The Deception of the Thrush

As I approached my fiftieth birthday, I had become more and more enraged and mystified by the idiot decisions made by my countrymen. And then I had come suddenly to pity them, for I understood how innocent and natural it was for them to behave so abominably, and with such abominable results: They were doing their best to behave like people invented in story books. This was the reason Americans shot each other so often: It was a convenient literary device for ending short stories and books.

Why were so many Americans treated by their government as though their lives were as disposable as paper facial tissues? Because that was the way authors customarily treated bit-part players in their made-up tales.

And so on.

Once I understood what was making America such a dangerous, unhappy nation of people who had nothing to do with real life, I resolved to shun storytelling. I would write about life. Every person would be exactly as important as any other. All facts would also be given equal weightiness. Nothing would be left out. Let others bring order chaos. I would bring chaos to order, instead, which I think I have done.

If all writers would do that, then perhaps citizens not in the literary trades will understand that there is no order in the world around us, that we must adapt ourselves to the requirements of chaos instead.

It is hard to adapt to chaos, but it can be done. I am living proof of that: It can be done.

Posted by Karin Cox at 06:51 PM | Permalink

So, I'm linking an article that may or may not be worth reading:

And You Thought Abercrombie & Fitch was Pushing It?

I saw this article last night and the great irony was, it's about the clothing company American Apparel-- the makers of the navy blue t-shirt I was wearing at the exact moment I was reading it. I also own a blue hooded sweatshirt made by them, which I am now wearing this morning.

Now, even I wonder why I am wearing anything by a company who has even been mentioned in the same context as Abercrombie & Fitch-- the ubiquitous shopping mall chain which I despise (see if you can find a picture of the A&F CEO, if you'd like to see a middle-aged man who is pathologically desperate to look like an undergraduate on spring break.) I discovered American Apparel on the internet, in what I thought would be a failed attempt to find what I assumed had surely gone extinct -- basic, simple, good quality clothing. No weird adornments, no sign of the planned obsolescence inherent to the fashion industry, no frills and poofiness -- something that I think the Gap once sought to aspire to but I think they've fallen from that ideal. And I'm not always willing to pay $65 for a lame skirt, I'm sorry. So American Apparel saved the day, so I didn't have to go around naked, in my refusal to wear crap.

Anyways, I am only vaguely familiar with the company's supposedly provocative ads, which lead to their comparison with Abercrombie. That's what the article is about.

Posted by Karin Cox at 11:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

They rode in silence for a while, and then the driver made another good point. He said he knew that his truck was turning the atmosphere into poison gas, and that the planet was being turned into pavement so his truck could go anywhere. "So I'm committing suicide," he said.

"Don't worry about it," said Trout.

"My brother is even worse," the driver went on, "He works in a factory that makes chemicals for killing plants and trees in Viet Nam." Viet Nam was a country where America was trying to make people stop being communists by dropping things on them from airplanes. The chemicals he mentioned were intended to kill all the foliage, so it would be harder for communists to hide from airplanes.

"Don't worry about it," said Trout.

"In the long run, he's committing suicide," said the driver. "Seems the only kind of job an American can get these days is committing suicide in some way."

"Good point," said Trout.

"I can't tell if you're serious or not," said the driver.

"I won't know myself until I find out whether life is serious or not," said Trout. "It's dangerous, I know, and it can hurt a lot. That doesn't necessarily mean it's serious, too."

Posted by Karin Cox at 06:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Before the Thrush returns---a correction:

"How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?" was not a Ruth-Gordon quote, although it fits her character in "Harold and Maude" so very well.

A visit to http://thinkexist.com led me to a contemporary of Ruth's---Satchel Paige. The very colorful black Hall of Famer truly didn't know how old he was. Born and raised with 11 siblings in the slums of the South, Satchel had no birth certificate--black births at the turn of the century weren't recorded. At one time his mother claimed he was 2 years older than he thought; another time, 3 years older.

This, then, gives new depth to the quote.

Paige pitched for years in the negro leagues. At the approximate age of 42 he broke into the Major Leagues, signing a contract with the Cleveland Indians. "Maybe I'll Pitch Forever," his autobiography, is aptly titled----Paige pitched his last game at age 60 (give or take).

Other Satchel Paige Quotes:

Don't look back. Something might be gaining on you.

Age is a case of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it don't matter.

Don't pray when it rains if you don't pray when the sun shines.

Avoid fried meats, which angry up the blood. If your stomach disputes you, lie down and pacify it with cool thoughts. (This one especially for the Thrush.)

Ruth Gordon Quotes::

Why? Because I believe I will. If you believe, then you hang on.

Never give up; and never, under any circumstances, no matter what---never face the facts.

Courage is like a muscle strengthened by its use.

"A lot of people enjoy being dead. But they are not dead, really. They're just backing away from life. Reach out. Take a chance. Get hurt even. But play as well as you can. . . . . .L-I-V-E. LIVE! Otherwise, you got nothing to talk about in the locker room." (from "Harold and Maude")

"Oh, Harold . . . . that's wonderful. Go and love some more" ---(Her last lines from "Harold and Maude.")

I really like that last one-----"Go and love some more!"

Posted by Karin Cox at 07:34 PM | Permalink