What To Read While Wandering Through Armageddon

The first two sentences of my annotation of Colson Whitehead's "The Intuitionist" are:

I’m not sure who said, “God is in the details.” But after reading The Intuitionist, it’s obvious that Colson Whitehead was listening.

I fell in love with Whitehead's first book when I read it about four months ago. I had never heard of him and it angered me that there was a writer out there who could write this well about something so completely original.

Naturally, when I saw that he had a new book coming out soon, "Sag Harbor," I added it to my to-buy list. Others jumped it and got in the way, but after reading a couple of articles that have been in the NY Times recently, I think it's back at the top of my list.

This is the Times review of "Sag Harbor," and this is an interview from the Times where he talks about his reasons for writing his new book. One sentence in particular jumped out at me:

What distinguishes “Sag Harbor” from all those first novels that Mr. Whitehead spurned back in the ’90s [when Whitehead worked at The Village Voice Literary Supplement] is that it deliberately avoids a climax or big revelation.

That avoidance, of the big revelation (I can just imagine it now: And that's when it hit me...) is something I strive for in my writing. I don't want to write about the countdown to Armageddon. I want to write about wandering across a scorched earth, always thinking: What now?

And while I'm wandering, it wouldn't be too terrible to have a Colson Whitehead novel in hand.

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Follow Colson Whitehead on Twitter. Shit, follow me on Twitter too.

More Soon.

JS

A Cross-Section Of The Mind Of A Writer While Working Out Edits

I took this picture last night, after I realized I'd been scribbling on my copy of 'Whitney' for about four or five minutes, completely lost in thought. Click the image for a bigger version.

It went on to the next page, but I thought this one little section really captured the spirit of the moment.

More soon.

JS

And In Other News...

via CNN:

WASHINGTON (CNN) -- Veteran Sen. Arlen Specter, R-Pennsylvania, switched from the Republican to the Democratic Party on Tuesday, Sen. Harry Reid said.

The Specter party switch would give Democrats a filibuster-proof Senate majority of 60 seats if Al Franken holds his current lead in the disputed Minnesota Senate race.

I wonder if this is all part of some bigger ploy--doesn't seem to make sense at the moment. Sure, Specter is a moderate Republican, but that filibuster-proof Senate is a mighty sword to wield. And all so Specter can have a better shot at winning re-election next year?

I hope both sides are prepared.


More soon.

JS

There Will Be iPhone

FML, Act I:

via the NY Times:

SAN FRANCISCO — The iPhone may be poised to shake up the cellphone industry a second time.

Apple, the maker of the popular smartphone, is conducting high-level discussions with Verizon Wireless to sell a version of the iPhone that would work on Verizon’s network, according to a person briefed on the negotiations. The phone could be available as soon as next year.

The person, who requested anonymity because the deal isn’t completed, said discussions between top company executives intensified two weeks ago.

FML, Act II:

There's also a slightly different, though more indepth rumor coming from Business Week, via The iPhone Blog:

Business Week (via MacRumors) is reporting that Apple will introduce two (2) new devices on Verizon this year:

iPhone “Lite”, which would be thinner and cheaper than the iPhone proper due to the system on a chip technology Apple has been amassing lately (i.e. PA Semi, Arm and PowerVR licenses, etc).

“Media Pad”, which would be smaller than an Amazon Kindle but with a larger screen and described as yet another breakthrough device on the scale of iPod or iPhone, with photos, HD movies, music, and Wi-Fi for — presumably browsing and — VoIP calls.

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Now, let's see if any of this comes to fruition. It could just be a case of Apple trying to get what they want out of AT&T during their negotiations for a contract extension, but still--these aren't exactly low-level sources.


More soon.

JS

Fire Weather And Other Random Thoughts

-Got that as an update last night. Fire Weather. Is there a more badass warning?

-This is a very sad article. An eleven-year-old boy kills himself because he couldn't take the taunts of "gay" and "ugly"? Something like this makes your wish for fire weather.

-Gizmodo posted about what some feel is the future of books--The Espresso Book Machine. I doubt people will drop $43 on a 300-page book, even if it is out of print, but it's still a pretty cool idea.

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It's going to be a hot one today.

More soon.

JS

The Sunday Review--On Monday

A thousand apologies--yesterday was the 1st Annual Res Life Softball game (my team won, which is more than I can say for the Rangers and the Yankees), and when I got home around 6, besides watching the Rangers suffer an embarrassing defeat at MSG, I had so much to do and wound up getting nothing done. I was just that tired. And sore. And I'm still pretty tired and sore, but I came into work early to bang out another edition of The Sunday Review, so let's do it.

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-This ad jumped out at me yesterday:



I decided to write a short one act play about it, titled "Carbs In Carbs":

Marketing Exec 1: Here's my pitch, okay?

Marketing Exec 2: Seduce me.

Marketing Exec 1: Everybody loves pasta--especially when the name ends in 'ara' or 'era,' right?

Marketing Exec 2: I'm getting a little hot.

Marketing Exec 1: And everybody loves bread, right?

Marketing Exec 2: Seriously? I'm a little wet.

Marketing Exec 1: And in these times of economic hardship, who wouldn't love to bang out just a little more value for their buck--by say, oh, I don't know, eating their food's container?

Marketing Exec 2: The safety word is banana--we can't feed them plastic or cardboard, Howard. Not with this whole "green" movement.

Marketing Exec 1: Bread bowl, Phil. Bread. Bowl.

Marketing Exec 2: I'm hard again.

Marketing Exec 1: It's a bowl--made out of bread.

Marketing Exec 2: And we serve them the pasta--

Marketing Exec 1: In the bread bowl. That's right.

Marketing Exec 2: I'm about to explode, Howard. But--won't this make America even fatter than it already is? Serving carbs in carbs?

Marketing Exec 1: If by "fatter" you mean "more likely to order food from Domino's," then yes and yes.

Marketing Exec 2: Howard, you're a goddamn genius.

Marketing Exec 1: Phil, I hope this was as good for you as it was for me.

The End

-Here's a review of Jay McInerney's new short story collection, "How It Ended," from yesterday's Book Review. Obviously Bright Lights, Big City is McInerney's claim to fame, but this review makes the case that his other works hold water as well. I'll admit, I haven't read any of them, but I feel somewhat intrigued now. Bonus points for the Ian Cook picture of McInerney at a London book party in '88. Classic.

-This is an essay by Tom Bissell about David Foster Wallace and the graduation speech he gave at Kenyon College in 2005. Tom is a great teacher and an even better guy, and as soon as I got over the "I've sat and talked with a someone who wrote an essay in the Sunday Book Review!" feeling, I realized this was a great piece. Infinite Jest was already on my "to-read" list. Now, it looks like This Is Water is too.

-This is a really great opinion piece by Frank Rich called, "The Banality Of Bush White House Evil." I love the comparison it makes at the beginning about how we believed the myths about the Columbine massacre for the same reason we believed the government when it said that the abuse and torture and Abu Ghraib was carried out by, "a few American troops who dishonored our country and disregarded our values."

-Big day at the draft for the New York Jets. Who knows what Mark Sanchez will turn out to be, but you've got to feel pretty good about this move. The Jets are the team that doesn't make the big move. Whether it's fear or inability, we're never sure, but one thing we do know is not to expect anything. So to pull this trade off, even with what we gave up (our first-round pick (17), our second-round pick (52), defensive end Kenyon Coleman, safety Abram Elam and quarterback Brett Ratliff) means more than just getting what many are calling the best QB available. It means their is hope for a change in mindset. Here's what Mel Kiper had to say about the pick:

New York Jets: GRADE: A-The motto of the Jets' draft was quality over quantity. Mark Sanchez's selection made this team's draft because he's a franchise-maker. New coach Rex Ryan likes his defense, so the organization felt it could focus on the offense in his first draft. The Jets picked up Iowa running back Shonn Greene, who will fit into the rotation with Leon Washington and Thomas Jones. Guard Matthew Slauson was an OK pick in the sixth round, but the key to this draft is up top with Greene and Sanchez.

-As the Rangers go into Washington to play a Game 7 tomorrow that they will most likely lose, I hope John Tortorella feels really shitty about his actions. Not only did he embarrass the Rangers organization and their fans, he made a fool out of himself. He also comes off as a huge hypocrite. I understood benching Avery in Game 5. He isn't producing offensively and he isn't drawing penalties to counteract the ones he's taking. But at least what he does is on the ice. Smart or not, it's all part of a game that is fast, furious, and sometimes brings out the less-than-stellar aspects of man. By engaging the fans, Tortorella violated one of the cardinal rules of professional sports:

Don't engage the fucking fans.

I don't care if they were banging on the glass. I don't care if they were drunk and talking about Mrs. Torts. I don't care if the security staff wasn't doing their job, and you were really pissed about what was happening on the ice, you don't engage the fucking fans, Torts.

Use your head.

You know--the thing you just told Sean Avery to use?

-I posted before about the merits of the Photogene and Cool fx apps. Here's another example of how well it works:



That's a "cool bleach" effect which reminds me a lot of the look of Clint Eastwood's latest films.

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That's all for now. Today when I go home, I'm going to get a good bike ride in, straighten up the house, do my laundry, re-organize some stuff, start a new book (The Delivery Man by Joe McGinniss Jr.--my review of Donald Ray Pollack's Knockemstiff is coming soon) and basically ignore the television and sports in general. We need some time apart.


More soon.

JS

Bump This, MFer.

From The iPhone Blog:

Apple (via Macworld) has announced the winner of their 1 Billion App contest:

Connor Mulcahey, 13, from Weston, Connecticut who’s winning app was contact-swapper Bump.

This. Is. Complete. Horseshit.

The sick part is that I knew this would wind up in the hands of some undeserving 13 year-old who, while hopped up on ADHD medication, probably downloaded 25 free apps a day. I could make the case that at 13, he doesn't deserve the iPhone as it is.

And do we all know what the winning-fucking-app Bump is for?

Here's a video review.

How many of his little, jittery friends could even have an iPhone for him to "bump" contacts with?

I could give a shit less about the gift card, really I could. But an iPod touch, a Time Capsule, and a loaded Macbook Pro? C'mon. The median household income in Weston is $185,000/year. This fucker didn't need and/or deserve that prize.

FML.


More soon. Or not.

JS

The Blu Period

I've got about 15 Blu-ray's in my DVD collection (I've had a Blu-ray player, my PS3, since November) and I also pay the $2 extra or whatever it is so that Netflix will send me them when available.

Needless to say, I'm a fan.

The picture is superior quality--if you've watched a movie on say, HBOHD, well, Blu-ray is even better than that. The sound is also upgraded, and my home theater speakers aren't even hooked up through HDMI. Blu-ray discs also come with a ton of features if you're into that kind of thing.

This article was in today's Times. It takes a look at the idea that Blu-ray has "failed," which is a joke. What is closer to the truth is that it seems to be finally coming into its own. Also, it looks like the first off-brand players will make their way to the US for this Christmas.

And if there's one thing Americans love, it's gadgets that cost $99.

More soon,

JS

Joel-Peter Witkin-esque

I haven't gushed about my iPhone in a while, and I bought a couple of apps lately that deserve some mention, so let's get to it:

First, is DoodleJump, a very basic but highly addictive game. Gizmodo reviews it here. Totally worth it for a buck. The only game i play more is iShoot.


And I know that every iPhone-lovin' site in the world has said this already, but At Bat 2009 (MLB's App) is a must-have for any mid/high level baseball fan. $10 is somewhat steep, but you aren't paying for the updates/stats/standings that you could probably get somewhere else (ESPN?) for free (although I really dig the layout/design). You're paying for the streaming audio of the games and the video highlights. Now, I'll be honest--the video hasn't impressed me that much yet. It's shitty quality, disturbingly cheesy (do people actually call a home run a "crank?") and somewhat slow to update. But if your girlfriend dragged you out to a function where you can't find a TV, it's a lifesaver. The audio is where it's at though--you can choose from either team's feed, it's not too delayed, and the quality is spot-on. Only knock is that the commercials are always louder than the feed, which can be distressing when using at work. Oh, and don't expect to use it to listen to an entire game unless you've got a charger with you, because it sucks the battery dry in about two hours. But again--if you're a baseball fan, you need this. Every other major sport should take notice of this app--right now, it's the golden standard.


(And yes, I'm talking to you, NHL.)


Last is in the Media section. Everyone knocks the iPhone's camera. First of all, it's not like the thing is producing daguerreotypes, okay? You get decent quality pictures (although I have to admit, the BB Storm's camera is better). And it sounds like the camera will get an upgrade in June, so sit tight for that. But in the meantime, if you're interested in sprucing up your pictures and maybe toying with them to create some interesting effects, spend $6 on Photogene and Cool fx and make your fucking day. I'm serious. The amount of shit you can do with these two apps is incredible. Take this series as an example:



Here's the original picture I took with my iPhone (it was posted in earlier blog):







Then, I opened it in Cool fx, applied the Streaked Metal Diffusion effect, dialed the blur all the way up, and got this:








Then, I opened that picture up in Photogene, sepia-washed it, applied one of the custom borders, and got this:






I think the results speak for themselves--I was going for something Joel-Peter Witkin-esque. And again, this was about 5 minutes of tinkering.

In the interest of full-disclosure, you can't see it, but because that border setting eats away some of the picture, Photogene inserts a black background. You get a choice of black, white, or grey--no transparent, which sucks, but I'll deal.

And there you go--some Apps definitely worth your time. Buy 'em quick--Apple should hit the billion-app mark today, and really, what fanboy out there isn't dreaming of winning the big prize?


More soon.

JS

It Kind Of Consumed Me

Last day of Room Selection--only have time to give a quick shout:

A Conflicted Reaction

This is an interview with Bret Easton Ellis from Chuck Palahniuk's website, conducted by the webmaster Dennis Widmyer.

Ellis is one of my favorite authors and while the interview was meant to discuss the upcoming release of "The Informers," Dennis got him to discuss his next book:

BEE: ...And that’s where I’m at with this book. I think I’ll be turning it in in a month, and I’m so bored of it.
DW: Can you tell me anything about it? You’ve got a pretty big fanbase on our site.
BEE: (slightly shocked) Really? That’s so funny.
DW: You kidding me?
BEE: (laughs) Well, it’s actually a sequel to Less Than Zero that takes place now.
DW: When do you think we’ll see that?
BEE: May of 2010. It was an interesting idea to do. I couldn’t let go of it. I had to know where these characters were. It kind of consumed me.

Supposedly it's titled "Imperial Bedrooms," although the fact that he didn't mention that is a strike against the theory.

Really nervous about the Yankee game taking place at the moment (what's wrong with C.C.?) and even more nervous about the Rangers tonight. Whoever wins tonight will win the series, you heard it here first.


More soon.

JS

A Conversation Re: Gene Wilder

Me: You became a fan of Gene Wilder on Facebook?

Danielle: Yeah, I love Gene Wilder, you know that.

Me: That's bullshit.

Danielle: It's true though. He's one of my all-time favorites.

Me: Name me one movie he's in besides Willy Wonka and Young Frankenstein.

Danielle: Oh, um--

Me: Yeah?

Danielle: *laughs* Well, I mean, those are my two favorites!

Me: They don't even have to be movies you like. Or have even seen. Just name me one other.

Danielle: That one--you know it.

Me: No, I don't.

Danielle: Shit--I forget the name right now.

Me: Exactly.

The End

No, Lauren. You aren't cool enough to be a Mac person, sorry.

I'm a Mac guy.

I've got an iMac, a Macbook, an iPod Classic, an iPod Touch, and an iPhone.

I don't know what that means in terms of social status and I don't really care. I like my Apple products and they treat me well in return.

We all know those Apple guy/PC guy commercials and after a couple of bogus attempts, the PC side has finally landed a punch back with their recent string of, "You find it, you keep it," commercials.

Apple is fighting back with a new round of Apple guy/PC guy commercials and Gizmodo covers one today--pretty funny.

I like the new PC commercials. For people willing to believe the non-facts they use as ammunition (Macs are "small" and "more about aesthetics"), they're a home run. What I'd like to see is one that points out that while the computer may have been under $1,000, or under $1,500, the money you will have to spend after the fact on anti-virus software or hard-drive resuscitation's or trips to the Geek Squad is, in fact, not included in the price.

And for anyone who wants to push the issue, chew on this:

If Apple didn't create a superior product, or at the very least, a product just as worth your time, why would Microsoft (remember: Windows is on roughly 92% of the computers bought in this country) spend so much time worrying about a company responsible for roughly 8% of computer sales in the United States?

Let's go Rangers.

JS

How Accurate Are Your Memories Of Columbine?

Via CNN:

What do you remember about April 20, 1999?

If you recall that two unpopular teenage boys from the Trench Coat Mafia sought revenge against the jocks by shooting up Columbine High School, you're wrong.

But you're not alone.

Also, be sure to check out the book referenced:

Columbine by Dave Cullen

I haven't read it, but it certainly seems like it has the potential to make some waves.


More soon.

JS

The Wonder Of Words

This is the longest I've gone without posting since I started this blog, and for that I apologize. It was an incredibly hectic work week. The opportunity to post during the day never seemed to materialize and when I got home at night, I just wanted to sleep. But it's Sunday, which can only mean one thing:

But even with the urge to join Buk, I'm going to push forward and post another edition of The Sunday Review.

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-It was music tech week on Gizmodo last week, and it kind of got me obsessed with FLAC audio. I'm over it now (mostly), but there was one post in particular that caught my attention. Hearing that I had never really heard Sgt. Pepper unless I had heard it in mono was pretty distressing considering the amount of hours I've logged listening to it. So I did some searching and found an awesome bootleg by Purple Chick that is eight discs and packed with not only a stereo mix, various alternate mixes, monitor mixes, alternate takes and rehearsals, but also a mono mix--what I'm assuming is the original mono mix. And it's all FLAC too. I played both the stereo and the mono versions of "A Little Help From My Friends" for Danielle and her response was:

Why does it sound so much better?

If you're any kind of Beatles fan, getting your hands on this is worth it--and if you're not willing, fear not--apparently their entire catalog will be getting the remaster treatment and will be out in September.

-The baseball season is roughly 13 games old, which means it's the perfect time for writers like Bill Madden to start celebrating the success of small-market teams who are in first place. It's not even worth pointing out the fact that they've played roughly 8% of their schedule at this point (and Madden thinks they are "NL East contenders!"), because some people will stop at nothing to bash the Yankees. And make no mistake about it, that is the point of the article.

-As a writer, I've got a few rules/thoughts/tricks on writing that I swear by and will usually spout off about when given the chance. Indirect dialogue is one of those things that keeps me up at night, and usually finds its way into any editing I do of other people's work. What I love is seeing it in action in real life, because it justifies my telling people, "This is how real people talk in real life." In this weekend's NY Times Magazine, the "Questions for..." column asks Steven Chu some *ahem* tough questions (for those who don't know, he is the US Secretary of Energy), which are somewhat *ahem* interesting, but what got me was the last question and response:

I guess the president wants to keep you alive.

My wife is in favor of that as well.

That is such a great example of what I'm always talking about--it would work well in a situation where you wanted to emphasize the level of a character's devotion to his or her significant other. If, up until that point, the character was straight-forward and honest, we'd take it as a loving testament. If the character was sarcastic and self-deprecating, we'd see it as a disparaging remark. It's small moments like that that are the bane of my writing existence. Done properly, it will float right past the reader's immediate attention. The wonder of words.

-More anti-technology sentiment from Virginia Heffernan. This time, the object of her affection is Twitter. I swear, these people who keep knocking Twitter, haven't they got anything better to write about? Didn't they learn the Tipper Gore Theory--bringing attention, negative or not, to something will only make people more interested in it? Heffernan writes:

Twitter--the microblogging service that lets you post and read fragmentary communications at high speed--is fun, but it's embarrassing. You subscribe to the yawps of a bunch of people; they subscribe to your yawps; and you produce and consume yawps for the rest of your days.

What this is, plain and simple, is literary elitism. Virginia Heffernan doesn't like that I can write something negative about her on my blog, post a link to it on my twitter page, and in thirty seconds have just as many people reading my digs at her as those who read her article. I didn't need a journalism degree, I didn't need to get hired by the Times--it didn't cost me a penny. And while some people do tweet nonsense, some people don't. A lot of people don't, actually.

It's the future, Virginia. You're either with it or against it. And I can tell you now who wins.

-Interesting article by Charles McGrath about writers getting old and deciding whether or not to "retire." What got me most was this quote:

Gabriel Garcia Marquez, for example, at 82 has lately been at pains to quell rumors that he is retiring. "Not only is it not true" that he is quitting writing, he told reporters, "but the only thing I do is write."

Such inspiration for a young writer like myself. I get chills every time I read it.

-Waiting For Godot is one of the books that changed my life--it's on my list of books that made me say, "I didn't know you were allowed to write like that." It's opening at Studio 54 on April 30th with Nathan Lane as Estragon and John Goodman as Pozzo and I really think I want to go. This article about John Goodman and about the play is really fun to read and worth your time. Oh, and please read Beckett. Now.

-I never got a picture of this up last week, but Danielle made a wonderful zucchini and queso fresco frittata last week:

Paired with a nice side-salad and a couple of left-over pieces of Easter ham and some roasted tomatillo salsa--well, I'll just say it was a mighty fine dinner. And breakfast the next morning.

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I believe that's all I've got for now. Rangers are back at the Garden tomorrow night. I'm going to say it right now--if they win tomorrow, the series doesn't make it back to Washington. My Game 3 prediction though? Rangers lose in OT, but still win the series in 5.

What's wrong with Wang?

Will I ever finish the new Mary Robison book?

Does the new Yankee stadium really have a jet stream in right-center, or should we wait longer than, oh, 3 games before we decide how the stadium will "play?"

All this and more--coming this week.

Enjoy what's left of Sunday.

JS

Who Would You Invite To The Draft?

Another story for you today--except this one will make you proud of the human race:

Top prospect Curry invites leukemia survivor to NFL draft

Remember the G-Factor I posted about before--this is a perfect example.

Via Deadspin and SI.


So busy!

JS

Quick. Quick. Quick.

Sorry for the lack of noise on my end--it's Room Selection time, so I've been quite busy.

Check this story out, it's ridiculous:

Fan Kicked Out Of Yankee Stadium For Using Restroom During 'God Bless America.'

Someone in the comments pointed out it's worth waiting to see what this guy actually said to the cops, but still--sounds like another trophy on the mantle for NY's Finest.


More soon.

JS

Seduction Of The Innocent

I'll be the first person to admit that drug users are victims of disease and should be treated as such. The prison system isn't meant to and is not equipped to handle drug users, and the fact that it is forced to only helps to stimulate bigger issues, no pun intended.

But when are we going to stop with these types of articles:

Recovery High School A 'Soft Landing' For post-Rehab Teens

Here's the lead:

It was Halloween night when 12-year-old Lucy Gross picked up her first marijuana cigarette, starting a spiral from which she is still struggling to recover.

And the cliches keep right on coming:

"I tried it and I liked it and it made me feel independent and it made me feel more grown up, more mature," Lucy said.

And coming:

By the time she was 15, the Gloucester, Massachusetts, teen was drinking, using cocaine and taking a variety of other pills, including Vicodin and Oxycontin. Her parents were worried. Even she knew she needed help.

I'm not trying to get down on Lucy, or her story. Her recovery is a positive thing, and I hope she stays strong. My point is this--telling these tales as the same old static-cautionary-Go Ask Alice-bullshit is not helping the problem. Neither is saying things like this:

As long as there's drugs you're gonna need a recovery high school. Until you've eradicated drugs, then you can stop having to help the adolescents. Drugs are in every school.

That's from the principal of Lucy's recovery high school, who obviously doesn't believe in personal responsibility, logic, or science. Hopefully she will read the article and see this fact:

According to SAMHSA, more than 70 percent of adolescents who get treated [in rehab] have a co-occurring psychiatric disorder. Lucy was no different. In sixth grade she was seeing a school counselor and behavioral specialist. By high school, she had a diagnosis of depression and was suffering from anxiety.

Saying that we'll need recovery high school's until drugs are eradicated is the same as saying we'll need them until teenagers with drugs issues are eradicated--you're not fighting the problem, you're fighting the results of the problem.

I'm not blaming Lucy, or even the principal. As long as media coverage and our collective conscience continues to think in this manner:



we'll continue to ignore the needs of a large sector of society that needs help and support, not fear-mongering and blame-shifting.


More soon.

JS

Hip Hop Speaks To Children

Heard about this not too long ago--seems like an interesting project:



From the publisher's information:

Hip Hop Speaks to Children is a celebration of poetry with a beat. Like Poetry Speaks to Children, the classic book and CD that started it all, it's meant to be the beginning of a journey of discovery.

Involved in the project, among others, are:

Nikki Giovanni
Eloise Greenfield
Mos Def
Lucille Clifton
Oscar Brown Jr.
Tupac Shakur
Maya Angelou
Queen Latifah
Nikki Grimes
Walter Dean Myers
Common
Kanye West
A Tribe Called Quest

Seems like it might be worth checking out.


More soon.

JS

Haapee Eestah, Evreebahdy!

Welcome to another edition of The Sunday Review, an Easter-shortened version. Let's get to it:

-I posted on Friday about John Buccigross and Jack Falla and how I found some solace in an excerpt from Falla's Home Ice. I decided to e-mail Bucci to let him know just how much the words he'd chosen meant to me. Now, he's written before how he gets something like 900 e-mails a week from readers, so I didn't except anything in return--only that he'd maybe get a chance to check out this blog and read the post.

Well, he did.

And he e-mailed me back.

Six minutes after I e-mailed him.

I won't say what he sent (I guess you can see some of it), but all I can say is--what a guy. I'm still yet to get over the fact that there's an e-mail in my inbox from John Buccigross:

-A while ago, Ross told me about a project he was involved with, which involved putting together a list of his top ten novellas. The information was being compiled by John Madera. Ross suggested to John that I be involved, John got in contact with me, I agreed, and yesterday the project was finally completed and posted up on John's blog, HITHERANDTHITHERING WATERS. He posted all the individual lists with their comments on their own page, but he also made a sweet cross-referenced list so you can see how many people involved mentioned each novella. Here's the the post about the project, here's my list, and here's Ross's list.

-I read the papers fairly quickly this morning, so I don't have my usual thorough run-through, but here's a couple of interesting articles I found:

-At New School Protest, Truth Depends On Camera Angle

I've got an obsession with the idea of objectivity and film and cameras and if it can lie or at least be manipulated, so this article was pretty interesting. Anyone interested in this topic should be sure to get their hands on the film David Holtzman's Diary.

-Inquiry Sheds Light On Baseball's World Of Steroids

-Why We Look The Other Way

Both of these articles deal with steroids and pro sports--the first in baseball, the second in football. The first is recent, from today's Times, the second I thought of after reading the first. It's a Chuck Klosterman ESPN article from October of 2008 that is awesome and still one of the few times in mainstream media coverage that I've seen someone call for a moment of pause before condemning any and all athletes caught with performance-enhancing drugs.

-That was Wednesday night's dinner--Mojo-marinated Chicken with a Chipotle Cream Sauce and White Rice and Black Beans. Danielle's black beans are the best in the world. She'll take on anyone. Plating design is mine.

-It's obviously too soon to start worrying about baseball. I'm in NHL Playoffs mindset anyway, but so often, New York baseball fans can get wrapped up in a season that just started. Example--I've found myself checking the AL East standings and scoreboard already during Yankee games this past week, trying to figure out who would have to lose for them to move up in the division. The season is 5 games old and I'm already scoreboard watching. It's sick, really.

All that aside, holy shit, C.C. looked good last night.

Granted, he wasn't exactly mowing down the 1927 Yankees, but still, he looked like he knew what he was doing--which wasn't exactly the case on Opening Day. And I'll say it here--watch out for Nick Swisher this season. Right now, he's projected to hit 65 home runs and drive in 292 runs, both of which are marks I'm sure he'll fall slightly short of, but this guy is going to be one of the keys to the Yankees success. Apparently he's awesome in the clubhouse, the kind of guy the Yankees haven't had around in a while. He calls Andy Pettitte, "Mr. Pettitte," and check out this quote regarding last night's win:

"I don't know much about pitching," Swisher said. "But I know when he punches out the first batter of the game with a 96 mph fastball, I think he's probably feeling pretty good."

Tell me the last time you saw a quote like that from a Yankee.

*

And that's all she wrote for now, folks. The Peeps Apple Keynote picture is courtesy of Gizmodo. Danielle connected the Storm last night, so watch out for the Pink BB Curve on eBay soon--it might be ours.

Enjoy the rest of this Sunday, regardless of if you're into the whole chocolate-Jesus-bunnies-for-Easter thing.

More soon,

JS

In Memoriam

Sometimes blog posts write themselves.

*

As a life-long hockey fan, I've become very fond of John Buccigross and his weekly column on ESPN.com. Bucci's fair, insightful, funny, and it's pretty cool to see a Sportscenter anchor write from the heart about his passion, the greatest game on earth.

This season, he began each column with an excerpt from Jack Falla's Home Ice. It was a tribute to Falla, a man I'll admit I had never heard of but have quickly come to respect, who passed away in September. Falla was a sportswriter, a communications professor at Boston University, and a lifelong hockey enthusiast--this Globe article calls him a "hockey expert," which seems fitting.

Home Ice is a book about the allure of the backyard rink--including his own, The Bacon Street Omni--and all the memories and life lessons that it can teach. I bought the book--it's another one sitting in/on the pile--but I've yet to read it. I have, however, grown to look forward with great anticipation towards each week's tribute/excerpt.

This week's column contained, as the NHL season comes to a close and the playoffs begin (the Rangers are in, but how long will they remain there?), the last Falla tribute.

As I write this, there's a lump in my throat, something Danielle would call The G-Factor. It stems from the phrase "googie factor," which is defined as: Male sobbing and tear-wiping, induced by emotional movie scenes (i.e., the I coulda been a contender scene in On The Waterfront), emotional commercials or specials (usually sports-related, i.e. those Sportscenter Make-A-Wish specials), and emotional sports moments in general (i.e., Jason McElwain, the basketball team manager, also autistic, who scored 20 points in 4 minutes, anything involving Mark Messier, Sam Cohen's "The waiting is over! The New York Rangers are the Stanley Cup Champions! And this one will last a lifetime!" call, Jim Abbott's no-hitter, any Yankees World Series clinching win--well, you get the picture).

The tribute on its own was stirring, and indicative of what drew and continues to draw people to Falla's writing. But after learning of the passing of a friend's father this morning, and still thinking about the passing of another friend about a month ago, it hit me even harder. I'll share it with you now:

As I look in our guestbook, I see that I have taken the final skate in three of the six seasons we've been keeping that record. Twice by myself. Once with Barbara. And all three times, I knew intuitively that it would be the final skate. And even when I wasn't the last skater off the ice in a given season, I still knew when I was taking my own last skate, and on those days, I stayed out longer and skated harder. Of course, I didn't skate any better, I just did what I've tried to do ever since I took those first shuffling strides with my mother -- skate as well as I can. Because life is different from a skating season, and in life, you never know which skate will be your last. Only that one of them will be.

*

Sometimes we say things like, "Sometimes blog posts write themselves."

What I'm starting to realize is that it's possible that, sometimes, it's us receiving just a small amount of help from somewhere--out there--to help give us that extra boost we all need sometimes. To help us get by, get through, keep moving.

And we just don't know it.


JS

FIELD

This was posted on Gizmodo this morning:




Great image--it's an art installation by Richard Box called FIELD.

Apparently, it's "powered by the electrical fields from the power lines that run above the project."

More info and more pics on io9.


Busy day again today. I'll try and get some good stuff up though.

JS

Books. Cheap.

Got an e-mail from B&N this morning about a bargain book sale. There's a massive amount of titles--I only went through Fiction--and they're all super cheap, and if you buy 2, you get a 3rd free.

What's scary is the amount of Bennington faculty on the list--there's at least 8-10 from that I remember. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

My shopping cart is currently at 9--we'll see if I can limit that to 6.

Check it out here.


More soon.

JS

I'm An Egg Slut

In the words of Tony Bourdain, "I'm an egg slut."

I could eat eggs three meals a day, no questions asked. And I've always been tinkering with my egg recipes, because like any student of the egg knows, there's a million ways to cook them, and about two million ways to fuck 'em up. My discovery of truffle salt was a big egg addition--I rarely eat eggs, no matter how they've been cooked, without putting some on (only after they've been cooked of course, as you'll see in the video), either as a background flavor, or the main condiment. Recently I made pickled onions, and when I made egg salad on a Friday night (my egg salad recipe, taken from Kenny Shopsin's cookbook, is unbeatable), I added the onions to the sandwich and it was absolutely perfect.

Needless to say, I was quite excited to see this post on Lifehacker today:

Gordon Ramsay Demonstrates The Perfect Scrambled Egg Breakfast

Here's the video:



Don't think you need to follow this verbatim. The butter--or at least how much he uses--is not necessary, and neither is the creme fraiche. The whisking in the pan is brilliant--never thought to do that. Following that and the salt rule, should yield some pretty damn good results.

Sorry to geek out over eggs, but this kind of thing gets me excited.

More soon.


JS

Really?

Snow showers on and off since early this morning.

In April?


JS

Careful When Down There

File this nugget in the "Only Possible In The NY Daily News" file:

Coke Cop Says Dirty Test From Oral Sex

The lead:

A decorated ex-cop who claimed he tested positive for cocaine because he ingested the drug during oral sex with his girlfriend can't have his job back, a Manhattan judge has ruled.

I'm going to have to look into the chemistry of this to find out if it's even possible. If it isn't, well shit, I say kudos to the guy for trying. If it is--holy shit, that sucks. No pun intended either.

The joke is that the cop says he's "adherent of the 'straight edge' lifestyle," and didn't know his girlfriend was abusing the drug until the positive test result.

So let me get this straight--a straight-edger, a drug vegan, who according to the article doesn't even drink coffee, was going out with a cokehead and either didn't know it or didn't care?

Doesn't seem likely.

And that's not even the worst of it--here's my favorite part of the article:

The couple met at a punk concert and, according to court records, they "would often sweat" while having sex "three or four times per week."

Wouldn't this only be relevant if the girlfriend was such a blow fiend that she was literally oozing coke? If that's even possible? Or maybe if she was pulling a Jack Nicholson in The Departed and throwing a handful of it at Mr. Straightedge's gens and telling herself, "You want it? Lick it off."

Nasir Jones said it before and it's worth repeating--pussy kills.


JS

The Nightglow Poetry Series

For all those in the Pittsburgh area, please be sure to check this out (hit the pic for a bigger version):





More to come soon about Brian and his forthcoming book of poetry, "Do It Yourself Divinity."


JS

The Joy of Roasters

Had to show off last night's dinner:



That's Butterflied Garlic Shrimp with Roasted Baby Red Potatoes, a.k.a "Roasters", and Broccolini with red pepper flake.

This was such a good meal, I can't even explain it. The shrimp recipe is from Eric Ripert, found here, and you should check out that site as a whole, it's really got some great quick, nutritous recipes and meal plans. Danielle adapted it a bit--I think she used cilantro instead of parsley--but either way, it's awesome.

Roasters are the catch phrase in our house for roasted potatoes. They're just nicely seasoned potatoes baked until cooked through and nice and golden brown on the cut side.

Broccolini is such an awesome vegetable. It seems to be everywhere now, so find it and eat it. Just blanch it, shock it, and put it in a pan with a little bit of olive oil and red pepper flake (I go pretty heavy on the flake) and it's perfect.

More soon.


JS

America's Pastime

From yesterday:

She knows me.

More soon.


JS

The Buckhout Road Albino Colony

Before this gets too far, I just want to put it out there:

I’ve got nothing against albinos.

Also, I don’t do rollercoasters. I don’t bungee jump, I’ve never wanted to sky dive, and I’m not even really into horror movies. I’m from the Bronx. I’m pretty sure about what I can and can’t handle. But this Saturday, I got the best scare I’ve had in a while, and really, more like ever.

This is my story.

There's a fairly well known spot in Westchester that is supposedly haunted. It’s right here in Harrison actually. It’s called Buckhout Road, although on the GPS, it's listed as Buckout. It's a connecting road off of Old Lake Street that starts out as a two-laner, but eventually the yellow lane divider disappears and the road itself squeezes down into one barely-passable strip of asphalt.

On one side of the road there's a cemetery--haunted, naturally--and there's some stories about the houses along the way. One held captured and/or freed slaves, one was the spot of a grisly murder, and one used to be/is an albino colony, a fact that seemed terrifying for some reason, although rationally thinking people would find nothing wrong with. There's also a story about witches being burned at the stake at one point in history when it was still acceptable to do such a thing, and the story goes that if you look at the street, there are always X's in the spot they were burned, no matter how many times people wash them off or pave over them.

As I said before, I've never been one for shit like this. But Danielle was home from work and my brother Mike was up for the weekend and it was Saturday night and we were bored, so we decided to give Buckhout Road a shot to see if there was truly something special about it, or if it was just the usual case of all sizzle and no steak.

First off, let me say this--the road is lit. The streetlights were mostly on, pretty well spaced apart, but darkness was not a factor, which seemed to put a dent in the albino theory because by this point, we had granted them near-vampire status and there was no way they would let the lights stay on. The brief stretch of woods part was somewhat creepy, but again, nothing too over the top.

The architectural style of the houses that lined Buckhout Road is what made it somewhat strange. Some were old, small, and even boarded up. Others were brand new mansions, very modern buildings, that were all either lit up like a lighthouse, or closed up, and shrouded in darkness.

The narrowness of the road, and the fact that it became that way out of nowhere, was creepy as well, since the road was not only curvy, but hilly too, so I was forced to drive slower than I would have liked.

And the strange design of the road played a big part in our little moment.

Again, I was skeptical. It wasn’t dark. It didn’t feel haunted or possessed or run down either. We’d been driving for about five minutes and nothing had happened—no witches or slave ghosts—not one single albino. No one was talking. But as soon as the road narrowed, I said out loud, “This is not good.”

Little did I know I was right.

We came around one turn and coasted down a hill. Nobody said anything at first, but we all saw it—a wooden bear. It had to be about six or seven feet tall. It was a sculpture of a bear standing on its hind legs and it was standing on the front lawn of a massively wide ranch-style home. The lights were all on in the house, and because of the nature of the road, I kept checking back in front of me, but I couldn’t help but look at the bear. Maybe it’s because it was the first “thing” we had seen so far, maybe it was somewhat odd, maybe I was just searching. Then Danielle finally spoke:

That bear is creeping me out.

What happened next took place in about five seconds, although it will seem longer here.

Mike said, “Yeah, me too,” from the backseat.

I began to respond with, “Yeah, I know—” and wanted to say how it had scared me slightly before I realized what it was. But by this point, we had come to the top of another hill and it curved to the right at the same time and the road itself seemed as if it would barely hold my Nissan Murano. The unbeatable laws of physics grabbed the car and pulled it faster down the hill and I turned into it and that’s when we saw them, standing along the side of the road, backs pressed up against the rock wall.

People.

A bunch of them. Just standing there. Staring.

And they were about a foot from the car.

My scream was a “Woah” that extended into something involuntary and deep. Danielle’s was more of the normal feminine shriek variety, and I’ll be honest, I don’t remember for sure what Mike did, although I think he screamed, “Oh shit!” numerous times.

I slammed on the gas. The road curved left and down another hill and I took it hard and after one more turn, we were back on a normal two lane road, Silver Lake in the distance.

I coasted, my head on the steering wheel. We were laughing. We were screaming with laughter. We were all having heart attacks and shitting our pants and there were bright spots in front of our eyes and God’s name was invoked several times in a variety of ways and in a couple of different languages.

It was the scariest goddamn moment of my life.

Looking back, we’ve come to the conclusion that it was people—regular people—wearing North Face fleeces and baseball caps and jeans. Not dead witches or murdered wives or pigment-sucking albinos. Why they were standing on Buckhout Road, pressed against a stone wall just--staring--at nothing--I’ll never know. Either there was something semi-creepy going on or it was just a bunch of kids who knew that standing there scares the shit out of people who happen to be driving by at 11:45 on a Saturday night.

We made plenty of jokes about what happened as we made our way home, most involving albinos using the pickup line: I want to suck the pigment out of you. But we all admitted after a while that we had been genuinely scared—terrified actually—and it reminded me of why I generally stay away from situations like this to begin with.

So is Buckhout Road haunted?

I couldn’t tell you. All I know is that I won’t be going back any time soon.

And again, I just want to put it out there: I’ve got nothing against albinos, I swear.

Especially any that happen to live in a group setting on Buckhout Road.

When The Only Thing To Do Is Comprised Of So Many Good Options: The Sunday Review

It's a beautiful Sunday. All the windows are open. Mike, who's here for the weekend, is asleep on the couch with a pillow on his face, the way he always sleeps. Danielle is doing Pilates, finished, for the moment, with trying to convince me to go to Vegas. Bukowski is asleep in our bed. I'm sitting here listening to Atmosphere's Sad Clown Bad Dub #2 and writing the newest Sunday Review. What I'm saying is that for the moment, life is good.

-There's an oven stuffer marinating in a plastic bag in the refrigerator--we're making the chicken tonight where you put the can of beer in the cavity; Mike loves it. Here's a picture of the produce drawer after shopping today:

Tomatillos for salsa, zucchini for a frittata, hot peppers and green onions for Oaktown Chicken, and baby red potatoes for roasting, to be plated alongside butterflied garlic shrimp--all nice, fresh stuff. You'd be surprised how much of de-stressor cooking nice meals with your loved one(s) is--all it takes is a little planning and good mise en place. I can't suggest it enough.

-As I said on Twitter last night, we hit up Barnes & Noble to pick up a couple of books I'd been dying to get. Here's what I already have in terms of backlog:

And here's what I picked up last night:

The new Robison, which I've mentioned before, will most likely get moved to the top of the list, as the formatting has some similarities to Whitney, and since I'm already halfway done with Phase 1 of the 2nd Edit, I figure it can't hurt. In terms of some Whitney glimpses, I still haven't decided what to show, but I'm still thinking.

-A fellow Bennington grad, Allison Devers, had this article up on Twitter last night, and I was happy to see it this morning in the Times Week in Review section. A.O. Scott has always got something good to say--he's a great film critic--and he decided to set his sights on giving the short story some props, which is always a good thing. Here's a quote:

...the conventional wisdom in American letters has always been that size matters, that the big-game hunters and heavyweight fighters — take your pick of Hemingway-Mailer macho sports metaphors — go after the Great American Novel.

But this maximalist ideology may be completely wrong, or at least in serious need of revision. The great American writers of the 19th century, whose novels are now staples of the syllabus, all excelled in the short form.

I truly believe that the Facebook status/Twitter update revolution will aid in bringing people's attention back to the short story. Short attention spans deserve short stories, so think short. It doesn't mean you can't write big, full books. Thinking short and writing long can be combined. It's a way of thinking that would benefit more writers.

-There were a couple of iPhone related articles this weekend. The first I noticed is in the NY Times Magazine, called I Hate My iPhone. The author, Virginia Heffernan, basically goes on for a thousand words or so about how scared of the iPhone she is, how she doesn't know how to use the keyboard, how the saleswoman wouldn't set up her e-mail for her because she wanted her to learn how to do it for herself, and ends by saying she returned it and got a Blackberry with "money to spare."

What Heffernan never gets around to telling us is why she, um, hates the iPhone.

She gives us a nice little treatise on how she's against change and would rather stay with a product she's familiar with (BlackBerry), but what she seems to ignore is this: she wanted the iPhone in the first place. Knowing its flaws, knowing about the apps, knowing everything. The idea that it's any more difficult to set up than a BlackBerry is ridiculous--I've set up both, so I know. And the idea that a BlackBerry is any easier to use is ridiculous as well, as one of BlackBerry's signature features is how many key-clicks it takes to perform a task.

I've got no issue with someone saying they prefer this technology over that, or this phone over that one. But don't make a stupid statement and then not back it up. Here's how the article starts:

The iPhone was charging. Refined, introverted, mysteriously chilled, my new $200 tile of technology lay supine on a side table, gulping power from the wall.

Forget the vomit-inducing over-writing for a second. Replace "iPhone" with "Razr" or "Bold" or "G1" and it would make no difference. But the stage is set for more Apple bashing, because that was obviously Heffernan's goal from the start, closeted Apple-lover that she may be. I took the liberty of editing her article for her (and took the pic with my iPhone):

The other iPhone-related article is in the Style section and gives some interesting facts about how the App Store explosion is affecting "regular" people. It's worth the read just to see how much money *some* people can make in a really small amount of time--how's $800K in 5 months sound? It's also funny to read how many of these people are quitting their jobs and opening up software development companies--doesn't strike me as the best five year plan, but hey, the Titanic was completely booked when it set sail, right?

-Last couple of articles are in the Book Review. First, everyone should read Joseph O'Neill's review of The Letters of Samuel Beckett (Vol. 1)--c'mon, it's Beckett. I love the print on the cover too, by Thomas Porostocky & Matthias Ernstherger:

The Jim Holt essay, titled "Got Poetry?", is also a must-read. I don't have enough poetry memorized and I love the idea that he recites it while jogging. I may bring it into my biking routine.

That's it for this edition of The Sunday Review. Danielle is now asleep next to the cat on our bed, Mike's still asleep on the couch, but the pillow isn't on his head anymore, and the chicken still needs more time to marinate. Only one thing left to do.

JS

A Normal Bloke Who Likes A Bit Of Torture

Just watched the movie Chopper and I'm telling you, go out and find this movie because it kicks ass.

Eric Bana plays one of the most deranged men you will ever see in your life, Mark Brandon "Chopper" Read, who, just as an example, had someone cut off his ears so he would get moved to a different prison. What's worse is that this is a real guy, who really is insane, and is a national fucking celebrity in Australia. He's a bestselling author, he's a columnist in a variety of magazines, he's put out a rap album, and he claims to have killed 19 men and almost killed 11 more.

Here's a screenshot from the movie. It's Eric Bana--if you can believe it:

Bana is ridiculously good. It's a short picture too--only 94 minutes--and the writing is slick as hell. Here's a couple of bits:

Interviewer: You've written a best-seller...

Chopper: Yeah, I know - and I can't even bloody spell. What about those poor bloody academics, those college graduates, battling their guts out to write some airy-fairy piece of exaggerated artwork? And here's a bloke, sitting in a cell, who can't spell, and he's written a best-seller. It's sold two hundred and fifty thousand copies. And it's still selling. And he's writing another one. And I can't even spell. I'm semi-bloody-illiterate.

There's another great scene where Chopper is explaining why he won't rat on a childhood friend:

Chopper: Look. The bloke's been me best mate since 1975. We've had our fallouts from time to time, it's no big deal. Y'know, it's like... if ya mum stabs ya, whaddya do? Y-ya don't get upset. Ya don't get angry, ya go, "Shit, mum's stabbed me, I better get off to the hospital."

I can't say this enough--see Chopper. It's been on IFC lately and the DVD is out there as well. You won't regret it.

JS

More Yuppiedom

This picture was promised a couple of days ago:

That's my bike--Trek 7000. Light as fuck and pretty sharp looking too.

That's all I've got for now--enjoying Friday night by watching the Yankees exhibition game against the Cubs. New Stadium looks great. I'm debating Stubhub-ing some tickets for the home opener. Would cost some coin, but c'mon--home opener in the new park? That's most likely the only Yankee stadium I will ever see opened in my lifetime.

I'm talking myself into this shit.

Oh--so I got more of Whitney edited. Will do 5 more chapters or so tonight. I'm playing with some ideas on how to get Whitney out there to the blog world. Is there interest in seeing snippets? Maybe even of new stuff as it comes along?

Just a thought--back to the Yanks.

Be good.

JS

Today's Throwback Punchline: Hideki Irabu

This was posted on Deadspin today, and it's pretty classic. I'm not a big Norm MacDonald fan, but I love these awkward host/audience pairings where it's so obvious that neither has been properly introduced to the other's world, and so half the comedy is unintentional and nearly painful.

And it's pretty awesome to hear Anthony Mason and Boomer Esiason and Michael Jordan-playing-baseball jokes. And Deadspin is so right--could you imagine this monologue flying in a post-Janet Jackson world? Not a chance. As a matter of fact, it's kind of sad that that's the truth.

Also, keep an eye out for the athletes of today except 10 years younger--Peyton Manning still has a hairline, or as close as he ever got to a normal one (and is that Eli next to him?) and check out to the right of Boomer Esiason right as Norm is cracking on him--yup, it's Nomar Garciaparra, right around the time he was probably starting to think, "You know what, maybe I should take steroids. I mean, I'm on the verge of superstardom, everyone else is juicing and they're not getting caught, and shoot, it's not like I'm going to take it and then within five years pretty much watch as my career swirl clockwise down the drain, right?"

I love it. Anyway, here's the video, via Deadspin:



Enjoy this ugly, wet Friday.


JS

A War Zone With A Cafeteria

I just want to put it out there that I heard Hugh Ryan read By Any Other Name before it was in print on nerve.com, and certainly before jezebel.com picked it up, and definitely before you clicked either of those links to read it.

So there.

Hugh is a fellow Bennington grad and By Any Other Name is a great piece, one that I guarantee will get you thinking about a certain word, one that most, if not all, people have an opinion on. Be sure to check it out. Here's a snippet, again, courtesy of nerve.com:

Every morning on my way in to work, Diamond passed judgment on me. She was tall and gorgeous, with long black hair, dark skin, and the best back-of-the-truck Louis Vuitton that Chinatown could fashion. Her breasts she'd also gotten on the cheap — hormones from shady doctors or birth-control pills stolen from female relatives — but she knew how to work all those fakes into a real package.

Most mornings, she'd take one look at my sorry social-work ass — no-brand jeans, scuffed black shoes, second-hand button-down shirt — and utter a devastating two-syllable critique.

"Mmmhmm," she'd say, a sound made at the back of the mouth, up towards the nose, with the emphasis on the second syllable. Not to be confused with the positive "mmmhmm," made at the front of the mouth and an affirmation I rarely received.

Each time, I cringed. I was twenty-three, fresh from college, and had long repressed the cruelty of high-school fashion fascism. Now here it was, thrown right back at me, magnified a hundred times. There were many ways in which the Harvey Milk School, New York's high school for at-risk lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender youth, was a safe haven. But when it came to appearance (especially that of the teachers and staff), it was a war zone with a cafeteria.

Somebody Hug Me

Just saw that some headlines like this are making the rounds this morning:

Was Mrs. O Too Touchy With Queen?

Media Sputter As First Lady Touches Queen

The fact that this is even news makes me sad. Here's the lead from The Guardian:

Whoever briefed Michelle Obama on the things one does and doesn't do with one's hands when one meets the Queen must be wondering what went wrong.

Within minutes of their first encounter at Buckingham Palace yesterday, America's first lady broke royal protocol by doing the unthinkable: she gave the Queen a hug. The monarch, for her part, responded with equally flagrant disregard for convention by returning the gesture.

I suppose the fact that I don't live in a country where clinging to ass-backwards notions of royalty and Queens and Kings and knights in shining fucking armor is all the rage makes this hard for me to understand, but please, let's get a grip.

This article in Time has the "rationale" behind it:

So where does this rule about not touching the Queen come from? The sovereigns of England and France at some point in their nations' long histories claimed a divine right to rule, a right often amplified by titles bestowed by the Pope in Rome. (The Queen, in fact, still has the title Defender of the Faith, an honor given to Henry VIII before he broke with the Catholic Church and established the Church of England.) That touch of holiness once gave the occupant of the throne the supposed ability to cure certain diseases — most famously, scrofula, a terrible skin ailment that was called "the king's evil." Thus, the miraculous contact had to be conserved. And so, whether a touch or a nod or a gaze, royal favor, like that of God, is not a subject's on demand; it is dispensed by kingly prerogative.

Yes, because this kind of thought process has a place in a highly-functioning democracy.

Sure.


JS