Guilt and Innocence: A daily primer

The man who wakes up in a ditch... then goes to work at Sotheby's

When I was trying to find something not about the hurrican to write my column on, I stumbled across this Guardian piece: The man who wakes up in a ditch... then goes to work at Sotheby's.

'I want to make people think about how much they consume that is not necessary,' said Sawyer, who has been living in the woods near the village of Lewknor, Oxfordshire, since June. 'I am trying to prove it is possible to do everything you normally do, maintaining a full existence, while cutting back. I have realised I can lead my life without television, carpets, sofa, electricity, chairs, tables, a fridge and a freezer.'

This guy is crazy and kind of my hero.

About that Bit of my Childhood

As many of you know, I grew up in New Orleans, so Katrina has been a bit hard for me. Of course, my regret for the loss of the city of my childhood has seemed inconsequential in the faces of the people still trapped in the city. Those who are suffering, looting, and standing on their roofs deserve everyone's attention, so I've neglected to say much about how I feel. However, I found a very well written pieve in the Guardian that I think captures some of what was lost.

Richard Ford on the tragedy of New Orleans:

For those away from New Orleans - most all of us - in this week of tears and wrenching, words fail. Somehow our heart's reach comes short and we've been left with an aching, pointless inwardness. 'All memory resolves itself in gaze,' poet Richard Hugo wrote once about another town that died. Empathy is what we long for - not sadness for a house we own, or owned once, now swept away. Not even for the felt miracle of two wide-eyed children whirled upward into a helicopter as if into clouds. We want more than that, even at this painful long distance: we want to project our feeling parts straight into the life of a woman standing waist-deep in a glistening toxic current with a whole city's possessions all floating about, her own belongings in a white plastic bag, and who has no particular reason for hope, and so is just staring up. We would all give her hope. Comfort. A part of ourselves. Perform an act of renewal. It's hard to make sense of this, we say. But it makes sense. Making sense just doesn't help.

...

It is - New Orleans is - a city foremost for special projections, for the things you can't do, see, think, consume, feel, forget up in Jackson or Little Rock or home in Topeka. 'We're at the jumping-off place,' Miss Welty wrote. This was about Plaquemines, just across the river. It is - New Orleans - the place where the firm ground ceases and the unsound footing begins. A certain kind of person likes such a place. A certain kind of person wants to go there and never leave.

And there are the streetcars (or there were). And there are the oak trees and the lovely French boulevards and stately, rich men's houses.

...

Something will be there when the flood recedes. We know that. It will be those people now standing in the water, and on those rooftops - many black, many poor. Homeless. Overlooked. And it will be New Orleans - though its memory may be shortened, its self-gaze and eccentricity scoured out so that what's left is a city more like other cities, less insular, less self-regarding, but possibly more self-knowing after today. A city on firmer ground.

And I think for me, the moment when this all hit me squarely was just a couple days afterward, when standing at Walmart, some blackberries caught my eye, and I said, "I used to have a blackberry bush in my backyard," and as I said those words I realized that that same bush, if it's still there is underwater.

Summer Reading

I'm well behind in sharing whatever I've been reading, due to my blogging hiatus this summer, so you all know what that means. Yes, that's right, you get to hear about all the books I've read all at once. Of course this also means I'll abridge my thoughts about them to just a few sentences. Also, these may or may not be in the order I read them. I'm not so sure what I read anymore.

Book #19: How We Believe by Michael Shermer

This was a very interesting investigation into why people believe. There was some really cool quote about the nature of the universe in it, but of course I've forgotten it. My one gripe with this book is that despite Shermer's claims that he was being impartial, his bias against belief tended to shine through.

Book #20: The Wonder Spot by Michelle Bank

Take The Girl's Guide to Hunting and Fishing change some character and place names, and you have The Wonder Spot. And even knowing this, I still liked this book.

Book #21: Gun with Occasional Music by Johnathan Lethem

All you need to know is: Kangaroo assassin. Good. Weird, but good.

Book #22: Swink #2

Okay, so this isn't so much of a book as a literary magazine, but it's an absolutely amazing literary magazine, which means it has to count for something.

Book #23: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by J.K. Rowling

I don't think anyone has heard of these Harry Potter books, but they're pretty good.

Book #24: The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood

I really wasn't expecting too much from this book, but it turned out to be a good read. I think Margaret Atwood is the only writer who can make the life of society women dramatic.

Book #25: What's the Matter with Kansas? by Thomas Frank

Honestly, I just thought it was ironic to read this while enduring the drive through Kansas. It was kind of a disappointment, and by the end of the book, I was only convinced that there is something wrong with our political system in general.

And sadly, that's all the reading I managed to squeeze in this summer.

Back to School, Back to Blogging

I have survived Casa Bonita (even the three section, twelve table madness of my last day) and made it back here to Columbia, which means, Let the blogging begin!

I'm so incredibly glad to be back at school. I was kind of hesitant to come back by the end of summer; with all this back and forth it seems like as soon as I get settled one place I have to leave for the other. However, once I got back to good old Mark Twain it felt like we'd never left. I stayed up until two, drinking coffee and gossipping with Barry and Rachel, who I had completely forgotten how much I missed. So really all I have to say is thank god for school!

Also since I'm back in CoMo, I imagine I will have plenty of this absurd little blocks of time like this one that just lend themselves to blogging, so the blog will be back into it's full irreverent swing.

I think I want a cat now.

Because while I am most definitely a dog person, dogs don't fly.

I'd never thought of myself as one of those girls with a ton of shoes...

But I am totally intrigued by the new Converse slip-on Chuck's. However, with a price-tag of forty-five dollars, I'm not sure I'm willing to indulge. Plus, they would be my fourth pair of chucks, which is begging to seem excessive. And I saw these cool black silk ones with embroidery at the Journey's in the mall... It's becoming clear that I may have a problem. Yes, my friends I am addicted to Chuck Taylors. And after I told myself I was going to stop buying them when Nike bought out converse! But so many styles...

Wild Dreams

I just found the most ineresting (and expensive) collection on Amazon.

The next time I have eight thousand to blow... Do you think I could fit them all in one dorm room?

SOS

Working at this restaurant may be the death of me STOP

I've worked two twelve-hour shifts in a row STOP

And swept all of palace by myself last night STOP

Also, when rumors start to remind you of high school, you've worked somewhere too long STOP

I will post something more coherent soon, maybe before the end of my ten-day marathon STOP

END TRANSMISSION

Dispatches from the Restaurant

As you may have noticed, I am miserable at keeping this updated while I'm working. This may be attributed to the fact that, on average, I've been working fifty-five hours a week and when I'm not working I'm generally asleep or desperately trying to salvage my social life. Anway here are some anecdotes: Yesterday a penis walked into work.

Okay, truth be told, it wasn't yesterday because I haven't worked since Sunday, as I got my wisdom teeth pulled on Monday, but a penis did walk into work. I was serving in the back of caves, when I look up and I saw what at first seemed to be a guy wearing a bunch of trash bags. Upon closer look, I realized the trash bags were strategically placed and inflated to create a giant penis costume. And my only reaction to this? I thought, "This is a family restaurant." He went up into balconies and a few minutes later security went up there and I saw no more of the penis costume, so I believe they made him take it off.

Other than that, I've served two tables from KU in the past week. I did not, however, spit in their food, though I did accidently spill some taco salad all over one table, and both tipped me well. Other than that, Casa Bonita has just been ridiculously understaffed. We had two girls walk out in one night, another new trainee quit, and one more girl get fired, so by Sunday night we were six servers short, so it seemed like everyone was serving at least a section and a half.

This server shortage also resulted in Rob not giving me the days I needed off to get my wisdom teeth pulled, so I had to call, wait twenty minutes for Gianni to pick up the phone, before we had a twenty minute conversation about me not coming in. However, I think I still have a job on Friday.

Other than that, getting my wisdom teeth out hasn't been so bad. They swell some, so I do vaguely resemble a chipmunk, but the pain hasn't been too bad and I've watched a lot of movies and the West Wing.

Oregon Trail Humor

I just found a reference to the late, great Oregon Trail game in a Toothpaste for Dinner comic:
Get Paid in Oxen.

If I didn't have to go serve sopapillas to ungrateful tourists, I would be enjoying a binge session of that game right now.