218024 Curiosities served
I am the Strohwitwer
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...gü gü gatchüb.
***
The Germans, strangely, have a word for what I am this weekend. Steffi's departure this past Thursday for a Germanic Studies conference in Lexington, Kentucky put me in the position of being home alone for most of the weekend. As she will not return until late this evening, I am a "temporary bachelor," or as the Germans would label me, a Strohwitwer. This is an interesting compound noun, and its individual constituents translate into Straw and Widower. (No idea as to what the "straw" part might refer.) I think it's quite odd that my wife's countrymen and women actually have a description for the lonely guy sitting at home waiting for the missus to return, and I'm left wondering what those kooky Germans do... Are the men over there so insufferable that the women have to go away for a few days just to relax and recharge their tolerance batteries so that the marriage remains intact?
Well, we'll see if Steffi's nicer to me when she returns...
***
Ducked out of work an hour early yesterday to attend the biweekly meeting of The Society for the Consumption of Alcohol at Soireis, or in other words, "The UNC German TA's Celebration of Payday and a Temporary Reprieve from Poverty." Since the weather resembles Spring again, we got together at the unusually named Biergarten "He's not Here," one of the few places in Chapel Hill where one can sit outside and drink beer around picnic tables shaded by large trees.
It's a popular spot, and we discovered later that undergrads - particulary the "Greeks" -love the place. No question as to why: apparently one doesn't have to be 21 to drink. I haven't seen kids this young drinking since I lived in Germany (where it's legal to drink beer at 16.) I was also left stunned by the (lack of) clothes that the "sorostitutes" (as Catherine, the TA coordinator for German 3, termed them) had on. I had no idea that such expensive attire could make one look so cheap. If there had been a shady street corner under the beer garden's trees, the scene would have been complete.
***
My slighty intoxicated return to an empty townhouse left me unfocused and aimless for most of the evening. Finally realizing around 9:00 that the self-absorbed funk I was in wasn't just going to evaporate, I decided to read through my German 3 students' last essay assignment of the semester. Since these papers needed a grade before Monday at 11, I figured a foul-mooded Friday night would be as good a time as any to get 'em done. I finished around 11:30, called it a day, and went to bed much earlier on a weekend evening than I usually would.
***
Today I got up earlier on a weekday morning than I usually would and, surprisingly, mustered up the motivation to make a field trip to Raleigh. The NC Literary Festival was/is in full swing on NC State's campus and a number of writer-friends and acquaintances were/are attending. So it seemed like a good way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Had the chance to attend a writers' panel on "The New Strange," moderated by John Kessel and attended by the writer guests Kelly Link, Andy Duncan, Dale Bailey, and Richard Butner.
I wish I had taken notes because about the only concrete observation I came away from the panel was that "New Strange fiction has little or no need to explain fantastic story elements which, in the past and in other genres, always warranted explanation or further exposition." One example was that of the zombie, whose presence as characters in stories by both Link and Bailey was a given, and the "how" or "why" of their existence received no scrutiny.) As always, I was too cowardly to ask the one question that came to my mind: "How does 'The New Strange' differ from the 'Old?'" I kept thinking that if a cognizant Kafka-zombie had been at the panel and read a passage of one of his works (like the other panelists), he wouldn't have been at all out of place. Die Verwandlung ("The Metamorphisis") would have complemented Link's, Duncan's, Bailey's, and Butner's selections.
It was good to see Dale again -- whom I met at last year's Trinicon (sadly he won't be returning to this year's event) -- and I took the opportunity to finally buy a copy of House of Bones and have him sign it. Should be interesting to read a horror story from the man who wrote his doctoral dissertation on the Haunted House in horror fiction.
Andy Duncan, a true Southern author unafraid to claim his accent, is one of the nicest all-around guys one could meet, and I'm glad I had the foresight to bring along the previously unsigned copy of Beluthahatchie, which I received as partial payment from Golden Gryphon Press for the wrap-around dustjacket I designed for my dad's book Brighten to Incandescence. Andy received his MA in English at NC State, studied under John Kessel, and now teaches English at The University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa.
I also enjoyed the opportunity to meet Kelly Link, an up and coming writer who founded "Small Beer Press" with her husband in order to publish some of those "New Strange" stories that might not otherwise find homes in print. Their periodical, entitled "Lady Churchhill's Rosebud Wristlet" is published 3 times a year (so says the website). I can't remember whether Kelly is a native North Carolinian, but she did live in Greensboro, where she attended its UNC affiliate and earned her MFA in Creative Writing.
And I nearly forgot to mention attending Karen Joy Fowler's and Pamela Duncan's readings. The session was entitled "The Female Protagonist" and the two writers selected passages to read from The Jane Austen Book Club (Fowler) and Plant Life (Duncan). Both readers selections, I thought were quite entertaining, but one older, white-haired lady sitting a few rows in front of me must not have thought so. During Duncan's oration, the little old lady fell asleep and began snoring, loud enough in fact that Duncan lost her place and broke into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
And last but not least, it was great to see Jason Lundberg, his wife Janet Chui, and Andreas and Luna Black -- all four aspiring writers. They were, in fact, my main reason this morning to get in the old, red 1988 Mazda and risk the 40 mile trip through Raleigh and its traffic to NC State.
***
Books currently under the glass:
The Flickering Mind by Todd Oppenheimer
Writing Horror edited by Mort Castle, HWA
***
The Germans, strangely, have a word for what I am this weekend. Steffi's departure this past Thursday for a Germanic Studies conference in Lexington, Kentucky put me in the position of being home alone for most of the weekend. As she will not return until late this evening, I am a "temporary bachelor," or as the Germans would label me, a Strohwitwer. This is an interesting compound noun, and its individual constituents translate into Straw and Widower. (No idea as to what the "straw" part might refer.) I think it's quite odd that my wife's countrymen and women actually have a description for the lonely guy sitting at home waiting for the missus to return, and I'm left wondering what those kooky Germans do... Are the men over there so insufferable that the women have to go away for a few days just to relax and recharge their tolerance batteries so that the marriage remains intact?
Well, we'll see if Steffi's nicer to me when she returns...
***
Ducked out of work an hour early yesterday to attend the biweekly meeting of The Society for the Consumption of Alcohol at Soireis, or in other words, "The UNC German TA's Celebration of Payday and a Temporary Reprieve from Poverty." Since the weather resembles Spring again, we got together at the unusually named Biergarten "He's not Here," one of the few places in Chapel Hill where one can sit outside and drink beer around picnic tables shaded by large trees.
It's a popular spot, and we discovered later that undergrads - particulary the "Greeks" -love the place. No question as to why: apparently one doesn't have to be 21 to drink. I haven't seen kids this young drinking since I lived in Germany (where it's legal to drink beer at 16.) I was also left stunned by the (lack of) clothes that the "sorostitutes" (as Catherine, the TA coordinator for German 3, termed them) had on. I had no idea that such expensive attire could make one look so cheap. If there had been a shady street corner under the beer garden's trees, the scene would have been complete.
***
My slighty intoxicated return to an empty townhouse left me unfocused and aimless for most of the evening. Finally realizing around 9:00 that the self-absorbed funk I was in wasn't just going to evaporate, I decided to read through my German 3 students' last essay assignment of the semester. Since these papers needed a grade before Monday at 11, I figured a foul-mooded Friday night would be as good a time as any to get 'em done. I finished around 11:30, called it a day, and went to bed much earlier on a weekend evening than I usually would.
***
Today I got up earlier on a weekday morning than I usually would and, surprisingly, mustered up the motivation to make a field trip to Raleigh. The NC Literary Festival was/is in full swing on NC State's campus and a number of writer-friends and acquaintances were/are attending. So it seemed like a good way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Had the chance to attend a writers' panel on "The New Strange," moderated by John Kessel and attended by the writer guests Kelly Link, Andy Duncan, Dale Bailey, and Richard Butner.
I wish I had taken notes because about the only concrete observation I came away from the panel was that "New Strange fiction has little or no need to explain fantastic story elements which, in the past and in other genres, always warranted explanation or further exposition." One example was that of the zombie, whose presence as characters in stories by both Link and Bailey was a given, and the "how" or "why" of their existence received no scrutiny.) As always, I was too cowardly to ask the one question that came to my mind: "How does 'The New Strange' differ from the 'Old?'" I kept thinking that if a cognizant Kafka-zombie had been at the panel and read a passage of one of his works (like the other panelists), he wouldn't have been at all out of place. Die Verwandlung ("The Metamorphisis") would have complemented Link's, Duncan's, Bailey's, and Butner's selections.
It was good to see Dale again -- whom I met at last year's Trinicon (sadly he won't be returning to this year's event) -- and I took the opportunity to finally buy a copy of House of Bones and have him sign it. Should be interesting to read a horror story from the man who wrote his doctoral dissertation on the Haunted House in horror fiction.
Andy Duncan, a true Southern author unafraid to claim his accent, is one of the nicest all-around guys one could meet, and I'm glad I had the foresight to bring along the previously unsigned copy of Beluthahatchie, which I received as partial payment from Golden Gryphon Press for the wrap-around dustjacket I designed for my dad's book Brighten to Incandescence. Andy received his MA in English at NC State, studied under John Kessel, and now teaches English at The University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa.
I also enjoyed the opportunity to meet Kelly Link, an up and coming writer who founded "Small Beer Press" with her husband in order to publish some of those "New Strange" stories that might not otherwise find homes in print. Their periodical, entitled "Lady Churchhill's Rosebud Wristlet" is published 3 times a year (so says the website). I can't remember whether Kelly is a native North Carolinian, but she did live in Greensboro, where she attended its UNC affiliate and earned her MFA in Creative Writing.
And I nearly forgot to mention attending Karen Joy Fowler's and Pamela Duncan's readings. The session was entitled "The Female Protagonist" and the two writers selected passages to read from The Jane Austen Book Club (Fowler) and Plant Life (Duncan). Both readers selections, I thought were quite entertaining, but one older, white-haired lady sitting a few rows in front of me must not have thought so. During Duncan's oration, the little old lady fell asleep and began snoring, loud enough in fact that Duncan lost her place and broke into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
And last but not least, it was great to see Jason Lundberg, his wife Janet Chui, and Andreas and Luna Black -- all four aspiring writers. They were, in fact, my main reason this morning to get in the old, red 1988 Mazda and risk the 40 mile trip through Raleigh and its traffic to NC State.
***
Books currently under the glass:
The Flickering Mind by Todd Oppenheimer
Writing Horror edited by Mort Castle, HWA
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