Evil Cat of Hell

Profile of a Typical Eugenian

The longer you are away from the place, the easier it is to describe it. While your information may no longer be as detailed or as accurate, it gains a greater narrative traction. I left Oregon over ten years ago now, and the longer I am away, the more I notice the cultural distinctiveness of the region I grew up in. The following is a profile sketch. The term Eugenian most closely applies to those who still live in Eugene or its surrounding environs, but it is a label that is difficult to shake completely. I certainly still consider myself a Eugenian, though I feel that some characteristics have been minimized due to prolonged (and involuntary) exposure to Washington hipsters and other undesirables. Feel free to add to it if you think of something. I'd also love to hear arguments from anyone who takes issue with my characterization.

1. The Eugenian is or has once been a drug dealer, drug producer, drug trafficker or glassblower.
2. The Eugenian considers it vaguely rude to ask specific questions about one's employment (see item 1)
3. The Eugenian speaks mostly in code.
4. Although the Eugenian may use the terms with vague irony,  deep down the  Eugenian  has a basic respect for and understanding of words integral to the hippie lexicon ("family", "kind" etc.)
5. The Eugenian is self-educated or claims to be self-educated.
6. The Eugenian can tell you stories about Lazaar.
7. The Eugenian has at least one story that begins with 'So I was standing outside the W.O.W hall...'
8. The Eugenian blames California.
9. The Eugenian refers to the Oregon Country Fair as 'the Fair'.
10. The Eugenian can make knowing comments about the politics of at least two of the following institutions: kitchen, recycling camp, security, entertainment, or Chez Ray's.
11. The Eugenian is well-acquainted with various conspiracy theories about the Fair and will usually end an explanation or reference to such a conspiracy theory with the word 'man.' As in "Back in the '80's, all that money went up the nose, man."
12. The Eugenian enjoys innuendo about Recycling camp.
13. The Eugenian takes for granted that one understands the hierarchy of glassblowers.
14. The Eugenian who loads a bowl will not take green.
15. The Eugenian appears quite friendly to outsiders, who are unaware that they are being evaluated against a complex code of conduct.
16. Those who fail their evaluations will often never realize it. They will not be ejected from the group, but will continue to exist as secondary citizens. This lower status will only be visible to other Eugenians within the group.
17. The Eugenian can tell you stories about White Bird.
18. The Eugenian considers 'She's from Springfield' or 'It's in Springfield' to be a sufficient explanation of something.

19. The Eugenian considers nutritional yeast to be a typical condiment.

20. The Eugenian is a coffee snob, and has elaborate theories about temperature, grind, and modes of brewing.

21. If the Eugenian is not a coffee drinker, the Eugenian is rabidly obsessed with an obscure type of tea and has elaborate theories about origins, temperature, and modes of brewing. According to the Eugenian, the tea has medicinal qualities. In fact, it's practically a panacea.

22. The Eugenian knows his or her convenience stores.

23. Right. 23.

damn writers

The other day on the bus, I was reading the literature issue of Vice magazine, which (to my credit) I'd only picked up to keep some photocopies dry from the rain. I don't read a lot of what you might term adult contemporary literature (by that I mean fiction written recently by people who are of my own generation or the one before). Normally I would say that I don't read this type of literature because it always makes me feel like I've missed the boat--that I should have published something of note by now. Today, I realized that all the stories were about everyday people living empty, vacant, unhappy lives. I began to think about all of the empty, vacant, depressing lives out there, and then I began to wonder if everyone is really as empty or vacant or depressing as writers seem to think they are. Are the bank clerks and advertising executives of the world really as depressed as writers would have us believe? Or is that the writers themselves are depressed? Or, possibly, do hip twenty something writers just naturally assume that anyone who is not leading a hip, edgy writer's life must be depressed and vacant and morally bankrupt?  Any thoughts on the subject?

word to ya mothah

I was recently reading some intellectual speculation about how our minds work, whether or not we actually think in words. I realized that a lot of the time I think in blog posts. Even when I'm going through one of my longish phases of being a woefully lazy blogger, I think in blog posts. How did I think before I started blogging? As far as I can figure it, I thought in e-mails, letters, journal entries, letters to the editor, fan mail to John Prine, Tom Waits and Steve Earl, and interviews with imaginary journalists. (What are my greatest inspirations? It's hard to say...I have a great appreciation for the work of John Bellairs...) Before that even, I thought in bad teenage poetry or conversations I wished I was cool enough to have. I still think in all of those formats to some degree. I  do have thoughts that are wordless, but if I linger on something for more than a second or so, the words begin to creep in, whispering balefully.

I'm sure I'm not the only one out there who composes pretentious mental epistles about gum on the sidewalk. But sometimes I start to feel like Fred Fuckin' Savage, or, more accurately, the adult who did the voice overs for the wonder years. On these occasions I begin to wish that I was one one of those deep, zen types who can comprehend without commenting.

By the way, although I am writing this in my boss's basement, I composed it while waiting in the rain for the bus yesterday.

At least I'm staying entertained. Any thoughts on the subject?