“Whatever you now find weird, ugly, uncomfortable and nasty about a new medium will surely become its signature. CD distortion, the jitteriness of digital video, the crap sound of 8-bit - all of these will be cherished and emulated as soon as they can be avoided. It’s the sound of failure: so much modern art is the sound of things going out of control, of a medium pushing to its limits and breaking apart. The distorted guitar sound is the sound of something too loud for the medium supposed to carry it. The blues singer with the cracked voice is the sound of an emotional cry too powerful for the throat that releases it. The excitement of grainy film, of bleached-out black and white, is the excitement of witnessing events too momentous for the medium assigned to record them.”—
“They introduce themselves as pro-life. And I say, ‘Oh, I’m so glad. You must be fighting for healthcare for the poor.’ And they look at me like I’m bonkers.”—Sheila Walsh, a Catholic nun (via stfuprolifers)
“Most luxury homebuyers would also be willing to give up 1,000 square feet of living space from their next home in exchange for living in a better neighborhood and living in a house with character. Other features that people are looking for include more land, access to dining and entertainment, and a shorter commute.”—It’s tough being a luxury home buyer who’s trying to balance out living somewhere closer to work, in a home with character, in a good neighborhood with access to dining and entertainment AND with more land. Dropping the more land hang-up and this becomes a solvable problem. (via edkohler)
Metaphor is for most people a device of the poetic imagination and the rhetorical flourish—a matter of extraordinary rather than ordinary language. Moreover, metaphor is typically viewed as characteristic of language alone, a matter of words rather than thought or action. For this reason, most people think they can get along perfectly well without metaphor. We have found, on the contrary, that metaphor is pervasive in everyday life, not just in language but in thought and action. Our ordinary conceptual system, in terms of which we both think and act, is fundamentally metaphorical in nature.
It is important to see that we don’t just talk about arguments in terms of war. We can actually win or lose arguments. We see the person we are arguing with as an opponent. We attack his positions and we defend our own. We gain and lose ground. We plan and use strategies. If we find a position indefensible, we can abandon it and take a new line of attack. Many of the things we do in arguing are partially structured by the concept of war. Though there is no physical battle, there is a verbal battle, and the structure of an argument—attack, defense, counterattack, etc.—reflects this. It is in this sense that the ARGUMENT IS WAR metaphor is one that we live by in this culture; it structures the actions we perform in arguing.
Try to imagine a culture where arguments are not viewed in terms of war, where no one wins or loses, where there is no sense of attacking or defending, gaining or losing ground. Imagine a culture where an argument is viewed as a dance, the participants are seen as performers, and the goal is to perform in a balanced and aesthetically pleasing way. In such a culture, people would view arguments differently, experience them differently, carry them out differently, and talk about them differently. But we would probably not view them as arguing at all: they would simply be doing something different. It would seem strange even to call what they were doing “arguing.” Perhaps the most neutral way of describing this difference between their culture and ours would be to say that we have a discourse form structured in terms of battle and they have one structured in terms of dance.
Want to support a great culinary project? Take a look at our freshly launched Kickstarter project: The Secret Atlas of North Coast Food.
The Secret Atlas of North Coast Food is a book that will be created, edited, and illustrated by members of the Heavy Table team in conjunction with the greater Minneapolis-St. Paul design and cartography community.
The book will tell the stories of Upper Midwestern food and drink from all manner of perspectives; we’ll chart out some of the late, great “ghost restaurants” of the Twin Cities that have vanished but linger on as influences; we’ll explore meat markets up and down the Mississippi; we’ll track down pop culture and literature connections to local eateries, and far, far more.
We would love your help in publishing our ambitious new book!
The recent birth of my son at Fairview Southdale Hospital put my wife and me into the thick of it. There we were, on the heels of a life-changing, exhilarating, thoroughly exhausting jumble of circumstances, more or less stuck in a hotel room that played host to a revolving cavalcade of nurses, doctors, friends, and relatives — plus the odd tout for the resident infant photography service.
And although we’d packed some utilitarian snacks and understood our rights (and my ability) to sally forth into the city to import our food, we were collectively exhausted enough after the whole “PUSH 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10″ experience and disoriented enough by the ongoing battery of tests, paperwork, and adventures in breastfeeding to go to the lowest common denominator of food: calling room service and ordering hospital food.
What a surprisingly good idea.
As a two-word expression, “hospital food” ranks right up there with “eel mucus,” “dry socket,” and “soy bacon” on the list of expressions least likely to stimulate the appetite. But the approach at Fairview was — and I say this as thoroughly non-compensated real-life customer — profoundly appropriate to the circumstances.
Our editor-in-chief, Jim Norton, not only welcomed his new baby boy into the world last week: he wrote a funny and poignant review of the hospital food that he and his wife (and HT photog) Becca Dilley had during their birthstravaganza.
And of course, happy birthday, Josiah! You’re gonna be one well-fed baby.