Keep your fingers crossed, but I think full posting should be back tomorrow, maybe even tonight if I have the time. I’m moving into permanent quarters in Seattle this afternoon. My commute should drop from around two hours round-trip on bus to twenty minutes on foot, which means I’m going to have a lot more time to read and write.
I just wanted to interject a quick anecdote from crossing the U.S.-Canada border last night on my way home from Vancouver. I should have suspected things would go south when I saw the customs man–one of those late twenties, unremarkable, bony white guys wearing a baseball cap too big for him. In a class of people on a power trip, guys like this one are at the head of it. Let me reconstruct a bit of the dialogue.
Him: “What are you doing in Seattle?”
Me: “I have an internship at *alternative weekly newspaper name here*.”
Him: “What do you guys do?”
Me: (wondering why this is relevant at all) “*insert generic description here*.”
Him: “So why did you move to Seattle?”
Me: “We don’t have a paper like this in Cincinnati.”
Him: (completely serious) “Why didn’t you start one?”
Ladies and gentlemen, U.S. customs!
Hmm, why didn’t I start an alternative weekly newspaper in Cincinnati? Maybe it’s because most people who are still at the intern level of professional development don’t have tens of thousands of dollars on hand? Maybe it’s because working at an established paper is more meaningful than starting your own zine? Maybe it’s because this is a horrible time for print media? Maybe it’s because it’s none of your business?
Do those questions help you at all, Mr. Border Man? Can I go back to my country now? Oh, I have to let you search my trunk first? Let me kneel down before you. I love feeling like a criminal for exercising basic human rights.
The Country Estate 