Alternatives
February 28, 2009
The other day, I was sent down to Walmart to pick up some lunch for the office. They are always very particular about what I bring back, writing me down the same detailed instructions every time they send me. I am always to get a pound or so of hot wings, a pound or so of General Tso’s Chicken, six to eight chicken tenders, and a quart of homestyle potato salad – not mustard, God help you if there’s mustard in it!
On the day in question, I was kind of dragging, so I added a twenty oz. bottle of Mountain Dew to the itinerary in the hopes that a jolt of caffeine would pick me up a bit. This was, I feel, a fateful choice.
Y’see, I think it was this twenty oz. beverage that planted the idea in the vapid checkout lady’s mind. After all, a twenty oz. bottle is clearly an individual serving, so perhaps I was one of those on-the-go types who’d just stopped in to grab a quick lunch from the deli counter? As she continued ringing up the various containers of food, though, she began to realize that this was really more food than was strictly appropriate for one person to eat by themselves. This realization occurred to her at approximately the same time as her “small talk” circuits kicked in.
“Getting enough to share?” she asked, with just a little bit more of a genuine interrogatory inflection than I was comfortable hearing, as though she wasn’t entirely sure that I was going to share my five pounds of food with anyone. Like most fat people, I am annoyed when others assume me capable of ridiculous feats of gluttony – my particular caliber of obesity is attained by a very modest amount of overeating, combined with apallingly bad nutritional choices and a sedentary lifestyle, and shame on you for not knowing that, less-obese person!
A series of possible responses flashed through my head, many of them quite appealing to me. In the event, I could only choose one, but the magic of the internet allows me to live out the others here with both of my readers.
Option the first, crass and vengeful
“Getting enough to share?” I screeched back at the clerk in an insulting caricature of her voice while furiously shaking the bottle of soda she’d just handed me. Pointing it in her general direction, I twisted off the cap…
Option the second, understated sarcasm/dishonesty
“Actually, I’m trying to bulk up – they’re starting up a sumo team over at CSU, and I’m trying to make junior heavyweight.
(for extra vindictiveness, add “y’know, they might be starting up a lady’s team, too – you would be perfect!)
Option the third, painfully awkward
“No,” I said defensively, meeting the checkout lady’s gaze with my own hurt expression.
(works better yet if you can make your eyes tear up on cue)
Option the fourth, the old stand-by
“¿Que?” I replied, holding out my credit card anxiously, as though maybe she’d asked for it. “No voy tener mas anyos, ahora, porque los angeles quieren llevar mis zapatos rojos.”
Option the fifth, the boring one
“Yeah, I’m bringing lunch back to the guys at the office.”
Option the sixth, the sudden disturbing twist
“Yeah, I’m bringing lunch back to the guys at the office. Oh, hell, I meant to get some rat poison, too.” Stand indecisively for a moment, then “Well, go ahead and ring this stuff up, I should probably pay cash for that anyway so it’s not on the receipt…”
An Avian Invasion…
February 27, 2009
…of sorts.
I plan on writing about writing today, but a bird will be mentioned. After yesterday’s shocking developments in the donkeys vs. birds controversy, it almost seems like I am switching sides…
Before digging into the main matter of today’s post, however, there are a couple of niggling things to clear up. First, it has been pointed out that there was a rather egregious typing error in yesterday’s post. Luckily, by the time it was pointed out I had already caught it myself and fixed it. I actually encourage the reporting of typos, but I myself am fairly good about rereading recent posts and catching them. Occasionally I will go back and work on word choice or other things as well. The first draft goes up, and is sometimes replaced by a second draft later in the same day. I usually don’t bother with older stuff, unless there was something that really bothered me.
The other matter upon which clarification has been requested is my claims of fact-checking. Admittedly, I don’t have investigative reporters on the ground or anything, but I did check multiple internet sources, so I’m doing approximately as well as Fox News…
Okay, on to the ostensible purpose of today’s post, which is to talk about Flaubert’s Parrot by Julian Barnes. This was ‘Bekah’s annual Valentine’s Day book selection for me, and she did a good job. It is a very writerly book, however, and in addition is largely about a writer, so it is really a “bookworms only” type of novel. I had not read Barnes before, but he has done such an excellent job with this book that I expect I shall want to read him again.
The novel is like one of those dance performances where the dancers’ movements are so perfectly synchronized that you begin to think of them as one organism. Every detail, every revelation is perfectly placed, perfectly integrated, in a way that is only possible through long, careful toil, but which invariably seems natural and easy to the reader. This is real talent, though I think one reviewer’s linking of Barnes with Joyce may be a bit of a stretch.
Flaubert himself was the perfect subject for a novel like this, as much of his personal correspondence has survived and is, in fact, his true masterpiece as a writer, his excellent novel Madame Bovary notwithstanding.
A Grudging Retraction
February 26, 2009
Some of you are likely familiar with Rebekah’s birding blog, easily the most fabulous of all birding blogs extant. Well, early in its existence, it was dealt a crippling blow when a certain advocate for donkeykind responded to a post about penguins by leaving a comment which denigrated the hauling capacity of the torpedo-shaped waterfowl and further asserted that “Donkeys rule, birds drool.” This seemingly indisputable claim withered interest in the fledgling blog and indeed the pastime of birding in general (although, honestly, people were going to figure out that birdwatching was dumb sooner or later), as people flocked to the much, much cooler quadrupeds.
The Duck is plucky, however, and persisted in her quixotic quest to make people care about the various feathered vermin of the world. She enticed readers back with snazzy photos and hit singles. Still, the undeniable panache and verve of Equus Asinus repeatedly bore out their claim to superiority.
That is, until recently, when this bombshell was ferreted out of obscurity (the italics are part of an in-joke – move along, nothing to see here). After seeing this, I cannot help but conclude that birds are (grumble) approximately as good as donkeys.
Acthung!
February 26, 2009
Posting has been disrupted recently due to terrorist activities (the “terrorists” in this case being Comcast, our service provider, who are waging a war against all of their customers through price hikes, service stoppages, and the occasional car-bombing.)
Today, service has resumed, so I will make up for the recent drought with a spate – a spate, I say! – of posts today.
For this first one, I would like to point out something that has recently been brought to my attention. Prepare to have your mind blown.
On June 14th, 1928, Che Guevara was born. He would go on to become a famous revolutionary and face-on-a-t-shirt (although the “rebellious” teens and undergrads wearing the shirts typically know little-to-nothing about his actual career or politics, and merely see him as a classier alternative to Tony Montana, who they admire for the same qualities they worship in Che). He believed passionately in the doctrines of Lenin and Marx.
On October 9th, 1940, John Lennon was born. He would go on to become a famous rock star and face-on-a-t-shirt who wrote songs about revolution and is often confused with the Lenin that Che worshiped by teens who have successfully rebelled against the efforts of their history teachers.
On October 9th, 1944, (John Lennon’s 4th birthday), Peter Tosh was born. He would go on to become a core member of The Wailers, backing band of famous musician and face-on-a-t-shirt Bob Marley, as well as a successful reggae musician in his own right.
On October 9th, 1967, Che Guevara was shot to death. It was Lennon’s 27th birthday, Tosh’s 23rd. Guevara was 39.
On December 8th, 1980, John Lennon was shot to death. He was 40. He won a grammy for the last album he released during his lifetime.
On September 11th, 1987, Peter Tosh was shot to death. He was 43. He had just won a grammy award for the last album he would release during his lifetime.
Pretty heavy, huh? I’m not sure what any of this means, but it is clearly important…
And it’s all true, except that Peter Tosh was actually born on on October 19th, which messes up the whole thing unless you delete the 1 in the interest of good storytelling journalism. You read it here first – unless you read Mass Historia by Chris Regan, who actually found the “connection” when he botched Tosh’s birthdate – I caught it when fact-checking for this post (yes, I fact-check!), but decided to run with it anyway.
Technical Difficulties
February 23, 2009
The internet has become a coy and elusive creature at our house, due to the vagaries of our service provider. It was actually kind of nice to take the weekend off from managing my various internet concerns, I may make a habit of it.
Anyway, the cracking and grinding of tectonic plates continues here, and I feel like I probably ought to share a little bit more of what is going on. I’ll stick to what concerns ‘Bekah and I most closely – ‘Bekah has decided to give up teaching at Children’s House and return to the pursuit of higher education. It was a very difficult decision for ‘Bekah, who has invested not only plenty of blood, sweat, and tears in the school, but also a great many of her hopes and dreams. Unfortunately, the relationship between Rebekah and her mother has just become too complicated and, frankly, dysfunctional for them to continue working together.
One’s relationships with one’s parents are tangled and intricate webs, to be sure, and far be it from me to attempt any further analysis of or commentary on the situation. It wouldn’t help anyway. It is so tempting to take a simplistic view of these sorts of conflicts, or play blame games, when the reality is so fraught with layers of meaning, idealization, and contradiction that the “truth” is probably not recoverable even by those most intimately involved.
For those of you not intimately involved, however, who don’t need the truth as much as a working explanation, you can get by with this brief summary – it’s pretty much all Phoebe’s fault, because she is a bad person.
Dedication
February 20, 2009
i
And if the sky were mine to give I would dedicate the horizon To the mallards winging Desperately toward it Through whistling clouds of birdshoti
And if I had possession over Judgment Day I would find a way to requite The grace you’ve shown In all these bitter trials Which you did not deserveSmoke Signals
February 19, 2009
Back in college I had read Sherman Alexie’s very good book The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven. It is a series of vignettes and short stories about life on a reservation, in format somewhat similar to The House on Mango Street. It is a very accessible book, its stories deftly-spun and moving. I knew at the time they had made a movie of it, but hadn’t gotten around to watching it until just last week.
I recommend it.
The film is called Smoke Signals, and it does a very good job of selecting a single strand of narrative from the book’s tangled skein and running with it. It lacks starpower (Tom Skerrit is in the film for 5 minutes, and you’ve never heard of anyone else in the movie), and the production values are minimal, but it is just about the most accessible independent film you’ll ever see, eschewing convoluted narrative structures, experimentation with cinematic techniques, or bizarre symbolism in favor of a well-told tale from a fresh perspective.
Cacophony
February 18, 2009
A number of music related things are going on at the moment. For starters, the long slog through my ipod’s playlist, making sure everything is titled correctly, is over. Yay! Now I just have to sweep through one last time, trimming out any duplicates that have been revealed by this reorganizing, and I’ll have a pretty good foundation from which to proceed.
In addition, I made two music-related purchases on the recent Valentine’s Day book romp.
The first is Bruce Springsteen’s new album, Working On A Dream. I normally don’t allow myself to spend bookstore money on cds, but I made an exception for The Boss. I am finishing my second listen to the album, and I must say that there weren’t many songs that made a knockout first impression (except Outlaw Pete), though the album as a whole flowed together beautifully. A second listen has cemented the first 6 or 7 songs as strong additions to Springsteen’s repertoire, though I generally feel like the album kind of peters out after that. The exception to this would be the “bonus track” at the end of the album, Springsteen’s award-winning contribution to the soundtrack of The Wrestler.
The other purchase was more of an accident. I finished book shopping before ‘Bekah, and decided to pick out one of those hefty reference-type tomes to read while I waited for her to finishing browsing. The book that I picked up was called 1,000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die and said it was part of the “before you die” series, which apparently spun off the success of the book 1,000 Places to See Before You Die. Must be some other people out there who are as list-obsessed as I am. Who woulda thunk it?
Anyhow, I ended up reading the preface and being hooked by the damn thing, which shows you that the author knew what he was about when he wrote it. He managed to infuse it with the passion and promise of the three-year quest he went on to assemble the thing, so I couldn’t help but be curious as to what made the cut. Also, he sounded eminently knowledgeable, and explained his method for organizing the book in a very lucid way, which appeals to several of my neuroses. I’ve decided that, funds permitting, I am going to begin delving into this list one recording at a time, and share the destinations and experiences with y’all.
St. Valentine’s Day
February 17, 2009
This year, just as we do every February 15th, ‘Bekah and I celebrated Valentine’s Day. We tend to keep a low profile on the actual holiday, emerging afterward to slink over to our local Barnes & Noble and spend any Christmas giftcards we may have received. Merlyn has made it kind of a habit to bestow $100 gift cards on each of us at Christmas, thereby giving us our Valentine’s Day.
Part of our tradition is to select one book for each other. This year, I picked out Sky Burial: An Epic Love Story of Tibet by Xinran for Rebekah, and she picked out Flaubert’s Parrot by Julian Barnes for me. I know ‘Bekah couldn’t wait to tear into all the birding books she bought, and I am in the middle of The Bourne Supremacy, but we will probably get down to reading each other’s selections soon – after all, Rebekah’s past picks for me have included some terrific books, like Kevin O’Hara’s Last of the Donkey Pilgrims and The War for Don Emmanuel’s Nether Parts by Louis De Bernieres.
For the last couple of years, the book store romp has been followed by a stop to pick up carryout from the nearby Hunan restaurant, which also happens to be my favorite restaurant in the whole wide world. Then, our galleon laden with our new treasures, ‘Bekah and I set sail for home, done with another blissfully low-key Valentine’s Day.
We’re Gonna Need A Bigger Boat…
February 16, 2009
Well, I took it easy this last week, blog-wise, and now I guess I’m ready to start working a little harder on this thing again.
Meanwhile, dimly glimpsed through murky water, leviathan shapes move beneath our tiny, fragile craft.
Big changes are coming again. Rebekah and I are in for another tumultuous ride, I guess, and while there will likely be plenty of anxiety and unpleasantness in the short/medium-range forecast, this most recent shake-up looks like it might bring with it some long-lasting changes for the better. If I’m being vague it is in an attempt to avoid speaking too soon – I’d like to see these things a little more clearly before I shoot my mouth off. I realize this is a departure from my normal modus operandi.
On to the typical Monday Preview:
Tuesday – St. Valentine’s Day
Wednesday – Cacophony
Thursday – Smoke Signals
Friday – The Shackled City
Saturday – Sundown
Sunday – Overheard
