WW: Waiting for spring

(So we can kill it.)

Good Book: I See By My Outfit

By dint of random good fortune I just read I See By My Outfit: Cross-Country by Scooter—an Adventure, by Peter S. Beagle. This inexplicably obscure American masterpiece is basically Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance meets On the Road by way of Three Men in a Boat, and I heartily recommend it to anyone who appreciated those classics. (I commend it even harder to those who couldn't get through the first two. Beagle utterly lacks the pretence of Kerouac or Pirsig.)

In 1963, Peter and his childhood best friend, artist Phil Sigunick, set out from New York City for the Bay Area on motor scooters. Yeah, that's not a typo: scooters. Weird-looking Heinkel Tourists, from the days when former Nazi aircraft manufacturers were still doghoused by punitive restrictions.

If a cute little city-boy scooter doesn't strike you as the tool for the task, welcome to the adventure. (Past tense form; in the present we call it "catastrophe".)

But Phil and Pete are 24 and invincible, and the tale that ensues is simultaneously hilarious, insightful, and nostalgic. Beagle's tart, economical prose foreshadows the power that will soon make him a cultural icon. A few years later he will write The Last Unicorn (an event subtly hindsighted by his obsession with Tolkien, whose work he has to define for 1964 readers) and become a lion of literary fantasy. But that's even farther ahead than California at this point.

In fact, lots of things are ahead of him, but he's trying not to think about that. For the moment his life is a sequence of picnic grounds and diners; fleabag hotels, pawnshops, and borrowed guitars; breakdowns and rainstorms; eerily prescient cow town parochials; and more than one Cold War cop with little clue where his authority ends – or interest.

Along the way we get pithy, almost poetic descriptions of little towns along old Route 40, some of which have hardly changed in half a century. (I checked on Google Street View.) Pop-culture call-outs recreate the ecosystem of the period. Together with bookish literary references they feed the capital Internet scavenger hunt that signals a great book.

And through it all, the simple joy of being a brash young twentysomething, smart-mouthed and game, and somehow, in Beagle's case, aware of it. His breezy, funny patter is the sort of thing you can only produce – or get away with – at that age. The fact that he and Sigunick constantly remind each other to act like smart-mouthed twentysomethings – because that's their calculated schtick – is at once endearing, and a little surrealistic.

Outfit does suffer from an excess of voice in places, particularly in the repartee between the boys, which can become tedious when it pokes too long in the inside-jokey territory of childhood friends. Fortunately, Beagle's tight pacing limits these interludes to a fleeting irritation.

Some readers have also fingered the riders' casual misogyny, amounting mostly to failure to take women seriously. Beagle himself reportedly winces at those moments now, which as a fellow old man I can well imagine. But their tone is par for young stallions in 1963, and so they are a lesson in their own right. (Full disclosure: my friends and I talked similarly – out of female earshot – twenty years later.)

For the rest, my main complaint is incompleteness. The book badly needs an epilogue, maybe two – one in-period, the other retrospective. And for a book about an artist, it's frustratingly unillustrated. Why don't we have those gouaches Phil's always executing, in parking lots and beside bridges? (Both oversights may have been corrected in subsequent editions; I read the original, with the cover above.)

One thing is certain: I See By My Outfit deserves to be much more widely read. It's a beloved classic waiting fifty years and counting to happen. If you like road stories, or Americana, or social history, or just effervescent, youthful prose, this one's for you.

I nearly cried when it was over, just because there was no more to read.


Update, 7 March 2017: I've just stumbled over this 2012 Chronogram profile of Phil and his wife Judy, in which occurs the following line: "He is also a primary character in Peter S. Beagle’s classic cross-country travelogue, I See By My Outfit, for which he is creating a soon-to-be-published series of illustrations." I hope this means that my above speculation is correct, and that a recent re-issue of Outfit now includes adequate, dare we hope generous, graphic contributions by the book's co-protoganist. I mean, c'mon. Dude shares top billing in this trip, and he's a recognised artist. Isn't this the definition of a "no-brainer"?.

WW: Story problem for cats

Q. You got a whole bed. From pillow to foot, where do you sleep?

A. On the freshly-laundered shirt.

Sikh Koan

I see by my news feed where Sikh temples in West Sacramento, Rio Linda, and Stockton, California, recently opened their doors to refugees in the face of a dam failure and downstream evacuation.

In accordance with the dictates of their faith, they invited any of the 188,000 displaced people, of all races and faiths, to show up at their gurdwaras (temples) for food and shelter.

Fact is, feeding drop-ins is a core Sikh precept. I myself have accepted their hospitality, enjoying fabulous Indian food in a Montréal gurdwara absolutely free of charge. They didn't even hit me up for a donation.

Their example renders me thoughtful.

We Zenners go out with an empty bowl, and try to fill it.

They go out with a full bowl, and try to empty it.

Wu Ya's commentary: 「そうですね」


(Photo of The Golden Temple [Harmandir Sahib] of Amritsar courtesy of Ian Sewall and Wikimedia Commons.)

WW: Scary times

(This 1909 magazine cover documents the dangers that modern society poses to our youth. As you can see, a rebellious young woman is getting up to all kinds of risky behaviour behind her parents' back, using advanced technology they don't understand.

Strange days indeed.)

Good Song: Always Look on the Bright Side Of Life

Christian imagery notwithstanding, I maintain that this is the Zennest song ever written. I mean, c'mon, brothers and sisters: isn't it just a detailed exposition of Yunmen's "Every day is a good day"? (His one-line summation, I remind you, of our entire religion.)

Interesting to consider, now my MP3 library runs a week straight without repetition, that this was the first song I ever downloaded, all those years ago. It was a moment I desperately needed it – and coincidentally the beginning of my monastic practice – and it did not disappoint. I'm hoping it will work again now, for me and for all my fellow seekers.

Because these times aren't just dark, they're literally psychopathic. Crucifixion is an excellent metaphor for the way many decent, rational folks feel today, when the most spiteful of our number are seizing control of erstwhile stable nations and threatening to solve our little hand grenade problem by pulling the pin out.

At such times, it's nice to have a concise catalogue of relevant koans to ponder, to concentrate the mind and stimulate insight.

So here it is. Use it in good health, o sangha of mine.

And just remember that the last laugh is on you.

(Incidentally, a .wav file of this song is available at the bottom of this web page. Some of us've got to live as well, you know.)


The lyrics approximate:

ALWAYS LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE OF LIFE
by Eric Idle

Some things in life are bad
They can really make you mad
Other things just make you swear and curse
When you're chewing on life's gristle
Don't grumble, give a whistle
And this'll help things turn out for the best

And always look on the bright side of life
Always look on the bright side of life
If life seems jolly rotten
There's something you've forgotten
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing
When you're feeling in the dumps
Don't be silly chumps
Just purse your lips and whistle, that's the thing

And always look on the bright side of life
Always look on the bright side of life
For life is quite absurd
And death's the final word
You must always face the curtain with a bow
Forget about your sin, give the audience a grin
Enjoy it; it's your last chance anyhow

So always look on the bright side of death
Just before you draw your terminal breath
Life's a piece of shit
When you look at it
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true
You'll see it's all a show
Keep 'em laughing as you go
Just remember that the last laugh is on you

And always look on the bright side of life
Always look on the right side of life

Always look on the bright side of life
Always look on the bright side of life

(Worse things happen at sea, you know)

Always look on the bright side of life...

I mean, what've you got to lose?
You know, "you come from nothing, you're going back to nothing..."
What've you lost?
Nothing!

WW: WARNING: MICRO-TIGER