Thursday, July 23, 2009
Prelude to "Things Forgotten?"
I've been wanting to write something about this "Year of the 40th" anniversary for quite a few days and have just not made the time to do so. I loved watching the space program; I was eight when we landed on the moon. A year later, I "lived" 1969s Woodstock by listening to the amazing three-record set with my older brother. I'll try to bring some sense of meaning to it all, at least from the perspective of a junior baby boomer, but I still don't have the time. In the meantime, here is something to think about: a link to "100 Things" that future kids will not know about. I'm not sure that I agree with all of it, especially considering how no kid can escape the events of our youth today, but it is fun to look at, nevertheless.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Etcetera Writing
I’m worried that my last entry is everything I didn’t want this blog to become - obvious. Practice makes perfect? Can I be a little more trite? Well, sure I can, just watch.
To be fair, I did bring a unique spin to an old dreidel (no, I am not proud of that last phrase). I noted an obscure quote and an insightful book. And then I blew it all off by showing the high probability of our own failure.
Lighten up, Mike. There’s lots "triter" stuff than that.
Case in point (or should that be “submitted for your approval”), this little gem that appeared today on my Yahoo featured news section under the tease “must see vacation spots in North America,” which was patched together from an article of 15 items from ForbesTraveler.com. The Yahoo version, titled “North America’s Top Vacation Spots,” listed only seven. I don’t know why.
Caveat Emptor: The featured section referred to these as “must see spots,” which are way different from “top spots.” “Must sees” and “tops” are not synonymous. In fact, “must sees” often are “must sees” because they are not “tops.” Needless to say, it was a colossal waste of time (trite expression number nine in this post, for those of you keeping count). I could have – and did – name almost all of them before finishing the lead.
For those of you who are just dying to know, the number one “top spot” is Disney World in Florida, followed by six more cities, including Los Angeles, New York and Chicago. Each entry had its own vague description. For example, did you know that Chicago is “home to myriad vacation draws, from its architectural wonders to high-profile sports franchises to a thriving theater scene and numerous lakefront leisure activities” (how I’d hate to be stuck in a town devoid of “myriad” vacation draws). Funny how that description works for New York and Los Angles, not to mention Detroit, Milwaukee, Boston and “myriad” other “must see” cities.
It’s just one more example of what I’ve come to call “etcetera writing,” that vague, banal, space-filling fluff that clutters our digital highways and byways. I may as well be reading “blah, blah, blah” (I will not say yadda-yadda-yadda) or the ramblings of those Peanuts cartoon adults. It’s just so much nothing. And we’re awash in it. Awash, I tell you!
I first became upset with this kinda’ stuff after stumbling across an episode of “Unwrapped,” the Food Network’s show about how popular snacks, candies, and fast foods are made. I paraphrase here, but each episode seems filled with bland little lines like “cookies have been an American favorite for years.” Well, sure they have, apparently outlasting good writing and a sense of importance.
The question is, am I going to be part of the problem or part of the solution (trite expression number – oh, I lost count)? I’m sure I’ll continue spreading the Orange Highway with stupid, useless, and meaningless things, many of them too personal to be of use to anyone but my analyst, but I do promise that every now and then I’ll post an entry that matters.
Oh, by the way, this isn’t one of them.
To be fair, I did bring a unique spin to an old dreidel (no, I am not proud of that last phrase). I noted an obscure quote and an insightful book. And then I blew it all off by showing the high probability of our own failure.
Lighten up, Mike. There’s lots "triter" stuff than that.
Case in point (or should that be “submitted for your approval”), this little gem that appeared today on my Yahoo featured news section under the tease “must see vacation spots in North America,” which was patched together from an article of 15 items from ForbesTraveler.com. The Yahoo version, titled “North America’s Top Vacation Spots,” listed only seven. I don’t know why.
Caveat Emptor: The featured section referred to these as “must see spots,” which are way different from “top spots.” “Must sees” and “tops” are not synonymous. In fact, “must sees” often are “must sees” because they are not “tops.” Needless to say, it was a colossal waste of time (trite expression number nine in this post, for those of you keeping count). I could have – and did – name almost all of them before finishing the lead.
For those of you who are just dying to know, the number one “top spot” is Disney World in Florida, followed by six more cities, including Los Angeles, New York and Chicago. Each entry had its own vague description. For example, did you know that Chicago is “home to myriad vacation draws, from its architectural wonders to high-profile sports franchises to a thriving theater scene and numerous lakefront leisure activities” (how I’d hate to be stuck in a town devoid of “myriad” vacation draws). Funny how that description works for New York and Los Angles, not to mention Detroit, Milwaukee, Boston and “myriad” other “must see” cities.
It’s just one more example of what I’ve come to call “etcetera writing,” that vague, banal, space-filling fluff that clutters our digital highways and byways. I may as well be reading “blah, blah, blah” (I will not say yadda-yadda-yadda) or the ramblings of those Peanuts cartoon adults. It’s just so much nothing. And we’re awash in it. Awash, I tell you!
I first became upset with this kinda’ stuff after stumbling across an episode of “Unwrapped,” the Food Network’s show about how popular snacks, candies, and fast foods are made. I paraphrase here, but each episode seems filled with bland little lines like “cookies have been an American favorite for years.” Well, sure they have, apparently outlasting good writing and a sense of importance.
The question is, am I going to be part of the problem or part of the solution (trite expression number – oh, I lost count)? I’m sure I’ll continue spreading the Orange Highway with stupid, useless, and meaningless things, many of them too personal to be of use to anyone but my analyst, but I do promise that every now and then I’ll post an entry that matters.
Oh, by the way, this isn’t one of them.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Writing When I Feel Like It
I didn’t want to write today. So I finally went and found it. That quote that’s been gnawing at my conscience since 1982.
I’ve thought about it every now and then. And I knew exactly what book it was in (hiding in my "writer's bookshelf" down in the basement). Not that I needed to see it, as I had remembered it verbatim. A quote from mystery writer John D. MacDonald published in the The Mystery Writers Handbook, edited by Lawrence Treat.
It was in the chapter titled “When and How Do You Write,” which dealt with writing and discipline. While many of those interviewed talked about specific routines and times, MacDonald was more philosophical about the whole thing: “…Any writer who writes only when he ‘feels like it’ is perhaps not only an unsuccessful writer, but quite possibly an unsuccessful human being. (I am not using success in any strictly monetary sense).”
Yeah, it stayed with me. Not because I had heeded his advice, but because I knew I’d been dodging it all these years. It was much easier to let it make me feel like crap every now and then than it was actually doing something about it. Maybe that’s why I stopped reading MacDonald.
Of course, MacDonald makes a strong case for a basic truism: If you really want to be successful at something, whether it is writing, piano playing, motorcycling, parenting, carpentry or teaching, you need to keep working at it.
This is also the message of Glenn Kurtz’s beautifully written Practicing: A Musician’s Return to Music(Vintage books, 2007). Having spent much of his youth trying to master the classical guitar, Kurtz realizes that his practice has fallen short of ensuring his perfection. Picking the instrument back up many years later, Kurtz concludes that “…whatever ‘music’ is for you, if you practice for real, eventually it will show you everything that is within you.”
While I think Kurtz is much harder on himself than he need be – if I could play guitar the way he describes, I think I’d be the happiest person in the world – he is a excellent writer and definitely worth reading.
As for myself, I feel quite good about my writing and almost as good about my humanity. I’ve published a couple of things and while I don’t write everyday, I think I write well. Of course, there are those times when laziness gets the best of me, Like not wanting to write today.
Maybe I can find my discipline here on the Orange Highway. Maybe I can make this the place where I finally write with some regularity. Where I finally heed that famous mystery writer's admonishment.
I’ll see what I feel like.
I’ve thought about it every now and then. And I knew exactly what book it was in (hiding in my "writer's bookshelf" down in the basement). Not that I needed to see it, as I had remembered it verbatim. A quote from mystery writer John D. MacDonald published in the The Mystery Writers Handbook, edited by Lawrence Treat.
It was in the chapter titled “When and How Do You Write,” which dealt with writing and discipline. While many of those interviewed talked about specific routines and times, MacDonald was more philosophical about the whole thing: “…Any writer who writes only when he ‘feels like it’ is perhaps not only an unsuccessful writer, but quite possibly an unsuccessful human being. (I am not using success in any strictly monetary sense).”
Yeah, it stayed with me. Not because I had heeded his advice, but because I knew I’d been dodging it all these years. It was much easier to let it make me feel like crap every now and then than it was actually doing something about it. Maybe that’s why I stopped reading MacDonald.
Of course, MacDonald makes a strong case for a basic truism: If you really want to be successful at something, whether it is writing, piano playing, motorcycling, parenting, carpentry or teaching, you need to keep working at it.
This is also the message of Glenn Kurtz’s beautifully written Practicing: A Musician’s Return to Music(Vintage books, 2007). Having spent much of his youth trying to master the classical guitar, Kurtz realizes that his practice has fallen short of ensuring his perfection. Picking the instrument back up many years later, Kurtz concludes that “…whatever ‘music’ is for you, if you practice for real, eventually it will show you everything that is within you.”
While I think Kurtz is much harder on himself than he need be – if I could play guitar the way he describes, I think I’d be the happiest person in the world – he is a excellent writer and definitely worth reading.
As for myself, I feel quite good about my writing and almost as good about my humanity. I’ve published a couple of things and while I don’t write everyday, I think I write well. Of course, there are those times when laziness gets the best of me, Like not wanting to write today.
Maybe I can find my discipline here on the Orange Highway. Maybe I can make this the place where I finally write with some regularity. Where I finally heed that famous mystery writer's admonishment.
I’ll see what I feel like.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Embracing Your Inner Scooterist
Back in 1984, there was a cover story in Rider magazine featuring the then-new generation of Japanese scooters led by Honda and closely followed by Yamaha. Some of you may recall the famous Honda scooter commercials featuring Adam Ant, Grace Jones, Jim McMahon, Lou Reed and, saving the best for last, Devo. It was a great mix of 80s MTV sass and cool, but they had nothing to do with why I fell in love with scooters.
Fact is, I have no idea why I feel in love with them - I just did.
Planning to save that issue of Rider forever, I unfortunately hid it so well that I can't find it anymore. But I do recall a sidebar article in the issue called "Scooter Love" or something like that (memories are so deceptive, but more on that in the future), in which a 200+ pound former Harley rider discussed how he had come to embrace his love of Vespas and wear his marques' jacket with pride.
I, too, am proud of my inner scooterist, but I dread the inevitable belittling of scooters that is part and parcel of riding one. Even though my Yamaha Majesty goes over 90 mph and has more storage space than a Pontiac Solstice, car drivers often look at me like I am on little more than a 30 mph moped.
I also have to justify that I am on a real "motorcycle" among my many motorcyclist friends, and I am not sure if I feel that way because of my own insecurities as much as from their refusal to view these bikes as legit. When away from my bike, I usually just tell people I ride a motorcycle; when they ask what kind, I say it is a Yamaha 400 and leave it at that. I almost never use the word scooter as I know the reaction I'll get.
The question, of course, is why am I having so much trouble embracing my inner scooterist? Why does it matter if others dismiss what I know to be the most fun I've ever had on two or four wheels (and, in most instances, the most fun I've had ever)? Why do I let ego and pride get in the way of me shouting, "I'm a scooterist, world! Get over it!"
Well, in a way I guess I do "say" something like that every time I mount my Majesty. I may feel a little cycle-envy, but it sure doesn't keep me off the road. It also doesn't keep me from parking it in the employee lot as I chalk up the thousands of commuter miles I have put on the thing since getting it last May. I may feel a little embarrassed now and then. but never enough to take the car; I let the weather determine that, although I'm fine riding in cold temps and heavy rains.
So why do I love it? Well, having ridden and enjoyed all types of motorcycles since I got my first Honda CB125 back in 1982, part of it has to do with being on two-wheels. I have a little theory that motorcycling is a much more natural process than car driving, in that the former requires the human act of balance. At an age where brain cells are leaving my head as rapidly as my hair, I need all the good mental exercise I can get, and I think balancing counts for that (not to mention the constant need to assess the road conditions in front, back, and beside me).
More important is that wonderful motorcycle "thing" known as leaning. If there is anything that is truly free about motorcycling, it is that ability to make the machine bend to you, and for you to bend to it. Getting a bike to lean is so subtle, it is as much cerebral as it is physical. And on a scooter, those smaller wheels and lower center of gravity only enhance the feeling.
Another reason specific to scooters is the twist-and-go scooter transmission popularized by those 80s Honda scooters. Unlike most motorcycles, which require clutching and shifting, the scooterist need only be concerned with throttle, brake and steering. Freed from the demands of a manual transmission, more attention is placed on the road and the ride (although one cannot discount the great feeling of control manual shifting affords).
Then there is the look. That classic step-through design which means easy on and easy off. The sharp body panels and sculptured seat. The large windshield and protective floorboards that keep you dry from road splash even in the midst of a downpour. You either love it or you don't. But like the ads said, "they're everything but ordinary" (although none of the major scooters of today have the unique style of those older Devo-mobiles).
I have owned many traditional motorcycles and still have a running, kick-start only '78 GS in my garage (the photo above is of my first scooter, a Honda CH250 Elite that I unfortunately sold last year). I always have and always will love everything motorcycle, and will most likely buy a more contemporary manual transmission bike sometime in the future (my current desire is a Kawasaki KLR 650, which is also a rather unique bike). But no matter how many bikes I may eventually own, I cannot imagine a time that my Majesty is not my vehicle of choice. And while that choice will always leave me carrying the "shame" of not riding a real motorcycle, I'll keep trying to "forgive" myself for being who I am.
Fact is, I have no idea why I feel in love with them - I just did.
Planning to save that issue of Rider forever, I unfortunately hid it so well that I can't find it anymore. But I do recall a sidebar article in the issue called "Scooter Love" or something like that (memories are so deceptive, but more on that in the future), in which a 200+ pound former Harley rider discussed how he had come to embrace his love of Vespas and wear his marques' jacket with pride.
I, too, am proud of my inner scooterist, but I dread the inevitable belittling of scooters that is part and parcel of riding one. Even though my Yamaha Majesty goes over 90 mph and has more storage space than a Pontiac Solstice, car drivers often look at me like I am on little more than a 30 mph moped.
I also have to justify that I am on a real "motorcycle" among my many motorcyclist friends, and I am not sure if I feel that way because of my own insecurities as much as from their refusal to view these bikes as legit. When away from my bike, I usually just tell people I ride a motorcycle; when they ask what kind, I say it is a Yamaha 400 and leave it at that. I almost never use the word scooter as I know the reaction I'll get.
The question, of course, is why am I having so much trouble embracing my inner scooterist? Why does it matter if others dismiss what I know to be the most fun I've ever had on two or four wheels (and, in most instances, the most fun I've had ever)? Why do I let ego and pride get in the way of me shouting, "I'm a scooterist, world! Get over it!"
Well, in a way I guess I do "say" something like that every time I mount my Majesty. I may feel a little cycle-envy, but it sure doesn't keep me off the road. It also doesn't keep me from parking it in the employee lot as I chalk up the thousands of commuter miles I have put on the thing since getting it last May. I may feel a little embarrassed now and then. but never enough to take the car; I let the weather determine that, although I'm fine riding in cold temps and heavy rains.
So why do I love it? Well, having ridden and enjoyed all types of motorcycles since I got my first Honda CB125 back in 1982, part of it has to do with being on two-wheels. I have a little theory that motorcycling is a much more natural process than car driving, in that the former requires the human act of balance. At an age where brain cells are leaving my head as rapidly as my hair, I need all the good mental exercise I can get, and I think balancing counts for that (not to mention the constant need to assess the road conditions in front, back, and beside me).
More important is that wonderful motorcycle "thing" known as leaning. If there is anything that is truly free about motorcycling, it is that ability to make the machine bend to you, and for you to bend to it. Getting a bike to lean is so subtle, it is as much cerebral as it is physical. And on a scooter, those smaller wheels and lower center of gravity only enhance the feeling.
Another reason specific to scooters is the twist-and-go scooter transmission popularized by those 80s Honda scooters. Unlike most motorcycles, which require clutching and shifting, the scooterist need only be concerned with throttle, brake and steering. Freed from the demands of a manual transmission, more attention is placed on the road and the ride (although one cannot discount the great feeling of control manual shifting affords).
Then there is the look. That classic step-through design which means easy on and easy off. The sharp body panels and sculptured seat. The large windshield and protective floorboards that keep you dry from road splash even in the midst of a downpour. You either love it or you don't. But like the ads said, "they're everything but ordinary" (although none of the major scooters of today have the unique style of those older Devo-mobiles).
I have owned many traditional motorcycles and still have a running, kick-start only '78 GS in my garage (the photo above is of my first scooter, a Honda CH250 Elite that I unfortunately sold last year). I always have and always will love everything motorcycle, and will most likely buy a more contemporary manual transmission bike sometime in the future (my current desire is a Kawasaki KLR 650, which is also a rather unique bike). But no matter how many bikes I may eventually own, I cannot imagine a time that my Majesty is not my vehicle of choice. And while that choice will always leave me carrying the "shame" of not riding a real motorcycle, I'll keep trying to "forgive" myself for being who I am.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
The Orange Highway
There are no accidents, particularly on the Orange Highway.
Case in point. Naming this blog.
I had been wanting to start a blog for some time now, and actually had one a few years back. I think I gave it up after one entry. What is it that Mark Twain said about keeping a journal? I paraphrase here, but something like "It's worth at least a thousand dollars...when you get it done."
I think my last blog had something to do with living life in a mediated society, but, of course, it was not called Life in a Mediated Society. I forget what it was called -- probably an artifact of living life in a mediated society. Information overload and a memory that is not what it used to be. But I do recall I was talking about something else. Namely, naming this blog.
I did not want a name that married me to one topic, as that would be too limiting. Right now I just want to write. About whatever. A lot about life, yet hopefully not just about mine.
The first couple of names I came up with were already taken. The first choice was "ready to wear," which was the name of an old online magazine I had back in 1996. It actually got some good reviews and the site won me a bit of notoriety, but I gave it up to go to grad school and get me a PhD in history. It's hard to read 600 books, hold a full time job, be a dad, and edit an online magazine. So I said goodbye to rtw and hello to a fancy framed degree that adorns my wall and proclaims my expertise in American history.
The next choice was also taken, but it could not have been very good as I can't even remember what it was. The third choice came from my son. I was thinking of famous expressions and he offered "Look both ways." I actually liked that, as it really seemed to fit a moderate like myself. However, at the last minute he told me to go with a name I had said earlier in the day - The Orange Highway. "Pick that dad," he said. "Nobody will be using that one."
Now, this is where it gets kinda' weird. I'm not sure if this would have happened had I typed in any other name, but after hitting the continue button, I noticed the labels box at the bottom of the edit window. Among the examples of potential labels was "scooter," a rather odd word, at least in comparison to the the other two more common ones - "vacation" and "fall."
But it's not the rarity of the word as much as how much that word fit me. I've owned a scooter since 1992, and currently ride one of those big, highway-ready maxi scooters. Since May 2008, I've put over 6,000 miles on good old Bluebie - my affectionate name for the blue Yamaha Majesty 400.
So what? Well, I take it as a sign that this is the right name and the right time for this project. Of course, I really am not sure if I believe in signs. There are accidents and there are coincidences in this life and lots of things that seem to hold meaning really have only the meaning we give them. But scooter? On my first blog edit window? Oh, come on!
Even if chance rules over destiny, I'm all for feeling good about choices, and anxiety-ridden enough to know the value of anything that helps one stay committed to ones ideas and ideals. So it's the Orange Highway for me. Whatever that means. By the way, there is a story behind that name, but that's for another time. If there is another time. A blog is a valuable thing...when you get it done.
BTW: If you like this spot but forget to bookmark it, you can search for it under the labels "accident," "coincidence," "media," "Mark Twain," and, of course, "scooter."
Case in point. Naming this blog.
I had been wanting to start a blog for some time now, and actually had one a few years back. I think I gave it up after one entry. What is it that Mark Twain said about keeping a journal? I paraphrase here, but something like "It's worth at least a thousand dollars...when you get it done."
I think my last blog had something to do with living life in a mediated society, but, of course, it was not called Life in a Mediated Society. I forget what it was called -- probably an artifact of living life in a mediated society. Information overload and a memory that is not what it used to be. But I do recall I was talking about something else. Namely, naming this blog.
I did not want a name that married me to one topic, as that would be too limiting. Right now I just want to write. About whatever. A lot about life, yet hopefully not just about mine.
The first couple of names I came up with were already taken. The first choice was "ready to wear," which was the name of an old online magazine I had back in 1996. It actually got some good reviews and the site won me a bit of notoriety, but I gave it up to go to grad school and get me a PhD in history. It's hard to read 600 books, hold a full time job, be a dad, and edit an online magazine. So I said goodbye to rtw and hello to a fancy framed degree that adorns my wall and proclaims my expertise in American history.
The next choice was also taken, but it could not have been very good as I can't even remember what it was. The third choice came from my son. I was thinking of famous expressions and he offered "Look both ways." I actually liked that, as it really seemed to fit a moderate like myself. However, at the last minute he told me to go with a name I had said earlier in the day - The Orange Highway. "Pick that dad," he said. "Nobody will be using that one."
Now, this is where it gets kinda' weird. I'm not sure if this would have happened had I typed in any other name, but after hitting the continue button, I noticed the labels box at the bottom of the edit window. Among the examples of potential labels was "scooter," a rather odd word, at least in comparison to the the other two more common ones - "vacation" and "fall."
But it's not the rarity of the word as much as how much that word fit me. I've owned a scooter since 1992, and currently ride one of those big, highway-ready maxi scooters. Since May 2008, I've put over 6,000 miles on good old Bluebie - my affectionate name for the blue Yamaha Majesty 400.
So what? Well, I take it as a sign that this is the right name and the right time for this project. Of course, I really am not sure if I believe in signs. There are accidents and there are coincidences in this life and lots of things that seem to hold meaning really have only the meaning we give them. But scooter? On my first blog edit window? Oh, come on!
Even if chance rules over destiny, I'm all for feeling good about choices, and anxiety-ridden enough to know the value of anything that helps one stay committed to ones ideas and ideals. So it's the Orange Highway for me. Whatever that means. By the way, there is a story behind that name, but that's for another time. If there is another time. A blog is a valuable thing...when you get it done.
BTW: If you like this spot but forget to bookmark it, you can search for it under the labels "accident," "coincidence," "media," "Mark Twain," and, of course, "scooter."
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