Home of the Autographed Cat

Normally, I love reading Hollis Gillespie’s columns in Creative Loafing becuase of her unique and quirky sense of humour and the strange characters that seem to populate her life. But this week, she actually hit me with something so simple and profound i had to share it:

You wonder about the world, the sorrow and loss, how lasting that is, how thick and insurmountable it seems, and then you see puppies. And then you remember how an elderly gentleman once danced in the street with a kindhearted cleaning lady – held her in his arms like the perfect daffodil that she was – and you remember the beauty of that, the aching grace of that, and suddenly you realize the tiniest bit is enough. The tiniest bit flavors the rest.

The whole column is here. It’s worth your time.

celticdragonfly points to a lovely entry entitled “Psychodrama, Surrealism, and the Archipelago of Weird”

Culture, in the part of the world in which I’ve been, and, for all I know, in other parts as well to which I cannot speak, has two rough parts: the Mainland and the Isles.

The Mainland is what calls itself the “mainstream” or “normal” culture.

You know… Mundania.

The Isles are everything else. Everything that’s not “mainstream” is an island.

Nobody knows how many Isles there are. They are wholly and utterly unmapped. Each one is its own subculture.

Some Isles are closer to the Mainland, and some further.

Some Isles are closer to others. Some are big. Some are small.

We — meaning I and a very large percentage of my readership — live in a collection of close Isles which form up an Archipelago. The SCA. Fandom. NERO. Etc.

This is the Archipelago of Weird.

[…]

One of the things that makes the Mainland, the Mainland, is that Mainlanders do not and need not know anything about the Isles. For the vast majority of them, the Isles are something out of myth or legend, if they’ve even heard of them at all. And Mainlanders don’t much care for myths and legends. If they know anything, it is usually a hash of fantasy and exception, stirred into a thick slurry of dread of the alien. Insofar as they are aware of them, the Isles are not safe to their minds; they are seen as breeding places of all sorts of malevolent forces. What kind of a lunatic would live in such a barbarous place? Surely such a person must have something wrong with them — the defective and the fugitive.

The Islanders generally think of the Mainland as dirty, crowded, tacky, and morally impoverished. (Which is not to suggest that all Isles have the same notions of moral rectitude or aesthetic taste. Far from it. They merely seem to all agree that that’s what the Mainland lacks.) Many Islanders are refugees and refusniks from the Mainland, but on many Isles there are substantial populations of native-born Islanders. All Islanders know about the Mainland. It’s big and hard to miss; it has enormous economic might. Islanders, being in a minority, know far more about Mainlanders — and far more accurately — than vice versa. Many Islanders generally like to think (charitably, they feel) that Mainlanders can be educated; if you give a Mainlander good food, good drink, and a good native lay, they’ll realize what they’ve been missing.

Go read it. It’s good stuff.

Sometimes, there’s no point in trying to summerize, or in trying to find the right bit to excerpt. Just go read it.

Being Poor by John Scalzi

Saw this on alt.poly, and know enough people who are on my flist who do handcrafts but don’t read a.p. that might enjoy this:

“We’ve all seen those craft projects. Projects that look like the cat barfed on a lace doily, or that make one suspect that they were designed by a colourblind gibbon on LSD. Projects that say “good taste went thataway”. Yeah. Those craft projects. Well, here’s where they all come to die. Enjoy the hideousness, folks. And let this be an example to you.”

http://handcrafthouseofhorrors.blogspot.com/