things

i woke up this morning feeling a little hung-over. after padding blearily into the kitchen and knocking over several boxes, i successfully made a mug of tea, sat down, took a sip, and stopped just before setting the hot, wet base of it on the tabletop and marring it forever. it only goes to show how much an object can be worth if you spend 7 months of weekends on it. possibly, if everything we had was harder to come by instead of easily and cheaply available in a store nearby (for which, thank you china), things would be more durable, lovelier, and better-loved. we are in an age marked by the making of machines which are "wonders of invention, skill, and patience, used for the production of measureless quantities of worthless makeshifts" (from william morris's news from nowhere, of course). this is the art of the age of mechanical reproduction? no wonder we lead an "arid and empty existence in the midst of wealth and extraordinary material benefits." eric sloane's a reverence for wood is one of my new favourites.