Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Who Made My Clothes?

In honor of the hashtag #whomademyclothes, here is a poem by my friend Murray Gordon, of Seattle, Washington:

Get To Know Your Jacket 

Reach into the closet for your jacket

and grasp the collar which was sewn on by

Nan. She has a quota of twenty-eight

dozen per day. Thrust a hand into one

sleeve and twist the other hand into the

second one. They were set by Sideth and

immediately after topstitched by

Chong. Their machines are adjacent but they

are not allowed to speak to each other

for forty hours a week, fifty-two

weeks a year. Smooth the jacket around you

torso. Larita bodyseamed it for

you. She's been doing that job for more than

fifteen years breathing in lint all that time.

That the left and right fronts of your jacket

should match, Khamdy personally took a

marking pencil and marked your zipper at

the neck, yoke and waistband. Last year, she set

61,405

front zippers. The pocket welts were cut by

Eulalia who stands on her feet for

eight hours a day at the Reece machine.

The pocket zippers were set by Honee

who is so good that you will never

see a pucker at the corners because

she must make repairs on her own time. When

you put your keys, comb and change into

the pockets, you can do so with confidence.

They won't fall through because Jojo is the

pocket bagger. She is so fast that it

isn't necessary for her to think

anymore. William cut out the pattern -

360 ply. There is

not a moment anymore when he does

not hear the buzz of the cutting machines.

Pauline supervised the sewing line. They

gave her a raise, put her on salary

and now they don't have to pay her over-

time when the plant works on Saturdays. George

is the owner. He comes in late and leaves

early, takes two hour lunches and he

does not know the names of any workers.

Your jacket comes as an experienced

traveler. Ordered in Seattle from

a catalogue company in Maine, the

fabric was shipped from a Massachusetts

mill to the contractor in Seattle,

reshipped to a subcontractor in North

Carolina, sewn there and reshipped back

to Seattle to be inspected, tagged

and bagged, reshipped to Maine and then shipped to

your home address in Seattle. When you

wear the jacket no one will be able

to see any of this. What they will see

on the left front is a small label with


the name of a dead man woven on it

Monday, March 23, 2015

For a While, I Was Being Followed

Oh, yes, I did it --  I got a #Twitter account. Played around with it. Made some mistakes. Panicked. Got a grip. And now I have 87 followers.

That feels comfy, like a nice party or a warm crowd at a bar. I don't push for followers, mainly because I have discovered Twitter spam. Not my cup o' tea.

One thing I did that affects This Writing Thing is, I bought a year's worth of Twitter promotion with a marketing business called BookBuzz. You fill out a form giving a short logline for your book, submit your cover graphic, and boom (or, Tweet!) you're in rotation for mass Twitter appearances, with a link to your book's sales page, wherever that is.

So I hope some people have elected to visit Open Books Press, to check out YU, or to my site, to read the free chapters.

But the thing I have to tell you - OMG YouGuys! - I found #WernerHerzog's Twitter handle@WernerTwertzog, and Followed, because his Tweets are darkly hilarious haikus about life.

"I can no longer
Distinguish between The goatees of NASCAR enthusiasts, Leninists, Nashvillians, Mitch-MIllerites, And Brad Pitt."

I favorited and re-tweeted, and replied to that one, comparing Duck Dynasty to Rasputin.

Whoever @WernerTwertzog is, he Favorited, and Followed!

I squee'd a squee to remove the paint from my walls.

For 24 hours I was terrified to re-Tweet anything, because WERNER HERZOG WOULD SEE IT!

Then I got a grip, again.

And now, 7 days later, he's un-Followed me ... but he did Favorite something else I replied to one of his haikus.

I figure he does a weekly purge of who he Follows, just to stay fresh.

Man, for a while there I was looking over my shoulder when I left the house - knowing Werne Herzog was following me.

PS -- any movie Werner Herzog makes, go see it.