December 18, 2005
Another dark day in Madison.
At some point the days will start to lengthen, but for now, we're still plunging into the darkness. I spent most of the morning immersed in the Sunday NYT, then I went out to buy a lightbulb -- a special trip for a particular halogen model, which I desperately needed to restore full light to my half-lit bathroom. It's bad enough that the light outdoors is inadequate. The indoor lighting deficiency was annoying enough to overcome my current aversion to shopping and to propel me toward Menards, where a nice employee pointed out the crucial bulb and got me out of there in 5 minutes. I relocated with notebook, books, and crossword -- ah, a diagramless second puzzle! -- at a café over on Monroe Street. I'd left my computer at home, because I didn't want to struggle with the temptation that is WiFi. I chose a high table in a cluttered corner and spent two hours scribbling notes about a book I'm reviewing and taking little breaks to work on the puzzle or to read a few pages of that short story.
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8 comments:
Brylin: No, I'm not depressed at all. Just a little pissed at nature for this darkness.
So Menards is not your kind of store. I'm not surprised. Ever been in a Mills Fleet Farm? My first time, I thought I had entered a time warp. It was like stepping back to the 1970s.
Ann, do you realize what a profound thing you did in buying that lightbulb?
For millennia, all we had were dim wooden fires, maybe some animal or vegetable fat lamps, and then candles. We upgraded to mineral oils a century or two ago, but we were still slaves to the natural rhythm of the Earth, for the most part. You could only make a place so bright with fire.
The electric light obviously changed that for many of us; and today, we have the luxury of picking not only how much light we want, but what shade it should be, the intensity, etc. You can pick a light strong enough to blister the top of your nice kitchen table, or you can pick one to imitate, ironically enough, candlelight or firelight.
A good chunk of the world doesn't have this option. It strikes me that we live in a pretty wonderful time, we're a very small portion of humanity, a chunk of people in just one particular age, that isn't forced to live entirely in thrall to the Sun and the clouds...
So you're reading short stories these days? What story?
Richard: Way to reveal you're not keeping up with Audible Althouse! I read "Brokeback Mountain." It's not really my thing to read short stories -- or even fiction anymore. I make some comments on the writing style of the story in the podcast.
I don't have any iPods lying around to listen with. As for Proulx's prose style, I hope you gave it to her good, as B. R. Myers did in his landmark essay A READER'S MANIFESTO a few years ago.
Richard: You can listen on your computer. Just click on the button over at the podcast site and it will play.
As to that essay, I read it long ago. I should reread it.
I bring you tidings of some joy, anyway: Sunset has been getting later in Madison each day since the 10th.
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