I've been feeling a lot of pressure to produce content that's in some way relevant to culture, tech, or biz. But most of the stuff collecting cobwebs inside my head are of the inane variety. I've become increasingly aware of 'audience' – that is – that my love for writing should somehow produce something concrete, something beyond a selfish motive to expunge.
But that's pretty hard, and I realize I need to better my commitment to the craft, whether it's fighting the urge to sleep the extra five minutes (which turn into ten and twenty), or the itch to get online and evaporate, or giving in to the innumerable ways to procrastinate.
So yes: betterment, blah blah.
Being one of the crazy people (really, so many crazies) not in a cubicle during the day allows me to observe a lot of the city. I always enjoy viewing city life -- especially when the stuff is reminiscent of my picture books. Growing up in suburbia, I always wanted to live in a proper city. Zookeepers and construction workers and ladies in flowered hats attached to big shopping bags dominated the cities in my head. Instead, I got monochrome planned neighborhoods, anonymous faces speeding past in cars and brown clumps of grass.
My reference point for a city comes from Curious George's adventures – how he swung about a throbbing hive full of primary colors, of window washers, kids with balloons, playful fountains and men with newspapers. Better yet, think of Waldo lost among the collage of squiggles. Sure, it was a generic rendition of what a city supposed to be, just like the descriptions in Ramona Quimby or SuperFudge — books that passed through my forgetful 3rd grade head.
Was that when my development crystallized? Third grade? I sure seem to draw a lot of memories from that period.
I suppose most of the authors I read grew up in cities where stoops, fire hydrants and corner grocery stores were common. Perhaps they didn't. Perhaps they drew on memories of mothers and grandpas and whatever it is that comprises Americana. But boy, did I see excitement in that! There was such a liveliness, an insistence of human activity in those colored illustrations!
San Francisco has a lot of that. I blink and snapshots of urbania blooms. A dog leaps and whirls around a woman back from the flower shop, once then twice, tail in a frenzy, before bounding up the stoop into the Victorian door. Two painters with squared caps, legs dangling off the scaffolding, smocks smudged by clouds of pinks and blues, blow rings of purple circles. An old hippie, back bent by the army canvas bag, shuffle up the peeling sidewalk. (Ok, maybe that wasn't it my children books) A young girl adjusts the frock on a mannequin through a boutique window. A young boy peers through a pizza parlor, sneakers on his skateboard.
The city is small enough to observe and big enough to explore.
I suppose all of it heightens my senses. I like it. I think that the everyday details is how the city inhales an exhales. All these inconsequential pieces of activity speak of a deeper heartbeat that pumps life through the city, the despair and hopes and dreams that results in the purchase of a pet, the want to add a fresh coat of paint to the house, the acceptance of one's station... and so on.
Some bike info in case you want to pass it on to Candice also.
This is the bike I would get if I could pay for it:
http://broadwaybicycleschool.com/mastermodel.html
And, if Candice wants to be able to wear dresses and skirts when she bikes, Breezer makes a u-frame bicycle that makes it easy:
http://www.breezerbikes.com/bike_details.cfm?bikeType=town&frame=u&bike=uptown
This is, of course, only if you're looking for new bikes. I personally prefer to search for "vintage schwinn" on ebay and get one of those. The old ones aren't made in China =).
Posted by: susiederkins | September 22, 2007 at 07:18 PM