Local Economic Activism on the Rise

Last night someone let a breeze into my house. When we got home, the furnace was at redline as it vainly tried to keep the thermostat warm. The radiators were dangerously hot. And I was pretty sure that I didn't leave my cookbooks strewn across the pantry floor on a layer of shattered Victorian art glass. The responding officer mentioned that the holiday season is a hot time for those who use this method to encourage people to buy more stuff. Our neighborhood email newsgroup has had more buzz than usual about burglaries and car theft. One sign of a weak economy is a rise in material crimes. The poor become more desperate while the rich take shorter tropical vacations and drive last year's Lexus. These guys were in a studied hurry. They opened and dumped drawers, flipped mattresses, and opened every door. As near as I can tell, my super-zoom camera and new laptop computer were the only really significant items taken. Plus several hundred dollars, mostly in state quarters and other change. They found and collected the power supply and carry case for my laptop, each in a different location. I miss my vintage laptop bag more than the much pricier laptop. It was a classic Targus backpack that has been getting favorable comments for 14 years. I haven't seen another quite like it since the year I bought it. Fortunately, we were away with all our credit cards and my smaller (but now favored) camera. It appears that some jewelry of little economic value is also missing, and an older camera. And a set of house keys. Changing the locks is easy. But not having keys didn't seem to slow them last night.

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Mean Phoneme Meme

During a bout of insomnia, I pondered an underrepresented phoneme. I first learned about these essential quanta of spoken words while I was earning my degree in psychology back in the early 1980's, and researching computer speech synthesis for fun. What popped into my head these wee hours was the word, "vacuum". Say it aloud with me, "Vacuum". Listen to yourself say it. Vacuum. Break it down. It starts with the vee, a vocalized eff. Then "a" as in "can". And a full-stop kay. No surprises, so far. Did you just utter "Ee"? As in "Keep"? We will get back to that. Next it depends on your dialect. Maybe you said "oo" as in "broom", or maybe oo-uh as in "you-uns". And end with a nice vocalized "mm". This is the only case that I can think of where a double-U really is. But, what was that in the middle? Ee? Vakeeoom? Part of the institutional mis-education in our country is that even teachers are unaware of a double standard in teaching the relationship between spoken and written English. We have "silent-E" drilled into us... (Digression for mathematician Tom Lehrer's version on The Electric Company) ... but what about all those hidden, non-silent "E"s? They are everywhere in our spoken words, but not in the written ones. Even many words with silent E have unwritten spoken long-E's embedded. Take "lake", for example. Listen to yourself say it. There is no hint of the written E on the end. But in the middle? L-eh-ee-k. Long "A" is really short-E-long-E. Always. (Ah-l-oo-eh-ee-z) Take a cue from "cue". K-ee-oo. Do you, like, like "like"? L-ah-ee-k? So my obscure title simply means that I mean to bring attention to the essential idea of a troublesome yet common (mean, mean) spoken sound. I'm usually easy to amuse, but sleep deprivation stunts my self-censorship.

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The Line Between

I have to write a new bio. I've been needing to do this for some time. I had a few prepared bios for conventions and such, tailored depending on who I sent them to. Magazine bios, con bios, conference bios...they all required a bit of tweaking. But they're all pretty much out of date. I'm going to do this during the coming week. Cull through all the details that would seem to make me an important person, someone people might wish to come listen to or see. I have a difficult time with these, which is why I write most all of them in third person. I have to put myself in a frame of mind that I'm writing about Someone Else. Apropos to that, this past weekend I received my copy of the new documentary The Polymath: or the Life and Opinions of Samuel R. Delany. In the course of watching it Saturday and Sunday, we heard him say that he considers himself a rather uninteresting person. I found that resonant. When I'm writing a new story, I tend to put myself in the character of the protagonist. I see myself as That Person. And almost always, when I start on the subsequent rewrites, one of the problems I have to fix is that the main characters of my stories are uniformly weak compared to the secondary characters. A couple of years ago I had a revelation about why that is. Mainly, because I don't see myself as a particularly interesting person. So that translates into the protagonist, who is generally interested in the other characters, who then become relatively more imbued by interesting characteristics. I have to then go back and add in all the missing stuff the main character requires. Which brings me to the writing of a personal bio. What is it about me that is interesting to other people? Now, I'd like to be interesting and sometimes I think I am. But in the course of the day, I don't even think about myself much less what it is about me that makes me worth note. This is perfectly sane behavior, as far as I'm concerned. Who does go through the day cataloging their specialness besides narcissists, obsessives, terminally vain, or profoundly insecure people? I stipulate that I'm vain, but it limits itself to personal grooming, physical fitness, and an attempt at erudition, none of which controls my life, and all of which are practices I think more people should embrace if for no other reason than a sense of public politeness. But I'm always a bit dismayed when people actually pay attention to me or think I have something worth saying. (I stress again, I want to be someone like that, I just don't happen to "feel" it.) So the personal bio usually becomes a list of things I've done. It seems a common way to deal with the self-conscious aspects of a productive life, to place your credentials, as it were, Over There In That Box. You can point to the file and say, well, if you want to know about me, look in there. And in that file you'll find my publications, my award nominations, and the work I've done, etc etc., and, oh year, I live in St. Louis, I have a dog, I'm in love with Donna and so forth---which are still components, in a way, rather than actual revelations. I don't think there's anything wrong with this approach and I certainly don't think strangers have a right to expect more, but it's not exactly a biography, is it? It's more like a resume. It doesn't say anything about the fact that for me different music produces different kinds of writing, that if I'm trying to get inside the head of someone tormented I often listen to Ligeti and when I'm creating landscapes, I want Vangelis or Sibelius and when I need action, I find Last Fast or Joe Satriani or Bartok really helps. It doesn't cover the fact that I use much of my music to unlock a feeling I can't quite identify just for myself. It doesn't say anything about how much I like late evening sunlight shafting through miniblinds (or how the same effect, late at night, from streetlamps, really turns me on); or how the late afternoon sunlight across open fields in September strikes a kind of heroic melancholy in my mind, like the atmosphere of final days or impending loss or the denouement after a mighty adventure; or the fact that I've never read a book that has made me weep, but there are certain films that do it to me almost every time... In other words, bios like this don't say much about me. But my stories do, if you remember that they are not and never have been biographical. A paradox? Not really. You put what you feel into a story. How that feeling is evoked is unimportant as long as it's true, and you don't need personal revelation in terms of history to do it. Everyone has these feelings, and they own them, and they were all evoked differently, so fiction that talks about the personal need not be about the author to work. But you still ought to be able to say something in a bio about yourself that makes you at least seem interesting to total strangers. I'm still working on all this.

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