog via DF

Gruber decided to send us to Penguin's blog yesterday to take another gander at these absolutely delightful and sexy  James Bond hardcover book covers. Seeing this art and the archived post from the good people of Penguin reminded me of a thought that's been rumbling around in my head for some time:

Wither the bookcase?

The compact disc has already almost fully migrated to the MP3 and is heading; thanks to Rdio, Spotify and the like; towards "the cloud." And that'll be great when it's really real. All the music in world at your fingertips wherever, whenever. Death to the 30 second sample and all that. But it has ruined one lovely artifact of the days of music as physical object: The Record Collection as well as the accompanying Display of The Record Collection and the subsequent Discussion of the Record Collection with visitors... And now the same thing is happening to our collective bookshelf. The books are all leaving, so much Kindling. 

I know I can see my friends mucial tastes in Rdio or Facebook and literary tastes at Library Thing. But what the hell are we supposed to do with all these empty shelves? The photos already left for the web. The music's gone. Ikea is getting ahead of the game by redesigning its bookcases for knick-knacks. Fortunately for us, I suppose, etsy has no shortage of birds to display upon our now vacant shelves.

We used to use the bookshelf to both decorate and display our tastes (and therefore ourselves)  in our homes. Those days are numbered. Now we fill them with completely non functional, expressive tschotskes. 

Maybe Amazon can just ship me some hardcover spines? I'll tape them to the wall.

Nice

"I love you so much that my heart is filled with flowers."

via www.dadcentric.com

Maybe it's the lack of sleep from having a newborn at home.
Maybe it's just having the newborn at home.
Maybe it's because I'm an emotional sap.

Or maybe, just maybe, this was just the most goddamn touching post.

Either way. I just choked back a tear. After one managed to escape onto my keyboard.

Go ahead. Have yourself a little cry.

"I remember a time..."

I think self-expression has become a form of entertainment, and that's wonderful for people who like it. But I remember a time when you used to have something to say to be handed the microphone. —Vincent Kartheiser (AKA Mad Men's Pete Campbell) speaking to AdAge.

via fashioncopious.typepad.com

I think we all have something to say. And that's why I love my job.

It was a good day

It was just one of those great days where it all came together: a day where we didn't have any commitments but committed to getting things done. It wasn't anything special. But special it was.

We spent it together as a family. No birthday parties. No playdates for the Hannimal. We built the nursery for our soon-to-be second child. We cleaned out some still lingering boxes from the move and brought them to Goodwill... rebuilt a closet... finally finalized plans with the architect. We crushed it.

We ate french toast and lattes and then leftover pizza. Bumpa visited and gave us a a few uninterrupted hours of construction time. It was just what we needed. And then, when we thought it couldn't get any better. It did.

Them: "You guys free for dinner?"

Us: "We'll see if we can get a sitter."

Sitter: "Yes"

And so after a perfectly wonderful day we found ourselves in the finest California casual attire, seated at a fourtop with friends at Sociale enjoying delicious food and delightful friends.

So now I'm being thankful. Listening to Gotye and getting ready for whatever Sunday has in store.

Celebrate? Victory?

Of course he deserved his fate. Of course he was evil incarnate.

Of course the brave men and women of our armed forces deserve our praise, respect and thanks. 

But what is the appropriate reaction to such an event? How should we (how should I) react to our national ability to finally find and kill a tall, bearded, despicable needle in a needlstack? Sunday night Americans streamed into the streets to celebrate. Time magazine was so kind as to build a little slideshow of it (oh the page views!). We danced and chanted. We sang and hollered. Our team won! Yes we did.

We've been collectively waiting for a "Victory" with a capital "V" for quite some time. "We needed a win," say they. I've heard quite a few folks on the tv refer to our long dreary decade since 9/11: wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the Great Recession, $5 gas, The Biggest Loser... but really it's been much longer than that, and really it's much bigger than that.

When was the last time we won a war? Really won one?

When will be the next time? Really win one?

War has changed radically since the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, since Hitler tried to answer the German Question once and for all. Since we answered them with unvarnished violence and unity. War has become smaller. It has become television. It's become virtually impossible to "win." As politics have become pettier on the domestic stage so too, in a way,has war become smaller on the international one. Not that death and destruction should ever be minimized, but Pax Americana has never really been about Pax... but rather about minimizing the impact of Bellum to preserve the Order. Korea is still divided. Vietnam was the Quagmire but served its purpose according to the Containers. Proxy wars in Africa aren't satisfying to the population and Peace Keeping Missions? Please.

 

 

Sure, the Coalition beat back Saddam and sent him packing back to Baghdad (the first time), eventually pulling him from a hole (the second time) but... was there "Victory?"

So Sunday night we got 'em. We got it.

We won one.

It was tangible. It took a decade and the wealth & blood of a great nation, but we got one. And it wasn't drones or foreign intelligence that did it. It was good ole' fashioned Agency detective work and a chopper full of SEALs. So we danced in the streets and kissed the first girl we could find because Victories are hard to find these days and few and far between.