The Angler

In my mind, beer and fishing are inseparable.  When I tell people this they assume that I drink beer while I’m fishing.  This is not the case unless I’m surf casting.  If I’m in a boat, I don’t even have a bottle of beer with me.  No.  The beer is for the end of the day.  The beer is with me while I fish only as an idea, a goal, a Beatrice that guides my thoughts and actions until I have become worthy of her and she opens the doors of paradise (the doors of my home pub that is) for me to enter.

Since I was a kid, I’ve fished with artificial lures or with bait.  In Louisiana and Florida I fished almost exclusively with bait.  My personality type though naturally disposes me to have an interest in fly fishing.  Fly fishing is cool.  It’s seems more of an art than bait fishing, though I would never look down on the bait fisherman or disrespect the level of art and knowledge involved in catching fish with bait.  Bait fishing isn’t shooting fish in a barrel.  Craft beer and brewing is a big part of my life, so it’s only a matter of time before I get into fly fishing.

Here’s a bit of synchronicity.  I have been trying to come up with a name for a four page digest I’m interested in printing.  In the past I’ve called this digest by various names with the word “Angler” squeezed in like The Angler’s Review and The Angler’s Digest and even Stories from The Angler.  The purpose of this little four page digest is to get the attention of readers.  It’s a lure (so to speak) that I propose to use to get people interested in reading my magazine (The Angler).  For a moment I thought to call this digest The Lure, but that just doesn’t quite have the sound I want.  Then it hit me.  The perfect name.  I’ll call it The Fly.  I’m not yet a fly fisherman, but as I said it’s only a matter of time.  I did a quick search of the Internet to see if there are any other magazines called The Fly (there is indeed; one in the UK, that will never be confused with my little digest), but more importantly I found an article from 2002 in All About Beer magazine called “A Beer Lover’s Guide to Fly Fishing.”  Enjoy!

I started brewing beer because I like making things. The whole beer brewing thing didn’t start because I had a commitment to some abstract ideas about how life should be lived. Brewing wasn’t a political decision. It was only in the activity of brewing that I began to understand what leisure activity really was and how leisure could change my/your(?) life.

Now I bake bread too. Baking and brewing beer. These are two activities that promote freedom and reduce anxiety.

The price of hops and malt has been going up. The newspapers report skyrocketing prices for food. Am I worried? Not really. Brewing my own beer is cheap. Even if the price of my ingredients doubles or triples, I’m still paying a lot less for the beer I drink that the folks who have to buy commercially produced beer.

I went up to Callahan’s the other night for a pint with Rich. One of the regulars at Callahan’s (all the regulars know I’m “the beer guy”) started telling me about this doom and gloom story he had read in Newsday. Prices going up, food, gas. “I don’t want to drive my car anymore,” he said shaking his head. My response: “Stop reading Newsday. And try looking at the rising gas prices as an excuse to drive less. It’s not an inconvenience, it’s an invitation to freedom.”

Bread making isn’t as much as a economic savings as brewing, but it’s fun to make bread and the result is better tasting than anything you can buy at the supermarket. Of course, you shouldn’t be going to the supermarket. Supermarkets (any kind of “super” store for that matter) are evil (just look at chapter 25 in The Freedom Manifesto if you don’t believe me). They offer “choice”, but they ensnare us in a cycle of dependence.

Why did I leave the farm? I was reading The Freedom Manifesto last night and wondered what it would be like to return to Oklahoma and the idyllic setting of my childhood — the fields of wheat, the garden, the chicken coup, the barn, the milk cow, etc. I am descended from a long line of self-sufficient people. My grandfather didn’t have a career. He grew up on the farm and stayed there all his life. He worked hard. He did very well for himself.

Our biggest ball and chain is our mortgage. As long as we have to pay for the mortgage we will be slaves to our jobs. The jobs I do are not boring. I’m pretty lucky actually. I can dabble with being free since I think I have more “free” time than most people, but I didn’t always have this much free time. I had to make some sacrifices. The first sacrifice was the fifty percent pay cut, but Denise and I managed. It’s amazing how much you can cut out of the budget if you have to. We don’t have TV (a connection to cable or satellite TV service). The main reason is that we don’t want to spend our money on it. Also we have better things to do with our free time than watch TV (brew beer, make bread, play games, read, etc.)

The message of The Idler is to get off the career track and enjoy yourself. If I have a message to weave into The Angler it’s how do we make the first steps along the road to freedom. What’s the first step?

Last January, Adbusters promoted a “slow down week.”  I missed it, but I saw this short film linked on The Idler.

Mondays are my going into Manhattan days and my first stop off the train is The Ginger Man on 36th street, just before Madison Ave. I usually order whatever is on cask just to keep the choices simple, but a few times I’ve not been interested in downing a pint of Imperial Stout aged in a Port barrel so I cast a glance over the list of Belgians on tap.

Last Monday I ordered a “Strubbe Doedel”. The beer had a nose full of grapes. If I didn’t know better I would have thought the bartender dosed my glass with verjus prior to pouring the beer. Strubbe is the name of the brewery. It’s in Ichtegem, in “the heart of Western Flanders” — a place I long to spend enormous amounts of time in. The full name of this beer is “Couckelaerschen Doedel” which is why they probably only printed the word Doedel in the beer menu. At the time of drinking the beer I had no idea of the story behind the beer, so I made a note and looked it up when I got home (and to an Internet connection).

The Strubbe Doedel is 6% ABV. This is what the brewery web page says: “Brewed with French summer barley, hops from Poperinge and a mix of Scottish delicate herbs (hence the name)…” Yes, that would explain the name! Am I supposed to conclude also that a mix of Scottish delicate herbs tastes like verjus?

Usually, I arrive at The Ginger Man at about 4:50, so I have about forty minutes to sip my glass of beer before catching a bus up to Midtown. Occasionally I strike up a conversation with someone at the bar, but normally I scribble in my notebook. Since I’ve resuscitated my podcast I have taken to writing out notes for future installments of Radio Beer Hall. Last Monday I was just about to start scribbling about Strubbe Doedel when a guy says, “Excuse me, is that Delirium Tremens?”

The bartender, a good looking young lady with curly hair and a toothy smile, had dispensed my Doedel in a twelve ounce Delirium Tremens bowl — you know the glass, the one with the pink elephants.

“No,” I say. “It’s Strubbe Doedel.” I affected my best Flemish accent which probably sounds more Austrian than anything since I’ve decided that all German-looking words ought to be pronounced the way Arnold Swartzenegger would in one of the Terminator films. Arnold is on the mind since all the Manhattan busses have Sarah Connor ads emblazoned across their wide sides. Evidently one of the cable channels is doing Terminator as a series. The chick playing Sarah Connor is really buff and looks great holding that stainless steel antitank gun. Exactly what I want to see on the side of a Manhattan bus. Also I just realized that I’ve never actually had any cause to spell the word “Swartzenegger” before. It’s not a word recognized by my word processor’s built-in spell-checker which only goes to prove that Sarah Connor is right — we should fear the day when machines rule the world. (Relax, have a homebrew.)

The guy sitting near me at the bar at The Ginger Man is about six-foot, two hundred pounds and has short brown hair. He looks like he might have spent some time in the military, but at the moment he looks more like he’s had several pints already. “I’ve never heard of that. Is it Belgian?” Clearly, he’s trying not to slur his words.

I confirm this and admit that this is my first time to try it.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

Then I proceed to give him a run down of what I think I find in the beer. The verjus aroma is over powering, but it’s not in the palate. I detect some of those nice Belgiany flavors — fruity sweetness in the taste, but surprisingly dry in the finish for a beer with such an apparent sweetness. It’s light bodied. Is that cherries I’m tasting? Hint of oak? Who knows?

The guy nods his head as I go through my sniff and scratch routine (it’s my head I’m scratching). When I’m done, he says, “I don’t go for the Belgian beers anymore. Got burned out. I used to live in Brussels.”

Used to live in Brussels! Burned out on Belgian beer! Surely my ears are playing tricks on me. How does one live in Beer Paradise and become jaded about Belgian beers in general? I could only conclude that this fellow didn’t really experience the true depth of Belgian beer culture. If you stick to the main streets, sure, all you’ll find is Hoegaarden, Leffe, and Stella. I could see someone getting tired of these same old offerings, but Cantillion Gueuze? De Dolle Oerbier? Westvlateren 8? Mon Dieu, non! Ce n’est pas possible!

The guy goes on to say that he prefers hoppy beers. Okay. Now I understand. He’s a true American, drinking American craft beer with true American hops. God bless America.

“I respect that,” I say, trying to wipe the stupid look of surprise off my face.

“I get a better buzz from hoppy beers,” he says.

“A better buzz?” What is this guy talking about?

“Quality of buzz is very important,” he says. “You know that hops are a type of cannabis?”

“Actually, yes. I’m aware that hops are in the same family, but they don’t actually have any THC.”

“Right,” he agrees, “but it’s not all about the THC. If you take pure THC in capsule form, it’s a completely different experience from smoking a joint. I think that the hops in beer give a better buzz.”

THC in capsule form? You learn something new every day, I guess. “The better buzz could be because highly hopped beers, like IPA, generally are brewed to be more alcoholic,” I suggest.

“That’s not everything,” he says. “There’s no scientific study to prove it, but I still think I get a higher quality buzz from hoppy beers. Scientists should study this subject more.”

I decide to be diplomatic. What harm is there in believing that you can score a higher quality buzz off drinking American craft beer? In my book, that’s a harmless delusion. “I guess I don’t think too much about the quality of my buzz anymore. I just like the taste of beer. I don’t really drink for the buzz.”

“Aw come on,” he says looking annoyed. “Why deny it? It’s not like this stuff tastes that good. If you didn’t get a buzz from it, you wouldn’t be drinking it.”

Never disagree with anyone who is working on their Xth pint of IPA. “I’m not saying that the buzz doesn’t enter in, but I believe that there are at least two kinds of people. Normal people and supertasters. Supertasters can get a high off flavors and aromas.”

“Are you saying you are a supertaster?”

“I don’t know,” I say, “but I know when I taste a good beer or take in the aroma from a world class glass of ale, the experience transports me. If I get a buzz too, then that’s a bonus.”

“You’re a lucky man,” says my bar mate, and he raises his glass in my general direction.

I hoist my tiny pink-elephant embossed goblet in his direction — peace is restored.

FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION

Date of transcription: 7/21/96

Bill Lane was interviewed at 347 Old Neck Rd S, Center Moriches, New York. After being advised of the identities of the interviewing agents and the nature of the interview, Bill Lane provided the following information:

On the evening of July 17, 1996, Bill Lane was will his daughter, Sarah Lane, on their fishing boat approximately three miles from Fire Island (exact location unknown). Between 8:30 and 8:45 p.m., Sarah Lane saw what she described as a streak of light, like a shooting star, descending vertically in the sky. She was facing northwest looking back toward the Island. She informed Bill Lane who, when he saw the streak of light, slowed the boat.

The streak of light disappeared and about three seconds later he saw a deep orange flare that expanded, but not in the shape of a ball. Bill Lane did not hear anything at that point. The body of fire descended in the sky and formed three tendrils of flame and smoke. Several seconds later he heard a rumbling, like the sound of thunder. He watched as the fire descended. There was a smoke trail following the fire mass.

At that point Bill Lane changed their course to go in the direction of where the fire mass came in contact with the ocean. He says that they didn’t know what the fire mass was. He estimates that it took between ten and fifteen minutes before he and his daughter encountered debris floating in the water. He saw bodies of victims still strapped to their chairs. He and his daughter slowly trolled through the debris field “searching for survivors.” He says they searched for two or three hours before being advised by a Coast Guard Ship where to take the bodies they had collected from the water.

Bill Lane lives at 347 Old Neck Rd S, Center Moriches, New York. His daughter, Sarah Lane, lives at the same address. She was not available for an interview, but can be reached at the same number.

Investigation on 7/19/96 at Center Moriches, New York
File 235X-NY-8307483
Special Agent Curtis L. Turner
Special Agent Gordon M. Zimmerman
Date dictated 7/21/96

Today I’ve launched a new feature. You can now “subscribe” to The Angler. Well, sort of. I’ve created a mailing list which you could (should) subscribe to. Why? I’m moving back into the world of print publication in 2008. The first issue of the new print Angler will be ready in March/April. Instead of collecting addresses and money for postage, I’ve decided to try something a little different. I’m going to print each issue of the magazine using a print-on-demand service. When the issue is ready, I’ll send out a notice to everyone on the mailing list and let them know how to get their own copy.

Please sign-up.

Now that National Novel Writing Month is over (and I did write 50K words, at least) I can turn my attention back to this magazine of mine.

I still have a few more stories that will be appearing in “indecision” (hopefully before the end of the year).  After that, I’m going to close “indecision” and “elevation” and open a new issue for January 2008.  I’ll also be opening up the submission desk again, but I’ll be revising the submission guidelines somewhat to reflect a more focused editorial preference.  (For example, I will no long consider stories that reference industrial beer.  I’m sorry, but there are too many stories with B*d and C*rona, and my readership just isn’t interested in that swill.)

The online version of The Angler should whir along nicely, but the real focus of my effort will be the print version.  My current plan is to release a print issue of The Angler every four months (essentially three times per year).  If all goes well, you should be holding the first print issue of The Angler in March 2008.  Each issue is going to run about a hundred pages.  What’s going to be in it? you ask.  Stories.  Lots of stories.

I’ll start off by saying that not everything that should be said in this post, can be said in a single post.  This is a big subject and an important one.  So here’s the opening remarks in a dialog (I hope) that will take about a hundred of us where we want to be.

When I started publishing The Angler almost two years ago, I had no idea just how talented a group of writers who are submitting their word to online-only journals and magazines.  I had read a few good pieces in Storyglossia and thought that (since I am a pretty good judge of what’s good and what’s crap) I should devote a little bit of my web space to helping writers get noticed.  Well, I launched The Angler and to date I’ve read about six hundred submissions.  Most of which were very good.  I’ve only selected a few of them for publication.

What bothers me is that I’m not sure people are actually reading these stories.  Let’s see a show of hands.  Who reads stories published in online journals who isn’t a writer submitting work to online journals?  (Take a glance at the comments to this post.  Anyone?  Anyone?)

So how do we writers get our excellent stories in front of readers?  I have an idea.

I got an email the other day asking me to lobby an online bookseller for an “alternative literature” category.  Alright, I thought.  Make it easier for readers to find fiction that is published in alternative ways.  It might work.  But I’m thinking we are going to have to do something a little more radical than slap a label on some Internet bookselling portal.

What do I have in mind?  I propose that we change the way we think about our audience.  Who is going to read our work?  Who is going to discuss it?  Even if it gets picked up by an alternative publisher there is only a very small chance that the Literary World will actually notice.  So why don’t we scale back our expectations?  Why don’t we focus on something that we can build?  What I’m talking about is small literary communities made up of other literary types like ourselves.  Why don’t we get together and write for each other?

I understand that some writers still want to make it big (heck, I’m hoping that my novel will get noticed), but I think the idea of forming or joining small literary communities is compatible with getting your book into the Major Leagues.

Actually, baseball isn’t a bad analogy.  The small literary community is like a farm team that works together to create a rich literary environment for a writer, an environment that will help prepare them for a career in the big leagues.

What’s a small literary community?  There is no one model.  I’m sure each community will end up working differently from any other, but the basic idea is that a few people (say 100 to 1000) get together and read each other’s stuff.  The bulk of the reading you’d do would be within your literary community.  You would read the community’s publications, both creatively and with your critiques.

Why would you want to restrict your reading?  Still don’t get it?  Don’t worry.  The conversation is just beginning.  Let’s put some of that social networking software together and make it work for us.  Let’s start a literary revolution.  Let’s read each other’s work rather than paying attention exclusively to the Major Leagues.

In The New York Observer this week you’ll find a piece on page five about how novelist, Matthew Pearl, may have turned up a clue about what killed Edgar Allen Poe in 1849 at the age of 40. What Pearl brought to light was that Poe’s body was exhumed 26 years after the writer’s death and eye witnesses noticed something hard rattling around in Poe’s skull. Pearl ran these eyewitness accounts by a coroner who speculated that what the people saw might have been the calcified remains of the brain tumor that killed Poe.

I’ve completed the site upgrade and everything seems to be operating smoothly. (If anything is broken, let me know.)

The major improvements are these: (1) now you can subscribe to the magazine’s RSS feed. The url for the feed is under the “subscribe” link above (just click on it). (2) You can comment on the stories and essays right here in the magazine and you don’t have to go over to The Daily Catch to that. (3) The Angler now has a more technologically visible footprint on the Web (which means that it will be easier for readers to find out about what is published here).

The major reason for the site upgrade is that I need to move to a more streamlined submission, review, and publication process. One of the reasons that publication of accepted stories has been so slow lately is that I was making all the pages by hand. That was slow work and took a lot of checking, so the publication process was something I would keep putting off until I knew I had about an hour of uninterrupted time (which is getting harder and harder for me to do these days).

Soon prospective authors will be able to login to the site and submit their stories via the web. I’ll then be able to read them online and if I accept them, it will be just one click to publish. That means I’ll be able to bring you more stories.