Kenton Grua, Rudi Petschek, and Steve “Wren” Reynolds… embarked on [an adventure] in late June of 1983, when they defied common sense and the National Park Service and set off, at night, to attempt a record-breaking speed run down the Colorado River in a 17-foot wooden dory called the Emerald Mile… To get from A to Z, they figured, would require roughly two nights and days of furious rowing. That is, assuming they lived through it… (OutsideOnline.com)

The Emerald Mile, by Kevin Fedarko

This attention-grabbing introduction to Kevin Fedarko‘s “Rocketing Into the Great Unknown: The Emerald Mile on the Colorado River” appeared in Outside Online in conjunction with the launch of the author’s nonfiction account, The Emerald Mile: The Epic Story of the Fastest Ride in History Though the Heart of the Grand Canyon.

Yes, the title’s looong. But if you’re chronicling a hair raising, adrenaline pumping, teeth rattling, skull crunching story about three intrepid watermen’s conquest of the Colorado River during impossibly furious conditions, I suppose you can wrap your title up and down the spine as many times as you can fit. At least if you’re a virtuoso storyteller. And Kevin Fedarko is nothing less.

I had the good fortune of listening to him read from The Emerald Mile a couple of nights ago at Collected Works in Santa Fe, and I can vouch for his storytelling. Top notch. I bought four copies, three as gifts, and one to read aloud to my bride. We. Will. Enjoy.

Kevin Fedarko

Here’s the skinny. Fedarko has intertwined two stories, one about a rare (and really scary) confluence of events in the Grand Canyon in 1983 and another about the natural wonder itself. The Glen Canyon Dam (and the perspectives of those who created and manage it) offers a sort of corollary tale as riveting as the three dory men’s once-in-a-lifetime daredevil escapade.

I’ll update this post once I’ve finished reading The Emerald Mile, but until then I encourage you to visit Fedarko’s Emerald Mile Facebook page to learn more about his hydraulic adventure. But don’t take my word for it. Here’s the Kirkus Review:

Man’s indomitable need for adventure is the only thing more impressive than the awesome power of nature and the brilliance of technology described in this lovingly rendered retelling of one of the most remarkable events ever to occur inside the Grand Canyon. (Kirkus)

Intrigued? Let me know what you think.

Griffin doodle as vector image

I’ve become a little obsessed with vector images lately. Not necessarily the colorful, cartoony, commercial-feeling images so prevalent in marketing and entertainment, but smooth, crisp line drawings  rendered in black and white. In fact, I am as enthralled with vector images as I am incapable of explaining with any degree of precision or even accuracy exactly what sector images are, but the clarity and simplicity and minimalism possible when converting from raster images to vector images is the Holy Grail I’ve been pursuing lately.

While my unrepentant doodle habit is no secret, I haven’t yet mentioned my experiments — extremely rudimentary experiments — with transforming my doodles into vector images. Soon soon I will share a collection of architectural doodles I’ve been working on, and perhaps at that point I will be better able to articulate what exactly fuels my newfound fascination with vector images. It has something to do with an aesthetic preference for ultra-simple, almost impressionist style line drawings, as if the absence of unnecessary lines allows the image to strive for a more universal, more archetypal…

But already I’m knee-deep and bogged down in “goofy talk”, so I’ll cut to the chase.

Did you know that you can  convert digital images into clean vector images online, easily for free? I’m not expert enough to critique how good/poor the free, online vectorizers are, but they certainly impress me. Although the following list isn’t inclusive or representative, I’ve used all four of these with good results. You’ll be asked to upload a bitmap image below, and the service will quickly render vector image.

Online Vector Image Converters

• Vector Magic Vector Magic offers “precision bitmap to vector conversion” allowing you to automatically convert bitmap images (JPEGs, GIFs, PNGs) into scalable vector images (SVG, EPS, PDF). Note: only two free conversions, then you will need to purchase the service or software download.
• Autotracer.org Autotracer’s online image vectorizer also converts raster images to vector images, but it doesn’t limit your free conversions. “You don’t believe that a free online service will deliver usable results? Give it a try and save time and money.” In addition to uploading a bitmap image, you can enter a URL for an image. Autotracer also offers some control of the conversion/enhancement process.
• Online SVG Image Converter Online-Convert.com offers many free online converters including this vectorizer which lets you convert bitmatp images to vector images (SVG). Similar to the service above, you can either upload an image or provide a URL to an image, but Online-Convert.com offers greater control of the conversion and digital enhancement of your conversion.
• Free Online Raster to Vector Converter This stripped down convertor automatically converts PDF, SVG, DXF, AI and EPS images to vector images.

Let me know if there are other similar resources (especially if they are better) that are available online by commenting below. Thanks!

Related articles

• Raster vs. Vector Graphics (kaygd10.wordpress.com)
• New Method for Vectorizing Pixel Art (makezine.com)

James Willis Westlake on how to write a better letter

Digital communications are proliferating. Children can type before they can handwrite, thumb-text before they can thumb-hike. (Remember hitch hiking? It’s sort of similar to bell bottoms and vinyl albums. All three will be cool again, mark my words.)

I have a special soft spot for the lost art of letter-writing — an art robbed of romance and even basic courtesy in the age of rapid-fire, efficiency-obsessed, typed-with-one-thumb-on-a-tiny-keyboard communication. ~ Maria Popova (Brain Pickings)

How to Write Letters, by James
Willis Westlake (archive.org)

While I’m no Luddite and I’m not proposing a ban on day-in, day-out digital communications, I am challenging you to write a better letter. A better love letter, cover letter, resignation letter, condolence letter, congratulations letter,…

I’m not talking about the glut of letter writing tips available online or even this refreshing tutorial: “to write a better letter, go fly a kite“. Sure there’s still room for James Willis Westlake’s How to Write Letters: A Manual of Correspondence, Showing the Correct Structure which I discovered via the perennially plugged-in and chronically contemplative Maria Popova’s post. (Check out her post, “How To Write Letters: A Guide to the Lost Art of Epistolary Etiquette circa 1896“.) There is still room, ample room, in fact. But that’s not what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about how to compose better personal, handwritten notes and letters. You dig? (That’s a bell bottom, vinyl album, hitch hiking way of asking if you understand me so far.) Here’s how to write a better letter.

Write with a Pen

Handwriting, even when it’s smudgy or loopy or crossed out or misspelled is real. And we crave real, now more than ever. Use a pen to write a better letter. It will look and feel and smell and maybe even taste like you. Well, probably it won’t taste like you, but who’s checking? Your ink-written letter will become slightly unintelligible when the recipient is so moved that s/he sheds a tear. Splash. A blurred word or two. Forever. This is good. It permits the recipient to imagine whatever words they want to imagine in your letter. This is subversive. But it is good. Very, very good!

Write with a Pencil

Scared $#!%less of the pen’s permanence. I know, it takes bravery. Or abandon. But don’t worry. You can still write a better letter even if you’re daunted by indelible pen and ink. Use a pencil to write a better letter. Yes, you can erase and rewrite and waffle, but it’s still pretty darned real. Intimate even.

Cross Out & Correct

A Better Letter?

Leave evidence that you are fallible, that you changed your mind, that your emotions and memories are forever evolving. Don’t hide your edits. Include them. They are part of the story. Part of you. Especially if they embarrass you. Digital communications are like airbrushed posters. Slightly fake. Only, its hard to be certain which part is fake and which part is real. That’s not cool. Real is cool. Marginalia is cool. Open up and share!

Doodle

Don’t take yourself so seriously. Especially if it is a serious letter. Levity is the best therapy. And it’s enjoyable. Doodle even if you are totally self conscious about your artistic abilities (or lack thereof). Actually, doodle especially if you are self conscious about your artistic disabilities. It’s humble. It’s trusting. It’s generous. And it gets easier each time you try. You might even find that you are a natural doodler. I think we all are!

Write Often

Practice makes perfect. Familiar? What about this? Practice gets monotonous. We extol the virtues of practice, practice, practice, and in the process I’m afraid we sometimes stifle enthusiasm and teach risk aversion. Writing (and actually mailing) a letter is still practice. But it’s also exciting. And a wee bit risky. Did we make a mistake? Did we go too far? Did we not go far enough? And it will inspire you to fire off another letter. Write often. Practice will absolutely make you a better letter writer, but remember to send out the letters you write. Write often. Send often. Become a better letter writer!

If you’re not quite ready to practice on your near and dear (I’m thinking of the pencil letter writers) you might want to check out Mike O’Mary‘s note project which would be the perfect way to practice by sending letters to perfect strangers!

The Note Project is an ongoing campaign to make the world a million times better by inspiring people to share notes of appreciation. (The Note Project)

Go. Write. Now!

Related articles

• Six tips for writing a love letter (onewildword.com)
• Hannah Brencher on Letters, Strangers and Love (virtualdavis.com)

As we watch the book transition into its fraught future, will the eventual scarcity of traditional volumes mean we can no longer recognize an image of that rectangular thing as a symbol of “learning, poise, wisdom and moral fortitude?” Or will the book as a symbol spring eternal? ~ Porter Anderson (Writer Unboxed)

Porter Anderson (@Porter_Anderson) takes on “Book as Symbol” and concludes that it is as perennial as spring. Though debating Porter is an enjoyable sport, I rarely find the opportunity, such reasoning undergirding even his lighthearted and sarcastic observations. Instead I pass along the unfathomably clever comments I appended to his post…

Le Bibliophile (Credit: Wikipedia)

I’m a bibliophile by default, and a digital reader by convenience. No. Scratch that. I am a reader by default and a print book, digital book and audio book omnivore by habit. And increasingly by appetite. In fact, I often purchase and “read” a title in all three formats. Bundling anyone? After all, print books still make awfully quaint wrappers.

“If anything, I find we badly overuse the traditional book as a symbol.” ~ Porter Anderson (Writer Unboxed)

Indeed! A nostalgic eleventh hour attempt to ensure the symbol’s immortality? I’m reminded by Vaughn Roycroft’s anecdote (read Porter’s post and then scan down to Roycroft’s comment to enjoy his quirky story) of a library and garden designer I once knew who sold fancy folks learned libraries by the foot. Paneling, bookshelves, paint, leather club chairs, carpet, musty odor and collector’s edition books. Silly gobs of money for guilt tomes that might as well have been hacked spines glued into 4″ shelves.

Mabie Todd Swan fountain pen (Credit: Wikipedia)

That said, the book will endure, not just as a symbol, but as a luxury. An indulgence. A preference. Many of us after all still age wines to perfection and draw ink into fountain pens despite the preponderance of cheaper, easier, more abundant and better marketed alternatives. I haven’t ever ridden in a chariot or published poems on stone tablets, but I instantly recognize both in humanity’s timeless iconography.

And what a joy it will be one day many decades anon to creak open the dusty spine of a vintage Quixote to read aloud to my grand nieces and nephews… Even with Porter’s Campari stains obscuring some of the text.

What do you think? Will the book endure as a symbol? Or perhaps it follow the slide rule and the Ford Pinto off to EFFI (the Elysian Fields of Forgotten Innovations, which incidentally, might be near Pine Point…)

As we forward-march to 2013’s drum, let’s not forget our capacity for wonder, gratitude, and collective impact. Because the ones who are crazy enough to think they can change the world… are the ones who do. (Carson Kahn, Medium)

Video Credits: “Symbiosis” (Pilobolus), “God Music” (George Crumb), “Fratres” (Arvo Part) “Morango… Almost a Tango” (Thomas Oboe Lee)

On Wonder

Instead of imposing your story/ies, you need to open up, to become receptive and unjudging. To listen, I mean really listen, you have to be curious. To listen deeply, you have to suspend your own assumptions and convictions. (The Wonder of Storytelling)

On Gratitude

Many days, I try to humble myself and hold a 2-minute gratitude session… I don’t do it every day, but let me tell you, on the days I do it, it makes me very happy… Why should the simple act of thinking about who and what I’m grateful for make such a big difference in my life?

Just a few reasons:

• Because it reminds you of the positive things in your life…
• Because it turns bad things into good things…
• Because it reminds you of what’s important…
• Because it reminds you to thank others…

(Leo Babauta, zenhabits)

On Change

First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win. (Mahatma Gandhi, positivityblog.com)

The rest is up to you… Good luck!

“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back — Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth that ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now.”

~ W. H. Murray, The Scottish Himalaya Expedition, 1951

Murray’s passage has occasionally been maligned because he erroneously attributed the following couplet to Goethe.

Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!

It strikes me as a bit petty to toil in criticism in the face of useful motivation and beauty. Besides, boldness does pack plenty of power under the hood. And — whoever we credit with the seed that grew into this passage — the most important message is shoehorned into the last three words underpinning all commitment. Begin it now. What will you do?

Faust: Begin it Now

And, by the way, if you’re feeling persnickety (or just curious) here’s Goethe on the matter of dallying, boldness, commitment and action.

Enough words have been exchanged;
Now at last let me see some deeds!
While you turn compliments,
Something useful should transpire.
What use is it to speak of inspiration?
To the hesitant it never appears.
If you would be a poet,
Then take command of poetry.
You know what we require,
We want to down strong brew;
So get on with it!
What does not happen today, will not be done tomorrow,
And you should not let a day slip by,
Let resolution grasp what’s possible
and seize it boldly by the hair;
it will not get away
and it labors on, because it must.

~ Goethe, Faust I, Zeilen 214-230 (Goethe, Faust and Tricky Translations)

Now are you ready to begin? Begin it now!

Related articles

• Goethe, Faust and Tricky Translations (incli-nation.com)
• Want to Be a Successful Author? Burn Your Ships (warriorwriters.wordpress.com)
• How Goethe can change your life (romankrznaric.com)
• The power of commitment (habitguide.com)
• 18 Inspirational Quotes for Spring (inc.com)

The Flâneur Still Lives! (Credit: Culturethèque)

I lead off this chilly morning with a hat tip to the good folks at Culturethèque for their flâneur-London-tube post, “The Flâneur Still Lives!“, which hit the interwebs last Sunday. More flâneurial paean than anything else, Mélissa’s short tribute leads off with this 0h-so-excellent mashup borrowed above.

Bravo! I shamelessly covet Mélissa’s graphic. (Until I discover otherwise, I’ll credit her for this homemade remix of popular iconography. And I’ll inevitably awaken at 4:00am with my own derivative collage. I’ll be unable to sleep until I jot a few notes, doodle a sketch, liberate the idea from my sleepless mind…)

The character emerged from the concrete of 19th Paris… a lazy yet intelligent person who strolls around… a particular personality who loves their city. That’s right, not a striking form of patriotism, just a genuine love of their city. Baudelaire… take it away: “To see the world, to be at the centre of the world, and yet to remain hidden from the world – impartial natures which the tongue can but clumsily define.” (Culturethèque)

Baudelaire par lui même (Credit: Wikipedia)

Despite the obligatory Baudelaire citation and a nod to Benjamin, there’s little enduring here except the jolly image. Or, perhaps I judge too hastily. Meandering a city via public transportation offers endless fodder for a flâneur. While I’m drawn less to the conductor’s announcements and more to the diverse parade of humanity swimming around and past me, I too savor public transportation. Somehow staring is more acceptable on a subway or a bus, especially if you allow your eyes to glaze, unfocused. This is a skill mastered early on in a commuter’s maturation. And it serves the flâneur well.

So, Mélissa, thank you for the troglodytic immersion and the flâneurial London tube image above. I hope you’ll excuse my carrying your idea forward. Soon…

Related articles

• Schopenhauer’s Flâneur (virtualdavis.com)
• Borderer’s Flaneur (virtualdavis.com)

Inside cover of David Foster Wallace’s annotated copy of Don DeLillo’s Ratner’s Star. (Harry Ransom Center)

While I find little need to defend my appetite for marginalia, I’m intrigued by Harriet Devine’s post about marginalia. To be more precise, I’m especially interested in the conversation generated by her post. Much like the underlying premise for the Huffington Post, the comments generated by a post are often where the greatest value lies.

Author and professor Harriet Devine (@drharrietd) opens her reflection with a memory collected at Oxford. A tutor borrowed her book about Coleridge and returned it blooming with marginalia.

[The tutor] had scribbled very rude comments all over it. I was slightly shocked, but he told me the book would be worth a lot more in the future because it. ~ Harriet Devine

I’d be ticked with a tutor — or even a friend — muddling my margins without first asking permission, all the more so when he assured me that it would one day increase the value of my copy (arrogant prig!) While I’m a seasoned marginalia scribbler, I feel proprietary about my books. Now if the tutor had first asked permission, and if I had a great deal of respect for his thinking, I might well have encouraged him to fill the margins of my book. Value added. But I’m getting distracted…

Defense of Marginalia

Devine references a defense of marginalia from Mortimer J. Adler‘s How to Read a Book which she’d stumbled onto via Maria Popova‘s always clever Brain Pickings.

When you buy a book, you establish a property right in it, just as you do in clothes or furniture when you buy and pay for them. But the act of purchase is actually only the prelude to possession in the case of a book. Full ownership of a book only comes when you have made it a part of yourself, and the best way to make yourself a part of it — which comes to the same thing — is by writing in it.

Why is marking a book indispensable to reading it? First, it keeps you awake — not merely conscious, but wide awake. Second, reading, if it is active, is thinking, and thinking tends to express itself in words, spoken or written. The person who says he knows what he thinks but cannot express it usually does not know what he thinks. Third, writing your reactions down helps you to remember the thoughts of the author.

Reading a book should be a conversation between you and the author. Presumably he knows more about the subject than you do; if not, you probably should not be bothering with his book. But understanding is a two-way operation; the learner has to question himself and question the teacher, once he understands what the teacher is saying. Marking a book is literally an expression of your differences or your agreements with the author. It is the highest respect you can pay him. (Harriet Devine)

Comments on/as Marginalia

Though not routinely a commenter on Devine’s blog I felt compelled to weigh in, starting with my thoughts about the presumptuous tutor and then slipping into a goofy rant provoked by the [mostly] whiny comments.

While I don’t NEED to write in the margins to fully own a book, rare is the occasion I make it spine-to-spine without charting my course in the white space. I’m amazed how many commenters in this post have recoiled or at least scoffed at the practice. What a bunch of prudish ninnies. Okay, I’m hot-talking, in part because I too sometimes abstain. This is especially the case in handsomely bound hard cover books. Yes, I’m a bit prudish, I admit. And yet paperbacks welcome my pen like the lonely girl hugging the wall at the dance. “Spill your ink on my virgin margins!”, she practically gushes. I flatter myself? Perhaps. And yet, I can’t help but believe that marginalia is as human an instinct as humming in the shower (and as handy a tool as those blessed commonplace books you’re all on about.) Try it, folks. You may quickly be hooked. And for those who lament reading a text marred with previous readers’ marginalia, I say fair enough. Library books are off limits. And borrowed books. But your own paperback books? Dive in. It’s sheer bliss!

Sure, I got a bit carried away. Blog comments are like that sometimes, but take a look at what I was up against:

No never! If I am going to have a “discourse” with a book then I’ll make my notes on paper (or electronically) just as I did when I was a student. I do not agree that marking a book “keeps me awake” in any way at all, though to be fair since I have never done it I cannot really comment properly. I do agree that making notes is often essential, but I don’t want to read someone elses opinion on a book unless I actively seek it out, so I’m absolutely not a reader of pre-marked texts! ~ Dark Puss

I wouldn’t deface a book, my notes are in separate notebooks. The notes are particularly useful when blogging(!) but if I’m going back to re-read a book I don’t want to see scribbled notes and markings – it’s too distracting and would take away the pleasure of reading! ~ kaggsysbookishramblings

I could never bring myself to actually write in one of my books either, much as I love finding the marks and thoughts of former owners. I do dog-ear the pages which contain passages of interest, though, even though that also causes dismay. ~ Karyn

I’ve always wanted to but can’t make myself do it. I wonder what that says about me?? I’ve always enjoyed reading other people’s marginalia as it often says more about that person than the book itself! ~ sakura

I never write in my books. I did that when I was a teenager, usually underlining passages in inexpensive paperbacks of classics. But now, never. I use my commonplace books. ~ Joan Kyler

You get the gist. While I do hope that I didn’t scare off Devine’s eager commenters, I was genuinely surprised at how few embraced marginalia. I suppose that I never before realized that I might be the odd one out when it comes to note-taking and doodling and all manner of esoteric hieroglyphics in the margins of my books. Which begs the question, perhaps others don’t hum in the shower either? Or maybe they do but don’t admit it? Or don’t because years of virtuous restraint have made it easy/ier to scrub up and rinse without crooning into the shampoo container.

Marginalia and Pudding

Now, lest I misrepresent the commenters, here are two kindred souls.

The horrors! Well, they haven’t addressed the all-important pen/pencil question – I do write in pencil, and I do like the idea of recording my thoughts somewhere on the physical copy (but never in pen), but it can never really be a two-way exchange, can it? Not unless we ship the book back to its author to see what he/she thinks.

And as for the person who borrowed your book – that’s just the very worst sort of rudeness – not only rude, but arrogant and unrepentant. What an awful thing to do! ~ Simon T

I’m going to have to pipe up and say that I do write in my books–and in pen! Sometimes when I get a library book, I get annoyed that I can’t write in it, so I keep sticky notes handy to make notes on and stick on the relevant pages (useful for writing a review). I don’t write in every book, just the ones I’m really engaged in or want to argue with. I’m also what Anne Fadiman would call a “carnal lover” of my books, so broken spines, dog-eared pages, and so on are not unusual. However, I would never say that you have to write in a book to fully own it. ~ Teresa

Thank you, Simon and Teresa. And thank you Harriet Devine (@drharrietd) for the conversation you inspired. After all, the comments beneath a blog post are not altogether unlike marginalia, a conversation with the author, ourselves and the other readers. Sometimes the proof is in the pudding.

Related articles

• Graffiti and Marginalia (virtualdavis.com)
• Marginalia: Billy Collins (virtualdavis.com)
• Marginalia (harrietdevine.typepad.com)
• Friday Reads: “The Art of Marginalia” by Jocelyn Kelley and “The Psychology of Books” by Dell Smith (criticalmargins.com)
• Less Literal, More Literary (virtualdavis.com)

Marginalia, by Billy Collins

Last week I shared one of my favorite Billy Collins poems, ”Marginalia”, with my reading group. I was surprised how few had heard/read it before. Billy Collins has enjoyed the poet equivalent of rock star status over the last decade, and yet nobody seemed familiar with Collins’ meandering reflection on one of my favorite subjects.

While the poem’s charm and much of its aural appeal resides in the specific instances of marginalia which Collins includes (calling out Kierkegaard, dissing Dickinson, bravo-ing Baldwin, etc.), there are three excerpts that contribute handily to the universal notion of marginalia, and I’d like to pass them along.

Sometimes the notes are ferocious,
skirmishes against the author
raging along the borders of every page
in tiny black script.

[…]

Students are more modest
needing to leave only their splayed footprints
along the shore of the page.

[…]

We have all seized the white perimeter as our own
and reached for a pen if only to show
we did not just laze in an armchair turning pages;
we pressed a thought into the wayside,
planted an impression along the verge.

~ Billy Collins, ”Marginalia” (Poetry Magazine, February 1996)

Spot on! One, two, three perfectly captured truths about marginalia.

Collins is a member of your family, your best friend, sharing everyday moments and feelings so vividly they become your memories as well. (Jason Weisberger, Boing Boing.)

I’m still slightly perplexed by the almost combative bent of the marginalia scribblers early in the poem. While there’s a steady evolution toward less antagonistic marginalia penned by students and admirers, a shift accentuated by the love stained finale, I don’t completely grok the poet’s intentions. Perhaps hostile marginalia is sufficiently foreign to me that I lack the requisite context. I’ll work on that!

But the notion of challenging the author on his/her own playing field (or just off the edge of the playing field) is familiar. As is the curious human instinct to plant a personal flag. I was here. I staked this ground. I exist… For me this latter category often falls under the category of reminders. Can I find this passage or that reference easily later? Let’s make sure.

Marginalia was first published in Picnic, Lightning and later included in the collection Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and Selected Poems. If you’d like to read the whole poem now, you can access it online as reproduced from the February 1996 issue of Poetry Magazine. As with most of Billy Collins’ poems, this deserves to be read aloud. Once you’ve heard the poet read aloud, you’ll forever hear his voice when you read his words. But even in your own voice, you’ll bring the words to life in a way that they deserve. Enjoy!

Related articles

• Graffiti and Marginalia (virtualdavis.com)
• Less Literal, More Literary (virtualdavis.com)
• Poems in motion: Billy Collins at TED2012 (ted.com)

Less Literal, More Literary

Yesterday I admitted my love/hate relationship with marginalia and graffiti. This morning I awoke troubled. I realize that yesterday’s post was disingenuous. It’s more like a love/tolerate relationship. Or LOVE/tolerate.

I can’t honestly claim to hate marginalia or graffiti, not often at least.

Which brings me to another confession. I often joke about Mondays. How tough they are. How frustrating they are. How long they are. How persistent they are. (ie. “Every day is Monday.” Or, “It’s been a week of Mondays…”) Also how short they are. How fleeting they are… You get the picture?

Maybe Mondays should be shorter and Fridays should be longer?

December 17, 2012 3:47 pm via webReplyRetweetFavorite

@virtualDavis

virtualDavis

I know, clever, right? No. Not clever. And worse… not 100% candid.

You see, I actually sort-of-kind-of like Mondays. I start planning for Monday on Friday. Or at least Sunday. Monday morning is a land of possibility. Goals. Lists. Optimism.

I’m always overly ambitious and overconfident on Monday morning, and almost always surprised when Friday afternoon sloshes in and I’m still building my sand castle. “Wait! I’m not done yet. The turrets…”

So, yes, some weeks feel like Monday every day, but those also tend to be the weeks when I feel accomplished and satisfied on Friday. When I’m ready to turn off my computer and head out to garden or ski or windsurf or just wander the back meadows with Griffin.

Less Literal

This morning as 5:30 am rolled into 6:00 am and I indulged a few final minutes snuggling with bride and dog before decamping for the day, I began composing a list. Lists always help when I’m troubled. Organize the problem into actionable reminders, and it feels like I’m partway done.

It quickly swelled into ten reminders. Personal, less literal, more literary reminders.

1. Slow down.
2. Cultivate curiosity.
3. Suspend assumptions.
4. Wend. Wander. Wonder.
5. Meander beyond the margin.
6. Meander more!
7. Multitask less.
8. Think in stories.
9. Live in stories.
10. Hum. Or doodle.

Books. Parcel. String. Knot.

It sort of reads like one of those cheesy inspirational posters you can order online. The kind you can pin up in the employee lunch room to improve team productivity. Only, this might prove detrimental to team productivity. At least in some ways. Any way, Top 10 Ways to be Less Literal and More Literary might lack mass market appeal, but I’m sticking with it. A Monday morning mantra. An everyday mantra. Amplify opportunities. Ask more questions. Get lost. Make things up. Fool around with a harmonica. Kazoo? Uh-oh. The list is growing.

Short List

Make time to be less literal and more time to be more literary. Have a great week!

Related articles

• Graffiti and Marginalia (virtualdavis.com)
• Schopenhauer’s Flâneur (virtualdavis.com)
• Mashup Manifesto: Steal Like an Artist (virtualdavis.com)
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