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Where, When, How Much, What Flavor.
Three things I did today when I played hookey with my friend Amy: Visited a chocolate factory, played mini golf and ate an In-and-Out Burger.
Life does not get any sweeter.
Six years ago today, on a brisk, bright day in Austin, TX, I bordered a plane bound for California. The next day, my youngest brother Daniel arrived and met me at the corner of Taylor and Lombard Streets in the North Beach neighborhood of San Francisco. My possessions arrived later that afternoon. We waited for then at the café across the street, eating paninis and drumming our fingers. That evening, we took a break from lifting boxes to take a bike ride down to Crissy Field, where we stopped and ran, fully clothed, in the freezing waters of San Francisco Bay. “Kevin, you live here now,” my brother said.
Six years. Longer than I’ve lived anywhere since leaving home at 18. In that time over half of my initial friends have moved away. I’ve changed jobs 4 times and apartments once. I’ve lost favorite places and gained a cat. I’ve had frustration, pain, loneliness, and terrible loss. One day the earth will rumble something terrible here and make me wonder the deepest kind of why. Why am I still here?
And yet I will stay.
I will stay because I have collapsed to my knees and thanked God for the overwhelming natural beauty of this place. I will stay because few places I have been value literature, art, culture and human creative achievement the way this place does. I will stay because I believe there are few cities in the world where the citizens are constantly working towards utopia, knowing it is impossible and yet trying anyway. I will stay because despite the soaring prices, the cramped quarters, the self-importance and the foolish rejection of the future, San Francisco feels like where I belong. It feels like home.
I’m not going to say I’ll be here forever because, if the last few months have shown me anything, I know now that the only constant is change. One day I may awaken and find that my long term relationship with San Francisco has done all it can and that we’ve grown apart. Then I will go.
For now though, I look at the past six years as the best of my life. The people who’ve contributed to that know who they are. The city, well, I hope she knows. I hope she knows, that despite how on somedays I want to rage and kick and scream at her narrow, pigheaded ways, that on most others, when I turn off the lights, feed Faygo and climb into bed, I thank her for bringing me here, for taking care of me and helping me to grow.
So happy anniversary San Francisco, from a blessed adopted son. Us Jews don’t believe in heaven but I sure like what one of this city's wisest men had to say about it.
“If I go to heaven, I'll probably do what every San Franciscan does. I'll look around and say, "'It ain't bad, but it ain't San Francisco..”
--Herb Caen.
Enron guilty. 'Akeelah' rocks. The New Yorker plans its digital facelift. Another look at the indies v. chains bookstore debate and I celebrate an anniversary.
Akeelah and the Bee (2006):
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be - brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
As we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same."
---Marianne Williamson
Rachel Carson, Dashiell Hammett, Tony Hillerman, John Barth, Julia Ward Howe, and John Cheever, all on May 27th. Wowee. (via The Writer's Almanac).
1. Used my Saturday morning writing group to start the proposal for my second book.
2. Went to my martial arts training class at Crissy Field and broke a board with my bare hand.
3. Stopped in on my friends Ted and Molly.
4. Browsed at Christopher's Books, read a magazine at Farley's and had dinner at Goat Hill Pizza.
5. Saw Akeelah and the Bee, one of the best movies of the year, and left the theatre feeling on top of the world.
6. Slept like a baby.
In what is rapidly becoming a book industry cliche', another old master (this time John Updike, formally Norman Mailer), has been trotted out to decry technological innovations in publishing. His remarks (among them the flown-in-from-Oz sentiment that "literary fiction should stand on its own, with or without author promotion") drew huge applause from booksellers and publishers, a reaction I equate to doing a rain dance while the levees give away.
The whole ugly scenario (as reported by the Washington Post and discussed at some length at Readerville) went down at Book Expo America, the industry's yearly hootnanny and examination of itself. I go every year because it makes me proud to work in the book business. Hearing this kind of foolishness makes me want to shoot my business in the head.
I don't begrudge Mr. Updike his provincialism for one moment. The man has been writing books for a half-century and the system of his youth has served him well. But what I can't stand is those cheering him on, those who have to fight the daily battles of decreased attention spans, Internet retailing and an industry dragging itself by the shorthairs into the present, giving standing ovations to what is essentially a sob story. Publishing might have been king of the hill at one point but now there are many smaller hills, each with their own royalty. This is not future fetish but reality. Ignoring it not only stupid but dangerous.
Yes, it would be lovely if it were as easy to sell books now as it was in 1968. It would also be lovely if I were 6'5, President of The United States and had x-ray vision. It will never happen. The sooner we accept this and plan for the future instead of cheering while knee deep in the tarpits of our past, the healthier our industry will be. Those who make it go everyday should know this.
I'm so sorry. I seem to have messed up the RSS feed. Is everyone getting it now?
Wordplay (2006): "No matter how strange you may think your hobby is, there is a community of probably friendly people to share it with you."
Seen courtesy of the good people at the San Francisco Film Society. A lovely lovely film.
Title: "Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture"
Author: Ariel Levy.
Synopsis: An exploration of the rise of "raunch culture" (think Girls Gone Wild and Baby-Ts with "I love blowjobs" printed on them) and how third wave feminism is mistakes it as "empowering to women."
Backstory: Saw the author on Oprah. Found the book in a Philadelphia airport bookstore. I had 6 hours of airtime ahead of me and wasn't in the mood for James Baldwin, the only book I had brought.
Notes: Bitch is the only magazine I read cover to cover. I read Bust in line at Whole Foods. I'm friends with their pop culture columnist. I have a yen for women's issues. Sue me.
Verdict: Blink and this book will be gone. I finished it between take off and touch down and still had time for half of Cinderella Man. At times it's a bit too breezy to sink in and Levy's focus on entertainment and New York women smacks of her day job at New York Magazine. Overall though, she's done her homework. The research is strong, the argument layed out in firm, even tones. The topic probably deserves a little fist-shaking, especially since it's Levy's generation deluding themselves into thinking that wearing a thong strikes a blow to the patriarchy. But Levy is too smart to shriek. Instead she lets this phony feminism hang itself. She doesn't decry GGW as sexist trash or insist we should be reading Bella Abzug instead of watching Desperate Housewives. She says what all intelligent critics of their own kind say: We've sold ourselves short and we can do better.
Footnotes:
*Author's Official Site.
*Levy reports on Girls Gone Wild for Slate.
*Levy on Oprah.
I'm going to try and post a few links each day, just to keep the candy bowl fresh.
Do yourself a favor and listen to Terry Gross's interview with Leonard Cohen. Cohen has lived long and had his share, like everyone, of struggle and sorrow. But the groundedness, the serenity in which he speaks about his work and his life reminds me of an old house build on bedrock. There are messy rooms, dark corners and pictures hung at odd angles. But the foundation is as solid as time. It embeds in a deep peace with one's place in the world, an idea I can understand even treasure. I've still never had it myself.
I don't know Leonard Cohen's music or writings well. I know about the man mostly from a fantastic set of liner notes that Tom Robbins wrote of Tower of Song, a 1995 tribute album. After hearing Cohen speak but mostly listen for an hour, I that inner quiet has as much conviction as a scream. How to get it and where from? I'd like to know because I feel I need it.
I'd like to know: Who do you feel like you could learn a lot from?
A short (?!) list of projects currently on my front burners
create your own visited countries map
14 countries. I need to try a new continent (via Molly).
Thanks everyone for coming over to the new design. Pretty soon all of my former domains (for my book, the VBT and my old blog design) will forward here.
If you've got a sec, have a look around and let me now if you spot any mistakes.
I haven't decided if my blogging strategy will change now that my blog and my professional site are one. But I'm thinking about it. Perhaps periodic updates of what I'm working on, a consulting tip here or there. But for right now, expect much of what you got at the old "smokey" site.
It's all real new.
If you're subscribed to my rss feed, are you getting this message? I'm just trying to straighten out the new digs.
Art School Confidential (2006): "The more seriously we take artists, the funnier they become."
Sidenote: Seen at the Michigan Theater, simply the greatest movie theater in the entire world.
I'm still thinking about last night's finale so I decided to put together a list of little things I like about the show.
*It has a cast deep with diversity. 3 of the 5 attending physicians are black including the chief of surgery. I haven't seen that on a workplace drama that doesn't involve law enforcement.
*Veterans act alongside rookies. Isiah Washington, Patrick Demsey and Sandra Oh get plenty of film work. James Pickens Jr. has been doing TV for nearly 2 decades. When a new show can get folks at this stage of their career to sign on, its a good sign (see West Wing, Homicide, Law & Order).
*Truly an ensemble show, no one character on Grey's hogs all the screen time. Which means you don't get sick of it as quickly.
*I don't care one wit about medicine and care deeply about the medical predicaments of the characters on this show.
*Even though the show's probably got a female audience in mind, I've never felt alienated as a man watching it.
*Its writers have a blog.
*Shonda Rhimes, the show's creator, is smart as all hell. Listen for yourself.
*Shonda Rhimes went to Dartmouth which is why there are a zillion jokes about Dartmouth on the show. I think that's adorable.
Please take a long hot bath before watching tonight's season finale of Grey's Anatomy. It will knock you on your ass.
Arts Journal is blogging about the role of critics all week long, a topic close to my heart. I write books and do other things that are subject to criticism. It's great to get a fabulous review (the L.A. Times called Bookmark Now "Pure inspirational power juice" which I thought was pretty cool) and stinks to get jacked (My own San Francisco Bay Guardian essentially accused me of turning young people into a pack of illiterate jello sacks). But I also write criticism for this august publication and began my career in journalism reviewing movies. So I play for both teams.
Critics at their best are conversation starters: Their probing should not only get you thinking about art and culture but hold it to some level of examination. Under any set of circumstances, we can think of a flimsy reason why an element of culture should be given a pass be it personal project, ringing with social significance or simply staring someone we think is nice/smart/hot/infallible. But that's not what culture is for. It's not meant to flatter our prejudices or lull us with comfort but challenge us. Critics are the first step in making that happen, telling the producers of culture that, no matter how fabulous you think you are, there will be at least one person asking hard questions. I think that's an incredibly valuable service in a democracy.
Now there are good critics and bad ones, thoughtful, passionate examiners and hired guns packing nothing but attitude. The latter are just taking up space. But that doesn't mean the entire critical enterprise is unnecessary. Instead it means that, in art schools and M.F.A programs, in creative mentorships of all kinds, we should be telling young artists that being critiqued is part of the game, a healthy part because our work is never perfect and we should never stop trying to make it that way. Bitching about critics (an author once sent me a note saying my review "really hurt" and he "just wanted me to know that." I do know that. I also know that you're being a brat and I will never speak well or you or your books again) makes artists look like whiny infants. I think we're cut out for better than that.
Lou Reed once said "How'd you like to work on an album for a year and have some asshole in the Village Voice give it a B+?" To which I say, Lou, a) a B+ ain't bad b) There are lots of other newspapers and c) hopefully, in your life, there will be lots of other albums.
So the Onion AV Club thinks it can prattle on about the world's best character actors? I did it 2 years ago and got 17 comments to boot.
I feel like such a big man.
Friends With Money (2006): "The latest addtion to the bored-white-people-making-their-lives-miserable-as-metaphor-for-I-don't-know-what film festival."
...and this post about mothers broke my heart, I'm going to throw in a little a about my mother, Dr. Carol Smokler, who will turn 60 this September.
My mother is trained as a clinical psychologist but has spent her sorta retirement doing philanthropic work, mostly in the Jewish community. Currently, she is the director the Disaster Preparedness and Emergency Relief Committee of the United Jewish Communities, the umbrella organization looking after Jewish communities throughout the United States.
My mother had occupied this post for several years now, a job she admits doesn't see much action unless a giant disaster comes along. She was just about to step down this summer and let someone else have a go at it when Hurricane Katrina struck.
Over the last 9 months, my mother has met with President Bush as a representative of the Jewish community and spent much of the winter in Louisiana and Mississippi directing relief efforts. The days are long, the devastation like getting a daily emotional beating. Most people my mother's age are getting ready to slow down or already have, filling their days with long lunches and funny stories about grandchildren and trips to the doctor. Not her.
The Jewish concept of social justice is called Tikkun Olam, which from the Hebrew means, "to heal the world." It's not a fancy way of saying "We look after our own" although that is part of it. It does not mean "To heal the Jewish world" or "the Israeli world" even "to help people who think the same way we do." It means everybody, because being Jewish meanns an obligation to represent the best of humanity. The Bible calls that "a light unto all nations." In these times, we call it suiting up and showing up. For everyone.
There are very few Jewish people in the Gulf Coast region destroyed by last summer's hurricanes. It doesn't matter. Being Jewish means everyone matters.
I learned that from my mother who spent much of the beginning of 2006 embodying it. Today on Mother's Day, I just wanted to tell you all how proud I am of her.
The 'hometown" edition...
*Beverly Cleary's beloved Ramona character will have her own movie (via Arts Journal).
*Recap of the only-ok season finale of Gilmore Girls. Probably doesn't help that the creators are leaving the show (via Jenny Traig).
*Kitten Mosh Pit. Awwwww. (via Willo).
*Old Sesame Street videos. Booyah! (via Kottke).
*NPR Report on New York City's last great typewriter repairman.
The Notorious Bettie Page (2005): "Who is seen and who is doing the seeing is often in the eye of the beholder."
Cinderella Man (2005): "Seabiscuit in boxing gloves."
Heard on Loveline tonight, after a really crappy first call:
"Well this evening's off to a great stop" --Patton Oswalt.
*Visited The Magic Garden.
*Had a cheese steak at the world's most right wing cheese steak house. You can see it in the photo but that shield-shaped decal below the front window is a memorial to Officer Daniel Faulkner "murdered by Mumia Abu Jamal." Right next to the bumper sticker that demands you order in English.
*Shopped at an adorable little bookstore with two cats sleeping on the counter.
*Took a walk through Rittenhouse Square.
*Saw Cindarella Man
*Dunked my head in this fountain. It was a hot day.
*Cut an intro to our next episode of Talking Pictures which our buddy Justin knocked out of the park.
*Read Female Chauvinist Pigs on the plane ride home.
Is where I am. Home tomorrow.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled blogging.
MP3 File
Have we hit Film Festival burnout? We're almost home.
Film(s): The Bridge and Jonestown: The Life and Death of the People's Temple.
What are they?
The Bridge is a documentary about The Golden Gate Bridge which is the world's #1 suicide spot. Filmmaker Eric Steel captured 6 people leaping to their death's off the bridge. Jonestown is a documentary/oral history of The People's Temple which achieved its greatest following in the mid 1970s in San Francisco before moving to the utopian community of Jonestown in Guyana and, on November 18, 1978, committed mass suicide by drinking cyniade laced punch.
Why did I see them?
San Francisco's dark and tragic history fascinates me as much as its triumphs. As my adopted home, I consider its past mine too, even though I wasn't here back then.
Did I Like it?
Both of them, yes.
The Bridge plays as a eulogy, both to the 24 people who leap to their deaths from the Golden Gate Bridge every year but to the city's image of itself. The Golden Gate Bride was constructed during the height of the Great Depression, an engineering marvel long before computer modeling. It not only represents the triumph of human ingenuity and risk that so embodies California but serves as San Francisco's visual ambassador to the world. That it has represented promise and possibility for so many and hopelessness exit for just as many encapsulates the fragility of this place, a mythical city on hill where the ground rumbles violently beneath it.
The Bridge doesn't offer sociological or cultural explanations of the allure of the Golden Gate the way the New Yorker article that inspired it does. Instead it sticks to interviews with family members and terrible, disturbing footage of those who jump. It isn't the documentary I would made on this subject but it works. Those protesting it (it is San Francisco. A protest on every corner) obviously haven't seen it. It's no more exploitative than an obituary.
Jonestown: The Life and Death of the People's Temple makes similarly interesting choices. The only interviews are with either members of The People's Temple or their relatives. The wealth of archival footage shows People's Temple as joyful celebrations of love of brotherhood, earily similar to Glide Memorial Church, a paragon of San Francisco's religious tolerance.
We know the history. We know Jim Jones was a power-hungry scumbag who abused his followers and then murdered them while preaching racial equality, the enemies at the gate and dying with dignity. What I didn't know is how seductive his message was, how it appeals to both angry hippies and elderly religious women and how the members of People's Temple were not dupes but flawed spiritual searchers like each of us. The horror of their deaths is compounded by what we hope never meets us at the end of that search, a betrayal of trust, a reason to discount faith as worthless.
That the San Francisco site of the People's Temple (now a post office) was about 1,000 feet from the theater made it all the more horrifying. And sad.
Can you see it? According to this story, The Bridge will air on IFC this fall. Jonestown will be part of the 2006/2007 season of the PBS series American Experience.
The Citizen Media Press Corps showed up in the Tech Chronicles blog at SF Gate today. Yay us!
Bookmark Now: Writing in Unreaderly Times edited by Kevin Smokler
