I remember there was that series of catastrophic - that catastrophic time of 9/11, and then going to war and then Katrina, and these things that kept happening. And at that same time, I started to lose - I have several friends that died all at once. And I found myself compelled, like this weird, shameful compulsion to draw cute animals. That was all I could stand to draw. You know, just cry and draw cute animals.
And I’m drawing dancing dogs with crowns on, you know? And, like, really friendly ducks. But I found this monkey, this meditating monkey, and I found that once - when I drew that monkey, it’s not that it fixed the problem. But it did shift it a little bit, or provide me some kind of relief. And that’s when I started to think, maybe that’s what images do, because I believe in all my - with all my heart they have an absolute biological function, that they’re not decoration. They are not an elective, that they have a function.
And when I saw that just making these lines for this monkey over and over again, it reminded me very much of being 12 - about 12 and falling in love with the song that you couldn’t stop playing over and over and over again because it fixed something or it made the difficult time more bearable. So I am starting to look for places in the ways that people do that. And one of the ways people do that is in doodling. You’ll see people do it all the time. And I think what they’re doing is making a very boring meeting, for example, more bearable.
Even just by - just by - it’s just a micro shift, but it’s enough so that it can make it so they - you know, you don’t - you can stand to stay there and you won’t lose your job.
My gift for the child:
No wife, kids, home;
No money sense. Unemployable.
Friends, yes. But the wrong sort –
The workshy, women, wogs,
Petty infringers of the law, persons
With notifiable diseases,
Poll tax collectors, tarts;
The bottom rung.
I think we’ll make it
Public, prolonged, painful.
Right, said the baby. That was roughly
What we had in mind.
There are books in which the footnotes or comments scrawled by some reader’s hand in the margin are more interesting than the text. The world is one of these books.
Wherever you turn your eyes the world can shine like transfiguration. You don’t have to bring a thing to it except a little willingness to see. Only, who could have the courage to see it? … Theologians talk about a prevenient grace that precedes grace itself and allows us to accept it. I think there must also be a prevenient courage that allows us to be brave—that is, to acknowledge that there is more beauty than our eyes can bear, that precious things have been put into our hands and to do nothing to honor them is to do great harm.
Slate: A big problem for psychiatrists when it comes to understanding addiction is that there are many of us who have no experience with it on a personal level. So sometimes there’s a built-in disconnect between the treater and the patient.
Maron: Well, yeah, because you guys are just taught to medicate and suggest things. [Pauses.] Have you even read The Big Book?
Maron: Why not?!
Slate: I know, I should… I treat people who swear by it and I haven’t even looked at it.
Maron: Yeah, see, that’s the thing with all you guys. Most therapists have never read that fucking book. But you send people to A.A. meetings, don’t you?
Slate: I do.
Maron: But you have no understanding of what the program is! I can’t understand why it’s not assigned to you guys.
Slate: That’s a really good point. Looking at my shelf right now I see The Neuroscientific Basis and Practical Applications of Psychopharmacology, but books that people in recovery actually use were never assigned to me. I could read them on my own but they’re not part of the curriculum.
Maron: I think a lot of you guys see it as some sort of goofy spiritual system. But there’s a certain brilliance to it. The program uses very simple language, so it works for people who are geniuses or for people who are morons. And it works everywhere—there are programs going on in rooms all over the world and the feeling in all of them is the same. The emotional hunger, the need, the selfishness—it’s all the fucking same! Everybody in those rooms has been to hell and back twice. They’ve fucked up so much that now they’re these demons in exile.
Design is a vessel. There’s the whole Buddhist thing about the essence of a bowl being its emptiness—that’s why it’s useful. Its emptiness allows it to hold something. I guess that means that design must talk about something else. If you make design about design, you’re just stacking bowls, and that’s not what bowls are for.
You can replace “design” with language, literature, criticism, etc. If you make these vessels about themselves, you’re just stacking for stacking’s sake / talking for talking’s sake.
In prison Angel thought that it wouldn’t be too hard to find a job once he got out. He believed he had come a long way. At eighteen he hadn’t been able to read or write. He wet his bed and suffered from uncontrollable outbursts of anger. At forty-seven he had studied at the college level. He told me he had read several thousand books. He earned numerous certificates while incarcerated — a Vocational Appliance Repair Certificate, a Certificate of Proficiency of Computer Operator, a Certificate in Library Training, an IPA (Inmate Program Assistant) II Training Certificate, and several welding certifications — but in the outside world these credentials counted for little.
"Irrelevant," Angel said. "They might as well be toilet paper."
How a convicted murderer prepares for a job interview (via Kottke)
I think about telling my dad, who worked for 46 years on the railroad, ‘Somebody offered me $100,000 to put my song in a movie, and I said no because it’s a stupid movie.’ He would want to kill me. The idea of selling out is only understandable to people of privilege.