Syllabus #32

I've had no heat at work this week.  Does worker's compensation cover gangrene?

Here's what I'm placing on the altar of our shared internet experience this week:


Yea I'm freaking out too, but I think we're freaking out for different reasons.  Sounds uncomfortable.


LOL at a Nordic urban planning scholar visiting Nashville and telling us how much our lack of public transit sucks.  BUT YOU CAN'T MAKE A JOKE ABOUT THAT ON THE INTERNET or everyone who has lived here for at least 3 seconds longer than you will a) totally misunderstand the joke and b) come at you like you just slapped their momma.


More reasons to love Jenny Slate and her Little Weirds.


When a man loves a railroad.


It's about damn time we appreciate that Big Trombone Energy.


I don't know, man.  I don't think I want one of my pets treated the same way we treat food to take camping.


Gary Gulman's comedy special was endearing.  Hilarious yet sad and sweet.  He is a delightful human.


The end of children.  I'll make the popcorn.


Pretty ladies and fuzzy kitties, what's not to love?


Oh, the Finns and their respect for libraries is legendary.  My people.

Analog Reading:

Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens.  I went into this with skepticism, feeling like I needed to see what all the hype was about.  My grandmom told me she thinks it's possibly the best book she has ever read and she's working with about 80 years of reading experience there, but she also recently told me she enjoyed a Bill O'Reilly book, so, honestly I don't know when to trust her taste anymore.  But oh sweet swampy baby Jesus, I love this damn book.  I still have about 100 pages to go, and I can't put it down but can't bear for it to end.  It definitely has its flaws, with occasional corny or trite dialogue and some character descriptions that seem silly or superfluous, but the world Owens is able to conjure with relatively simple prose is so rich and vivid.  Plus, the book really paints a clear picture of the depth of isolation and abandonment required to give a woman the space to indulge her intellectual curiosity and create great works of literature and art.  If all it took for me to have the time and mental space to write a book was to live alone in the swamp without running water or electricity, well hot damn, sign me up.

Syllabus #31

Probably the last time I will be warm until May when it will suddenly go from still being winter to being 137 degrees

I guess I'm feeling something this week.  I give you one mildly amusing and several seriouses.  That doesn't work as a plural but I'm doing it.

Do you even reduce, reuse, or recycle, bro?


This feels important, somehow.  I think it's in the willingness to accept someone who isn't perfect but is open to correction and dialog.


Let's consider the space we occupy, or what others allow us to, or what we allow ourselves:

They're Not Your Husband short story by Raymond Carver (appeared in the collection Short Cuts)
Roxane Gay unpacks a journey of shrinking, Mary Cain nearly disappears, and Raymond Carver's short story, They're Not Your Husband is a tale of a man's brutal violence against his wife, without ever raising a hand.



An interesting take on what I at first thought might be a progressive move.  I guess neutrality can be erasure as easily as it can be inclusion, if we don't approach it the right way.

Related - how much do pronouns matter?  To some, a great deal.


Racist people paying large sums of money and putting their children in sub-standard schools on purpose just to keep them away from black people sounds absurd and yet there it is.   It's just one instance in a long historical pattern of people acting and voting against their own self interest just to spite another group.

Analog:

Raymond Carver's Short Cuts story collection  -- Oof.  Good writing, rough content. 

Jenny Slate's Little Weirds -- At first I was like this is...weird.  But that's clearly the point and after a few...chapters? sections? I am fully into it and some of the absurd metaphors are just perfect.

Tegan and Sara's High School -- Read it in a day and a half.  Loved everything.  It made me nostalgic for the high school experience I had, which was exactly like theirs minus the cutting school, doing drugs, living in the arctic chill of Canada, having a twin, and growing up to be a lesbian and rock star.  Otherwise, exactly the same. 

The sloth is all of us

A Painfully Earnest Photo Essay of Fall Leaves as a Metaphor for the Inevitable Passage of Time

Syllabus #30

The end of Daylight Savings was the death knell of my motivation and productivity for the foreseeable future.  I was all about that extra hour of sleep so I popped a melatonin to really get into it.  Unfortunately it seems to have given me the rage.  Instead of waking up feeling rested and ready to get cozy with the impending holiday miasma, I woke up Monday feeling exhausted, with a long and detailed list of everything I currently find irritating looping through my brain like my amygdala is on a stupid hamster wheel.

Monday was the kind of day they write books about.  It's funny when this crap happens to somebody else.  A rundown of my day reads like a parody of Alexander and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day, which is ironic because one of the contributing factors to my very bad day was the rejection of just such a parody from a publication to which I had recently submitted it.  It's fine, I am not faulting the publication in question and I trust their editorial process, but THE DAY WAS ALREADY GOING SO WELL.

I woke up more exhausted than when I went to bed, after tossing and turning and ruminating and sweating and listening to the cat barf multiple times in hard-to-clean locations.  I had a headache and remained starving all morning from about the moment I finished eating breakfast.  Due to a steady stream of student traffic (which is honestly a good thing) I was unable to pee all morning until around 12:30.  At some point in there I saw the rejection email, then I had to proctor a computer based benchmarking test to a class that was doing their best to drive each other, and by proxy, me, insane.  After work I had a dentist appointment and they found two cavities!  When I got home I tried to empty the dishwasher and broke my favorite mug, and then some other random irritating stuff went wrong and it was just one petty stupid minor thing after another.  Thank you for the free talk therapy, please do not bill my insurance we agreed this was on the house.

Here's what else is on my mind this week:


Sometimes justice prevails.

See also.

This woman's mugshot is the face of someone who is so excited (about the irony of the circumstances of her arrest) and she just can't hide it.  Arrested on Halloween for assaulting her boyfriend with a broomstick?

You had me at garlic and brussels sprouts.  The two foods that can best ensure that people respect my personal space.

This is Japanese Halloween party concept is utterly delightful.  I would go as 'woman who is trying to hold in a fart until she finds a location to release it discretely'

This podcast about the origin and grotesque evolution of gender reveal parties was illuminating

I can guarantee that not a single librarian would attend this adult book fair.  It would be very triggering and I would need my emotional support cat for sure.

Analog Reading:

(ironically) Because Internet by Gretchen McCulloch

Sick in the Head by Judd Apatow

(just picked up) Little Weirds by Jenny Slate


Go forward with dignity, friends.

Showdown at the OK Boomer Corral

I have perfected the art of being both aloof and aware of political and cultural phenomena.  I don't like to stand too close to the fire or gaze too long at the flames, but I can see that the world is burning.  Every once in a while, I turn my back on the conflagration entirely, and pretend the warmth is coming from a cozy campfire and not a toxic dumpster fire. 

Look, it's not a healthy way to exist, but I had to detach myself emotionally to preserve the last scraps of my sanity before they unraveled entirely.  Like many of us, I've had a really hard time making sense of the world for the last three years.  So much so that I just had to double check my math and look at a calendar to confirm that it has, indeed, been three years since, well, you know.

It should come as no surprise, then, that I'm a solid week late to the inter-generational showdown that is sure to taint this year's Thanksgiving dinner tables:  OK Boomer.  Shows you what a typical, inwardly focused Millennial I am that my immediate frame of reference was the delightful yet short-lived 1980s TV series, Here's Boomer.

The show ran for only two seasons, from 1980-1982, and thus slightly predated my existence.  Thanks to the miracle of syndication, I was able to partake in its magic in the latter half of the decade.  When my family got a dog in February of 1988, I insisted on naming him Boomer.  Actually, it was probably a toss-up between Boomer, Snoopy, and Davy Jones because apparently I wasn't consuming any contemporary culture at the time, but tell me this guy could be anything other than a Boomer and you're telling me a lie:

RIP Boomer, December 1987-October 2005

Boy, was I way off base!  I should have known that an obscure children's television program that went off the air 37 years ago wasn't what was capturing the cultural zeitgeist of the moment.  Rather, it seems to be a one-sided shouting match between surly teenagers and racist grandpas who have taken out their hearing aids to enjoy their meal in peace.  Pass the vegan, keto-friendly, cauliflower mashed potatoes, please.  Grandpa's already had 3 helpings, just don't tell that old coot there's no potatoes or butter in there; he'll be furious.

As a Millennial, I feel a bit like I'm on the outside looking in at this conflict.  I feel like I'm seated  between feuding family members at the dinner table, passing dishes and playing an awkward game of telephone.  I can sort of see where both factions are coming from, but I don't fully agree with either side.  Meanwhile, I'm spooning up the schadenfreude and licking my plate clean.  

In a New York Times article published on October 29th, Taylor Lorenz breaks down the OK Boomer meme for those of us who don't live on Tik Tok (or in our childhood bedrooms).  The phrase is, "Generation Z’s endlessly repeated retort to the problem of older people who just don’t get it, a rallying cry for millions of fed up kids. Teenagers use it to reply to cringey YouTube videos, Donald Trump tweets, and basically any person over 30 who says something condescending about young people — and the issues that matter to them."  

Basically, "OK Boomer" is Pee Wee Herman shouting into the void, yelling "I know you are but what am I?" whenever an older human uses the term "snowflake" or criticizes young people for being too sensitive.  Alright.  I don't like it when my elders get on my case about not just my behaviors but what they seem to imply are my personal faults.  And I can get on board with a slogan, a rallying cry, when it unites people behind a shared purpose.  No blood for oil.  Peace in the Middle East.  Impeach the Motherfucker Already.  But "OK Boomer" is too vague and dismissive.  

The rest of us could probably ignore the meme entirely and wait 5 minutes for it to fade into obscurity were it not for the enterprising individuals who have started to capitalize on the moment.    The article goes on explain that part of Gen Z's gripe with the world they have inherited from the Boomers is that they have no money:

"Essentials are more expensive than ever before, we pay 50 percent of our income to rent, no one has health insurance,” said Mr. Citarella. “Previous generations have left Generation Z with the short end of the stick. You see this on both the left, right, up down and sideways.” Mr. Citarella added: “The merch is proof of how much the sentiment resonates with people.”

Exqueeze me, Garth?  There's merch?  Of course there's merch.  Because when you claim you can't afford your toothpaste, your rent, or your flu shot, the most effective way to address that is to buy a $35 hoodie bearing a petulant slogan.  

However, a quick dip into the statistical evidence debunks all three claims of widespread generational disadvantage.  There are, of course, those who fall below the statistical average income, but the generation as a whole is not experiencing heretofore unprecedented economic conditions.  Also, even the oldest members of Gen Z are really young!  According to most demographic definitions, the oldest of the cohort are only 22.  Of course they don't have a lot of money!  I graduated college in 2007, immediately prior to a punishing recession.  After grad school, I eventually had to work three simultaneous minimum wage McJobs while possessing a master's degree until I could establish a foothold in the economy.  I also literally had to walk uphill in the snow both ways to get to those jobs, which makes me sound like I was born in the 1880s, but my point is that sometimes you have to struggle a little before things get easier.  All those participation trophies I received for being a shitty athlete as a kid didn't prevent me from learning that lesson, so I don't know what your excuse is, Gen Z dudes.

If these Gen Z kids were really as smart as they think they are, they would straight up ignore Grandpa until he falls asleep watching Matlock and then ask their cool Millennial aunt to drive them to the place in the sketchy part of town where you can still get a fake ID made.  But do they do that?  No!  According to a BBC article this week, Gen Z isn't just mad at actual Boomers for "trashing the environment and voting for a president who refuses to do anything about it."  The OK Boomer taunt can apparently be lobbed at "anyone older than around 25, who displays judgmental, conservative or narrow-minded attitudes.  And "OK Boomer" is their way of saying: why would I listen to you?"

Why should you listen to us?  I mean, first of all, sticking with the metaphor I just laid out, do you want the fake ID or not?  Do you actually want to make things better, or do you just want to express your disdain?  Because we Millennials have a few things going for us that you haven't considered, Gen Z.  We are still young enough to care, young enough to have a spark of idealism still glowing in the embers of our rapidly chilling souls, but we have more life experience than you.  We know things about how life works that you can't know yet with your limited frame of reference.  For example, did you even KNOW there was a show called Here's Boomer?  You probably didn't!  Also, many of us grew up in the households of Boomers.  They are our parents.  I think we know them a little better than you, and that insight is valuable.  

Just because we are old enough to rent a car without an outrageous insurance surcharge doesn't mean you have to release us with lethal injection like the obsolete geriatrics in The Giver.  What's that?  You never heard of Lois Lowry's middle grade dystopian novel published in 1993?  That's it.  Find your own ride to the fake ID guy's house, we're done here.