Casting a Narrow Net.

c. David Grim (taken 10/23/10)

I read something strange in Richard Price's book "Lush Life"- "A deer never travels more than a mile from where it was born and always walks in the path of its ancestors." Now, I have NO idea whether such a claim is true, and after a five-minute internet search I suspect that it is not. However it is a very fascinating claim nonetheless. Perhaps it's simply received wisdom among those that grew up hunting. Price grew up a middle-class Jewish kid in the Bronx, and stayed there for college, so if I had to guess I'd say that he wouldn't know for sure. But of course I could be mistaken.

I guess this contention makes some sense. After all, the wilderness in this nation is so denuded that there aren't many tracts of unspoiled land for deer to roam free in. Furthermore, what unspoiled areas remain are interrupted by roads. Animals often find their ends as moving targets for automobiles, so evolution could slowly be selecting for the wily deer that stick to the known paths. But I'm sure scientists would say that there is no way that natural selection can work so quickly. I'm as much a scientist as I am a hunter.

Anyway, it's a poetic conceit nonetheless, regardless of its accuracy. We see deer as leaping freely and bounding through a world of wooded possibility. We generally don't view them as circumscribed by tradition. Nor do they emanate from our imaginations as symbols for attachment to place. The idea that there is something substantial to learn about their migration patterns is enticing. After all, they are the largest mammal to regularly choose to place themselves on the periphery of human activity.

Ultimately Price's claim serves simply as a contrast/comparison to human behavior. He employs it to comment on the phenomenon of urban criminals typically carrying out their misdeeds close to home base. Maybe the layperson would suggest engaging in unsavory acts far from one's domicile. I can't attest to the relative worth of such a suggestion, as I have generally managed to keep my nose clean. But in the end maybe we are simply animals, and there is something to be gained by examining the habits of those creatures closest (at least in proximity) to us. Folk storytellers have been doing so for centuries.

I don't know. What are YOU gonna be?

c. David Grim (taken 10/23/10)

Every Halloween it's the same story. I hear about all the cool things to do and I want to enage fully in the spirit of the season. I love this holiday, as I think I made clear in an earlier post. Yet somehow I always get too distracted to put together a costume. I get an invitation to a party that suggests that I don a disguise, yet I end up feeling too lazy to bother. It just doesn't seem worth the effort at the time. Besides, what would I be? I guess I could go out to one of those megastores and figure it out. I could rent a pre-made thing and be done with it. I could even just get a mask. But I never do.

Have I ever worn a costume? Sure. Back in the day I actually gave some thought to what I'd be weeks ahead of time. But other than teh time I was inspired by teh movie "Dead Presidents", I've always been overshadowed. I've had a few friends that have really put a lot of energy and time into making their own stuff to wear. One guy used to use what he learned from the world of stage make-up to create ensembles that would make me retch just to look at them. On one particularly memorable occasion he donned the look of a burn victim, complete with pus-filled blisters that he would cut into periodically with a razor blade when no one was looking. I couldn't even eat M and M's at that party.

Another friend used to regularly make an elaborate spectacle out of himself. He made a suit completely out of bubble wrap and wore it over his tighty-whitey's. Another time he chose a Hawaiian shirt and carried around a jerry-rigged beachcombing device. He had fun putting that in people's faces all night. His most offensive selection was when he chose to be a "special needs" student for Halloween. I'm not going into the details of that get-up. People were either entertained or scandalized by that. There was very little middle ground. It's really a shame that I don't see him anymore. I always miss him especially around this time of the year.

In recent years I have let my reticence to put something together serve as an excuse to skip the festivities altogether. Inevitably, if I show up in regular clothes I end up feeling lame compared with all the folks that made the effort. Then I promise myself that I'll try harder next year. But it doesn't happen. This time around I just went out resolved to enjoy other people's costumes without feeling self-conscious. And I took my camera with me. It turns out that the way I've been shooting the last few years is particularly conducive to shooting subjects with make-up and garish clothing. So I had lots of fun regarless.

Tom Corbett is a Sell-Out.

c. David Grim (taken 10/23/10)

I'll freely admit that I don't know a whole lot about the Marcellus Shale deposits, nor do I completely understand all the issues surrounding the leasing of Pennsylvania lands for drilling. To this date I've mostly been keeping my ears and eyes open, and slowly gathering whatever information I might glean about this topic. I have some friends who are active in promoting awareness about what's going on, and I've heard their viewpoints. But I'm not sure exactly how I stand on it all.

The truth is that I would definitely err on the side of caution. I've had a bit of exposure to the documentary "Gasland", that told the story of a cross-country roadtrip taken by filmmaker Josh Fox, who was on a mission to uncover the real deal regarding drilling. What he uncovered is some pretty nasty stuff that I won't try to summarize here. Suffice it to say that there is a very real danger that our water table will be polluted by the activities of the gas drilling companies. Obviously those entities are much more concerned about making huge profits than protecting the health of those who live in the areas that they seek to operate. that should be no surprise.

So why do so few of our local and state politicians seem worried about the potentially devastating effects of drilling? They are being bought off. Tom Corbett, Republican nominee for PA Governor, has received almost a million dollars (to date) from gas drilling interests. He has worked strenuously (alongside his Republicans cronies in the PA Senate) to kill the proposed severance tax increases for drilling in Pennsylvania. He claims that he is acting to ensure that jobs stay here in the state. Of course this is a ridiculous contention, as the Marcellus Shale deposits can't get up and move down South to avoid any taxes that might be levied.

At least Ed Rendell is doing something about this. He has placed a moratorium on opening up new state forest lands for leasing by drilling companies. He has pointed out that every other state that contains Marcellus Shale deposits already has a severance tax above and beyond what any GOP legislator in PA is willing to administer. But the PA Senate has stonewalled, and now their session has lapsed without any action. Rendell's response is at least a symbolic gesture of resistance against the power of the corporations. But the measure doesn't stop the drilling that has already started in PA state-owned forests. And it will be overturned if Corbett wins the election. He is already bought and paid for.

The troubling thing is that NO ONE in power in PA is suggesting that maybe it would be a good idea to follow the state of New York and ban fracking altogether. The only reason to stumble ahead and allow unfettered drilling without a public investigation of its hazards, and a resulting dialog, is the desperate drive for mad profits. The corporations that have come here to do this are from out-of-state, and any profits they extract from our land will be taken out as well. They are even employing mostly out-of-state workers. Most tragically, they are despoiling our natural resources, and Corbett doesn't want them to get taxed? And he seeks to "serve" as state executive? Why not just elect a drilling company CEO instead?

I Won't Be Seeing You Later!

c. David Grim (taken 10/17/10)

I'm not sure exactly why, but I have a habit of avoiding reunions. It doesn't really matter what the nature of the get-together is, I just don't enjoy them all that much. Perhaps if it's a few friends getting together after years of absence... that could be alright. Sometimes it's refreshing to find out what people are up to. But organized nostalgia strikes me as just a bit pathetic. If the times and people to be remembered were great, I'd rather just let those glory days live in my memory unsullied. On the other hand if things were bad in high school (and they were for most people for at least part of time), the last choice anyone is going to make is to attend a reunion.

Even though I had a reasonably pleasant experience starting around the end of tenth grade, I wouldn't be anxious to go to any gatherings of alumni even if that were a possibility. Apparently the treasurer of "our class" embezzled all the funds we had saved up, and the president was in prison until recently (now I hear she might be dead, or maybe I have everything reversed somehow). That makes it extremely easy to pretend that I'm not even from my home town. I never have to go back now that my entire family has moved outside the city limits. Good stuff... no temptation to trip the light fantastic with the grown up versions of folks I didn't really like once upon a time.

And college reunions just seem completely beside the point. Do people ever really attend those things? I do get the opportunity to visit my old fraternity house once a year around homecoming time. I've only done it like twice in the last fifteen years. I'm not like most of those on the arts scene who deny ever having had truck with conventional culture. I enjoyed my time in the fraternity a lot. Indeed the experience helped me reach out to a group of people I likely would have never associated with in any other case. In turn that exposed me to a world of ideas I wasn't aware of. But that doesn't mean I need to revisit those who joined me on that path. I'm NOT that curious about how everyone is doing, and in the instances where I might care... I have Facebook to get my answers from afar.

This past weekend I was even invited to go to a reunion of folks who worked on a large sculpted head of a stag in the Rankin steel mill. I would have no doubt had fun and seen plenty of artists that I knew. Still the only involvement I had with the building of that monstrous thing was the clandestine commando raid a couple of friends and I made years ago to photograph it. I enjoyed that... it was impressive and all. But there was no reason for me to go to any reunion. I was happy to let those who were actively involved reminisce without obstruction from me. It's too bad I missed out on any refreshments, and that's my main regret.

When it comes down to it, I don't want to talk too much about what I've been up to recently anyway. It might sound like a litany of complaint, and if it did, I would feel ungrateful. My life isn't bad. In fact it's a damn sight better than I had any reason to expect it would be coming out of college. So it's not like I wouldn't have anything to crow about. Still I tend to focus on my deficiencies, and I'm not all that adept at receiving compliments. That combination makes for a very awkward approach to reunions. It's better that I simply continue to avoid them altogether.

The Strange Death of Harvey Pekar.

c. David Grim (taken 10/23/10)

This past July I was saddened to learn of the death of Harvey Pekar. He was a crucial figure in the development of "art comics"- one of the most dynamic and exciting of all modern-day mediums. Perhaps it's because there are still so few people who know that these works exist outside of the mainsteam of crap that they are exposed to day in/day out, but it's true that so many of the best creators within the field seem down-to-earth and accessible. They aren't (for the most part) getting rich on their efforts. They aren't (generally) celebrities. So they often live lives that fly under the radar.

Harvey Pekar wasn't like that. Hell... he made multiple appearances on David Letterman, even getting into a genuine feud with the talk show host over his corporate sponsors. And a movie was made documenting his life and work. He collaborated with R. Crumb, perhaps the most famous comics artist alive today. Still, he lived a working-class life, and often made that milieu the centerpiece of his art. He told quotidian stories, and employed some intensely talented cartoonists in order to illustrate them.

But what's the deal here? Why am I bringing up this man, months after his unfortunate final demise? It's because of something I read recently on (of all places) the Onion AV pages. Apparently Pekar died as a result of "an accidental overdose of antidepressants". In July the coronor in Cuyahoga County ruled that he died of "natural causes". Now the story has changed, long after the fact. The official record now says that Pekar's death resultyed from an "improper combination of fluoxetine and bupropion, better known as Prozac and Wellbutrin". How does that happen, anyway?

I've got PLENTY of friends currently on a spectrum of maintenance drugs prescribed by their respective psychiatrists (and sometimes on the advice of physician assistants). Unlike the entirety of history up until the last couple decades, chemical solutions to psychological ailments have been well-accepted by the majority of the population. Many even take their efficacy for granted. I'm neither rabidly pro- or anti-pharma. I've known people that have (according to my own best judgment) received noticable benefits by being on a regimen of one antidepressant or another. But I can't help wondering nowadays if no one really knows where we are going with this trend.

Have you ever heard of death by antidepressant overdose?

Tis the Season to Haunt,

c. David Grim (taken 7/13/08)

Does the fact that I sometimes feel like going to haunted houses make me immature? I'm beginning to fell like it might, mostly because I don't know anyone else my age who'd want to go to one with me. I swear it's just the season that puts these thoughts into my head.

When I was growing up I remember checking out all kinds of crap- especially once I hit my tween years. The smell of Fall makes me think about waiting in long lines waiting to see one or another scary seasonal attraction. I can almost bring back the anticipation I felt, wondering what kind of creepy delights awaited me at the head of the line.

Growing up on the East Coast during the early and mid-80's, I imagine the commercials for local Halloween destinations like Brigantine Castle had to be virtually inescapable. That place was like the Holy Grail for kids in smelling distance of New Jersey. It was billed as an extremely scary haunt... the type of place that would expel the cowardly like an allergen. No boy wanted to be the one to have to leave before making it all the way through the tour.

But we didn't have to drive for an hour-and-a-half to check out a scare-fest. Sometimes the stuff put together by local clubs was the best. The rickety nature of the constructions, and the amateur quality of the projects made them extra unpredictable and thus much more anxiety-inducing. The workers in some joints would even make physical contact with those going through... this, of course, before they made such things illegal. And the times were much less commercialized, so you weren't inundated with trendy movie tie-ins. People actually had to be creative.

Anyway, I'm really not trying to be the "old guy" carried away by long-lost memories. I'm sure that kids nowadays have their own special scary experiences for the holiday that they will remember someday with much pleasure. Hell, I know that rural youth tend to invest a lot of time and energy trying to find spooky barns and corn mazes inhabited with ghouls and spectres. And meanwhile city kids have their own spectrum of fearsome phenomena. Perhaps in a few years I'll be checking that kind of thing out with my son, and I'll have another set of memories to be nostalgic about.

Flea-Tique at the Mine.

c. David Grim (taken 6/12/04)

Weird. No matter how long I spend in this city, I'm always finding out about spots in the region that are worth visiting. You'd think I'd have about exhausted the strange sights around Pittsburgh. But apparently this stuff runs both broad and deep. Have you ever heard of the Tour-Ed Mine in Tarentum? I don't understand how I've missed this over the years. It's billed as Western Pennsylvania's Premiere Mine Attraction (!). Check out the site HERE.

The funny thing is that I ended up on top of this abandoned mining operation for reasons entirely unrelated to taking a look at the vast underworld of long-gone work. It was an odd coincidence that I found out that you could actually take a ride below the surface. I was there to check out Flea-Tique, which is held on the third Sunday of the month, May through October. I ran into a guy I know named Dino at a party, and he told me that he sold his freshly-made bread at the event. He described the place in a way that made it seem worth a visit.

Even though my friend and I didn't get up until after 10AM, it was still worth making the trip. I can get a bit uptight about making a late start for these sales, so when I got a call closer to noon than my ideal starting time, I was doubtful about the entire proposition. But it turned out that in the case of Fleatique you don't necesssarily have to be the first one there. Part of the reason that is true is because of the sheer mass and diversity of the offerings. There are rows and rows of tables with items you might expect to see, and a lot that you probably wouldn't. Even if you don't intend on buying much, it can be a lot of fun to look around.

Also, the vendors at Flea-Tique generally know what they have and what it is worth. You're not going to take someone unawares... not in this age of the Internet. If you get a super deal, it's probably not because you are smarter than the dealer, but because he/she is sick of toting it around. I imagine this especially applies on the last sale of the season. I went home with some old postcards of the Jersey shore and a children's book about a family of bottles. My buddy bought a chaise lounge at a very reasonable price, and we went home satisfied and willing to return again next year.