By Kristen Asher
There is a long history of rants and ranters at the Wooden Shoe. At some point, it became clear that neither the listserv nor the logbook were the right places for this type of business, and thus was born the Book of Love and the Book of Unlove: two of my very favorite pieces of Wooden Shoe literature. These books are a collective diary. They contain everything from crushes, love letters, and anonymous polls about in-store hook-ups (Book of Love material) to cynical diatribes on politics and the human condition and personal reflections about hating rainy days and bad breakups (more likely found in the Book of Unlove—follow?).
The Unlove notebooks that accumulated over the years contain some real gems:
“Cheap wine. I unlove you, you unravel me.”
“I unlove opening the store to discover smelly piss in the toilet from last night”
…both of which precede a THREE PAGE ENTRY that ends with:
“Our future leaders, idiots who drive nice cars, wear expensive clothing, live in huge houses, eat shitty food, watch massive amounts of television and specialize in a form of educated stupidity. Specialization is cultural autism, you’re incredibly fluent in your chosen field while surrounded by a world you have no idea how to properly comprehend.”
…There is a poll about what to name someone’s pet rat, lots of drawings including a whole page of (surprisingly recognizable) sketches of staffers, and an all caps entry that takes up almost a whole page that says “THE CALCULATOR HATES ME.”
…on Pac Man (which apparently is worthy of an entire page, including multiple drawings and this question as food for thought):
“where did the disagreement of Pacmen and ghosts begin and why do they feel the need to settle it in a maze?”
…on staffing alone:
“I unlove that there’s no one on swing shift, I’ve had 3 customers all day, no one bought anything, it’s rainy and I think my bike’s broken. Also, the computer won’t connect to the damn network so I can’t browse craigslist! Shoot me now!!”
…in response to something that had been written in the bathroom about taking showers with lovers:
“I f*cking HATE TAKING SHOWERS WITH OTHER People! Ok First Part I am 6’1” my lovas tend to be generally 5’4 to 5’8 usually due to close Body Proximity and general placement it usually means the shower nozzle is pointed DIRECTLY IN MY FACE!!!”
[this entry has a Part II and Part III and ends with “SHOWERS Suck!!!”]
The hands-on version of this is much better, in my opinion, and someone recently dug up many of the notebooks, which should be floating around behind the counter or downstairs. I highly recommend digging in…
So, at the very least these books are hilarious and pretty ridiculous, especially if you’ve ever been a staffer. If you’re more interested in idealizing things and giving the store some credit, (possibly more than it’s due, but let’s humor ourselves), these journals—and the act of having kept them—are a tribute to the humanness of everyone who has ever staffed here. They are an acknowledgment of the endless ups and downs that we face while sharing this physical and political space and that—no matter how far we fall short—the Wooden Shoe Collective at least attempts to create a place where this humanness is welcome. At the very least, the books are a source of collective memory, and that is an important thing to have in order to be able to grow while laughing at ourselves. Here’s to laughing at ourselves while being grounded enough to keep going and improving over 35 years, no matter what the Books say, and here is what I would write in these books, if I had to sum up my time so far:
I love that the age-old problem of filling shifts is no match for the age-old persistence, determination, and competence of both staffing coordinators AND staffers. Thirty-five years of last minute cancellations, frantic phone calls and emails, bouts of early closings and late openings means 35 years of people stepping up, supporting one another, donating heaps of time, filling the eternally dreadful role of staffing coordinator—experienced OR NOT—and maintaining enough hope, trust, and patience with one another to keep this place alive, not only as a store, but as a collective.
I love the struggle that we embody, sometimes as individuals, always as the entity that we compose collectively; the struggle between our thoughts and our actions; between our existence as humans with complex, fluid emotions and our presence in a world of machines with complicated, mechanized systems.
I love how we learn, everyday, to define and redefine ourselves:
How many times have you asked, been asked, or adamantly defended how a space can simultaneously espouse anarchism and participate in capitalism?
How many times have you read a contentious listserv conversation and 1) signed off while rolling your eyes; 2) responded furiously; or 3) constructed a thoughtful, long-winded, A+ composition, (of course, starting with an apology for the thoughtful, long-winded response you had just spent so much time writing with the intention to send it to the list), which inevitably resulted in at least 12 counterpoint emails, at least 3 emails about how we shouldn’t be using the listserv for such dialogue, and approximately 1-2 suggestions regarding other ways to have the conversation, including the possibility of creating another online forum—like a closed message board—where such discussions would be considered more appropriate?
How many times have you been disappointed with a decision, a process, or a person, but resolved to continue staffing, coming to meetings, finding ways to avoid or deal with the disappointment, and contributing to the ever-improving politics and dynamics of the Wooden Shoe? Some people don’t get the opportunity to find a friend or experience here who makes it worth the struggle. That is a serious issue. Others do. That is a serious reality.
How many times have you been held accountable or called on your shit? Did you use the wrong pronoun; make an offensive joke or comment? Did you take up too much space? Did you drop a project; disappear without warning; bail on a shift last minute? Did you tap your knee, squirm in your chair and sigh deeply while looking at the ceiling a couple too many times at the last 3 hour meeting?
But you’re here. We are here, together. There has been some form of “we” and “here together,” consistently, for 35 years. That means something.
* * *
The Books of Unlove are a lighthearted testament to the fact that there are lots of things to unlove about the Shoe. There are too many wires behind the counter, too many stepladders on the floor, an underuse of the vacuum cleaner in the basement, too many shoplifters and too few people filling shifts. Finding that “A” is over “D” or “D” is over “A” on the daily sheet at the end of the night ALWAYS SUCKS. Not being able to find a pen when someone is waiting to sign their credit card slip is annoying when, upon first glance behind the counter, you can easily locate 2 broken pencils, a stretched out rubberband, 10,000 fortune cookie fortunes, (all of which have written “in bed” at the end), a used up roll of tape and 5 paper clips. Once there was a copy of Wretched of the Earth in the Environment section. (.sigh.)
There are also a lot of real, deep, important issues that we have to confront as individuals and as a collective. But this is not new, either. If we want to continue to exist as a radical space with an anarchist, anti-oppressive philosophy and mission statement, we will always have room to grow.
There will always be 5 hour meetings (at least once in awhile). There will always be structures to create and then change as we learn the flaws we built into them. There will always be (hopefully decreasingly) difficult situations: conflicts between staffers, inappropriate jokes and comments, awkward conversations. It is a tall order, this stressful business of identifying for ourselves and to each other the sexism, racism, homophobia, transphobia, ageism, ableism, ignorance, and prejudice that we all bring to the table. It is ever-present, ever-important. It is the pulse.
And, so, here we are. Together. And that means something.
These challenges hold the Shoe to its potential and that is why I love it here. I am an anarchist because I believe in human empathy and in our ability to grasp concepts larger than ourselves, and then to not only have the competence, but the motivation to change ourselves through an understanding of those concepts. That means that I also believe in the potential for us to grow collectively; to destroy, create, and to change.
I love the Wooden Shoe because it is a space of potential.
People come here, make some friends, and move to another city.
People come here, read a few books, and join a different, much more radical collective.
People come here, settle in, and watch the collective body writhe and hear it groan; they move when it moves; they fill it and empty it; they open and close it.
And it hasn’t always been and won’t always be us. But i love that we are here, together, now. And that means something. Let’s make it mean something.