I think I have decided that I like to crochet a lot, but not too much. Ugh, that sentence makes no sense. Okay, there are patterns that are just ‘do nothing but crochet in this direction for this long and then come back.’ Eventually those start to bore me. How many more feet of the same color can I stare at?
But the type of afghan like what I’m working on now, which has a lot of small parts that have to be put together, I also don’t necessarily like. I don’t like when the putting together takes as long as the making of the motifs.
A thing I think I have come to realize about this designer is that, for her, the joy is in the putting together.
And I have to tell you, once I realized this was what she loves about the process, it made me less resentful of how long it’s taking to get everything together.
Anyway, on Thursday I’m going to talk to some folks about the bombing book. I am nervous as fuck.
I really want my book to strike the sweet spot where it is conversational and accessible to regular people and also I want historians to find it useful. But if ordinary Nashvillians can’t read it then I have failed.
But I haven’t read a lot of history books written like I’m writing this–with snarky asides and long meandering discussions of whether a person’s literary aesthetic informs their racist violence aesthetic.
So, I guess, if you have read a book like that, let me know. I’d like to compare approaches.