Apparently I Have Debased Myself in Asking for Your Support

Dear All Six of You,
I woke up this morning to an unsolicited email which I will copy below, along with my response. I know there's really no use in responding to people with such opinions, but y'all know me-- I just can't resist the bait. Funny thing is, I probably thought about it for a year or more before posting a virtual tip jar here to see about shifting to a model in which I directly ask readers if they might like to kick in a few bucks. I felt a little reluctant to do so-- nobody is asking me to be a writer. But what the Internet has done to deplete opportunities for paying writing gigs has taken a toll on how I used to make a living. So it was an experiment. For those of you who kicked in, I thank you and I want you to know that I immediately put your donations toward my wedding business advertising so that I can turn that into a full time gig and stop fooling myself into thinking that I will ever again be able to fully support myself with my writing, something I have been able to do (if barely) for 20 years or so until recently. 


Now, onto the unsolicited commentary and my response. By all means, if you have an opinion on the topic please feel free to comment below. Let's talk about this-- writers: do they deserve to get paid or are they delusional idiots who need to get a grip and find another line of work? 


THE LETTER

Dear Spike,

First of all, this isn't about weddings--it was simply the only email address I could find for you (I apologize for this.) 

And I LOVE your writing (I, too, am a freelance writer.)

That said, your recent blog asking for sponsors compels me to respond.  I'm the first person to support the arts and

writers and I know markets are drying up out there. However, at some point we all have to take some responsibility for

our financial situations.  (Here I'm sharing the wisdom (!) of my 65-plus years, which have been both bad and good from

a money standpoint.)

Some years ago, you wrote a piece for the Chronicle called "Broke.com" in which you stated that your salary during a recent good year was about 60K.  So why didn't you save some of it?  Even 10K?  Duh!!!!!  I know, I know, nobody's perfect, but we can be creative types AND canny financial managers at the same time.  The two are not counterintuitive.

It may be romantic to be a starving artist, but survival instincts have to kick in some time and, yes, sometimes we have to compromise, take jobs we don't like, start saving, etc. etc.  I think you debase yourself, your craft and others in the arts by

asking for handouts.

Sincerely,

D________

MY RESPONSE

Honestly D________

I have to say that I find it really offensive that you would venture to lecture me. Why didn't I save any money? I don't have time for the extended list, but here are a few bullet points:

1. I raised a child on my own in a city where my rent started out at about $400 per month and eventually hit $1200 before I got a mortgage on a house in East Austin. I put my entire savings into buying this house so that I could leave my son something after I die. My mortgage is outrageous and the house I got sold for about $100,000 more than it would have just eight years prior to my buying it. In case you didn't notice, little hippie Austin is no longer an affordable place to live.

2. I am an uninsurable American. No, wait-- the recent government program that is part of the Obama overhaul means that at long last I can get insurance but until that happened (very recently) my many pre-existing conditions meant that any time I needed surgery I had to pay cash. For example, take my cataract surgery last December. $3000. I did have insurance in 2008 when I needed a hysterectomy- this coverage came from my partner's then-job (which he no longer has). However, at the time I was working for a company that suddenly folded-- at the time I was owed $5000 and I never saw a cent of it. I was laid up for six weeks, unable to work although I didn't let that stop me as I, to the best of my ability, pursued work from bed (no, not THAT kind of work) using the internet. 

3. Come to think of it, there was that one other time I had insurance-- which was good because I had to have a malignant ovarian tumor (and the ovary) removed. Back then I was mid-divorce (a short-lived foolish marriage). I was on my partner's insurance at the time as I hadn't yet found a new plan. Because of my surgery, I couldn't get a new plan. I had to pay for a COBRA plan. Do you know about COBRA? Paying for the outrageously expensive program cost me a lot-- a whole lot. In fact, I had to file a bankruptcy, which took me many, many years to recover from. Perhaps you saw my essay in the New York Times magazine on this topic?

4. So, okay, there was some foolishness that hurt me financially. Silly me-- when my ex-husband decided to stalk me, and when I lost my job because of this, I had the audacity to take him to court. Because-- I know, I know what was I thinking-- I was of the mind that when a man violates a restraining order and jeopardizes the life of his ex-wife and her son (who, let me be clear, was not his son) that that woman should try to take his sorry ass off the streets. I spent every last dime I had trying to put that asshole in jail.

5. Now, let's talk about The Economy and The Internet and The Lack of Paying Work for Writers. In case you missed the memo, we are in a deep recession on par with the Great Depression. Bazillions of people are unemployed. In my particular field, there are fewer and fewer opportunities to find paying work because everybody and their mother has rushed forth to write free "content" in exchange for "exposure" so that big websites can make lots of money, which they do not share. Once upon a time I could eke by as a freelancer but no more. For many years now I have augmented my income as a wedding officiant. Please don't suggest that I'm not out there working-- what a bizarre accusation. Since I have been 14 years old rare have been the instances where I was not working at least two jobs, often three and sometimes four. 

6. Much of my money has gone to paying taxes, which support government programs like, say, Social Security, which you and your fellow baby boomers will have access to but which my generation likely will not. 

7. I debase myself, seriously? I am out there writing about things to do, places to go, plays to see, etc. Does it legitimize my work if I am published in the Statesman? Then is my work worthy of a cash exchange? But when I cut out the middleman and ask regular readers to make a modest contribution I am asking for handouts? No. Wrong. I merely asked if anyone wanted to contribute to defray my costs. I allow my readers to make the decision if they think my words are worth supporting. I suggested that if anyone did want to kick in that a $12 donation-- $1 per month-- would be awesome. And, not that I really owe you an accounting of what I do with this money, but so you know I immediately reinvested the contributions into my wedding business. And why did I do that? Because, Diane, people like you make it very clear that you are fine with accessing writing-- my craft-- without giving back. I no longer have an interest in pursuing bullshit assignments to write what amounts to marketing copy to help fat cats get fatter. I am hopping off the writing-for-a-living boat because that boat is more than halfway sunk, and it is sunk in part because people like you don't get it. 

8. In your note, you presuppose that I think that I think that taking work I don't like is beneath me. Before I tell you some of the jobs I've taken, let me presuppose something about you-- you say you're a writer, too. I did a google search which yielded very little information about your writing "career." Could it be that you have a husband that supports you? Or a trust fund? Or that you made the choice-- entirely yours to make-- to play it safe and work for corporate America to support your scribblings? That's fine-- your choice. But I get choices, too. Writing is what I do. Even if I don't pursue paid writing gigs anymore, I won't ever stop writing. It's a skill I have-- some say a gift (but that sounds rather lofty)-- and I have been able to use it not only to raise my son, but also to help others. I believe that taking the "unsafe" path of pursuing a poor-paying calling has been utterly worth it. I don't give a rat's ass about not having amassed a pile of gold in my bank account. I am just grateful to be alive, sans tumor and cataract. I am grateful that people read my blog, even if they can't or don't want to throw something into the tip jar. 

9. And now, finally, to let you know that I haven't been sitting on my lily white ass waiting for The New Yorker to call, here are but a few jobs I've had since I started working 33 years ago:

a. chicken fat remover (part of my job as cafeteria cook, which I took to pay for my college education)

b. phone solicitor

c. waitress

d. waitress

e. waitress

f. bartender 

g. pet sitter

h. calendar describer 

i. marketing copywriter

j. personal attendant for a disabled child 

k. tutor

l. camp director

m. personal attendant for a senior citizen

n. the list goes on. and on and on and on

Since you took it upon yourself to give me unsolicited advice, let me return the favor. In the future might I advise that you not presuppose that just because someone lives a different lifestyle than yours, or has had different turns of fortune (or lack of fortune) does not automatically mean that that person is sitting around living some romanticized version of the starving artist life. Congratulations on your frugal ways and amassed savings. I suppose it's ageist of me to say it, but you came up in a time when living in this city did not cost four arms and six legs. Their are 80 billion baby boomers now hitting retirement age and I assure you that my generation (and my son's generation) are working our asses off to help support you.

Now, if after reading my response you think that accessing my blog is worth $12 per year, I invite you to click on the donate button over on the right hand side of this page. Don't worry, I'm not holding my breath. 

Spike

p.s. you referred to an article I wrote in which I mentioned making $60k one year-- for the record, that was during the short-lived Internet boom. As a freelance writer, my average annual income most years was closer to $30K which, once you deduct for rent, utilities, food, and childcare left me with about $5 in savings.

Spike Seeks Sponsors-- Are You In?

Dear All Six of You,
After mulling the idea for this post for a very long time, here it is. Today I'm asking if you'll help sponsor my blog. As I pass the virtual tip jar up and down the aisles here, let me tell you why I'm asking. I've been a journalist for going on thirty years (I know, I know, I look damn good for my age). This Internet thing has been a major game changer and with papers and magazines folding all over the place paying gigs have been harder to come by. Those that do surface usually involve me reading ten other existing blog posts and coming up with something that's similar but different enough to not count as plagiarism. The idea behind the majority of this content is to help big websites sell ads. I admit I've grown weary of this not just because I'm hustling and writing crap to fill someone else's bank account, but also because it means less time to write about the stuff that matters to me.

For awhile, I had a gig with JetBlue that was really super awesome-- every month I wrote 50+ posts about how much I love Austin. I wrote restaurant reviews, theater reviews, listed upcoming shows, profiled cool people, and revealed secret treasures all around the city. Of all the writing I've been asked to do commercially, this has been the most fun. (I mean, okay, there were those years and years when I plumbed the depths-- and I do mean depths-- of my personal life, but these days everyone and their mother is doing that and I find I'd rather focus on all the cool things around me, rather than do daily updates about my bowel movements, stray nipple hairs, and thoughts about my ex-husbands.) I was bummed when it ended but have continued to write about our fine city here.

Of course, whether I get sponsorships or not, I won't stop writing. But in the interest of seeking out less crap work and focusing more on what I love-- namely covering All Things Austin-- I thought I'd throw it out there: anybody want to kick in so I can live this dream? I like what Amanda Palmer has to say about asking readers for contributions -- maybe that will inspire you.

Here's what I was thinking-- maybe individual sponsors could kick in $12 per year (a buck a month). If there are any business folks out there who want to contribute more, I'd be glad to highlight your business in a post (which, of course, would clearly indicate you're an official sponsor). If any of you happen to have mountains of cash burning holes in your pockets and want to do a sponsorship in exchange for a premium, here are some possibilities I can offer to donors who kick in $75 or more:

1. I can knit you something that I promise will be VERY unique.
2. I can write a post about you or the topic of your choice.
3. I can entertain some other possible premium that you want to suggest.

There's a donate button over there in the right hand margin if you want to help out with this experiment of mine. And if you're cash short but want to help anyway, I can always use assistance getting the word about about my camps, workshops and wedding officiating-- gigs I take that I enjoy and that help support my writing. Coming up I have a bunch of Summer Camps for Kids and also I'm going to host a silly Summer Camp for Grown Ups in July. I also perform weddings -- there's info right here. And I do private writing coaching, too. So if you'll tell folks who might be interested in any of these projects that I'm out here, that would be super awesome. And let me know if you'd like to be listed as a sponsor on this page.

Thanks,

Spike

Review: AUGUST: Osage County at Zach -- GO GO GO!!

Lauren Lane (left)  and Lana Dieterich. photo (c) Kirk R. Tuck

At long last I got to see the ZACH production of AUGUST: Osage County last night and I have a bit of bad news for y’all— sadly there are only a few more performances before the show closes on May 22^nd. Which means that all the people who should see it (by which I mean EVERYBODY) won’t be able to. So let me begin by saying that, before you read the rest of this review, you really ought to buy your tickets this very second, lest so many bastards beat you to the punch and snap up all the seats for the handful of remaining shows, leaving you to spend the rest of your life regretting having missed it.

Now, about the show. It’s directed by Dave Steakley, who loves to put on big ensemble shows with lots going on (Porgy and Bess, Our Town, RENT, The Drowsy Chaperone, and Keeping it Weird to name but a few). So it’s no surprise that Osage County is deep and rich and supremely textured. Written by Tracy Letts, who won a Pulitzer for the play, the show runs over three hours, though it feels like some time warp thing is going on. Because, though the first act intentionally comes out of the gates slowly, once it picks up steam it just whips along. By the time you walk out you’re thinking, “Wow, that went fast.” 

The basic ingredients of Osage County are the common stuff of countless plays, movies, and TV shows. In this sense, Letts takes a risk. Do we really want to see another portrait of deep family dysfunction that includes long held secrets, sibling rivalry, failed marriages, destructive addictions, and incredibly uncomfortable dinners riddled with accusations, hollering and lies? In this case, the answer is a resounding YES. Letts breathes exciting new life into ideas that, handled by a less savvy writer, might fall under the umbrella of timeworn. He deftly shifts gears—one moment you feel like you’re watching a riotous comedy and the next you feel like you’re at a deep, dark drama.

 

Beyond Letts’ excellent writing, Steakley’s superb directing and a fabulous set by Michael Raiford, the success of ZACH’s Osage County comes most directly from a baker’s dozen cast. Good lord this town is crawling with talent and I was delighted going in, knowing that I’d get to see Lauren Lane and Lana Dieterich perform together. As I’ve said before, Lane (who is a friend and who I was lucky enough to share the stage with in The Dick Monologues) could read the fucking phone book and I’d pay to see it. She is a stunning, stunning, STUNNING actress. As for Dieterich—though I’d only seen her perform twice before (in ZACH’s Our Town and HPT’s VIGIL) that was enough to sell me on her endless talent. I am in love with that woman.

Everyone shines in Osage County, but it is Dieterich as the family matriarch Violet, and Lane as Barbara the eldest of three disconnected sisters, who hold the meatiest roles, characters that are complex, hilarious, angry, and all-around brilliant. And those descriptions barely scratch the surface of how well these women carry off their performances. The standing ovation they received was not your typical Austin Standing O (practically a given at so many shows). Oh no—I wanted to stand up and clap throughout all three acts.

As usual, I refuse to give away any of the plot, beyond mentioning the broad elements that Letts draws on. Let’s just say that this family is supremely fucked up and while I didn’t exactly delight in their suffering, the portrayal of their suffering is absolutely delicious. And Letts throw out a couple of subtle zingers—pay attention for the references to Maria Full of Grace and Carson McCullers, both of which prompted me to let loose snort-enhanced guffaws (really, I guffawed) and double over with laughter.

Oh, there is so much going on here. Barbara’s marriage to Bill (played so well the night I saw the show by understudy Robert Gomes—you’d never have known he was the US except for the note in the program) is portrayed spectacularly. Their arguments—the barbs swapped, the essence of a falling apart after 23 years together—are a beautiful, bitter poetry. Ellie Archer and Irene White play Karen and Ivy respectively, Barbara’s sisters who struggle with the family dynamic as well as personal battles in their own lives. Coming from a family of eight sisters, I particularly loved the subplot of sisterly relations—so much resonance in seeing siblings cut from the same cloth who nonetheless wear that cloth in wildly different fashions.

Rounding out the cast are Janelle Buchanan as Mattie Fae, Greg Baglia as Steve, Michael Holmes as Beverly, Thomas Faustin Huisking as the sheriff, Kendra Perez as Johnna, Corley Pillsbury as Jean, Michael Stuart as Charlie and Jonathan Shultz as Little Charles. All pull their weight—the casting here is wonderful.

Before I saw the show, a number of people told me, “It’s so great, you’re going to love it.” Such predictions make me a little nervous and I worry going in that I’ll either set my expectations too high or, out of subconscious contrarianism, look for reasons to disagree. Even is you share this quality with me, I still feel confident telling you to go, go, GO see see AUGUST: Osage County. Really, it’s so great. You’re going to love it.

Picture Time

I actually play LEGO more often than most 47 year-olds.

Recently I performed a wedding at the Trois Estate, a stone's throw from Enchanted Rock. The place is amazing and the owners collect all sorts of things like cap guns and this rocking stretch cab that I plan to buy for my LEGO-loving pal, GW.

My first Morning Glory of the season. I plant them every year because they remind me of my mom, the world's greatest Morning Glory herder. Some years mine don't come in. This year they are growing like crazy.

Ooooh! So artsy! The Wheatsville neon sign reflected in my back window.

Rebound couldn't have been more excited when I found the long lost bumble bee hat.

My son made me this shirt for Mother's Day. Though, come to think of it, I think he then put it back in his pocket.

Big Red and Wolfie took me out for Mother's Day breakfast at El Chilito. Note that Wolfie inherited his cup-holding technique from BR's side of the family.

My 21st Mother's Day. That was fast.

I heart YardFarm Austin!! Mr. Dare came by to replace my tiny tomato cages with monster cages, necessary to hold up my plants which are now around four feet all. If you haven't called YardFarm yet, you should. Here's but one post about my amazing garden. 

Yesterday I learned how to weave on a mini-loom at Hill Country Weavers. I love learning new fiber crafts. Check out the blog I write for HCW.

Years ago Kriss turned me on to this unbelievable dish at Pacha on Burnet. It's granola with a smoothie made with acai berries. It ain't cheap but OMG it is FANTASTIC! 

Review: A Behanding in Spokane at Hyde Park Theatre

Why do I love live theater? Let me count the ways. Okay, wait, let me cut to the chase and just name a couple of things I dig about seeing a good play. Something happens to me—it’s a thing that can also happen with music, and movies, and books but it seems to me this thing happens most strongly at a play. I find myself both in the moment and reflecting back on my life to moments that connect with what’s going on onstage.

Toward that end, a memory came to me as I sat laughing throughout Hyde Park Theatre’s production of A Behanding in Spokane, which features and is directed by Ken Webster. I want to share that memory here. It’s not the first time I’ve told this story, but for those of you who’ve heard it, I hope you’ll agree it’s worth retelling for all the hilarious horror it contains.

A long time ago, I used to date an asshole whose name rhymes with George. We both loved Scrabble and sex, though looking back I can’t say that we truly loved each other. We were also both extremely competitive. He was a wild snob, lording over me the fact that he was educated at Rice and thus somehow (he thought) superior. Me? I’m the scrappy blue-collar type, with that chip on my shoulder that announces that I overcame a lot to learn polysyllabic words.

Nights we spent hunched over the Scrabble board, I admit I rarely won. But times I was winning, boy did this piss off old George. He had this rule that if I did beat him he would only have sex with me if I would then agree to stay awake afterwards—no matter how late it was—and play another round of Scrabble so he could beat me. He was so self-focused, so determined to win, that my needs and feelings never played into his plans. You might think that a desire for stress-free orgasms combined with a need for eight hours of sleep would at least occasionally lead me to throw a game when I was in the lead. But no. I was so fucking stubborn and he was so fucking stubborn that nobody was going to back down.

Why ever did this memory come flooding back while I watched Behanding? Because the show is peopled with some of the most crazy, obstinate, bull-headed characters I’ve seen brought to life in a long time. Everybody has an agenda and even though some of the characters share mutual goals—like, say, staying alive—nobody is willing to cooperate enough to help the other guy out for long.

The play was written by Martin McDonagh, and Ken Webster (artistic director for HPT) has staged two other McDonagh’s plays to rave reviews: The Pillowman and Lonesome West, both of which I loved. If you know McDonagh’s work and Webster’s taste in materials, you won’t be at all surprised to hear the Behanding is both black and blue. For those of you with delicate ears and a distaste for the profane, you’re better off staying home and listening to your Justin Bieber collection. But the rest of you (us)? You will laugh your heiny off at this show. You won’t mind that a suspension of disbelief is necessary throughout—this is an absurd theatre at its comedic finest. I kept thinking that the show is like a very well-written episode of Jerry Springer what with the violence, relationship troubles, bizarre back story, loaded gun, drug dealing, racism and homophobia (do note that these latter two are intentional and are included in the play to raise points about racism and homophobia).

Webster as Carmichael— a dude who has spent decades looking for his missing hand--- is, as ever, wry and dry and hilarious. Michelle Keffer and Aaron Alexander play Marilyn and Toby, a couple of lowlifes ready to sell each other out at the drop of a shoe, and Mical Trejo just about steals the show as a bitter and annoyed hotel receptionist who hates his title and his lot in life and is delighted at the prospect of taking the others down with him.

I most enjoyed a monologue later in the 90-minute show when Carmichael starts in on his philosophy about the shoes we wear and what they might represent. What will be the last pair of shoes you ever put on? You’ll be thinking about that question and plenty more by the time the show is over.

A Behanding in Spokane plays Thursdays through Saturdays at 8 pm at Hyde Park Theatre. Call 512-479-PLAY to reserve seats.

Dear Austin Bicyclists: It's Time to Git Lit!

Just want to let y'all know about a cool project happening this month-- aka Bike Month Austin. APD got a grant that allowed them to procure 600 sets of bike lights. So, if you're biking after dark without a LEGALLY REQUIRED front light or a HIGHLY RECOMMENDED back light (currently you can legally get by with just a reflector in back) and you get pulled over, instead of ticketing your ass, APD is going to INSTALL LIGHTS on your bike.

Yep, that's right. Free lights. But since it's more relaxing to install your own, rather than deal with getting pulled over, lots of bike shops in Austin are offering a 10% discount on lights and Clown Dog Bike Shop, is offering 25% off.

I'm begging y'all-- if you're a night time biker, please get yer ass some lights. I get so fucking furious at the hotshots zipping around out there (I'm talking to you Fixie Dude) who think it's so badass to dress in all black, fail to illuminate your ride, run red lights, and simultaneously bitch about all the shitty Austin drivers. And I'm also talking to you, oh law-abiding cyclist, who rightfully gets pissed off when some jackass driver doesn't allow you to legally take the lane. (Note to drivers: cyclists are legally entitled to take up a full lane. It is not okay to pass them in the same lane in which they are riding.)

Austin is hardly a cyclist haven and though more bike lanes are springing up, we've got a long way to go before this city is truly bike friendly. In the meanwhile, there are far too many ghost bikes out there marking the sad spots where cyclists have lost their lives to vehicles. Most recently a 24 year old was victim to a hit-and-run on South Lamar-- he died on Easter Sunday.

A couple of years ago, my friend Eileen, who is an avid rider and who does community outreach for Mellow Johnny's Bike Shop, put my ass on a bike and rode with me through rush hour traffic. Though you're far more likely to find me riding my Pee Wee Herman style cruiser on the trails at Mueller, this street ride was a major eye-opener. I witnessed drivers swinging open car doors without checking first to see if anyone was riding up behind. I got yelled at by some loudmouth who wanted me to get off the road-- because she clearly didn't know I had the legal right of way. But I also had a lot of fun. (If you want to read more about that, here's a link to an Austinist column about that ride.)

My personal thoughts about cyclists? I'll keep this brief: When I come up on an ulit cyclist at night, it freaks me out. Often I don't see these riders until it's nearly too late. Selfishly speaking, if I hit a cyclist with my car, even if it's not "my fault," I'm gonna have to live with that shitty feeling for the rest of my life. And the flip side of that is that even if a cyclist does have the right of way, if s/he gets hit, guess who's going to be on the losing end of the equation? And so, I'm beseeching everyone-- drivers and cyclists alike-- to please keep a better eye out for one another.

And I encourage you all to take a class with Eileen, even if you have been biking for years. She is super awesome and knows the bike lanes and laws like no other.

For more info on Bike Month Austin, check out their FB page. For more info on Eileen's classes, check out the Mellow Johnny calendar. And for more info on the city's Get Bright lights project, check out their FB page.

After May 31st, APD is going to hand out citations to cyclists w/o lights. Don't be one of them. Oh, and one more thing-- if you're a well-lit cyclist looking for a way to let other cyclists know about the law without putting those riders on the defense, you can pick up handy little cards from Bike Month Austin to hand out when you pull up next to the no-lighters at stops. The cards have info about the 10% discount.

And in conclusion, here is a very... uh... entertaining rap about the importance of bike lights:

Oh So Happy!

You know how some people just keep having more and more kids and they can't stop writing blogposts about all these new additions? Well I guess that's how I must seem, trumpeting the arrival of every new pair of Vibram FiveFingers. In case one of the six of you has missed past posts on the topic, here's a link to one of them (which includes links to earlier posts). Maybe I should start naming each pair and sending out formal announcements. Oh how I love my Vibrams! In the picture above they are hung in chronological order of acquisition. I have an especial fondness for that gray pair-- they're wool and I had to special order them. The newest pair, on the far right, are already pretty dirty because I put them on almost immediately and started messing around in the garden. Maybe I need to get a fifth pair to wear only in the house, a sort of "For Show" pair, perhaps in faux-leopard print. (If they can make these already ridiculous looking shoes in such delightfully obnoxious colors, surely they can start making them in faux-leopard print, no?) Below: the only photographic proof that the new shoes were ever actually clean.