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Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Reminder: John invited you to join Facebook...
Saturday, July 04, 2009
Taken from today’s Writer’s Alamanac:It was on this day in 1931 that James Joyce and Nora Barnacle went down to a courthouse in London and got married. Joyce was 49 years old, and Nora was 47. The two had eloped more than a quarter of a century before.
Nora and James had their first date on June 16th, 1904. It was the day that he later chose as the setting for his novel Ulysses, the day that's now celebrated around the world as Bloomsday. They'd taken a walk around Dublin, and immediately Joyce was convinced that this uneducated witty girl from Galway was the one for him. He wrote her a letter in August that said, "When I am with you I leave aside my contemptuous suspicious nature. I wish I felt your head over my shoulder now."
Joyce chose today, July 4th, his father's birthday, as the wedding date. His
father had been upset and offended by Joyce's elopement with Nora, and Joyce
chose this date as a nod toward making amends. But the real reason that he felt
compelled to get legally married after all these years was to make sure that his
children and grandchildren were assured of their inheritance. Joyce was by now
famous for Ulysses and the royalties were pouring in. He wanted to make sure
that his children wouldn't be hung up in legal battles and denied their
inheritance by the state because of the questionable legality of their parents'
marriage. So he and Nora went through an English civil law marriage ceremony to
comply with English legal standards and thus secure his offspring's future
endowments.
Wife and I watched “He’s Just Not That Into You” last night. The movie turned out to be much better than I thought it would be. As this clip illustrates, it’s a pretty busy movie, with lots of characters and lots of interwoven relationships:
In the film, Neil (Ben Affleck) and Beth (Jennifer Aniston) have been dating for seven years and have been living together for several of those years. They appear to be quite happy in their relationship, and to be soul mates or in romance writer lingo, OTL’s (one-true-loves.) Problem is that Neil doesn’t want to get married, but Beth does. In the “Maybe he’s just not that into you” vein, Beth concludes that Neil will never marry her because he doesn’t really love her, and she kicks him out. I don’t think I’m giving away any big surprise plot twists when I say that eventually Beth realizes that Neil is her OTL and that marriage or no, he is the one she wants.
Such is the give-and-take of love. Some 26 years before their marriage (and even before their elopement) James Joyce letters indicate he gave serious consideration to leaving Nora, complaining, "Nora does not seem to make much difference between me and the rest of the men she has known and I hardly believe that she is justified in this." Nora on the other hand believed that Joyce was ignorant about women. She is said to have been unenthusiastic about his writing career and once told a Joyce admirer "I've always told him he should give up writing and take up singing."
Wife wishes I didn’t smoke, probably wishes I didn’t’ drink, and would love it if I would put up less of a fuss about going to church. I wish she would drink, be a little less indignant about other people, and just in general lighten up.
I’ve always had a hard time figuring out whether love was about asking or not asking. Is it “If you loved me you would…” or “If you loved me, you wouldn’t ask me to…”
I guess in the end it’s about not making excessive demands on each other, but rather living with and enjoying the best of what’s there.
Friday, July 03, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Early to Bed? Notsomuch
Saturday night was a fine ending to good week.
- Saturday night at 7 pm, Wife and I went to a Big Band Dance at Centennial Park. Back when she was Girl Friend, Wife and I went to a few dances in high school and college, but there wasn’t really a lot of dancing—mostly talking to people and each other, swaying around a bit, and “Hey, wanna go make out?” But we would like to be able to actually know how to dance, so I had the idea of going to a Centennial Park dance. We (including the Boy and the Girl) watched YouTube videos about swing dancing all week to try to get somewhat ready, and Saturday night they had a quick 30 minute swing dance lesson before the main dance event started. It was a warm evening and we were pretty sweaty out there. We certainly wouldn’t have won any swing dancing awards, either. But the main point of it was that we got out there and did it and had a good time of it together.
- We left Centennial Park at around 8:30 pm, because we hadn’t eaten supper yet, and we needed to get over to the Basement for the Daddy CD release party. We ate at Brown’s Diner at 12th Avenue and Blair because we felt too sweaty and smelly to go anywhere else.
- We arrived at the Basement at around 9:30 pm in time to catch the end of Amanda Shire’s show. I guess Daddy took the stage at around 10pm and played until just before midnight. It was a fine show and we hung around a bit afterwards and talked to Tommy Womack, Lisa Gray, and Paul Griffith. There were baby shower decorations scattered around the Basement, and Mary Sack passed out cupcakes at one point in the evening. Paul Griffith had put us on the guest list, which was cool because I’ve never been on a guest list before, even though I would have been happy to pay the $10 x 2 cover.
Backing up a bit, Friday night we attempted to see Todd Snider’s in-store at Grimey’s but we were turned away because Wife was topless and drunk. No, that’s not right at all—I just wanted to get your attention. Grimey’s was full! Just as we walked up, a Grimey’s employee came out and announced that they were at capacity and that no, they weren’t going to leave the door open. We were welcome to stand outside. Given the heat, we decided to just go back home. Bummer, but oh well.
Tuesday night we were able to make into Grimey’s for the Daddy in-store. We enjoyed the show. Those Grimey’s in-stores are always fun. It’s amazing to me how the band is able to fit into that little space over in the vinyl section. I asked Paul Griffith which was smaller, the playing are at Grimey’s or the stage at Norm’s River Road House. His answer: The stage at the Family Wash.
Good times.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Cheese Chronicles
Finished reading “Cheese Chronicles: the True Story of a Rock ‘n’ Roll Band You’ve Never Heard of” this morning. I’ve had the book for about 9 months, and had read a couple of individual chapters on and off. But I had some down time on a trip to New Orleans a few weeks ago and started reading it pretty heavy back then.
For the uninitiated, Cheese Chronicles was written by Tommy Womack, who was the founding dreamer for the band Government Cheese, which was more or less together from 1985 until 1992.
I enjoyed the book. The following review of the book from a reader posting on Amazon.com is pretty accurate:
“In the Cheese Chronicles, Tommy Womack presents a great look into the usually-unglamorous lifestyle of beer-swilling, chain-smoking, working musicians just trying to make ends meet. He demonstrates that the road to musical nirvana isn't paved with gold for every band that hasn't made it yet. It's paved with concrete just like the Pennsylvania Turnpike, complete with an ungodly amount of potholes. From songs about frozen fish to crashing out next to the litter box on some guy's floor, it's all here. And funny as hell to boot.”
Since their roots were in Bowling Green, Kentucky, I never saw Government Cheese perform—although according to the Cheese Chronicles, the band did make their way through Monroe, Louisiana once or twice, including a gig at Enoch’s Café, a place I was known to haunt in my college days.
Another Amazon reviewer caught my eye with this review of the Cheese Chronicles:
“Ever wonder what happened to that great band you used see at the local bar. The
band you were certain were going to be the next Replacements or REM. Tommy
Womack tells you what happened. This book is a must read for anyone who wants
the truth about the real rock n' roll lifestyle. His story grabs you like his
songs, once you bite, you're hooked. From seedy hotels, to the Time Square
Marriott, fish sticks to yellow cling peaches, you live the ups and downs of
Government Cheese. Like one of their shows, when its over you crave for more.”
When I was in college, at what was then known as Northeast Louisiana University, I followed a band named “Why Knot”. I’d say their style was classic rock. They played mostly covers, but also put out a cassette tape that I believe contained original songs. Mason Granade was the lead singer. I think he had a class with my girlfriend at the time (you now know her as Wife) and he talked up the band in class one day, so we went to see them. Their keyboard player was Kelly Kemp, a guy I knew Kelly from church, and who was somewhere between a close acquaintance and a casual friend. I forget the bass player’s name, but he was a doctor in Bastrop, Louisiana I think. They called him “Doc”. Go figure. Then there was the drummer, whose name escapes me, but I remember he had blonde hair and liked to lead the crowd in chants of “Wave your hands in the air! Wave ‘em like you just don’t care!”
The two places we went to see them were Enoch’s and Chelsea Street Pub in the Nice New Mall (Pecan Land Mall). If Why Knot was playing, we were seeing them. We’d even see Mason by himself if we knew he had a gig somewhere, which usually was just him and his guitar playing while people at their food.
Girlfriend and I saw Rod Stewart in Jackson, Mississippi one time and when Rod did “Maggie” it was a let down. I came back and told Mason that I like Why Knot’s version of the song better than Rod’s. I think Mason thought I was making fun, but I wasn’t.
I took that cassette tape with me to Athens, Georgia where I attended graduate school after I left Monroe never to return. I played it for some of my friends one time and they said “Man, these guys suck.” One more confirmation that my taste for music was not mainstream.
I never knew what happened to Why Knot. I want to say that I heard Mason doing some radio dee-jaying on a Monroe station, and my mom kept in touch with Kelly’s mom for a while after. But I guess the band thing probably didn’t go anywhere. Oh well. I certainly have my memories.
Womack does a nice job of tracking his dream of being in a rock ‘n’ roll band throughout the book. The book touches on plenty of low points, but ends on a great note that tells the reader that it was all worth it, and that the dream survived the band. Here is the last paragraph, which serves as inspiration for anyone has feels their dream may not have been fully realized. The dream survives:
“I like to think Government Cheese packed a bunch of dreams in a burlap sack and
swung it over our heads. While the bag emptied, we kept swinging, and it got
lighter and faster, and we spun until we fell down, all dizzy and spent. Those
dreams had to go somewhere. They lie where they fall, spread-eagled, pink and
healthy forever”.
http://www.myspace.com/governmentcheeseofficialbandsite
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Sunday in the Park with a Bunch of Baptists
Wife and I went to see a musical, Sunday Afternoon in the Park with George at the Boiler Room Theatre this past Friday night. From Wikipedia: “The musical was inspired by the painting "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte" by Georges Seurat. A complex work revolving around a fictionalized Seurat immersed in single-minded concentration while painting the masterpiece, its Broadway production was greeted with mixed praise by the critics.”
If anyone cared, Wikipedia could add “as well as the attendees at the Boiler Room theatre.” One of the couples who went with us left at the intermission. They were joined by maybe 10% of the rest of the crowd. Normally at the end of a show, the cast lines up and people walk by and shake hands with them and do “good job” just like little boys after a tee-ball game. Friday night—I’m not exagerating here—people (including my wife and I) just ran past the cast shouting out greetings and expressions of appreciation. I’ve never seen anything like it.
All-in-all, I’m glad I went. I think it was probably too little story spread over too long, but from the middle of the first act through probably the first scene in the second act, I really liked it. I know that for the first twenty minutes or so I stared at the stage and the performers with a “what is that on your shirt” look. And then the last part of the second act was just lame I thought—from a story standpoint. This YouTube clip gives you a good idea about the whole play. The songs aren’t exactly soaring tunes with broad beautiful rounded lyrics. As Willie Nelson sang, "He ain't wrong he's just different." This musical was different, and I would probably like to see it again or hear the music again. The last thing I ever want to be is someone who dismisses art or ideas because it doesn't look or sound like what I'm accustomed to.
Wife and I, along with two other couples we have Boiler Room tickets with, ate at TGI Fridays before the show. We know these couples from our Sunday school class at church. Ever heard that joke “Jews don’t recognized Jesus, Protestants don’t recognize the Pope, and Baptists don’t recognize each other in the liquor store.” Well, that’s what this was like, as the two women said things like “What’s a Mojito?” and “I had a girlfriend one time who drank several glasses of Long Island Iced Tea and passed out.” The most rebellious I dared get was to order the Jack Daniels burger, which is what I always order anyway.
We had a young waitress. She was cute in a way if a piercing through the eyebrow and a tattoo on the inside of a wrist does anything for you (my hand is raised), although she didn’t have 15 pieces of flair even if you count the visible piercings and tattoos. I noticed towards the end of the meal that Wife was really irritated. When we got the car, she unleashed, saying the waitress had pissed her off because she “ignored the women at the table”, “served the men first” and asked if I noticed that me and the guy sitting next to me “were the only ones she brought refills to.” (There was a third male at the table, but, according to my wife he “never drank much of his coke to begin with, so he never needed a refill.”) No, I didn’t notice. If I had, I would have thought it had more to do with where me and the other guy sat, close to the traffic aisle.
Apparently this favoritism is a common thing among waitresses “around here” and it really makes my wife mad. I didn’t bother suggesting that next time if she wanted a refill that she should just use her big girl voice and say “Ma’am, when you find yourself holding a tea pitcher again…” I also didn’t bother saying “Well, that waitress certainly must know her target audience, because I tipped her 20%.” I just kept quiet and said something like “Oh. I never noticed.”
Oh well. I wasn’t a big fan of going to TGI Friday’s in the first place. But, then given the company we were keeping, Tin Roof 2 over on Caruthers probably wouldn’t be a very workable solution. I can imagine the trouble as we sat on the patio and I ordered a Jack Daniels on the rocks and lit up a cigarette while a twenty-something cutie took our order in her little white tank top.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
The Wrestler
Wife and I watched The Wrestler last week. I loved this movie!
I never really figured out how to write movie reviews, so I’ll leave that to those who have (or think they have). Here’s what I liked, though:
- The story telling. Kudos to Darren Aronofsky for giving us enough details along the way so that we could fill in the blanks of the back story on our own. This was most evident for me with Stephanie, Randy’s daughter, who is severely pissed at Randy when the movie first shows them together and who seems to hold a grudge too firmly. But we see enough subtle details to realize that perhaps Randy isn’t simply the absent father, but instead could identify with the lyrics from a Hayes Carll song: “I come around too fast and I always leave too soon.”
- The characters. Mickey Rourke as Randy “the Ram” Robinson, a weekend warrior professional wrestler, and Marisa Tomei as Cassidy (that’s her stripper name; her real name is Pam.) Both are entertainers in carny-style outlets with stage names to go with their real names.
- Favorite scene. The first scene of Randy working in the deli, when he was actually getting into it and interacting with the customers. He sees “Yeah, I could do this. And if not this, maybe something else.” Right after that, he makes the phone calls to tell people he’s out of the business. Of course, as anyone knows who has tried to quit a thing, you have to quit again every day, and that’s the hard part of life.
- Least favorite scene. I really hated the monologue at the beginning of the re-match with Abdullah that closed the film. I can’t say it would have been unrealistic for a professional wrestler to make such a monologue, being into melodrama as they can be. I would have cut it though. Just my two cents.
- My favorite line. “Party like a fireman.”
One surprising thing about the movie was the implication that professional wrestling is staged. Hmmm. Did people know this already?
I’ve never been to a real wrestling match, although Northeast Louisiana where I grew up is prime wrestling country. Don’t know if he still is, but back then my dad was a big wrestling fan. Our standard Saturday visits typically included breakfast at some truck stop diner, followed by a trip to K-Mart on Louisville Avenue where we would hang out until lunch, typically at Pasqualli’s Pizza next door to the K-Mart. From there, we would go over to the movie theatre and catch the latest flicks—Star Wars, Rocky, or Is That You Son?
The K-Mart had all sorts of fun things to do, including a pet section that carried birds like parakeets and cockatoos. When we weren’t trying to teach the birds to say dirty words, we would loiter in the television section where we would watch rasslin. Those were the days of Ernie Ladd, Andre the Giant, the Masked Assassin, and Dick Murdoch. My dad’s favorite though was Cowboy Bill Watts. Dad said that people would frequently come up to him and say “Are you Cowboy Bill Watts?” Maybe they thought he was Cowboy Bill Watts who had stopped training and had put on some weight.
But then, what’s wrestling about if not fantasy and imagination?
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