By Megan Goodacre

Happy tax returning everyone! How do you like to do your return? Personally, I like to fill out 95% of the information months in advance, then forget which 5% I haven't finished, and then go through the whole thing again on April 30th. And if it's a really special occasion, Netfile won't work and then I like to spend about 90 minutes enjoying the virtual friendship of tech support in an online chat window. Afraid to leave the chat window to pee or get coffee because you know the second you do, tech support will finally reach out to you with, "Hello, how may I help you today?"

Tax return followed by a bracing run in the pouring rain. Hashtag Spring.

I wanted to post some loosely connected thoughts.

This time last year, on April 24, 2013, a factory in Bangladesh collapsed. Over 1100 people died.

Strangely, this is very close to the day of the Chernobyl disaster, April 26, 1986. Although I remember the event from the news at the time, it wasn't until art school, when I did several pieces on the theme of disaster, that I really learned about Chernobyl.

I was reminded of Chernobyl when we started watching a really good youtube channel called scishow. I particularly like the ones where Hank Green, scientist, educator, inventory, musician, presents 3-10 minutes on a given topic. The one in question, that made me think of Chernobyl, was about the Manhattan Project. Did you know that Oppenheimer's job title was Coordinator of Rapid Rupture? How wild is that?

And I was reminded, again, of the Bangladesh factory collapse, when I went online to look at the Peter Doig exhibit (which is on in Montreal at the Musée des Beaux-Arts). And who is one of the sponsoring partners of the exhibit? Joe Fresh. (Which was one of the labels being produced in the Bangladesh factory.) So that's a twist.... Showing and sharing art costs money. Galleries cost money. And these days, who has the money? Rather, who has the big money? Big companies.

To top if off, I've been listening to Joseph Heller's Catch 22. (Such a fantastic reading by Jay O. Sanders!) This just reinforces the absurdity of our own destructive tendencies.

Wait a minute, I thought this was a blog about knitting? WTF? Yes, yes, but I'm sure this is all connected in some way. Knitting is making stuff instead of buying stuff. It's a thing you can do to keep yourself connected with the good side of humans. Our productive, creative, sensible, side. (Well, I suppose that depends on how big your stash is.) Making things is also an expression of... recovery? atonement? Does that sound like a thing? Making something gives you authorship over your life. And in this big expensive world, we often don't have the time or know-how to do that anymore.

So, anyways, it's a twisted world... too many connections might lead you to some kind of moral, cerebral or existential crisis. Every time you buy a piece of clothing, drive your car, or turn on a light, you feel the cost of all this stuff.

But I like Hank Green's refrain, which he often says at the end of his youtube videos: science isn't inherently good or evil, it's what we do with it. I'm just going to try to remember that. Maybe we could say, stuff isn't good or evil, it's what we do with it.

Anyways, that's my quiet rant for today. I know, I said I would show you how to knit cables without a cable needle. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten.


I leave you with a quote from Catch 22:

What a lousy earth! He wondered how many people were destitute that same night even in his own prosperous country, how many homes were shanties, how many husbands were drunk and wives socked, and how many children were bullied, abused, or abandoned. How many families hungered for food they could not afford to buy? How many hearts were broken? How many suicides would take place that same night, how many people would go insane? How many cockroaches and landlords would triumph? How many winners were losers, successes failures, and rich men poor men? How many wise guys were stupid? How many happy endings were unhappy endings? How many honest men were liars, brave men cowards, loyal men traitors, how many sainted men were corrupt, how many people in positions of trust had sold their souls to bodyguards, how many had never had souls? How many straight-and-narrow paths were crooked paths? How many best families were worst families and how many good people were bad people? When you added them all up and then subtracted, you might be left with only the children, and perhaps with Albert Einstein and an old violinist or sculptor somewhere.