"The yew chunk. Rough turned most of the pieces now, got a decent 11 inch, and a couple of 10 inch bowls from it, as well as a few smaller bowls. The grain is unreal, not seen anything quite like it. Will be sat in front of these waiting until they are dry i think !…."
That sensitivity seems inevitable, I think, because what we consider folk today might actually be a strange and particular thing. It’s not a living tradition, really. It’s more like a snapshot of a tradition—American rural music as it existed at the precise moment that someone thought to make recordings of it. At some point in the twenties or thirties, once enough of those recordings had been made, the whole thing was trapped in amber: It became, officially, the oldest version of rural-American “folk” music that anyone could go back to consult and imitate using their own ears. It became, almost by technological accident, the wellspring and the touchstone, leaving every generation of revivalists looking like a bunch of people holding blurry Polaroids of Eden and arguing over how to resurrect it. It’s like a cargo cult in reverse: Instead of “primitive” people coming across a modern object and surrounding it with elaborate mystical explanations, we get modern people discovering something traditional and erecting intellectual fetishes around it. And looking back to the “beginning,” even out of an earnest, uncalculated love of the music itself, is always going to be at least a little bit ideological, a response to whatever’s happened since.
literally just 16 pages of how to buy wood. that’s it. that’s all. for sixteen pages
i can’t stop thinking about this magazine cover. it’s been like four days and all i can think about is “How To Buy Wood: A 16-Page Special Section”
why didnt i buy this??? why didnt i read this?? now i have no idea how to buy wood. look at this man. gazing lovingly at his wood. look at that. he knows. he knows how to buy wood. i could have known, too. i could have that knowledge that i can see in his sage, wizened face. that could have been me. could have been
Pokey and Gumby.
Photo c/o Kentucky Mae.
destroy anything that betrays you
but that’s suicide
Milwaukee will be testing a new method for ensuring roadway safety this winter—by coating its streets with cheese brine.
The brine is a liquid by-product of the cheese-making process. And disposing of it is a costly and complex matter for dairy farmers. But once the snows hit, Milwaukee’s Department of Public Works will upcycle cast-off cheese brine for use as a de-icer on city streets.
Only in Wisconsin…