Today I begin a two-week stint as a guest blogger at Times & Seasons. There’s at least one post I need to make here at AMV very soon, but other than that it’s quite likely that blogging will be light to non-existent here — unless there is breaking news.
I had planned on branching out a bit — taking advantage of T&S‘s more general format — but it’s looking like a healthy percentage of my posts over there will be related to Mormon culture and aesthetics (and boy do they need it).
Times & Seasons posts:
Exclusive AMV note on this post: I had thought of also doing a post specifically on the LDS Church and public relations (I work in the field of marketing/communications/pr) but have decided against it. Without going into detail — I feel like I should hold on to any such commentary or critiques until the point in time (should it arise — and it’s fine with me if it doesn’t) that I can do it in a more authoritative (and more likely to be actually heard) way. Right now it would just be a young turk spouting off for the love of hearing himself talk. Some things can wait (and there are creative projects on hold for the same reason).
Exclusive AMV note on this post: I really hate calling people on the phone. Which seems odd considering that I work in pr. All I can say is I’m lucky that I began my career in the era of e-mail. Actually, I do okay when I’m calling in some sort of official capacity. When that’s the case I can treat it as a performance and have some sort of built-in authority and credibility. It’s when my relationship and expectations aren’t that clear cut or where I’m just another dude that needs something that I have problems. For instance, I hate calling a store to see if they have a certain product in stock.
Bonus exclusive AMV note: In the first post on official discourse, I was thinking of cutting into a canteloupe or honeydew melon when I write: “Of a state of awareness (a stillness, perhaps) where the words cut deep, slicing open the fruits of the spirit releasing a fragrance that enfolds and sweetens the entire experience.”
I very much associate such smells with my southern Utah upbringing. The best melons, if I recall correctly, come from Green River. I’m not sure if that refers to a specific town or just the area, but I remember there being a certain amount of excitement when the Green River melons became available in town.
Exclusive AMV note on this post: Were you a teenage boy in Provo in 1987-88? If so, did you wear maroon and gray to church? Perhaps it was just my ward (which was up on the hill between State St. and the diagonal — we were the poor ward in the stake), but we all wore maroon and gray. The usual combination was gray pants with a pink dress shirt and a maroon tie, but there were many variations. One of my prized possessions was a maroon, knit polo by Ralp Lauren tie. My grandfather picked it up for me at Emporium Capwell’s basement (outlet) in the Bay Area.
Exclusive AMV note on this post: I have to admit that part of the reason I picked up Faces of Modernity is because Matei Calinescu, the author, is a Romanian expatriate. Oddly enough, however, I haven’t read any Mircea Eliade. Or at least anything he published in the U.S. I have read a history of Romania that he wrote while serving as a diplomatic attache in Spain (or was it Italy?) way back before he become a comparative religion demi-god.
Exclusive AMV note on this post: It turns out that Times & Seasons guest blogger Jana Riess wrote an article that was published in the June 1999 edition of Sunstone titled “Stripline Warriers: The Cultural Engagements of Contemporary Mormon Kitsch.” Unfortunately, it’s not yet available online.
Exclusive AMV note on this post: The apologizing for swearing in the workplace thing seems fairly common for Mormon professionals. You know, when a colleague swears and then apologizes for it. I’ve experienced it several times (one or twice every six weeks, I’d say). How about you all?
Exclusive AMV note on this post: Here’s a link to the Bucharest Subway Map. The Piatsa Victoriei stop — where the children’s hospital is — is where the blue and the red lines meet. The Gara de Nord stop — where the story ends — is where the green and red lines meet. Here is an NPR story on Bucharest’s street children.
You know you do.