New blog!
I moved all of the dumpster diving content to this blog! I want allisonburtch.com to remain a bit separated from the dumpster diving blog. Feel free to update your browsers.
Arkansas, so far
Sunset over Arkansas:
Arkansas State Fair:
Tilt-a-Whirl Up
Tilt-a-Whirl Down
Wendell Berry
If regression really is a possibility, then should we not watch for the signs of it? And should we not attempt to subtract regression from progression to get at least an approximate notion of net gain or net loss? Mr. Wilson concedes that people forget and die, but he says that “knowledge continues to expand globally while passing from one generation to the next” (p. 236). But in fact as knowledge expands globally it is being lost locally. This is the paramount truth of the modern history of rural places everywhere in the world. And it is the gravest problem of land use: Modern humans typically are using places whose nature they have never known and whose history they have forgotten; thus ignorant, they almost necessarily abuse what they use. If science has sponsored both an immensity of knowledge and an immensity of violence, what is the gain? if we “grasp the true strangeness of the universe” but forget how to farm, what is the gain?
– Wendell Berry, in Life is a Miracle, p. 91.
The ultimate manifestation of this incoherence is loss of trust – loss, moreover, of the entire cultural pattern by which we understand what it means to give and receive trust. The general assumption now is that everybody is working in his or her own interest and will continue to do so until checked by somebody whose self-interest is more powerful. That nobody now trusts the politicians or their governments is probably the noisiest of present facts. More quietly, people are withdrawing their trust from the professions, the corporations, the education system, the religious institutions, the medical industry. Perhaps no expert has yet assigned a quantitative value to trust; it is nonetheless certain that when we have finished subtracting trust from all we think we have gained, not much will be left.
- p. 94
Hern’s Santa Monica Bday Alley Cat
Some dude on lafixed was having an alley cat for his birthday and I knew a girl out there so I decided it would be fun to do, as I have never done one before. Basically, an alley cat is an informal race around a city where you have to hit certain checkpoints and either get signed off or have some other way to prove you were there. In this one, you had to take pictures of your bike at each point and show Hern at the end.
Three different races – easy, medium (15 checkpoints), and gnarley (30). I decided to do the medium because I didn’t know Santa Monica very well, and ended up riding with a cool girl named Lilly and this other guy named Tony who recently won the state championships for some track race. We stuck together the whole time but had three kids (teenagers) mooching off of us the whole time. They had no idea where they were going. I guess I didn’t either but I had already mapped it out. Anyways, we all finished and were racing to the end and I shifted from my big chain ring to small (foolishly) and completely ate it. I was going super fast too, and basically pedaled air, fell flat on my side, jacked up my elbow, road rashed my hip, and broke my helmet. But my bike/glasses are fine so I’m happy with that.
Here are some pics:
the winner:
Long Beach
If only I had this list from McSweeney’s when I started the trip. 15 Uses for Vodka.
Home
Masquerade
Nice ski shirt Clancy
Ben Graham White
Bolsa Chica by bike
Mammoth Lakes
Portfolio
bored at work
I’m a dork, I know. But when it is 114 degrees outside in a small town, what else is there to do but make informational videos about my summer home, a motel room?
Exhaustive list of physical maladies, both past and present
1. Bruise, left arm; unknown origin, fading
2. Insect bites; innumerable; in various stages of recovery
3. Pain in right eye; probably sliced it open with my contact as I have done before; recovering
4. Total and utter sickness and misery in beginning of trip, wheezing, coughing; completely recovered
5. Blisters on both left and right ankle bones; rollerblading without socks; broke them open, semi infected; semi-recovered
6. Bruise on right thigh in shape of an apple; of unknown origin; fading
7. Sunburn on both shoulders; peeling
8. Bruise on left butt cheek; sometimes I poke myself with my saddle; looks really stupid in a bathing suit; fading
9. Weird feeling in knee; of unknown origin; no clue
10. Gassy; probably from gross food; never stops
11. Two large gashes on right ankle; from double chain ring; tried to balance my bags on my bike and failed; cool scar; recovering
12. Pain in right thumb and wrist; probably from gripping/shifting too much; Crystal has it too; unrecovered
13. Crotch rot; burning, itching, pain; had to ride the last 15 miles out of my saddle; the ladies say I have a yeast infection; never had one before; damn it hurts; appropriate musical accompaniment: “Sex on Fire” by Kings of Leon; beginning treatment; unrecovered
sliding in socks on wood floors
It is December now. The warmth of September has settled into the cool mist of October and November; winter has arrived, if only in our minds. The air is cooler, and wet. My garden is beginning to die. The fallen leaves remind me of our fecundity, and the bizarre and beautiful mystery into which we are invited – to grow and reproduce and die.
I saw a Hispanic man mowing someone’s lawn today. There were beautiful leaves all over the ground and he mowed over them; he had to cut the grass, of course. Why does this made me sad? Yeah, I know people need jobs, but it reminds me of this American tendency towards constant activity and entitlement to ease and convenience. Those leaves were beautiful! They deserved to be played in by children and raked into piles by teenagers. But they are too busy on their facebooks; high schoolers are overwhelmed by options these days.
But that is not what I wish to write about.
I want to say thank you. Thank you thank you thank you – one of the two prayers that Anne Lamott says we pray. (The other is “help me help me help me”). This is the first time in my life that, when asked “how are you?”, I have consistently said “I am good“. For months! That goodness, I am sure, is due to my roommates. I have had less need to journal since we moved here in September. There is always someone with whom I can have an intimate, deep, thought-provoking conversation.
Tonight we had a family dinner. Taylor made some vegan pizza and Sarah made some sweet oatmeal breakfast pellets. (I decided that cookies should be called pellets, especially when they are healthy, and then they should be called elven bread). We toasted each other in gratefulness, thankful for the gift each is to one another (self-imposed grammar police – fragments! too many!).
I love these women. Chelle is the embodiment of strength and beauty. Sarah is a force to be reckoned with. I have become more of myself because of her. My relationship with Taylor is special. He has seen me like no man has – and no not in a freaky way but in the I feel like dancing in the living room because I am happy and I am okay if you see me in this freedom.
Patience. What is it? Can you teach it? How do you learn but by having it imposed on you? What a horrible thing to learn! And so un-American! I feel, though, that I am learning it now, whatever it is. I am doing a lot of waiting. To see if I am accepted at CSULB to start some Latin and French classes and Comp Lit grad work. To see if I get the Poli Sci grad assistant spot. For a Christmas job that I need badly. For a guy to call back. I am learning to be patient with myself.
That is what winter is about, I think. Waiting for the darkness to pass, for the spring to come (not like I want spring to come anytime soon…I’m thankful for the temperature change), and it helps to know that my three roommates not only have my back but are running this same journey with me. This is the most settled I have ever been.
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