the cold is here in earnest. i can smell the frost. we were holed up earlier in rebecca's room with all the golden light and i was knitting warm things with wool. there are sunflowers on the kitchen table.
did i mention earlier? for book club this time around we're all reading survival manuals. they come in all shapes and sizes, appealing to all different demographics. the one i'm reading is by a tracker who was taught in his youth by an american indian in the pine barrens. he comes across very sane and sensible, advising you to learn about electrical and plumbing systems in your house. it's a holistic sort of view, that if you're more aware of the systems that surround you you'll live better in general. he recommends keeping six months to a year's worth of food in the house, not only because then you'll have it when you need it, but because you'll save money anyway buying in bulk. it reminds me of the mennonite cookbook i grew up on, which is all about eating simple foods and not wasting anything. why buy bread when it's enjoyable to make it yourself and cheaper anyway? cook with simple ingredients that you can use in many different recipes. share meals with friends and family.
oh, anyway, tom brown, the author of my non-paranoidal survival manual, gives funny comforting metaphors. if you're trapped in your car in a blizzard and feeling claustrophobic, think of the snowshoe rabbit who bundles down in the snow to wait out the storm.
it's good to know how to take care of yourself, and it's good to understand the systems that support us and that they are more fragile than they seem, but this obsession with survival in catastrophic conditions disturbs me. there are sepia-toned ads in the subway, paid for by the city, which advise us to have "go bags," or to be prepared to rescue ourselves, so we don't need to be rescued. vague and alarming, these low-grade warnings have replaced that silly color system. my roommates were discussing what grade of gas mask they should purchase for their go bags. if i were in new york and needed a gas mask, how far could i get even with one? wouldn't we all be fucked, anyway? would i want to live in a place where gas masks are essential to survival? keeping some bags of rice and gallons of water in the kitchen makes sense to me, at least.
and now i'm going to go read about art until i fall asleep.