Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Phrase origins: off the cuff

I hear the phrase "off the cuff" comes from olden days when debts were literally written on the cuff of the man who provided a service or goods. Kind of a credit system for the pre-credit card era. These days we just mean something was handled in a breezy manner, quickly and without formal preparation -- off the cuff.

What I'd like to do today is investigate a few phrases without benefit of looking anything up. You know, like we used to do it -- off the cuff. So let's begin. And remember: no peeking at the Intertubes. This is just about what you think the phrase indicates, what connections it has for you. I think we have rich repositories of word meanings in our minds and I want to tap only that today. Perhaps next Thursday we can check with the Intertubes and see how we did.

Something to fall back on. This is one of those phrases that just makes sense. It seems both human and basic: it's what we do -- we lean back for support, we fall back onto beds and couches and chairs. And the image of someone falling back, thinking there's someone to catch him when there isn't, makes us very uncomfortable. There is comfort in knowing you have something to fall back on. It seems almost primal. I like when expressions readily indicate their meaning. In other words, you don't need someone to explain this to you when you hear it for the first time. It makes sense. Since it's such a nice, direct phrase I'm not surprised it sees such wide use (or used to, anyway when people had, you know, language). But if it has a specific origin, tied to events or persons or institutions, I have no idea what that might be. The phrase just seems natural.

Well-heeled. I think this phrase belongs with the one above. In a sense, when you're well-heeled you literally have something to fall back on: your own supportive heels. I like that. Fresh heels make a fellow stand up sturdy and tall. Of course, the phrase origins are obvious: well-to-do people had the money to keep their shoes well-heeled. So to say one is well-heeled means well off. Shoemakers used to be a big deal, by the way, for those of you who were impertinent enough to have been born after 1980 or so. Cobblers, as they were called, were on every other corner. And jeez, did it smell strange in there. I always wondered how their lungs fared, these cobblers who spent decades working in that environment. In any case, I like the phrase well-heeled but it, like cobblers, has seen better days. I can't remember the last time I heard someone use it.

Hunker down. I really wonder about the origin of this one. I have no clue. Moving to images, somehow this phrase brings the upper back and shoulder area to mind, though I can't say why. It's as if you have to get that area down below the wall, car, or whatever else you're ducking behind. Hunker down. I like the sound of it. Perhaps the "hunk" part of hunker influences me, too. In my mind, I see soldiers or other largish men and someone is literally pushing down on their upper backs and shoulders, to get them to squat, and he's saying, "Hunker down!" I have no idea why this phrase evokes these images in my brain. Of course, the phrase also means "do nothing". When a large group wants to go in six different directions, sometimes the best thing to do is to hunker down -- in other words,  sit tight and do nothing. (Sit tight, eh? I wonder what that one's about.) But for me, you hunker down to remain safe. That's the primary thing I get from it.


Don't upset the apple-cart. This phrase popped into my mind the other day and I wondered if apple-carts were particularly rickety affairs. I don't think I've actually seen someone selling apples from a cart. That's something that was before even my time. I picture a wooden cart that has two large wheels, though this image is probably from old movies. The cart I see in my mind has handles, like a shopping cart. Perhaps when you lifted the handles, the surface would tilt and things would fall off. Is that what it's all about? On the other hand, from my very earliest days I do recall poor people selling all sorts of shoddy whatnot on stands they cobbled (there's that word again!) together with spit and rubber bands. In other words, their goods did indeed stand on a rickety house of cards. Maybe the phrase just comes from a class of vendors who, due to poverty, had to rely on substandard display carts to sell their goods -- carts that apparently tipped all the time.

That's my bunch for today. I will revisit them at a later date and at that time I'll consult the Intertube gods to see what they have to say. What I want to elicit today are your impressions and perhaps any images that these phrases bring to mind, even if the images don't seem constructively related. Sometimes there are gems in the side-knowledge and perhaps when we look these phrases up, we'll see some of our thoughts echoed in the official explanations. No cheating! Look nothing up.

Please chime in by leaving a comment. (Commenting is fun, by the way, not scary. Give it a try. I won't bite. Come out, come out, wherever you are.)

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Four scenes to go

I only have four more scenes to edit/read in Xmas Carol and then it's done. You'd think I'd be happy. Not so.

It's painful to finish a book. I'm the happiest guy in the world when I'm in the middle of a story. It's comforting to be within your own creation; it really is. Coming to the end means saying goodbye to the story and the characters. I'll miss them terribly.

This is why I'm writing such inane posts lately: I'll do anything rather than complete those last four scenes. Because then it's over.

Today I console myself. "You still have four scenes to go, Keith. Things are okay right this second." But the end is coming and this seems oppressive. Mind you, I'll be thrilled again as soon as I dart back into The Worlds, my sci-fi books. They're the next volumes I have to get ready for readers. Once I'm immersed in the story of The Worlds, I'll be fine. It's that in-between state that's so scary. To be bookless: I hate it.

So at the moment things seem gloomy, and the fact that it's raining heavily in NY doesn't help. But on the other hand, the book sounds just right. I swear it's like giving birth -- pain and joy.

UPDATE: Three scenes to go.

Scrivener files may become artistic relics

I use Scrivener to write. It's a Mac-centric program that's about to be released in Windows format. On the Mac it's been around for a while and it's the best program to write with, bar none.

One thing Scrivener allows you to do is collect research materials. You can include recordings, articles, video, web pages, pastes of anything, photos -- all sorts of things. You just tuck them into the "Research" area of your Scrivener files for the book.

I also toss the detritus from the cutting-room floor there. Scenes I've cut, ideas I decided in the end not to use -- they all end up in in my Scrivener book file.

One day, if a book I write (or a book by anyone who uses Scrivener) becomes hugely popular, I imagine these source files will be of interest. They might sell for a pretty penny in our money-crazed culture. I could see them being bid on at Southeby's in ten or twenty years.

Even if my files don't become sacred relics, if there is a fan base for my books I plan to release cut scenes on the blog, to give people another taste of a book they enjoyed. I see this as a real bonus. I'd love to read more of a book I thought I'd finished long ago. Extra scenes! Sounds hot.

There are no negatives with Scrivener. It's all gravy. If you haven't tried it, you might want to check it out. And if you're on a PC, hang on. I expect there will be a version for you later this year. It is so easy to write with Scrivener. Just open it up, take a sip of espresso and you're writing. It's really that simple. (Well, okay, it isn't; but when you're ready to write, Scrivener can help.)

Monday, May 16, 2011

I have decided not to run for President

It's true. After a long talk with my associate, Nils, I have decided to remove my hat from the ring. I shan't run for President of the United States after all.

It was Nils who convinced me. He said, "You'll have to eat all sorts of sickening food on the campaign trail. You're too precious. You have important, ungodly books to write. You mustn't subject your stomach to unpalatable fare."

There is no way to argue with logical rigor of this sort. Besides, Nils is always right about everything. Therefore, I shall not run for President of the United States in 2012. There! I've said it.

I know this news will come as a shock and a disappointment to my cadre of loyal supporters. But with your -- and Nils' -- continued support I believe I will go on to write books that will make you proud! The country, alas, must go on without me. It's a bit like that scene in Evita, isn't it? Except for me not dying, and all.

Don't cry for me, my cadre! Things will work out in the end. I promise.

About that heaven idea

From an interview with Stephen Hawking:
"I have lived with the prospect of an early death for the last 49 years. I'm not afraid of death, but I'm in no hurry to die. I have so much I want to do first," he told the newspaper.
"I regard the brain as a computer which will stop working when its components fail. There is no heaven or afterlife for broken down computers; that is a fairy story for people afraid of the dark."

On the other hand, I liked this guy a lot

In my dismissive post below, I forgot Yue Minjun, the Beijing artist who produces wild images of himself. There's something very alive in this man's art. Give us more like this!

If you'd like to read about Minjun, the NY Times wrote an article about him in 2007. They have images of his work there. Once you've seen Minjun's portraits, you don't forget them. Good art is powerful.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Art and its era: a rant

Great art seemingly comes out of nowhere. Life is just bumbling along, nothing new, same old thing -- when suddenly something fresh and new springs up. It doesn't just catch everyone's attention, it beguiles. In an instant, it owns us.

The magical thing is that these huge artistic events make people see their own lives differently. It's as if contact with powerful images, words or music literally alters the quality of people's lives. Great art influences us. In the end, it takes over and colors a time, leaving a permanent brand on the era. It is the era in some intrinsic sense. Certainly when we look back at great art, it perfectly embodies a time and place.


Some of these game-changers are huge, some are small. But their influence is in their reach. Think of small but significant artistic events such as the theme from the movie "A Man and a Woman" and the look and colors of the movie "The Umbrellas of Cherbourg". Remember the way they made you feel? Like a door was opening?

Or take art with a greater impact like the book, "Failsafe" and the movies, "Dr. Strangelove" and "2001: A Space Odyssey". We were different people before and after this art touched our lives, and they opened new artistic doors. Art is a march; it proceeds.


Obviously there were huge artistic events in recent history: Warhol's art, Ginsberg's "Howl", the songs of Bob Dylan and the shocking genius of the Beatles. These artists burst into their era and in the end, became one with their time. They live on there in an eternal way. They are that time.

But my sense is that the gushing torrent of new art began to sputter seriously in the late 80s. After that, when I look for the flow of new art I become like a compass spinning in all directions looking for North. Where did it go? So I'm asking readers this: In the past decade or two do you think there has there been any life-changing art? Was there something so triumphant, novel, colorful and true that it rushed over the country and altered the tenor of our lives? What have I missed?


Offhand, I can't think of a thing. Sure, a song here and there, but that's it. What art has come along? The dreadful "installation" called The Gates -- where Christo and Jeanne-Claude hung ditzy saffron curtains over Central Park? Yeah, that was art. Uh-huh. Let's see, it made people see saffron for a while and wonder whatever happened to the Hare Krishnas. Sigh.


The only culturally significant art I've seen in a long while is Amanda Lear's Chinese Walk. But again, it's just one song and anyway, it won't receive wide exposure. Art has to be seen to have an effect. Still, I saw something there that I haven't seen in a long, hungry while.


Any thoughts? Am I being too harsh? After all, there was McQueen in fashion, and . . . what else?