Recent Perusings - Edward Sorel's Literary Lives

Found this on the new book shelf of library. Series of anecdotes about writer's lives. Mostly their dirty laundry. In addition to Tolstoy, Sorel also skewers Sartre, Rand, Mailer, Brecht and more. This quote is apt from a book review... The scathing effect of this quick read is best described in an introduction from E.L. Doctorow: 'never have authors of such magnitude been so casually eviscerated.' I also enjoyed Sorel's First Encounters series about famous folks meeting up which like some of these literary lives appeared in The Atlantic. An old exhibit of his portraits are located at the National Portrait Gallery site. Couple of panels from the book are below but I could not find any of the more personally damaging panels. There is a nice one of Jung in a review here but Brecht seems to take the cake for being quite the scoundrel.

Moon Over Parador

Picture if you will a beautifully orange tinted moon, nearly full, hovering over and reflecting upon the gently flowing Cedar River on a cool, breezy, summer night. That is what I attempted to capture. The results, as you can see, are somewhat less than described. I need to get a real camera.

My ex-neighbors invited us down to their cabin near Atalissa and it was relaxing chilling out by a fire near the water. They grilled some steaks, intially there were five, but due to a deft and hungry Great Pyrenees, only three made it to the grill. The dog had wolfed down the first two and was starting on a third when he knocked over the plate and alerted us to the theft in progess. Good times.

Last night we saw David Zollo at the Tuscan Moon in Kalona. The food was a little dissapointing, more for the price and selection but it was good. Not sure of I would be in a hurry to try it again though.

"Can't you see you're not making Christianity better, you're just making rock and roll worse?" - Hank Hill

The quote is apropos of nothing. I just thought it was funny when I heard it on a King of the Hill rerun. Yesterday when I went home for lunch a package was waiting. Nothing like a letter or a surprise package of music to interrupt the steady flow of bills.

In the spring of 2004 I was working in Tucson for about a month and when not working or disrupting Juche Child's quiet family life in Chandler I managed to meet some cool people workin at our site. R (and his wife M.) dropped a whole bunch of live shows on me, introduced me to the music of Calexico, and took me along to see Ramblin' Jack Elliott at the Congress Hotel. (Dillinger was arrested after a fire broke out in hotel or something strange like that.) Thankfully, no photos of that evening exist. The only evidence, a scratched up cell phone that broke my fall. Details are fuzzy but I think mojitos were involved.

We have sporadically attempted to trade more shows but I am lazy and disorganized and it can be a time consuming process especially when one is lazy and disorganized. Anyway, I did finally manage to send some live shows to them several months after I downloaded them.

It was still a pleasant surprise to open the box and find a live Neko Case disc from the All Songs Considered show in D.C. (still available here to listen but not broken into tracks so if anyone is interested I can burn it but see above for how long that may take.) Also included in the care package was The Raconteurs (lovely throw back looking website reminds of me of my old Compaq) Jack White's other band, also someone I had not heard of Marianne Dissard (Tucson based chansonnier a la Edith Piaf accompanied by one of the Calexico boys), and the pièce de résistance (to keep up the tortured French motif), a Grateful Dead set from the U of Iowa Field House circa 1982. R. also tipped me off in advance about the upcoming Calexico show at the Englert and I was able to snag good seats.

I will work on list of shows I have and put it up here in case anyone is interested in some live stuff. Keep an eye out around the new year at the current pace. I am currently scheduled to return to Tucson for an extended stay Oct-Nov, just in time to spoil JuChe's Thanksgiving or least his Halloween. Enjoy the weekend. I am off to take the kittens to their first vet appointment. Oh, Joy!

Readings

Girl Interrupted at Her Music

I have been trying to wrap up some books so I can focus on a Really Big Book. I had some recent finds on the library discard shelf. Earlier in the week I picked up George Saunders' Pastoralia (his new collection In Persuasian Nation is available). I can't recommend him enough as a short story writer as good as or even better than Gabe Hudson, Thom Jones, Alice Munro, or Chris Offut he could approach Carver status. He is definitely one of authors I look for when doing a quick triage on The New Yorker's table of contents to see if it's worth saving.

The next day on discard shelf there was a copy of Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen. I had no idea it was an actual memoir. I had been under the impression it was a simply a film in which Hillary Swank Angelina Jolie had earned an Oscar (or a nomination) by garnering the sympathies of the Academy voters for being forced to do a movie with Winona Ryder. It was a difficult book to put down. I fell asleep reading it and then finished it shortly after waking. Years earlier I had schlepped a copy of her novel Asa as I Knew Him around since Army days and I may have even read it. I know I started it. It was one of those Vintage paperbacks from the '80s that showed up in droves on remainder tables like Bright Lights, Big City. Never made the connection to her writing this memoir.

Like the narrator of the book I had been to the Frick, which at the time (1994) I was not familiar with, but I was in NYC visiting and so on a recommendation I went go see the Vermeers. I don't recall the one pictured above that provoked Ms. Kraysen so much. I did end up buying a print of the Officer and Laughing Girl which I liked for the detail of the map in the background as much as I did the subjects. It languished in my closet for several years until a former roommate had it framed for my birthday and now adorns bedroom wall. (I would also have to recommend the movie Girl with Pearl Earring if only for the cinematography. I can't recall a lusher looking film since All the Mornings of the World.) Anyway, I am glad I took a chance on the book.

To maintain the theme of insanity a coworker passed on a copy of Augusten Burroughs' Running with Scissors. A disturbingly hilarious coming of age story that I had heard of but never got around to. Again, I could not put the book down until I finished it late last night. The film version is due out this fall and it looks like a great cast. I hope they can pull it off without it turning into a farce. I will check out his next two recollections Dry and Possible Side Effects but not until I take a break.

After all these books and watching Born into Brothels, I needed to return to something a little less heavy and so I am concentrating on finishing one more library book, Absurdistan by Gary Shteyngart. If you liked Everything is Illuminated then this is a book for you. Excerpt of first chapter is here to check out. Then I take a break from library and try to read the Really Big Book that has been on my shelf for over a decade. (Don't want to say the name yet in case I jinx myself.)

The Hold Steady

I am still not sick of this song...

One can only imagine the other available "rides"...

Army considering proposal for military theme park

(AP) A Florida developer is pitching the Disney-like amusement park to go alongside a $300 million Army museum, which is expected to open near Fort Belvoir in 2013. The Washington Post reports the park would allow people to "command" the latest M-One tank or feel the rush of a paratrooper freefall.

The Army wants to move the museum to a piece of federal land that it says has space for the museum's hotel and entertainment complex. Although they have no authority over the federal project, local officials say roads in the area wouldn't be able to handle the resulting traffic.

I know the tune is horrible but I could not resist...

Apologies to those who already been subjected to this and thanks to Juche Child aka The Pho King for passing on a slightly different version.

FYI: The Pho King family reunion is on the beaches of San Diego this year. Get your temporary adoption paper work in early. Details to follow.

Glorious Results of a Misspent Youth

My classmates and I shortly before graduation from DLI on the Presidio of San Francisco, May 1987. The Army must have been truly desperate at the time. Anyway I felt bad about leaving on such a downer note with yesterdays obit so I dug out the photo albums and was playing with a copier/scanner. Shortly after this photo was taken most of us went to West Texas for the summer.

Sometime in Summer or Fall of 1987 after a brief field exercise at Goodfellow AFB. (There is a slight chance this scene is from later in the same year at Ft Devens, MA but I don't think so. I wish I had clearly labeled my photos.) We were doing some military language instruction here for a couple months after DLI. It was quite a change of pace after a year of civilian instructors in San Francisco back to drill sergeants in San Angelo, TX.

It seems that brief periods of my life are photographed in detail while there are also complete years that go undocumented. Skip ahead to the Spring of 1993 and the annual Oozeball Tournament at UConn. Around 200 teams signed up to play volleyball in about six inches of mud. As I recall we did pretty well making it to the sweet sixteen or so before being eliminated in sudden death. With so many teams there was a lot of lag time between games where we could do a rough clean up and down some beers. Good times. (The identities of those pictured will be kept secret unless they step forward on their own.) Note the saranwrapped library in the background to prevent students from being hit by falling bricks from the recently completed construction. El Duderino has mentioned this building previously.

Arthur Lee (1945-2006)

I was sorry to read that the oft troubled Arthur Lee, former front man to the band Love, lost his battle with leukemia and died yesterday in Memphis . One of my favorite pop albums of all time is Forever Changes. While never a big commerical success (refusing to tour didn't help) it seems that there has been a resurgance of his songs perhaps due in part to Wes Anderson's film soundtracks especially Bottle Rocket. My favorite cover of the frequently covered song Alone Again Or is the live version by Calexico.

There is a detailed obituary from Rolling Stone and I am sure more will follow soon. I will be purchasing a remastered version to replace my missing copy of Forever Changes from Rhino.

"Oops,went to the Bahamas there, just for a second"

Actually to beat the heat this weekend I went for a stroll with Chuck Palahniuk by sitting on sofa in the AC and reading Fugitives and Refugees: A Walk Around Portland, Oregon. It is part of Crown Journeys, a series of short books wherein authors wax eloquently about areas close to them. Coincidentally S. had just finished reading his book Haunted and was kind enough to share some of the more disturbing elements... an autoeroticism accident involving a swimming pool drain for example.
The Portland book is compelling with non-touristy suggestions for destinations and insider tips. It also contains brief intercalary Postcards from Palahniuks's life in the area over the past twenty years including being beaten up, participating in a Santa Rampage, and his first acid trip which can be read here. I was dissapointed not have made it to Portland while out in Seattle this spring but am glad to have read this book before my eventual first visit. I look forward to checking out other books in this series including Kinky Friedman about Austin, Roy Blount, Jr. in New Orleans (although that might need an updated version), or Iowa's own workshop mentor, the late Frank Conroy on Nantucket. (Another reading at Prairie Lights I missed.)

It would be interesting to have historical authors in modern cities such as Poe in the Fell's Point area of Baltimore battling tourists for a bar stool, Rimbaud in Paris trying to find a decent domestic absinthe, or Dickens sampling the fusion cuisine of modern London . Who else? Van Gogh in the hash bars of Amersterdam? Actually those were probably already there.

Drive By Snapshot

Taken somewhere in California while driving between Tucson to Newport Beach, May 2004.

Was wrestling with blogger about posting pics and it took a while for this one to go through. So I am using it as a test scenario. I will attempt to get some more commentary type things up about recent reads and films such New World by Terrence Malick which I felt was tediously ponderous and the best comment I read so far was that the film is like Disney's Pochantas but without the songs or the comic relief of the animal characters. Colin Farrell is as wooden in New World as he is in Miami Vice, another recent dissapointment.

JITTERY

Nancy takes me to a coffee shop called "Jitters"
which is, I'm thinking, like naming a bar "Drunk":
what you get when you get too much of what it is

they've got to give you - though that's just me
of course, going off. I'm feeling kind of drunk
on talk and too much coffee and Nancy's laughing

easy like she maybe thinks: *okay*. Me, I mean,
though I'm reading into things of course -
talk, laughter - speed-reading into things

what with all the coffee and little sleep
I'm running on of late. Things, their course,
have not been great though I'm feeling not

unhappy to be alive and not asleep and here
with Nancy blabbing out my life like some black
and white Karl Malden movie tough guy grateful

to finally confess and yes I'll obsess on
splitting that infinitive since Nancy knows
syntax ("*syn*-, together + *tassein*, to arrange");

Nancy knows yoga, Neruda, dogs, and yes
to the body's thoughtless crush on the world and
her smile flies open like a sun-flushed dove

and right, I know I talk too much and think
too much about what I'm thinking and not
enough about what I say, and simmer too long

in the crock of myself, which is right where I
get when I get this way and want to say
shut up, Simmerman, just shut up. . . .

Nancy takes me to a coffee shop.


Jim Simmerman


For some reason today I want to mete and dole laws unto a savage race. Maybe I should just cut back on the vending machine coffee. It tastes like it could have been made in Berlin in 1945 before the Allies arrived with actual coffee and they could stop using bark.

I almost forgot. Iowa City gets a mention as one of the featured destinations of the month(with Portland, OR and Atlantic City) in the current issue of the uber-perky Rachel Ray's magazine. There is a map to all the places to eat etc... Alas can not be accessed online.
You may now commence to slag me for my choice of reading material but all I can say is that anyone that can knock the Tony Danza show from his time slot deserves a chance. I also did not intend to sound so morose on the last post. Perhaps it was watching The Woodsman.

The Locust Song

. . . the wise and wry observation which the young William Butler Yeats offered one evening in The Cheshire Cheese to his fellow young poets in the Rhymers Club:"None of us can say who will succeed, or even who has or has not talent. The only thing certain about us is that we are too many.
— Paul Carroll



The tyranny of poets: "Like." O we were like
the infinite regression of roe, in the sex crease
of a sturgeon. We were like — what? like, as numerous
as the stars, the grains of sand, the uses of "like" itself.
Too many of us. Too flakes of snow, too fish
in the deep, too waterbugs of Florida. In the thick air

of the evening Cheese, a muss-haired Willie Yeats stares out
across a bobbing sea of schnockered literary faces
and he sees, as if implied in these, the overmany faces
of the shantytowns, and the Chinese steppes,
and the grim Malthusian banks of the Ganges river
on a holy day . . . too many of us. Those birds

slouched on the wire have served as a bar of music now
in how many poems? as a squadhouse lineup
in how many poems? as heavy portents over
the words in the wire itself, how many times?
Too many many-of-us. That zero now, the "black hole"
of the astronomers . . . by now it's the rose

and the willow and the rainbow and the nightingale
of two generations of us; string theory is easily the sunrise
over the Mediterranean Sea of us. "I think of . . ." then
a historical reference, Mendel, Bruegel, Mata Hari,
how many times? The prize and the prize and the prize.
A swarm of prizes. I think of William Butler Yeats,

a sloshy evening spent in fellowship with his kind. Some
have a scribbled paper with them. Some, a published pamphlet.
All of them have dreams to share. "Inside of every fat man
there's a skinny man waiting to be let out." And inside every
too many of us is a me. Right now, a hundred me
are lifting up their pints and toasting Yeats's observation.


Albert Goldbarth
Poetry
The Humor Issue
Volume CLXXXVI, Number 4
July/August 2005



I have not had the urge to blog and is more of a general malaise then an avoidance posting but this poem seemed also to capture a feeling about online journalists too. I have been reading a lot of late and wanted to share some of it. In short if you liked Freakanomics then The Tipping Point is also well worth reading about trends and impacts. I hope to get around to posting more soon. Sorry for the cobwebs.

A poem and two photos

SYBARITES


The coin of our pleasure,
Its obverse face
Minted in high relief --

And its reverse?
The same type incuse, stamped
By the punch of taboo.


Robert Wells


S. had some good shots of Millenium Park on her camera. I finally picked up the film today.

Interesting feature on one of the matched 50' towers of Crown Fountain. Apparently the artist gathered a collection of a 1000 faces from a cross section of Chicago residents that are used in rotation as a modern version of the classic gargoyle.

Poem is one being retired from Poetry Daily archive this week...

"Remember When You Were Young?"

Musician Syd Barrett Dies at Age 60
by Felix Contreras
From All Things Considered

Npr had decent obit with nice musical beds. Shine on indeed...
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5549695

Introducing, for the first time here...

Iggy and Hopper

We recently adopted a couple of Kalona farm cats. I promise that I will not turn this into a series of cloying shots of kittens hanging off of branches, swinging from the chandelier, or mauling each other. I was attempting to photoshop them into one of Robert Rainey style portraits below but that turned out to be difficult so I quit.

It has been years since I have had a kitten. When dogs play it's as if they are preparing for a sporting event, albeit one with lots of fetching and drooling. I suppose it could a football training camp. Kittens on the other hand while amusing to watch still manage to maintain an air of menace to their play. It's like they are in an unregimented ninja training school and will eventually graduate and become assassins. Like Le Femme Nikita but without the instructors or etiquette coach.

Do you remember, remember D. Boon?
Part of what he was is a part of me now
And if you think back, where would he be
Where would I be if time had allowed?

from Uncle Tupelo's D.Boon from album Still Feel Gone



I swear I just walked into the Record Collector to see if they were selling Dave Alvin tickets since they had the poster for the upcoming Mill show in the window. Alas, they were not but on the counter was the dvd pictured. I watched most of it last Saturday morning before hitting the road. It is a true tragedy of a band hitting its peak and losing an integral member to sheer chance. I remember first listening to them on an SST compilation tape that I picked up because it had the Husker Du covers 8 Miles High and Love is All Around so it was after D.Boon died that I heard them. Solid documentary with a whole extra disc of songs and live footage.

Coincidently the Gram Parsons documentary Fallen Angel was waiting for us via Netflix when we returned. Another tragedy but one that evokes much less sympathy. Gram was amazingly talented as well but seemed more inclined to throw it away. Born rich, beautiful, and gifted he proceeded to take several steps backward for every step forward. I love his songs but ended up leaving this film not feeling that sorry for him and feeling more for his family especially after the whole post-mortem farce that must be heard to be believed. Again by chance, I happened to be reading the liner notes to the Dwight Yoakam box set from Rhino Records and ran across this quote from Chris Hillman, exasperated frien and band member, who had to twice fire Gram for various reasons chief of which was that he would rather just hang out with Keith Richards

“Of all the people out there, I…look at (Dwight) Yoakam as being the Gram Parsons that worked – the operating model.”

Following the same string of chance, Dwight is playing a free show at casino in Des Moines which is where I am headed this afternoon.


On a dramatic note we watched Woody Allen’s Match Point that is not as much written as assembled. I am curious as to why it received many rave reviews. It only stands up well compared to some of his later films. It seems to be a hodge-podge of an overt Crime and Punishment rehash (main character is reading Doestovesky at the start of film) with a bit of Thedore Dreiser’s An American Tragedy (filmed with Montgomery Clift/Liz Taylor as A Place in the Sun) thrown in, and capped off with a subplot from Woody’s own Crimes and Misdemeanors. The cast was decent but even Scarlett Johanseen seemd a little off but perhaps it was just some of the dialogue. Not a bad film just a bit overhyped I guess.

We fared better with the film version of Everything is Illuminated. It captures the essence of the Safran-Foer novel with just a few major gaps. I recommend checking out the deleted scenes features. It’s worth watching but I keep excepting Elijah Wood to revert to his Sin City character and start bouncing around and eating people. But that’s just me.

Robert Rainey's Two Way

Examples from another exhibition we saw at the CCC. Each portrait was mounted in a mirror like light box which refelected your image when light was off and illuminated the photo when light was on. Not sure if it worked that well but overall I enjoyed the concept.

Weekend in Review

Took a trip up to Sioux City on Saturday. The Sgt. Floyd Monument we drove by is in memory of the only member of the Lewis & Clark party who died on the trip, apparently of an appendicitis. It also is the furthest west I have been in the state of Iowa since moving here almost seven years ago this summer. I have wanted to follow the route of the explorers since reading Blue Highways by William Least-Heat Moon. In it he refers to the the DeVoto edition of the travel diaries which led me to pick that up. I always like travelogues that include the books that the authors bring along. In the Ireland book by McCarthy which I am finishing up he has a copy of Thackeray's travels through the Emerald Isle along to read and compare. Paul Theroux also does this. It leads to more of what Least-Heat Moon would call a 'deep map' of your trip. We also adopted a couple of as yet unnamed kittens on Monday. Not sure which is fraught with more potential peril, the cats or a night on the town in Sioux City.

Middle Western Exposure

(Photo from Spudart's site http://www.spudart.org/)

Another exhibit from CCC were artist John Kearney's metal sculptures. My picture of the Cadillac Venus is too blurry and there was a smaller version of the moose above too. It also gave the Michigan Avenue address of the moose. What you can't see is the anatomically correct metal pizzle of the noble beast. As we passed by a father was attempting to herd his three young daughters into a photo op with the moose. The youngest one about 4 years old then proceeded to hang on to the penis and inquire loudly enough for several dozen passerbys to hear "Daddy, What is this?"

I just hope this is the harried father's only witnessing of his youngest holding onto a metal dong with both hands.

Chicago Cultural Center

Nick Cave's Sound Suits

Last Saturday rising at the crack of 10 due to time spent in after hours bars drinking $6 dollar vodkas (Not bad actually considering the $5 beers at show which were a bargain as it appears that all draft beers in Chicago are a half-sawbuck) we checked out of the hostel and got our key deposit back (2 beers).

The plans called for some cheap activities to make up for the excesses of the evening. So we stowed bags in car and hoofed it to the nearest CTA stop and headed downtown to investigate Millennium Park. (A nice pdf map of park here.)

After touring the park, hot and envious of children playing in the Crown Fountain, and watching S. take some photos (still need to finish that roll so they can be posted) we grabbed some, at least in my case, atrociously sweetened tart unidentifiable red fruit lemonade and walked by and then, noticing it was free admission, into the Chicago Cultural Center. I recommend it as the building is grand and cool and the exhibits we saw were worth checking out. Did I mention it was free?

The above photo is a series of shamanistic suits made of mostly found materials by artist Nick Cave (not the murder balladeer who hangs out with the Bad Seeds as I first thought). They reminded me of a favorite book in a series I devoured in my youth. The book was The Mystery of the Dancing Devil and was part of the Alfred Hitchcock and The Three Investigators series. In fact I need to start looking for them again in case I missed some near the end. I liked them better than the ageless Hardy Boys because of the continuity between novels, the California setting with secret hidden headquarters in a junkyard and of course the ultimate meeting with Hitch to wrap up the case and fill out the loose ends.

As promised the snapshot of our cell room at the hostel.

I have been fortunate in books of late. The English, August novel was excellent. I just finished the historical novel Arthur & George by Julian Barnes coincidentally also with ties to India and the titular Arthur's last name is Conan Doyle. Great read. On the discard shelf I picked up a copy of The Gourmet Gardner by E. Annie Proulx and Kraft-Ebing's Psychopathia Sexualis, which makes for hours of entertaining reading particularly the case studies included. Apparently masturbation is the root of all evils.

The publican of the Dublin Undergound loaned me a copy of a book he read on plane ride back from a recent trip to Ireland, McCarthy's Bar by Pete McCarthy. Born in England to English dad and Irish mom he recounts his childhood trips to visit relatives near Cork with present trek around same area (circa 2000). I am only a few chapters in but I have nearly snorted coffee through my nose on three occasions while reading it. It would have have happened again but I ran out of coffee and I had to go to work. The prologue sets the tone where it begins to enumerate some of the Immutable Rules of Travel, No.8 Never pass a bar that has your name on it. Others include Never eat at a place with laminated menus and Never attempt to score weed off Hasidic Jews in Central Park under the impression that they are Rastafarians. More rules come out his travels across Ireland proceed. I was saddened to learn that the author died of cancer in 2004 at the age of 51.

Sport's Guy's You Tube Hall of Fame

ESPN columnist Bill Simmons on the You Tube phenom... and arguably the high water mark of the rock video....

from his article yesterday here...

The downtown view of Chicago from our room at the Arlington House, an international hostel in Lincoln Park area. It was a bargain for 75 bucks a night with private bath but a real no-frills with two single beds no phone or tv. Still it was less than a third of what we paid for a night up the street at Days Inn on last trip here.

We saw Calexico at the Metro. Can't say enough about these guys. Gotta love the horns. It was a very good show made even better by solid opening act performance of Broken Social Scene guitarist, Jason Collett. Only down side was a few too many idiots more into talking than listening. Highlight was during encore with both bands on stage, about 12 people, doing a cover of Dylan's Gotta Serve Somebody.

"What Fresh Hell is This?"

I managed my escape from Lansing. Actually the Nuthouse was not bad for a Sport's Bar. It is located diagonally across from Oldsmobile Park (the blurry thing in the background of sign), home of the Lansing Lugnuts, who sadly were out of town and were probably back in Cedar Rapids playing the Kernels. So we finally made it downtown after being stuck in hotel in meetings etc for a couple of days. Our dump of hotel was made historic on day of departure when thefollowing was related to me by friend. Apparently two women who were admiring my colleague's Mustang as he prepared to drive back to Columbus exclaimed, "This place used to be the Playboy Club that's why it's so nice!"
I could not confirm that it was the same location but have no reason to doubt the claim. I did find out that the Lansing Playboy club was the very last one in the U.S. to close, in 1988. End of era I suppose. Anyways, I was almost stuck there another night thanks to weather and United Airlines. Will have to go into details later. Off to Chicago for some R&R.

Apparently I was mistaken and Manet did not actually witness this Civil War naval engagement off the coast of France. He painted it from newspapers accounts or others sketches, not sure. The Met had an exhibit a couple years ago. A nice little history of the painting is here. It's part of a large modern art and impressionism blog on Princeton website. (link below). Nice resource.

http://blogs.princeton.edu/modernart/

(I stole the vintage postcard idea from Ragna's recent trip.)

Greetings from Lansing! It seems like Madison but with more GM cars and less Priuses. (Priuii?). So far we have recieved a lot of blank stares from people when asking what are the local attractions. At least its a short stay, some of my coworkers have had to stay here for a month at a stretch.

Happy Bloomsday

Eve Arnold, Marilyn Monroe Reading Ulysses, Long Island, New York, 1954.

New Hampshire poet Donald Hall named new poet laureate
By Beverley Wang, Associated Press Writer
June 14, 2006

WILMOT, N.H. --A fax last week informed Donald Hall he would be the next poet laureate of the United States, and since then, between phone calls, sitting for photographs and giving interviews, he has been thinking about his new job.
"I had one friend, I asked him to give me ideas for what I can do as poet laureate, and he typed out 85," said Hall, a former New Hampshire poet laureate. (Rest of article is here.)




I remember reading him after he published the book of poems dealing with the death of his wife, the poet Jane Kenyon. NPR has good coverage and several of his poems here from All Things Considered. I like the one below. It's good to see a New Englander back in office. (Kearsarge is also the name of the ship which fought and sunk the famous Confederate ship Alabama off the coast of France. Edouard Manet witnessed event and the painting hangs in Philadelphia Musuem of Art. I have always wanted a copy of that print since I was a big fan of Scott O' Dell's The 290 as a teen. FYI. Sorry about the tangent.)

Mount Kearsarge Shines

Mount Kearsarge shines with ice: from hemlock branches
snow slides onto snow; no stream, creek, or river
budges but remains still. Tonight
we carry armloads of logs.

from woodshed to Glenwood and build up the fire
that keeps the coldest night outside our windows.
Sit by the woodstove, Camilla.
while I bring glasses of white.

and we'll talk, passing the time, about weather
without pretending that we can alter it:
Storms stop when they stop, no sooner,
leaving the birches glossy

with ice and bent glittering to rimy ground.
We'll avoid the programmed weatherman grinning
from the box, cheerful with tempest,
and take the day as it comes,

one day at a time, the way everyone says.
These hours are the best because we hold them close
in our uxorious nation.
Soon we'll walk -- when days turn fair

and frost stays off -- over old roads, listening
for peepers as spring comes on, never to miss
the day's offering of pleasure
for the government of two.




POSTSCRIPT: If you DID NOT see The Squid and the Whale yet you might not want to read the rest of this. Minor plot spoiler ahead..... I enjoyed the movie but the one story line about the older kid plagarizing Hey You by Pink Floyd and no one catching on immediately bothered me. The movie was set in Brooklyn 1986...The Wall came out in 1979 and was one of the first records I owned that was not from a yardsale, hand me down, or Columbia House Record Club. It was played incessantly on the radio for years. Everyone knew that album backwards and forwards even in CT. Especially after Alan Parker's film version came out in 1982. It was the midnight movie for years paired up with Rocky Horror. I just found that one a little hard to swallow. 'Nuff said.

"Irish Coffee All Around"

Coffee reduces cirrhosis risk

Study shows four cups per day cut risk of alcohol damage to liver by 80 percent in women and men.

Carla K. Johnson / Associated Press

CHICAGO -- Coffee may counteract alcohol's poisonous effects on the liver and help prevent cirrhosis, researchers say.

In a study of more than 125,000 people, one cup of coffee per day cut the risk of alcoholic cirrhosis by 20 percent. Four cups per day reduced the risk by 80 percent. The coffee effect held true for women and men of various ethnic backgrounds.

It is unclear whether it is the caffeine or other ingredient in coffee that provides the protection, said study co-author Dr. Arthur Klatsky of the Kaiser Permanente Division of Research in Oakland, Calif. The study was in Monday's Archives of Internal Medicine.

Cirrhosis is an irreversible scarring of the liver that hurts the organ's ability to filter toxins from the blood. Not all heavy drinkers develop it.

Hepatitis C and some inherited diseases can also cause cirrhosis. But the study found coffee did not protect the liver against those causes of scarring.

Cirrhosis from all causes kills more than 27,000 Americans a year and sends nearly 400,000 to the hospital.

About the study

Participants ranged from teetotalers, who made up 12 percent of the total, to heavy drinkers, who made up 8 percent.

Coffee consumption was noted only at the beginning of the study, which the researchers admitted was a limitation. They were followed for an average of 14 years.

Other findings

The study found coffee drinkers had healthier results on blood tests used to measure liver function, whether or not they were heavy alcohol users.

The researchers found no reduced risk of cirrhosis for tea drinkers.


While I prefer mine with just whiskey and black coffeee some of these sound excellent and for those interested I found some decent recipes from Cocktail Times.

In 1952 Jack Koeppler, owner of Buena Vista in San Fransisco brought the Irish Coffee recipe back to the United States and made it famous. Every year, the Foynes Flying Boat Museum holds an Irish Coffee Festival in August. The festival has the world's best Irish Coffee making competition.

The Original Irish Coffee
Joe, Sheridan, Foynes Flying Boat Museum


Cream - Rich as an Irish Brogue

Coffee- Strong as Friendly Hand

Sugar - Sweet as the tongue of a Rouge

Irish Whiskey - smooth as the Wit of the Land

In a warm stemmed whiskey goblet, pour one jigger of Irish whiskey. Add one spoon of brown sugar and fill with strong black coffee within one inch of brim. Stir to dissolve the sugar and top off with whipped cream, slightly aerated by pouring it over the back of a spoon. Do not stir after adding the cream as the true flavor is obtained by drinking the hot coffee and Irish whiskey through the cream.

Classic Irish Coffee
- 2 oz Bushmills Irish Whiskey
- 2 teaspoons brown sugar
- 5 - 6 oz freshly brewed strong black coffee

Stir thoroughly and top off with a layer of heavy whipping cream, poured gently over the back of a spoon.

Hot Kiss Goodnight
- 2 oz Bushmills Irish Whiskey
- 2 teaspoons cream de menthe (green or white)
- 1/2 oz creme de cacao (white or brown)
- 4 oz freshly brewed strong black coffee

Stir thoroughly and then add a thick cap of whipped cream; place Hershey's Kiss on top.

Whiskey-a-Cocoa
- 2 oz Bushmill Irish Whiskey
- 4 - 5 oz hot chocolate

Stir thoroughly and then add a thick cap of whipped cream; sprinkle with flakes of chocolate.

Hot Mocha
- 1 oz Bushmills Irish Whiskey
- 1/2 oz creme de cacao (white or brown)
- 1 1/2 oz hot espresso

Stir thoroughly and top off with a layer of heavy cream, poured gently over the back of a spoon

Hot Irish Monk
- 2 oz Bushmills Irish Whiskey
- 1 oz Frangelico hazelnut liqueur
- 4 oz hot chocolate

Stir thoroughly and add a thick cap of whipped cream; sprinkle with chopped, toasted hazelnuts.

Flag Day (The holiday not the song by the Housemartins)

(Photo by Tom from his recent Memorial Day Weekend trip to Boston. Almost looks as good as the World Series Champs banner that was draped on the Green Monster last year.)

The true sign of an obsession with a writer or writers, it has been said, is when you start to collect their journalism. Happily, in the case of Anthony Bourdain, it has been done for us. His latest, The Nasty Bits, is from page one not very vegetarian friendly as he describes in great detail the sharing the delicacies of a seal with a family after a recent hunt. Blackberries soaked in blood? I consider myself willing to try almost anything once but none of the seal parts even remotely whetted my appetite. But the world weary traveller makes a point about how these expeirences can not be captured on the page or even by film. But he proceeds to do just that capture the moment in an evocative manner.The book is mish-mash of various pieces written with usual gruff charm and his 'Wait, how did i get here again?' attitude . I love a writer whose favorite bands are MC5 and The Stooges. I was introduced to him at the Dublin Underground by drooling drunk cook friend of mine after Bourdain's book reading upstairs at Prairie Lights. He said I looked like a cook. (It was before I cut all my hair off). I took it as a compliment. I wish I had the Food Network as I have not caught any of his most recent series.

I also might have to get cable for the summer since the third season of Entourage is coming soon. Just started watching season 2 and I recommend it. It is a breezy comedy that has no laugh track and never devolves into soap opera plots that often befall the usual sit com characters . The core cast is solid, Jeremy Piven is note perfect as the agent, and guest stars abound, Val Kilmer as a Lebowskiesque dope dealer, Gary Busey as, well, Gary Busey, who is clearly no longer even attempting to play another role except himself.

Reading an amusing novel English, August: An Indian Story by Upamanyu Chatterjee. Blurbs compare it to Confederacy of Dunces and Catcher in the Rye. And the truth is probably somewhere in between. The publisher's (New York Review Books) website has a pdf file of the intro and first chapter and it can be found here.... Funny is also a collection of poems from Jennifer Michael Hecht, weaving old jokes and philosophy together and producing poems that bear reading. ICPL has both of these books (although currently checked out).

http://www.nybooks.com/shop/product-file/12/engl5412/chapter.pdf

"She's gone to get some records by the Status Quo"

Wrestling with blogger again today... CVB doing cover of Pictures of Matchstick Men one of my favorites but I have a 'thing' for covers. Actually, I have another version by Angry Samoans which is more enteraining because they are so obnoxius and drunk they play it twice.

Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn,
Grew lean while he assailed the seasons
He wept that he was ever born,
And he had reasons.

Miniver loved the days of old
When swords were bright and steeds were prancing;
The vision of a warrior bold
Would send him dancing.

Miniver sighed for what was not,
And dreamed, and rested from his labors;
He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot,
And Priam's neighbors.

Miniver mourned the ripe renown
That made so many a name so fragrant;
He mourned Romance, now on the town,
And Art, a vagrant.

Miniver loved the Medici,
Albeit he had never seen one;
He would have sinned incessantly
Could he have been one.

Miniver cursed the commonplace
And eyed a khaki suit with loathing:
He missed the medieval grace
Of iron clothing.

Miniver scorned the gold he sought,
But sore annoyed was he without it;
Miniver thought, and thought, and thought,
And thought about it.

Miniver Cheevy, born too late,
Scratched his head and kept on thinking;
Miniver coughed, and called it fate,
And kept on drinking.

-- Edwin Arlington Robinson

I finally got around to watching Grizzly Man, thanks to the library's new express dvd checkout for current releases. I understand this film was a real tragedy but solely for the reason the girlfriend died. Clearly Treadwell had some problems and harbored a death wish. Still... what the Sport's Guy calls the Unintentional Comedy Factor is through the roof. It is impossible not to laugh out loud somtimes during this film. If I didn't know it was real I would swear it was a mockumentary, a cross between The Life Aquatic and Best in Show, starring Owen Wilson. Werner Herzog's narration does not help deter this feeling "... Die landskape ist a metaphor for a schoul in turmoil..." It's a must see. I will have to watch this again sometime.

Also saw the Miranda July (Junebug) , Me and You and Everyone We Know... uber-quirky and strange and which approaches some uncomfortable areas, but as someone pointed out it never ventures over into Happiness territory.

The poem above is another from the 100 Modern Poems book that I have been perusing. Not familiar with author but apparently he also toiled in obscurity (Does anyone ever toil in renown?) in a customs house like Melville before being 'discovered' by Teddy Roosevelt. Not sure how many other poets can trace their success to Presidential favor. Even Frost was familiar before being tapped as top bard by JFK.

I also have to second El Duderino's recommendation for Freakonomics, definitely fodder for discussion and a quick intruiging read.

My friend Tom sends me random pictures all the time. Usually with little or no explanation of where he was at the time of photo. This one I must be from his last trip to Boston. (There was another picture of the door from The Bull & Finch of Cheers fame and a shot from the bleachers of Fenway.) Not sure exactly where in Boston this sculpture is but it is one of his better snapshots.

War Stories

Vietnam, 1966
by Neil Sheehan

Antarctica, 1958
by Robert Stone

New York, 1967
by Roger Angell

Sierra Leone, 1997
by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Ivory Coast, 2000
by Tony D’Souza

Yugoslavia, 1991
by Aleksandar Hemon

Iraq, 2004
by Wendell Steavenson


Too late for Memorial Day but just in time for the D-Day anniversary the current issue of New Yorker has the war zone vignettes above that are worth checking out. Also available online is something called Dear Home Front, an audio slideshow edited by Andrew Carroll (of the Poetry & Literacy fame). The slideshow is about 30 minutes and needs a Flash player installed.

American Life in Poetry: Column 062

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE

Gardeners who've fought Creeping Charlie and other unwanted plants may sympathize with James McKean from Iowa as he takes on Bindweed, a cousin to the two varieties of morning glory that appear in the poem. It's an endless struggle, and in the end, of course, the bindweed wins.


Bindweed

There is little I can do
besides stoop to pluck them
one by one from the ground,
their roots all weak links,
this hoard of Lazaruses popping up
at night, not the Heavenly Blue
so like silk handkerchiefs,
nor the Giant White so timid
in the face of the moon,
but poor relations who visit
then stay. They sleep in my garden.
Each morning I evict them.
Each night more arrive, their leaves
small, green shrouds,
reminding me the mother root
waits deep underground
and I dig but will never find her
and her children will inherit
all that I've cleared
when she holds me tighter
and tighter in her arms.


Reprinted from "Headlong," University of Utah Press, 1987, by permission of the author, and first published in "Poetry Northwest," Vol. 23, No. 3, 1982. Copyright © 1982 by James McKean, whose most recent book is "Home Stand," a memoir published in 2005 by Michigan State University Press. This weekly column is supported by The Poetry Foundation, The Library of Congress, and the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.

I don't have as ready access to internet so posts will be intermittent, brief, or as you can see, largely lifted from other sources. If you do not subscribe to the email version or read it regularly online or in a local paper you are missing a treat. I still need to read some more of Kooser's own work, which has been on my 'list' since his appearance in town several months back. The 'list', like the English Constitution, is unwritten and exists only on various scraps of paper, small notebooks and in my head.

I get to visit a new town in a couple weeks. Work is sending me on a brief trip to Lansing, MI. If anyone has any sightseeing or dining suggestions please let me know.


P.S. Is anyone else annoyed with the piece of crap spell-checker that comes with Blogger? I mean if Google can take over the world you think they would be able to use the same engines to spell check competently.

Summer Reading?

Meet Cliff Janeway, Former Denver homicide detective forced into retirement for taking the law into his own hands in a domestic abuse case. Now he runs a book store dealing with rare 1st editions which natually always leads to murder. Well, not really. But it seems like it. Good stuff though.

I was returning a video to library yesterday and saw that the lastest book in this series was out. The Bookwoman's Last Fling is the fifth in this mystery series by John Dunning. I love mysteries, novels of intrigue/spy and when combined with the book collecting world it seemed too good to avoid. This particular one adds horseracing to the mix of murder and books.
I am kind of obsessive about reading series characters in order so I would recommend starting with Booked to Die but they can be read in any order as they do stand alone with the exception of missing a few things about characters that develop over the course or ones that come along later. Dunning was a reporter and used to run a book store in Denver until he closed it down after success of the first Cliff Janeway book. He still maintains an online version of the store, Old Algonquin Books.

If you liked the Davinci code genre but prefer something a little less page turny and tad more literary, the Washington Post book world critic suggested the following , "If you like these sorts of books, I suggest instead Lawrence Norfolk's Lempriere's Dictionary, A.S. Byatt's Possession, Umberto Eco's Foucault's Pendulum, and Iain Pears' An Instance of the Fingerpost."

I would choose Instance of the Fingerpost and Lempriere's Dictionary as I think they have been overlooked. If possible find UK version of the Norfolk book as the American one has been expurgated to the point of confusion in some spots. I have a copy of the Byatt book but have never read it as I wanted to read Middlemarch first since they are related. Obsessive again I know.

Catching up on a couple months worth of music blogs is nigh impossible but I did find a reference to an older Onion piece on I am Fuel music blog (its in my list somewhere). Apologies if you saw this already...


Inventory: Seven Songs With Factual Or Logical Mistakes In The Lyrics

1. U2, "Pride (In The Name Of Love)"

It's probably difficult to work the assassination of a civil-rights leader into a song––but if anyone can do it, Bono can! Unfortunately, he fudges the facts a bit in the last chorus of this song, when he sings about the killing of Martin Luther King Jr., "Early morning, April 4 / Shot rings out in the Memphis sky." King was actually shot on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel at 6:01 p.m., which makes Bono off by about 10 hours. But he did get the date and the city right. Oh, and the pride part. Which isn't bad for a Nobel Peace Prize nominee.

The rest are here...

Forgetfulness

The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.

Billy Collins

The above favorite of mine I ran across again yesterday in a new anthology of poems (100 essential modern poems / selected by Joseph Parisi. ) While at times it seems as if there are more anthologies than poems I still love seeing who and what is collected by whom ( kind of ugly there but you get my drift). I think Parisi does a nice job in this volume sticking with standards but not always selecting the obvious and the author intros are appropriately concise but sold although I wish he would include reasoning behind selection of the specific poem over others.
I was looking over the discard shelf and on it there were a lot of classroom copies of paperbacks from discarded in bulk. I grabbed copies of Candide, Main Street, Democracy in America and a few others I can't recall (see above poem). The one that is, in the words of Emily, currently making me feel as if the top of my head is being taken off, is The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison. I am in awe of her prose. I started reading it yesterday while browsing and then after finishing up a Le Carre intrigue, was eager to return to it have not put it down for very long since. She has, in her own words a "...truth in timbre."

"The Sentinels Creed"

"My dedication to this sacred duty is total and wholehearted.
In the responsibility bestowed on me never will I falter.
And with dignity and perseverance my standard will remain perfection.

Through the years of diligence and praise and the discomfort of the elements,
I will walk my tour in humble reverence to the best of my ability.
It is he who commands the respect I protect.

His bravery that made us so proud.
Surrounded by well meaning crowds by day alone in the thoughtful peace of night,
this soldier will in honored glory rest under my eternal vigilance."

The 3d U.S Infantry, traditionally known as The Old Guard, is the oldest continuously serving active-duty
infantry unit in the Army, serving our nation since 1784.



I rememeber walking around the lake by our house in Ledyard, Ct and stumbling across an old, overgrown, family cemetery. It was an education in the brevity of not only our lives but the memories of them. The family plot, long abandoned , always received certain specific attention around this time of year. Someone would always make it a point to traipse through the woods and place a flag on the grave of a Revolutionary War veteran buried there. From the names on most of the stones that we were still able to decipher, this once hallowed land was formerly the Stanton family's. I wish had done some more research of who they were, especially the soldier whose name I can no longer recall.
While Veteran's Day honors all who served, Memorial Day is reserved for those that have given the ultimate sacrifice for their comrades, family, and country. I agree with the manner of Gary Trudeau's memoriam in yesterday's Doonesbury and I was fortunate never to have suffered the loss of someone close to me while in the service. The same can not be said for all those who continue to serve today. Thank You.

I miss the beach

It's just easier to post pictures than trying to come up with something to write because I am fried from reading social studies essays

(Another shot by S. with the cell phone. Nice job considering it was impossible to see what she was aiming at because of the sun.)

Tall Buildings Shake, Voices Escape, Singing Sad, Sad Songs

S. captured this on cell phone from water taxi between Navy Pier and Sears Tower.

(The building will forver be known to me as The Yankee Hotel Foxtrot Building or The Wilco Building due to album cover)



Chaotic week involving co-opting existing plans to go to the above show in Chicago with a trip back to home. Eastern trip postponed until later this summer as it was not as pressing a need as first thought and can wait. Another twist at work is sending me back to Columbus this week. Will try to update from there.

P.S. The Drive By Truckers show flat out rocked. Upwards of 2 1/2 hours with minimal encore break. Closed out the show with an amazing cover of Jim Carrol's People Who Died.

"The God Abandons Antony"

When suddenly at the midnight hour

you hear the invisible troupe passing by

with sublime music, with voices --

don't futilely mourn your luck giving out, your work

collapsing, the designs of your life

that have all proved to be illusions.

As if long prepared, as if full of courage,

say good-bye to her, the Alexandria who is leaving.

Above all don't fool yourself, don't say it was

a dream, how your ears tricked you.

Don't stoop to such empty hopes.

As if long prepared, as if full of courage,

as is right for you who are worthy of such a city,

go stand tall by the window

and listen with feeling, but not

with the pleas and whining of a coward,

hear the voices -- your last pleasure --

the exquisite instruments of that secret troupe,

and say good-bye to her, the Alexandria you are losing.

C.P. Cavafy

I started composing this post almost a month ago and then abandoned it. Here it is at last without the links because they are probably expired.

I first ran across a C.P. Cavafy poem in Andrew Carrolls free book of poems distributed for The American Poetry & Literacy Project. Songs of the Open Road? (Carroll deserves his own post…I had written him about becoming involved in the project beyond the scope of donation and he wrote me a letter enclosing a few copies of the book. His other projects and interest in letters of the unsung make for entralling reading). The poem was Ithaka a benediction for the beginning of a voyage (…Fear not the Lastroygynians…) and reminding the traveler that he will always have home in is heart. A cliché perhaps when summarized but made elegant in Cavafy’s verse. We met again when I read J.M. Coetzee’s Waiting for the Barbarians for a class. The title was taken from Cavafy’s most well known poem of same name. A new translation of Cavafy by Aliki Barnstone (in collobartion with her father Willis) is out and was reviewed recently in Washington Post by Michael Dirda, who I often turn to when looking for what to read next.

Enough with the vacation slides already!

Lots of public art around Seattle , including the aforementioned Troll and a controversial statue of Lenin outside a taco stand in Fremont which we did not make it to. Not sure I want to pose with the man anyway.


Friday night at Safeco Field, the consummate professional pictured above on the right, the over 35 softball league player (now retired) on the left. Nice ballpark a short walk from Pioneer Square and the downtown market. Ichiro had an amazing catch in this game as well as a triple in a 9-4 loss to the Indians. Jamie "Methuselah" Moyer was pitching for the home team.

Back in Iowa as I write this and adjusting back to central time zone. Will catch up on things as I can. Scruffy should have a novel length of new material that I need to read.

Obligatory needle background shot. We will have some better shots once the disposable is developed. The picture of the Troll under the Fremont St. Bridge did not come out so good on the cell.

A much needed and excellent refuge after trying to park in Uptown area with my behemoth of a rental car. I am starting to hate Chevrolets and especially the recent incarnation of the Impalla. Bartender was playing cd of bluegrass covers of Modest Mouse songs. Has to be heard. We found a store copy at record store around corner immediately after leaving this pub.

Alas, we will not be in town to see this show. But I am intrigued.


NOTE: Photos of Jabu Bar and poster of Steven Seagal Blues Band removed for formatting issues.

Mt. Rainier can be seen from our hotel in Federal Way...

...as can the Space Needle, which looks quite different from pictures and the view from Frasier's apartment. Still swamped but things are winding down. I love being near the water and we actually found decent seafood in Des Moines...Washington.

One must imagine Sisyphus happy. - Camus

It's been a little bit crazy at work here in Columbus. Things should ease off soon and I can catch up on sleep and return to reading something for pleasure and catching up on blogs etc... I do not mean to sound as if I am complaining as too much work is far better than none and in light of other people's recent losses I consider myself fortunate. Anyway, I still have a few more days to post some poems for National Poetry month and I wanted to share a couple I ran across. If I can find them again.

Not been reading much at all , but I did buy the new Drive By Truckers album, A Blessing and a Curse, this weekend and have been cranking it up on way to and from work. Buy it now. They are playing next month in Chicago and I am planning on going. That and the slim chance that I will get to see the Red Sox in Cleveland later this week work permitting keep me going.

"Everyone's got to pay the mortgage…" - Yuppie Nuremberg Defense offered by tobacco spokesperson Nick Naylor in Thank You For Smoking

We watched this film this weekend and I thought it was a good but slight adaptation of the very funny Christopher Buckley novel. There was almost nothing done wrong with this movie. From the details of cool artsy throwback opening credits, to the soundtrack redolent with smoke, to the superb supporting cast and note perfect lead played by Aaron Eckhart. The lapses in script seemed to come from the addition of the role of the Damien looking son, the diminishing of the Maria Bello character and a couple of subplots removed. (Nothing was probably lost to the trimming of the Katie Holmes sex scenes, alas). Although the changes don't significantly detract from plot the movie seemed brief and ended on an odd note.
This could have been due to problems the theater had with the sound and film which ended up removing most of the step-dad's role entirely from our screening. Overall I would say wait for the dvd as you won't miss much by not seeing it on big screen.
I would hope that this will send people to the books of Chris Buckley. From the conspiracy theory spoof of a George Will type talking head in Little Green Men, to a First Lady on trial for assassination of her husband in No Way to Treat a First Lady, to the most recent dark humor take on Middle East Florence of Arabia (which also features return of Nick Naylor) all of them bring the authors inside the beltway knowledge, humor and gift of satire into entertaining novels.
The director, Simon Reitman (son of the filmmaker Ivan), maintained a blog while directing that was fun to peruse. He was clearly excited about working on this movie. It will be interesting to see what he does next.

The Days After

I t is amazing that only a few blocks from my fortunately untouched apartment there was so much devastation.

Many people were out documenting damage it felt a bit ghoulish so I stopped after a few cell phone shots.

The sign reads, "$14,000 or best offer". Save for color and current location it looks like my 1990 Corolla.