What It Is (posts below left; rate sheet, client list, other stuff below right)
My name is Bob Land. I am a full-time freelance editor and proofreader, and occasional indexer. This blog is my website.
You'll find my rate sheet and client list here, as well as musings on the life of a freelancer; editing, proofreading, and indexing concerns and issues; my ongoing battles with books and production; and the occasional personal revelation.
Feel free to contact me directly with additional questions: firstname.lastname@example.org.
Thanks for visiting. Leave me a comment. Come back often.
Friday, February 15, 2019
I asked, as plainly as I've stated it for years in some form to each of the members of my family, "Would you just get me something I've been asking for for years? The shipping will cost more than the goods, and together they won't crack ten dollars. I think no one's paid attention to my request because it's seemed too inconsequential. I'd rather get something that obviously means something to me than someone buying me something that doesn't."
This holy grail? A copy of Abbie Hoffman's Steal This Book. I cut my teeth on it when I was about 11, and I wanted it not only for reminiscence but also because it's a wonderful snapshot of New York City before all the bad neighborhoods downtown went yuppie and beyond. Lo and behold, yesterday I received a copy for Valentine's Day. Not one of the original versions with the black cover, but still the typesetting was the original plates. I'm looking forward to reading back through it.
One of the things I remember reading as a yute was about making sandals from old tires, and I did happen to open to that page today while walking back to my office. I then sat down in front of the current manuscript, not 20 seconds later, and read,
"[Name] had a pair of sandals made here—the peasant kind that’s common to this area (wait till you see them—they’re so ugly, they’re neat!). Anyway, his feet are so big that the shoemaker was just amazed. The night we went to get them fitted to his foot, half the village came to look. The shoes are made with tire treads for the soles."
Thursday, February 14, 2019
Tuesday, February 12, 2019
Francis Harper and Arthur Leeds’s archival research in Philadelphia coupled with that conducted in London by Francis Pennell and Professor Ernest Earnest of Temple University during the course of Pennell’s literary and biographical research had identified Bartramian manuscripts and copies that had received little previous study.
Let it also be known that the headmaster of my rightfully much-maligned high school had the name of William Magavern Williams. And he graduated Williams College.
Sunday, February 10, 2019
Friday, February 8, 2019
I still don't think I'll ever recover from the Bristol Krispy Kreme ladies all agreeing that I looked like Stephen King. And that was about 15 years ago. In retrospect, I'm pretty impressed that the staff could call up the image of an author, even one whose face should dissolve camera lenses.
Found this amusing piece on the S. Kings, though. I'm personally tired of being mistaken for every nameless hack who looks like me, and there are a ton of us out there, if a lifetime of my hearing it everywhere I go is any indication.
Wednesday, February 6, 2019
The great Apalachian Mountains, which run from York [Hudson] River back of these Colonies to the Bay of Mexico, show in many Places near the highest Parts of them, Strata Sea Shells, in some Places the marks of them are in the solid Rocks. ’Tis certainly the Wreck of a World we live on! We have Specimens of those Sea shell Rocks broken off near the Tops of those Mountains, brought and deposited in our Library [the Library Company of Philadelphia] as Curiosities. If you have not seen the like, I'll send you a Piece.
Saturday, February 2, 2019
—John le Conte, 1822
If you were in medical school and the army in 1984, with even a hint in your already twice-darkened soul of political aspirations, the closest you should have been to anyone in blackface or Klan pajamas is a photo in a library book that you weren't looking at. Jesus.
Democrat or Republican, one should typically fear doctors-turned-politicians. One ego-crazed profession in a lifetime wasn't enough juice?
Friday, February 1, 2019
Monday, January 28, 2019
Under local stories, I did find a "Mystery Diner" review of a supposedly authentic Korean restaurant in Elizabethton, Tennessee, which is a very nice half-hour drive from here. We think nothing of going to, or toward, Elizabethton for what is routinely considered Tennessee's best barbecue in a small, very out-of-the-way joint, and think of that ranking when it competes against every famous Memphis barbecue place. "Mystery Diner," who I think is any contributor, baffled me when I first saw a straight-up, irony-free review of a local, recently opened Steak and Shake, where the writer first defined the burgers and fries as if they'd been dropped in from another planet . . . and didn't bother with trying the shakes.
Elizabethton is also home of First Presbyterian Church of Elizabethton, TN, which is where Tere and I will go (not even annually) when we want to go to church. Certainly the most open and affirming and welcoming of all Presbyterian congregations I've ever seen anywhere—in East Tennessee. Their former pastor had a syndicated PRI radio show in which he delved into all kinds of theological issues, such as I might come across.
How welcoming was this church? Under the prior pastor, this nice Jewish boy from New York City almost did the aisle walk to take Communion. I was this close, but didn't pull that lever. My feet were moving, almost.
How did the pastor do it? Aside from the general vibe of the church, as he was inviting people to the table, he said, "If you think Jesus would have wanted you to take communion, feel free to come up."
Good pastor. Lots of show. Very consciously a performer, and I usually don't tolerate too much of that. But I've loved some pastors in my day, and none of them presented the offer to receive the lord's supper quite like that, professionally or personally. I don't think PCUSA would mind, but I don't know.
Sunday, January 27, 2019
We get forty little thumbnails, that way we don’t have to watch the video we can instantly see “oh, well there’s some genitals” or “there’s a man’s head but he’s not connected to it” . . . something like that. And we can instantly apply policy. It’s extremely streamlined.
Wednesday, January 23, 2019
Herodotus reported a similar story. Astrabacus, a dead but reanimated hero, had sexual intercourse with a maiden. He even fathered a son called Demaratus. His paramour described Astrabacus as being a phasma or “apparition” in the form of her dead husband, Ariston. Despite being an apparition, Astrabacus was apparently not ethereal. In order for him to have sired a child, at least one part of him must have been substantial.
Monday, January 21, 2019
Now, Elvis . . . he would have stayed away for three days, come home immediately after we opened a can of tuna, and proceeded to lecture us for 10 minutes on the indignities he faced while we were gone.
Our outdoor cats (in my mind, they're outdoor) seem to have flown the coop. While I feed them, I'm sure they know that Tere is their main advocate, and they probably sense she's not there. And once the dogs were boarded, the cats didn't have much entertainment or other warm bodies to rub up against. But I kept putting food out, and they'd show up occasionally. Not so much the last few days.
World's Handsomest Mutt Zooey doesn't pay much attention to the felines, but the hound and the gray cat, Suzzy, are buddies. Suzzy and Maggie, our little tortoise-shell beast, are both hunters and pretty clever, and I have no concern that they could survive outdoors. Maybe someone else has taken them in and is letting them pee on their valued rugs.
Once Tere and the dogs are repatriated to the Commonwealth, with my luck the cats'll show back up.
I remember when we left Florida 19 years ago, we had a crazy indoor/outdoor cat that we hoped wouldn't show back up when moving day came. She'd disappear for a week or two at a time, so long absences weren't uncommon, but by the time I finally pulled up stakes, four weeks had passed since I last saw her. Probably nabbed by a hawk or decided to seek higher ground on the mainland. I remember leaving the house for the last time, thinking, Georgia, please don't show up. Because if she did, I'd have been compelled to take her with me. I am not going to knowingly leave a pet behind, even a cat that could survive perfectly well on the North Florida coast surrounded by seafood, barring outdoor dangers. In 33 years, we've only ever lost one cat to a car, and it was a great cat. Poor Hobbes. And poor Otis, another great animal and Elvis's mentor, probably succumbed to the circle of life near the marsh, or he started walking back to Atlanta, when we moved to Fernandina.
We had Elvis for 19 years, and after him, I'm pretty ambivalent about cats. If one's around, that's fine, but it better be doing its business out of doors. Every. Goddamn. Time.
Monday, January 14, 2019
Read through some of her Wikipedia page. God, what a brainless hack. But there is this:
Her husband is the founder of the International Bow Tie Society (IBTS).