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| Bystander's Best of the Best 2015 - Music, Movies, Books, & TV! |
2015 has come to an end and we're sad to see it go (aww), but it's been a
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Bystander's Best of the Best 2015 - Music, Movies, Books, & TV!
2015 has come to an end and we're sad to see it go (aww), but it's been a
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Jack London, King Of The Klondike
by Kim Harris Thacker
(image via)
I grew up in the mountains of
Wyoming, so I’m no stranger to the cold. Snow frequently fell in
July, and sometimes, in deep winter, the temperature got down to 40
degrees below zero.
Now I live in Florida.
We have Christmas lights here,
and I’ve finally been able to don my sweaters (in the early hours
of the morning, at least), but the holiday season just isn’t the
same for me without snow. I miss sledding, snowshoeing, and drinking
hot chocolate for the purpose of getting warm. And I really
miss building bonfires on top of the snow and roasting sausages until
they start to sing and the skins split.
I can’t have snow, but I can
have the next best thing: Jack London’s short stories, many of
which take place in the Yukon and elsewhere in the far north. And I
can enjoy them from the comfort of my cozy house in the Sunshine
State.
London is known as a writer of
outdoor survival-type stories; but in his short stories, few of his
main characters survive. Many of these people are deeply flawed
individuals, whose weaknesses are portrayed early on and in such a
way that the reader isn’t surprised when the character snuffs it.
For example, in “To Build a
Fire,” which is considered by many scholars to be London’s best
short story, the main character ignores the warning of an old timer
who tells him never to go outside alone when it’s colder than 50
degrees below zero. Little does the main character know that it’s
75 degrees below zero when he and his dog set out on a journey
to another camp. The main character also doesn’t know enough not to
build his fire (which is a feat of its own, given his frozen hands)
beneath a snow-laden tree branch. As you may have guessed, the heat
of the fire causes the snow on the bough to shift and to slide off,
right on top of the fire. With the fire’s demise comes the promise
of the main character’s demise. And, of course, there will be no
singing sausages for that poor man. Maybe for the dog, once it
arrives at the camp.
(Incidentally, 75 degrees below
zero is 150 degrees colder than today’s outdoor temperature where I
live.)
London experienced true cold
first hand, having traveled to the Klondike as a young man in the
hopes of making his fortune in the gold rush. He may not have struck
it rich in the mines, but he did come away from the experience with a
head full of story-inspiration that would later make him both wealthy
and famous. Not all of his stories are about surviving in cold
weather—some take place on tropical islands and in other warm
climates—but I think London’s true talent is exhibited in the
stories wherein he drew upon his experiences as a gold miner in the
icy Klondike.
Here’s an example of some
incredible, descriptive writing from the short story, “The White
Silence”:
Nature has many tricks wherewith she convinces man of his finity—the ceaseless flow of the tides, the fury of the storm, the shock of the earthquake, the long roll of heaven’s artillery—but the most tremendous, the most stupefying of all, is the passive phase of the White Silence. All movement ceases, the sky clears, the heavens are as brass; the slightest whisper seems sacrilege, and man becomes timid, affrighted at the sound of his own voice. Sole speck of life journeying across the ghostly wastes of a dead world, he trembles at his audacity, realizes that his is a maggot’s life, nothing more.
Here’s another example from the
short story, “An Odyssey of the North”:
...[i]n the heart of the great mountains, we cut ice steps against the wall of a divide. One looked for a valley beyond, but there was no valley; the snow spread away, level as the great harvest plains, and here and there about us mighty mountains shoved their white heads among the stars. And midway on that strange plain which should have been a valley the earth and snow fell away, straight down toward the heart of the world.
And finally, from “The Law of
Life”:
When the last stick had surrendered up its heat, the frost would begin to gather strength. First his feet would yield, then his hands; and the numbness would travel, slowly, from the extremities to the body. His head would fall forward upon his knees, and he would rest. It was easy. All men must die.
“Chilling” writing, in my
opinion! So if you find yourself dreaming of a white Christmas, pick
up a Jack London novel or collection of short stories and get ready
to freeze!
Monday, December 21, 2015
Friday, December 18, 2015
Tuesday, December 15, 2015
Double Scoop
by Lea Zalinskis
DOUBLE SCOOP
Original art by illustrator and paper cutting artist Lea Zalinskis
Monday, December 7, 2015
Best Jams Of 2015
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| Bystander's Best Jams Of 2015 |
Now, these might not be all of the best tunes that hit the airwaves, streaming services, or our album collections this year, but they're definitely a good place to start.
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
Letter from the Editor: Ice Ice Baby
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| Letter from the Editor: Ice Ice Baby |
All right stop, let's collaborate and listen.
We are here with this brand new invention.
Inspiration grabs a hold of us tightly.
Writing all the articles daily and nightly.
Will it ever stop? Yo, we hope no.
Turn off the lights and we'll glow.
To the extreme we rock our pens like some vandals.
We write for the page, and burn so bright like some candles.
Dance, we got the mixtapes that boom.
We'll try not to kill your brain like a poisonous mushroom.
Deadly, when you hear a dope melody.
Anything less than the best is a felony.
Love it or leave it, listen to what we say.
Dude, we hit bull's eye, we kids don't play.
If there is a problem, yo, we'll solve it.
Check out this piece and listen to a playlist.
Original Lyrics = Vanilla Ice / Revamped Lyrics = Christianna Marks
Obviously, this month is purposely inspired by Vanilla Ice. Because what else says Christmas season like an early 90s rap song? Growing up, one of my brothers told me that I wasn't cool unless I knew all the lyrics to Ice Ice Baby, ever since then I can flow with the best of them.
Family = Christmas
So I guess that's where this month's theme comes from. Let's have a grand old party, and close the year out with little lyrical poetry. (See what I did there?)
Christianna Marks