Letter Writing: Joys and Tribulations; Also, A General Correspondence

Dear Readers,

I have had the interest in writing letters of late. I have not had the time to do so and those to whom I have promised correspondence I apologize. Time is not what it once was.

That said, I am still very much in the mood for correspondence and hope to send a little out this way as well as writing later this weekend, if time allows. I suppose that is the thing right now, "if time allows." Fridays are deliciously open for me and so they make space for repose, thought, and joy in a way that most of my week quashes. Still, most of today has been bouncing between conversational meetings--as opposed to procedural or action-oriented meetings, which are also common--or doing this or that for my graduate assistantship. Maintaining accurate records on participants and projects for the Sustainability Cafe is one, long run around; and I have always loathed run-arounds. The work, as much as I gripe, is rich and will over time be fruitful as well.

Today I finally made it to the public library and picked up a few films (Koko: The Talking Gorilla [Criterion], Before Night Falls, The Golem, and Buffy Season 1 Discs 1 & 2) and books (Some Philip K Dick and The Tiptree Awards Anthology Volume 1). I mentioned to classmates that, even with all of this reading for class, if I had a few days to myself, I would probably spending it watching movies and reading books. I have learned to skim reading material and do it rather well, though I still do not devote enough time to the books even with that skill. Sitting down and leisurely leafing through it provides a sort of succulence, like the slow breach of the skin of a fruit, and gradually tasting the flesh underneath, absorbing the tactile stimulation of each. That, I can safely say, is not on the schedule most of the time. My classmates thought that I was mad.

Also, I have stuck to my bike. Over the past month, I have driven the truck twice: I went to get the oil change and make sure it started in case my roommate needed to use it, and then again the following Sunday for work when I popped a bike tire on the way home and just before going to bed. Luckily, the truck starts and all is well, my tire is in moderate repair--it always feels like it is falling to pieces, just a little--and is regularly weighed down with gloves, hat, sweatshirt, books, food, and I am generally wearing my laptop bag over my shoulder besides. I can't help but feel like a tortoise or one of those hermit crab ladies from Labyrinth. More than once I can be seen biking with a loaf of bread gripped tightly as I bike around because my satchels are too full to be bothered with it.

I long for the Raleigh that was left in Lincoln, though. An investment of a mere $75 and it is one of the most pleasurable bicycles I have ever saddled up with. All in all, the speed isn't much greater, it is only slightly larger and that much closer to my size, and has its own technical foibles; but when I am on it I feel so much more like I am moving. As for the Cannondale, the posture and size feel inappropriate, and more because I so reliably heft around all my earthly belongings does it feel slow. For riding, though, I long for something narrow and smooth and sleek. Also, the Cannondale has that frustrating habit of leaking air just about all of the time no matter how often I replace or patch the tubes.

Schoolwork is some medley of insightful, refreshing, familiar, frustrating, and cyclical. Strangely, it isn't demanding except temporally; in that way all things in my life are demanding. I have considered taking next academic year off to pursue a cooperative housing possibility. I want to purchase or cooperatively purchase a foreclosed property and renovate it with the purpose of having fellow classmates buy "shares" of the house and split ownership finances and responsibilities. I learned about co-op housing a few years ago at Gustavus and have been itching to put it together. The space that is fostered by passionate, clever, supportive, and demanding individuals in a shared living situation is one I recall fondly and long to recreate. Also, my desire to refashion notions of property and ownership, while acknowledging their importance in identity has grown and shifted since I started writing about such subjects in Philosophies of the Environment. Now I am in a place of doing, building, and action in a way that ill-disposes me to highly theoretical class work. I often think of the work of Jane Addams and hope to read more of her work soon.

I long to share this place with others. Friends and family and old acquaintances all come to mind. It is such a lively and creative community and blessed as it is by the scenery and clarity of the landscape. My friends have spent weekends hiking and climbing and biking, adventures I have not had the timing to attend, but sojourns I hope to sooner or later enjoy. In a way, I feel like my life is just as it is, though I don't really believe I can articulate it much more thoroughly. Perhaps it is a feeling of thusness, and immediacy with the world that requires its own hidden vernacular. I feel attuned to the motion of my life, not just having a sense of direction but perceiving that motion and the surroundings that that motion can obscure. Obscurity, clarity, immediacy, transparency, and obfuscation are terms that come to mind frequently these days.

The other term I see myself using is "foster." I am all about fostering space or relationships or myself in a certain way. I mean this very much in the sense of fostering children, though it lacks the institutions and responsibilities that such an endeavor demands. What I am doing is assuming a certain role, certain necessities or demands on my person to provide certain services or roles to others and in the world. Perhaps it is my role as a facilitator for the Cafe, or that I have been composting and gradually building for gardening a row-box, but I sense so much more of myself as someone who provides a basis, a safety net for others, even when those others are non-humans, non-persons, or non-physical. My mother--who was not the last--identified in me a strong nurturing ability and I feel that that is in some way manifesting through this activity of fostering.

Now though, I am off to foster up some dinner for myself, and perhaps a little moving watching or reading. A crazy Friday evening, I know, but sometimes it is what a week like mine calls for.

Amicably and ever (even in absentia) yours,
caleb