30.
Happy birthday, dude. I’ll be there soon
What a good blog…
The Barenaked Ladies, that wacky group of of Canadian musicans has their own blog, which I think is a splendid idea. As blogs increase in profile, popularity and (*gasp*) significance, more famous will feel the need to have their own. Many shouldn’t. I never felt the need to open the craniums of Will Weaton, Adam Curry, or RuPaul and splash around. I’m sure they’re all nice people, but life is short.
On the other hand, I’ve been keeping a flickering eye on “The Ladies” for about 7 years now, when my old college radio buddy Jeremy Hancock brought their first album “Gordon” to be played on our show. I’ve since seem them in concert several times and own most of their records. And while I think their albums are uneven and their sound plays better in clubs than stadiums, they were one of the few bands I listened to that I wanted to know more about as people instead of just rockstars. And when you’re over 15, that’s a rare thing. Put another way, I think the guys from Outkast are geniusness but I’m not all that interested in hanging out with them. They’re too freaky and mystical and well-dressed to seem approachable. “Approachable” is crucial to BNL’s appeal. The medium is perfect for who they are.
Sleepy Time:
My friend Britton sent me this article on Melatonin which is aparently a natural way to assure yourself some quality sleepy time. I just know if it jives with the sleep patterns of someone like me who has been treated for sleep apnea, but I’m going to investigate.
Down for OPL:
The citizenry of Pamie.com just conducted a drive of books, cash and goodwill for the Okland Public Library system which is in danger of closed branches and reduced hours and services if the city’s proposed budget cuts go through.
I got two warm feelings from reading this:
1) The web is a trememdous way to mobilize people quickly and efficiently for doing good. All you need is a high traffic site, a loyal readership and a pursuasive leader like Pamie with an itch. Also, the OPL made good use of their own web sites to indicate to members and concerned parties how they could best help out as well.
2) People love libraries but often take them for granted. On the one hand, have you ever met anyone who said “Eh, get rid of the libraries. I’d rather my tax dollars went to pothole repair?” I haven’t either. But, of that same group, how many of us actually set foot in your local library branch? Regularly? Me neither.
I discovered recently that the San Francisco Public Library will not only rent me classic movies for a week at no charge but will ship any book, movie or CD I want from any of the city’s branch to my branch, the one 3 blocks from my house. I’ve tried to get in the pattern lately of alternating between reading books I’ve got at home (and there are tons, with more arriving every week) and checking something out from the library. I may even start checking out books I own already. Its relatively painless and active library branches are harder to see as dispensible.
When did you last visit your library?
A Pleasing ‘Wind’:
I caught a late screening of A Mighty Wind this Saturday and can’t tell you how pleased I was. For the record, I am not a big fan of Christopher Guest’s movies. Didn’t care for Waiting for Guffman, couldn’t stand Best in Show. Both of them I found only fitfully funny, a big laugh followed by a long period of uncomfortable silence. It’s exactly how I normally feel in the presence of something that could be funny if the person telling the joke wasn’t, at heart, an asshole.
In Guffman and Show, I got the sense Christopher Guest didn’t think much of his characters. Sure, he found their silly preoccupations (dog shows, community theatre) cute, comically, a good mine. Genially obsessive people can be a hoot if left to their own devices. I just wanted Guest to move the fuck out of the way and let that happan.
These characters were plenty hilarious on their own. Instead, he gives each just enough time to make an ass of themselves and then moves on the next one. The result: None of them develop enough to be funny as people, but instead are funny as cultural-types: community theatre devotees, dog show enthusiasts, small towners, the unironic. The message: People who are crazy about community theatre and dog shows are funny because their concerns are petty and stupid compared to ours.
I don’t find that funny, just mean.
The spiritual ancestor to all these films is of course,This is Spinal Tap (which was made by Rob Reiner, not Guest. Guest played the dim guitarist who insisted his speakers cold go up to 11.), made in 1984. Its hilarity (still, after about 63 viewings) eminates from how completely convinced this terrible band of heavy metal has-beens remain about their own talent and importance, how hard they work at being rock stars when they so clearly aren’t anymore. Wind pulls the same trick yet but with a lighter touch. The three 60’s folk acts who have assembled for a tribute concert in the present day still float on a raft of their own self-importance. Yet unlike the heavy-metalers who refuse to believe they’re careers have been cast out to sea (Reiner clearly thinks they are nimrods), the three folk acts either have no interest in nostolgia, know folk ain’t coming back and are a little grumpy about it, or are perfectly context to gut folk and parade around in the carcass for a few bucks. The comedy then comes from watching them poke at, bite, or run away from their own irrelevence. It’s got vulnerability and a heart, which makes me laugh even more.
There are some great jokes, and Guest and Co. earn them all (Harry Shearer and bandmates talking about how they had to add the holes to their first records is just a riot) by creating funny characters in a vaguely sad situation and then letting them be. Instead of the cheap, shooting gallery humor of Waiting for Guffman and Best in Show, A Mighty Wind works by laying it on gently rather than being nasty for its own sake.
Health Update:
We’re getting better over here. The fever seems to have abated, the muscles no longer feel like they’ve been meat tenderized. I’ve still got the sinus aches and congestion, the sore throat but a pill/lozenge combination every 4 hours seems to do the trick.
I was able to venture outdoors today and spent the afternoon watching Powertool Races, which was like Spring Break thrown by the cast of The Road Warrior. Noah’s audblog post (in .mp3 format) does it more justice than I could. He gave me a ride home.
I’m going to spend the rest of the day cleaning up, slowing down and getting ready to get back to work. Lots coming up this month. I want to be healthy and present for it.
This Week’s Recommended Books
Red Dirt Revival: A Poetic Memoir in Six Breaths by Tim’m West
(Poz’Trophy Publishing, $14.25 in paperback, 113 p. Available from www.reddirt.biz)
I’ve been lucky to get to know Tim’m West in the last few months when he sat on a panel I hosted on the Spoken Word movement here in the Bay Area. A poet, scholar, and MC with the hip hop group, Deep Dickollective, his first collection of poems, essays and letters is a linguisitic treat: visual, sharp, potent. West begins with his youth in rural Arkansas (where he remembered the old women digging up red clay to chew like tobacco), up through his education and studies in race, gender and the politics of language, arriving at his understanding of himself as a black gay man and an artist. It’s a quick, tough, ultimately redemptive read. You’ll be glad you did.
Red Dirt Revival is available through Tim’m’s web site
July, July by Tim O’Brien
(Houghton Mifflin, $26 in Hardcover, 322 pp.)
I was finally able to get my greedy mitts on Tim O’Brien’s new novel and started reading it right away. I’ve been a fan of his work since someone gave me a copy of The Things They Carried (to my mind, the 20th century’s single best book about war) for my birthday, although I’ve never managed to read any of his others. Now, I’m about a third of the way through July, July and am remembering why I like his work so much.
The setting is once again the late 1960’s, the characters soldiers, activists and college kids each effected by the war raging in Vietnam. However this time, O’Brien structures the story around a 30 year class reunion in July of 2000. Characters, have married, ignited old affairs and wept at the erosion of their dreams.
It sounded a little too much like The Big Chill in print but I’d forgotten what a master at structure O’Brien is. Instead of nostolgic, July, July feels almost preordained. If you never grow up, you’ll just be an 18 year old with middle-aged responsibilities. And while his prose can seem overly functional at times, here it’s perfect for keeping the large cast and their stories straight.
I’ve been reading this one during my illness, before bed. It’s helped a lot.
Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach
(W.W. Norton, $23.95 in Hardcover, 292 pp.)
This probably wasn’t a smart choice for a week when I too felt like a corpse. But Mary is a friend and I figured I had stalled long enough on reading her book. I’m almost done now and it’s terrific. A lot of science yes, but Stiff still moves along and a good clip and with a great sense of humor. I’ll hopefully finish it up today and then think about who I want to give it to as a gift? Should it be someone a little sick who would laugh? Or someone a bit timid who I could shock? You tell me.
Hands on the Torch:
The Web Geek 0lympics have begun. Go Bryan go!
Sick Update…
This blog ain’t exactly been thrilling reading as of late. And neither have I. Monday morning, I woke up with a sore throat and a headache that felt like a rodent was trying to claw its way out of my skull. A fever followed, along with freezing cold limbs but a hot forehead. Fevers are mean that way.
I haven’t been able to work out all week. Meetings with the Canvas Cafe and work I planned on getting down had to be shelved. Yesterday I managed to attend my first Litquake board meeting and proceeded to shiver and cough the whole time, as if I was dethawing between sides of venison. I’ll probably miss Jessa’s birthday tonight and most likely the KFOG Kaboom on Saturday. Worst of all, I haven’t been able to sleep once this week without waking up once every 87 minutes or so.
I know I’m supposed to lay low, to take it easy, to see this all as a sign that my body needed to slow down and rest. I’m just not feeling that generous toward the universe right now. I mean sure, it’s great to have watched 5 movies in two days but I prefer, ya know, living.
I’m going to try and put up this week’s recommended books tomorrow, only two days late. Hang in there with me.