Binary thinking leaves out so much. For example,
Reading only left to right, or up and down,

Ignores all our wishes for comfort, for circular motion,
All the ways that the happier letterforms seek the option

Not to stand alone. Their living space is ample,
Hot in June, cold in March, with pencil lines of frost

Along the stems and twigs in all their dewy, new-built
Nests. Some warblers build more than one.

Each feels tiny compared to thunderstorms, construction
Cranes, plate tectonics and how the past

Harms the present with its slush-avalanches of guilt,
And yet it made us—us. How little we know. How much

Knowing isn’t the point. We love how the letters can touch.

Stephanie Burt

I have been practicing digital design for over 20 years. From web to print to UX to UI to development to server administration, I have been involved in all parts of design. I even supervise designers and developers. The only part of design I haven’t done is examining design patent. I have learned that the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office (USPTO) has a design department. I was so tempting to give it a try. I hesitated because I live with a patent examiner and witness all the stress she endures. She works at nights and on weekends to meet her productions. I don’t think I can handle that level of stress. In addition, I don’t want to give up the creating part of what I do. I still love crafting webpages using HTML & CSS. I still love blogging. I still love typesetting. I still love playing around with web technologies. Examining design is not for me.

I have a profile page on Marketplace where I sell new and used hockey skates, figure skates, roller skates, and rollerblades. My kids grew out of them and some aren’t interested anymore. Prices are dirt cheap. I had bought used skates, skis, and snowboards on Marketplace as well. I guess I just can’t deactivate Facebook.

All things must come
to an end, but I never
want them to end: I would rather keep on
an open book, continue whatever
gets me excited, replay
a lightning strike, or cast
a plumb line that may never touch
the bottom, crash
through every stubborn wall. It’s
true that I come to a point. I divide
each present from every past. But I also exist
to celebrate what’s next; I support
purposiveness, enterprise, and the intrepid spirit
of getting things done. That’s why I feel deeply akin
to vacuum cleaners, to the letter T,
to batteries, and to the short
and long versions of any handmade stroke
that could be the numeral 1, or an 1, or an I.
I am, also, an inkblot, a sudden stain
emerging below a quill pen, a sign
of danger, and a way to be overjoyed,
an antiquated firearm along
with smoke from its retort.
And I have been able to see
myself as a telescope;
a way to print
the otherwise
unprintable; a tail
for flight, or for seaside escape,
and even the kind
of anchor that stands for hope.
I am the lever big enough
to move the world, the world you move,
actions and actors,
the proof and the claim you prove,
the product of all mathematical factors.
You cannot use me
as a taxi, or for a quick lift, or just to get
yourself from one place to another; I mean to stay.
I can announce
the end of everything,
the feeling of dangling, of having
the world on a string,
or else a new day.

Stephanie Burt

With Counterclock, Clark Gibson and his band take listeners back to the bebop era. Gibson’s naked saxophone solo on “Embraceable You” brings back nostalgia. His duet with trumpeter Sean Jones on “Boptude” brings back the good old days of Bird & Diz. The trio solo (with Michael Dease on baritone saxophone) is just striking. With contribution of Pat Bianchi (b3 organ), Lewis Nash (drums) and Nick Mancini (vibraphone), this album lifts up my spirit for a long, rainy day at work.

Kris Sowersby writes:

To curate means to care, not to make a list. We like to remember those who start things, but the real work of archives and institutions is the maintenance and continuation of them. Starting something is easy, caring for it over centuries is hard.

Read Kris’s in-depth essay on Martina Plantijn, his latest typeface release.

Neither one thing nor the same
thing all the time, I am the punch
lines of jokes about copy and type, the mark of least use,
the maiden aunt of punctuation.
I feel at home in old formes, amid dust and clutter,
akin to the moths whose wings show my outline,
no good in a crunch.
Educated kids forget my name
or try to turn when, if ever, they would choose
me into a game. I am also accused
of harboring ambitions above my station.

I am still figuring some of that out myself.
I know, though, that I was made to join together
things formerly thought incompatible, to be neither-
nor and both-and; to seek a connection
that does not amount to copulation.
In Greek I simply indicate a question.
I always keep one eye open. I know what I’ve seen.

My siblings-in-arms include the tractor trailer,
platypus, lungfish, merfolk and seaplane.
When challenged about my right
to exist by some precocious reader or editor
who makes my deletion into a helpful suggestion,
I once allowed myself to be struck out;
now, however, I will more likely assert
that I have been around for centuries,
long before anyone asked me to explain.

Stephanie Burt

While biting into a Lee’s sandwich and listening to Mile Davis’s solo, I was enjoying the best of both worlds. When Black folks took Western instruments and put their own sounds into them, they created jazz. When Vietnamese folks took French baguettes and put their own flavors into them, they created bánh mì. Isn’t life just beautiful when you take a second to appreciate it?

Big shoutout to Lee’s Sandwiches at Falls Church for supporting Liên Đoàn Hùng Vương. Your delicious bánh mì keeps our stomach stuffed and our scouting spirit soaring.

Sligo town

This small child at a travellers’ halting site
(in American: trailer park)
chose to arrange
two-dozen-odd slabs of cracked asphalt,
each about the size of a housecat,
so that
they made a straight path, then veered up to the property line
in the shape of a giant, crumbling question mark.
Anything, given time, can become a fine
art. Anything can turn over, or decline,
or break, or come back together, or simply change.
Put that in your model museum. Put that in your vault.

Stephanie Burt

Đán is a natural rollerblader, but he lacks the motivation. He rather plays on his PC than blading at the skatepark. Getting him out of the house always created tensions. He would throw a tantrum when I asked him to go out. I would get infuriated watching him and his brothers fixed to their screens. I no longer make it optional to get out of the house. They need to get out even if they don’t skate.

Đán outgrew his rollerblades. He couldn’t do much with them at the skatepark, but he refused to make the switch to aggressive skates. Last week, I bought him a pair of USD Transformer skates from Marketplace. I took away his old rollerblades and asked him to give the aggressive skates a try. He put them on and he was just shredding it. He could jump over the spines on the half pipes. He could blade over the ramps. He could drop into the bowl from the deep end.

With the copings on the aggressive skates, he can stall, grind, and do more tricks. I hope he will be motivated again to push himself further. Blading can keep himself physically active, mentally strong, and morally sound.