When is a lap dance just a lap dance? Apparently, when I am the one on the receiving end. Last night I went out for drinks and dancing and met with confidence busters at about every turn. Firstly, I got called out for wearing a striped shirt with striped shorts. Not a good beginning to the Summer of Seersucker. I ended up borrowing a too-small blue polo before we went out and ended up looking like some lame 12-year old frat boy. Those were some short sleeves.
Secondly, I have absolutely no idea how I went home by myself last night. All night I was dancing with a girl who was all over me. All night she had been bemoaning her situation with some douche she was dating. I ruthlessly and efficiently stepped in without pause. Hours of bumping and grinding later I thought, "I'm in." Nope. Music stopped, bar closed, she drove back to New Hampshire. Ugh.
Other fun tidbits:
1) A 25-year old kid making his 5th career start held the Reds to 1 run on 4 hits for 8 innings. Following this team is a complete waste of baseball season.
2) Everybody gets a little drunk and forgets to close their bar tab from time to time. But who makes a point to close out the bill and then still leaves their debit card behind? The Dunce Cap Marvel, that's who.
3) It takes some kind of genius to slice open their hand with a butter knife to try to dislodge a splinter.
WHAT ARE THE ODDS?
Seen while walking down a Salem street in a span of 10 minutes: Two completely separate station wagons with stereos blasting Metallica. What doesn't feel right about affordable transport for your large family mixed with the ear-splitting strains of hard-core heavy metal? I swear if I see some soccer mom in a Volvo rocking out to And Justice For All my shit will be officially flipped.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Go forth and discover!
Do you know the absolute compelling beauty of discovering a new love? The kind that crawls up inside of you, simultaneously grabs your gut, heart, and mind and yanks with gentle yet authoritative force? The kind that -- whether chick, flick, or book -- is as impossible to dislodge as a facehugger?
I am completely taken by that feeling presently. Have been for the past couple of weeks. I recently read A Farewell to Arms and to quote it "changed my whole outlook on shit." This book is one of the most beautiful amazing pieces of literature I have ever read. For me, Hemingway could have written nothing else in his career and this book would still be enough to label him one of the greatest authors in American prose.
I was moved, I was changed. I have been thinking about this novel ad nauseam; it will not budge from my mind. It keeps me up at nights. How did an old Romantic like me miss out on this story? It is at once so timeless, and yet so locked in, so descriptive of that awful, horrid Great War. Reading it gave me such a sense of fellowship with Hemingway. I feel his pain, his loss. I feel I have looked on his soul and memory through his words and come to understand what he experienced during those dismal, hopeful years. I am a silent observer to that summer in Milan, Germans gliding on bicyles, and that fateful flight to Switzerland. This book has violently, eloquently forced itself onto my list of favorite books. I am in love with Catherine Barkley.
Probably one of my favorite passages:
I could go to Spain if there was no war. The sun was going down and the day was cooling off. After supper I would go and see Catherine Barkley. I wish she was here now. I wished I were in Milan with her. I would like to eat at the Cova and then walk down the Via Manzoni in the hot evening and cross over and turn off along the canal and go to the hotel with Catherine Barkley. Maybe she would. Maybe she would pretend that I was her boy that was killed and we would go in the front door and the porter would take off his cap and I would stop at the concierge's desk and ask for the key and she would stand by the elevator and then we would get in the elevator and it would go up very slowly clicking at all the floors and then our floor and the boy would open the door and stand there and she would step out and I would step out and we would walk down the hall and I would put the key in the door and open it and go in and then take down the telephone and ask them to send a bottle of capri bianca in a silver bucket full of ice and you would hear the ice against the pail coming down the coridor and the boy would knock and I would say leave it outside the door please. Because we would not wear any clothes because it was so hot and the window open and the swallows flying over the roofs of the houses and when it was dark afterward and you went to the window very small bats hunting over the houses and close down over the trees and we would drink the capri and the door locked and it hot and only a sheet and the whole night and we would both love each other all night in the hot night in Milan. That was how it ought to be. I would eat quickly and go and see Catherine Barkley.
So, so hauntingly, desperately beautiful.
DID I MENTION THERE WAS A LIST?
Since I mentioned a list of my favorite books, I figured I would go ahead and list my Top 10. This has been pretty unchanged for years. A Farewell to Arms is the big change, and oh what a change. Here goes...
10) Big Red -- One of my favorite stories of all time and one of 3 dog stories in my top 10. I read so much Jim Kjelgaard as a kid I've forgotten most of it. This story made me fall in love with Irish Setters; a breed I've wanted to own my entire life. Red vs. Old Majesty is heart-wrenching stuff. A boy and his dog; could there be anything better?
9) To Kill A Mockingbird -- Discounting Twain, this is the only Southern literature I truly love with a depth of heart. The film may buoy my love of the book, but regardless a great, great story full of life and emotion. Scout, Atticus, Boo Radley, Dill -- I love these characters. Harper Lee, I thank you.
8) The Dark Tower series -- The series that ties it all together. If you love The Stand, Insomnia, 'Salem's Lot, or Eyes of the Dragon, this is the penultimate read. Roland is one of my favorite characters across all of the English language. One of the greatest epics I've ever read. Also a helluva boy and dog story hidden amongst all the rest of the King stuff. Say thankee, sai.
7) The Dream Quest of Unknown Kadath -- What can I say about this long short story/novella? It changed my life. It influenced my ideas on dreams, cats, horror, fantasy, and New England. Not the best or my most favorite Lovecraft, but for me the most important. Pickman lives.
6) The Silmarillion -- This was a tough call. This could have easily been Frodo and Aragorn's spot. I love The Lord of the Rings. Eowyn is one of my favorite characters in books (that's a good heroine for you lada!). The scene between her and the Witch King almost tipped the balance. But at the end of the day I think I love Tolkien's origin story just a little bit more. I love the celestial song, the gods of Middle-Earth, the curse of the elves, and the follies of Man. The narrative of LOTR is supreme storytelling, but I love the loss of innocence and painful sorrow that the tale of the Silmarils represents. The story of Beren and Lúthien is here in full, and Fingolfin is the baddest elf Middle-Earth has ever seen. Apologies to Legolas.
5) Adventures of Huckleberry Finn -- This was the first book I read that I realized was literature. Still the greatest American Novel. This book changed the way I looked at what I read; and I was about 8 years old. My first real exposure to the concept of slavery and racism. An incredible adventure story for boys that still teaches that nobility of soul and goodness of heart are directed by character, not color. I can't tell you how many times I've read and reread Huck's escape from his father's cabin and meeting Jim on Jackson's Island.
4) The Last of the Mohicans -- I love Indians, I love muskets, I love tracking, I love history. This has it all. Uncas is one of America's earliest tragic figures -- in more ways than one. Natty Bumppo is a badass of the highest sort. One of my first sources for love of multiple names for the same character. This has to be considered one of the earliest examples of historical fiction. I love this period in history; I love this book.
3) A Farewell to Arms -- I would suffer Spanish Inquisition torture to protect my mental image of Catherine Barkley.
2) White Fang -- For me, the greatest dog story ever told. I still own the same copy my mother bought me that day in '91 when we went to go see the movie with Ethan Hawke and Bart the Bear, who at that time was my favorite actor. The tagline is:
But can a wolf understand the word "hope"?
can a creature of hatred understand the word "love"?
Most people consider London's Call of the Wild his ultimate work. I will fight that to the end. White Fang is a story of great love and great hate. It explores a lot of the troubling social issues plaguing Alaska at the turn of the 20th century, it recognizes the inherent savage beauty of nature, it illustrates the cruel, pettiness of Man, and then turns around and celebrates His innate generosity and love. Once again, the greatest dog and man story ever told against the backdrop of cruel, white, cold Alaska. My copy has bent edges and yellow pages, but I would rather throw the Bible overboard of a lifeboat than it. If I lost this book I would cry for years. My first pick to be stuck on a desert island with.
1) Dracula -- This is it. The best book I have ever read. Everything came together perfectly for this novel. Who would think a poor, untalented Irishman, possibly in love with his boss would come up with the greatest horror novel of all time? This is one of the most perfect books ever written; it came in the right time in Western history. It was a fitting end to Victorian culture and beginning to new sensabilities. It combines old school ideas like vampires and superstitions with new age mechanisms of blood transfusions and phonographs. Easily the best epistolary novel that will ever be written. Birthplace of the most popular and prolific character throughout Western literature and film. Our greatest character. Dracula raises questions of sexuality, morality, mortality, heroicism, spirituality, and individuality. A novel that accomplishes all kinds of things and still manages to scare the piss out of me every time I read it. I would not trade places with Jonathan Harker for 1,000 extra heartbeats.
I am completely taken by that feeling presently. Have been for the past couple of weeks. I recently read A Farewell to Arms and to quote it "changed my whole outlook on shit." This book is one of the most beautiful amazing pieces of literature I have ever read. For me, Hemingway could have written nothing else in his career and this book would still be enough to label him one of the greatest authors in American prose.
I was moved, I was changed. I have been thinking about this novel ad nauseam; it will not budge from my mind. It keeps me up at nights. How did an old Romantic like me miss out on this story? It is at once so timeless, and yet so locked in, so descriptive of that awful, horrid Great War. Reading it gave me such a sense of fellowship with Hemingway. I feel his pain, his loss. I feel I have looked on his soul and memory through his words and come to understand what he experienced during those dismal, hopeful years. I am a silent observer to that summer in Milan, Germans gliding on bicyles, and that fateful flight to Switzerland. This book has violently, eloquently forced itself onto my list of favorite books. I am in love with Catherine Barkley.
Probably one of my favorite passages:
I could go to Spain if there was no war. The sun was going down and the day was cooling off. After supper I would go and see Catherine Barkley. I wish she was here now. I wished I were in Milan with her. I would like to eat at the Cova and then walk down the Via Manzoni in the hot evening and cross over and turn off along the canal and go to the hotel with Catherine Barkley. Maybe she would. Maybe she would pretend that I was her boy that was killed and we would go in the front door and the porter would take off his cap and I would stop at the concierge's desk and ask for the key and she would stand by the elevator and then we would get in the elevator and it would go up very slowly clicking at all the floors and then our floor and the boy would open the door and stand there and she would step out and I would step out and we would walk down the hall and I would put the key in the door and open it and go in and then take down the telephone and ask them to send a bottle of capri bianca in a silver bucket full of ice and you would hear the ice against the pail coming down the coridor and the boy would knock and I would say leave it outside the door please. Because we would not wear any clothes because it was so hot and the window open and the swallows flying over the roofs of the houses and when it was dark afterward and you went to the window very small bats hunting over the houses and close down over the trees and we would drink the capri and the door locked and it hot and only a sheet and the whole night and we would both love each other all night in the hot night in Milan. That was how it ought to be. I would eat quickly and go and see Catherine Barkley.
So, so hauntingly, desperately beautiful.
DID I MENTION THERE WAS A LIST?
Since I mentioned a list of my favorite books, I figured I would go ahead and list my Top 10. This has been pretty unchanged for years. A Farewell to Arms is the big change, and oh what a change. Here goes...
10) Big Red -- One of my favorite stories of all time and one of 3 dog stories in my top 10. I read so much Jim Kjelgaard as a kid I've forgotten most of it. This story made me fall in love with Irish Setters; a breed I've wanted to own my entire life. Red vs. Old Majesty is heart-wrenching stuff. A boy and his dog; could there be anything better?
9) To Kill A Mockingbird -- Discounting Twain, this is the only Southern literature I truly love with a depth of heart. The film may buoy my love of the book, but regardless a great, great story full of life and emotion. Scout, Atticus, Boo Radley, Dill -- I love these characters. Harper Lee, I thank you.
8) The Dark Tower series -- The series that ties it all together. If you love The Stand, Insomnia, 'Salem's Lot, or Eyes of the Dragon, this is the penultimate read. Roland is one of my favorite characters across all of the English language. One of the greatest epics I've ever read. Also a helluva boy and dog story hidden amongst all the rest of the King stuff. Say thankee, sai.
7) The Dream Quest of Unknown Kadath -- What can I say about this long short story/novella? It changed my life. It influenced my ideas on dreams, cats, horror, fantasy, and New England. Not the best or my most favorite Lovecraft, but for me the most important. Pickman lives.
6) The Silmarillion -- This was a tough call. This could have easily been Frodo and Aragorn's spot. I love The Lord of the Rings. Eowyn is one of my favorite characters in books (that's a good heroine for you lada!). The scene between her and the Witch King almost tipped the balance. But at the end of the day I think I love Tolkien's origin story just a little bit more. I love the celestial song, the gods of Middle-Earth, the curse of the elves, and the follies of Man. The narrative of LOTR is supreme storytelling, but I love the loss of innocence and painful sorrow that the tale of the Silmarils represents. The story of Beren and Lúthien is here in full, and Fingolfin is the baddest elf Middle-Earth has ever seen. Apologies to Legolas.
5) Adventures of Huckleberry Finn -- This was the first book I read that I realized was literature. Still the greatest American Novel. This book changed the way I looked at what I read; and I was about 8 years old. My first real exposure to the concept of slavery and racism. An incredible adventure story for boys that still teaches that nobility of soul and goodness of heart are directed by character, not color. I can't tell you how many times I've read and reread Huck's escape from his father's cabin and meeting Jim on Jackson's Island.
4) The Last of the Mohicans -- I love Indians, I love muskets, I love tracking, I love history. This has it all. Uncas is one of America's earliest tragic figures -- in more ways than one. Natty Bumppo is a badass of the highest sort. One of my first sources for love of multiple names for the same character. This has to be considered one of the earliest examples of historical fiction. I love this period in history; I love this book.
3) A Farewell to Arms -- I would suffer Spanish Inquisition torture to protect my mental image of Catherine Barkley.
2) White Fang -- For me, the greatest dog story ever told. I still own the same copy my mother bought me that day in '91 when we went to go see the movie with Ethan Hawke and Bart the Bear, who at that time was my favorite actor. The tagline is:
But can a wolf understand the word "hope"?
can a creature of hatred understand the word "love"?
Most people consider London's Call of the Wild his ultimate work. I will fight that to the end. White Fang is a story of great love and great hate. It explores a lot of the troubling social issues plaguing Alaska at the turn of the 20th century, it recognizes the inherent savage beauty of nature, it illustrates the cruel, pettiness of Man, and then turns around and celebrates His innate generosity and love. Once again, the greatest dog and man story ever told against the backdrop of cruel, white, cold Alaska. My copy has bent edges and yellow pages, but I would rather throw the Bible overboard of a lifeboat than it. If I lost this book I would cry for years. My first pick to be stuck on a desert island with.
1) Dracula -- This is it. The best book I have ever read. Everything came together perfectly for this novel. Who would think a poor, untalented Irishman, possibly in love with his boss would come up with the greatest horror novel of all time? This is one of the most perfect books ever written; it came in the right time in Western history. It was a fitting end to Victorian culture and beginning to new sensabilities. It combines old school ideas like vampires and superstitions with new age mechanisms of blood transfusions and phonographs. Easily the best epistolary novel that will ever be written. Birthplace of the most popular and prolific character throughout Western literature and film. Our greatest character. Dracula raises questions of sexuality, morality, mortality, heroicism, spirituality, and individuality. A novel that accomplishes all kinds of things and still manages to scare the piss out of me every time I read it. I would not trade places with Jonathan Harker for 1,000 extra heartbeats.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Turistas
They came. The weekend was cold and grey and wet and still they came like an unstoppable rebel force. First weekend of April and the tourists have descended like human-locusts on Salem. Almost overnight our quiet, seaside town of winter has transformed into a crush of humanity. The calendar flips a page, the season starts, and we become the equivalent of a plague victim relocation center.
I stumbled out the door yesterday about noon to grab a serene, greasy breakfast to cure my hangover. I was not expecting the crowded sidewalks, the clogged streets, or the 30 minute wait in line for some bacon and eggs thanks to a visiting high school band field trip. Too many helter skelter kids, too many senior groups all wearing the same matching yellow and purple t-shirts, too many gawking idiots taking pictures of the neighborhood liquor store (it's called the Bunghole -- not all that funny).
Right now, in the beginning, it's amusing and almost kind of nice. I think, "hey, I live in a really cool place that people want to see!" But it gets old fast. Your commute gets slower, you get a bit claustrophobic walking down the street sometimes, more assholes come out of the woodworks to almost hit you on your bike cuz they aren't paying attention, and your spot at the bar in the neighborhood pub is not as easy to claim, even on days when you'd think it would be slow as hell. The ferry to Boston does start running and there will be lots of stuff to do come summer, but I know that I'll breathe a sigh of relief come November 1st. Let's start the insanity...
I stumbled out the door yesterday about noon to grab a serene, greasy breakfast to cure my hangover. I was not expecting the crowded sidewalks, the clogged streets, or the 30 minute wait in line for some bacon and eggs thanks to a visiting high school band field trip. Too many helter skelter kids, too many senior groups all wearing the same matching yellow and purple t-shirts, too many gawking idiots taking pictures of the neighborhood liquor store (it's called the Bunghole -- not all that funny).
Right now, in the beginning, it's amusing and almost kind of nice. I think, "hey, I live in a really cool place that people want to see!" But it gets old fast. Your commute gets slower, you get a bit claustrophobic walking down the street sometimes, more assholes come out of the woodworks to almost hit you on your bike cuz they aren't paying attention, and your spot at the bar in the neighborhood pub is not as easy to claim, even on days when you'd think it would be slow as hell. The ferry to Boston does start running and there will be lots of stuff to do come summer, but I know that I'll breathe a sigh of relief come November 1st. Let's start the insanity...
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