HOW TO LOOK GOOD IN PANTS WITHOUT REALLY TRYING

it usually takes me until about thursday to get through the sunday new york times. every sunday, i'll look in the newspaper pile at the coffee shop or around the eating area of the grocery store for at least the magazine (for the puzzle) and hopefully the arts and style sections as well, and if i can find them, i probably won't pursue the rest. the loss of the book review is significant, but the pictures therein aren't anything special, and i can always get it for cheap separately (or for nothing online [wince]). if i'm not successful in finding even the magazine by sunday night, i wait until monday to buy the whole paper at rich's downtown. on my luckier monday's, i get rung up for the daily and only have to pay two dollars -- but, to be honest (in every sense of that expression), someone as vocal as i am about the importance of the persistence of print shouldn't have to think twice about coughing up all six.

the paper, or some selection of its constituent parts, ride around in my bike bag for the first three days of the week, and although the magazine probably gets several half hours of attention, the rest acts more just to give my bag a better rigidity for packing lunches, groceries and changes of clothes. by thursday, my weekend and the contingent enticements of coffee and new puzzle hunting are too near for me not to read through the rest of what i have -- or maybe i just hate to think of myself as that hoarder who lets newspapers pile up on the coffee table until someone finds him some ritalin. (true though, that old newspapers have other uses. after all, you can't insulate your clothes with animal bones).

at any rate, i read the sunday new york times on thursday. or sometimes friday. . .or saturday if friday was especially [mood or degree of sociability]. by that point, i've saved myself time by reading most of the content at the nyt website, but can still justify whiling away a couple more work hours (if it's a thursday or saturday morning) in the interest of culling any useful information before the next cycle.

oof. now it's friday, i should really get to my point. an opinion piece in the most recent sunday times referenced a letter written by a friend of the writer's to a small publication in his south carolina hometown. (i meant to bring the piece with me to the coffee shop to excerpt, but alas, early morning drinking does not a careful researcher make. and i can't for the life of me remember the necessary keywords to find the article on the nyt website.) in essence, the excerpted letter demanded that more responsibility for the gulf oil spill be borne by the american people, or, more generally, first world consumers. while i very certainly sympathize with the letter writer on that general sentiment, i balked at his -- what in the context were meant to seem radical -- prescriptions for remedy: "bike to work. plant a garden." seriously? i bike to work. we have a garden. and those choices weren't precipitated by financial or environmental disaster. but then a second thought.

then i remember where i live. people in portland ride their bikes. they grow their own food and raise farm animals in their yards. and it's a matter of cool. we save money and help the environment, but it's an easy choice because it's the thing to do. or at least -- to make allowance for giving individuals the credit they deserve -- our desires to be good are supported by municipal infrastructure and a sense that doing less would strip us of coveted identity accessories and social collateral. i'm hard on portland, but it's because portland's so easy on us as residents. true, a city like this doesn't just happen. it takes a community of forward thinkers to elect and enact along the lines that make portland so livable and admirable. maybe it's liberal guilt, then, that i feel obliged to scorn what's been put in my lap without my having had to struggle for it myself, because, indeed, more of america's/the world's urban population should live like we do (see? it's impossible to shrug off the smug). but maybe we're pushing it for the wrong reasons; though that, of course, has never been reason enough not to push it.

we raise chickens. or, more correctly, monique raises chickens, and i live with monique. we both appreciated this article on the new domestication (read the article and you won't think that pejorative) of intelligent, powerful women. in fact, i picked it out of that week's magazine (sober, even) and stuck it on the refrigerator. monique's final word on the matter? "why's that girl in the picture dressed so homely? you know she's been gardening in her mini dress." in the end, we're acting the (radical?) part but aren't going to stop dressing our own. nor do we have to -- or could we, if we want to keep our status in this city. we can be grubby bike commuters and livestock raisers and drop dead sexy urbanites at the same time. and that's an elitism worth propagating.

you're a foodie? don't have the space to grow a garden? whatever. stay smug. keep buying from your favorite community supported agriculture (csa) operation, but buy a share for an income restricted family as well. you'll get your healthy, sustainable produce and, at the same time, help that csa project realize the economies of scale that will make producing healthy, sustainable produce affordable for everyone...and you'll help some poorly styled people eat well as collateral damage.

i'll stop there at the advice of the impeccably costumed fixie rider that i overhead at the north park blocks yesterday while on my way to powell's to get two of the books on the summer reading list: "i have a 'car free' sticker and a 'fuck cars' sticker. but i don't have one of those 'one less car' stickers. that's just preachy."

update: find the op-ed referenced here.