You never know what you're gonna learn that you didn't know the day before.
When I woke up today, I didn't know this was gonna be the day we all learned who Deep Throat was.
But we did.
I now eagerly anticipate the:
- re-release of "All the President's Men"
- the Mark Felt interview on Dateline, 60 Minutes and Prime Time Live (the latter of which will no doubt inform us he had an affair with one of Woodward's secretaries)
- the Woodward book on the subject
- the Bernstein book on the subject
- much discussion on keeping sources secret for 30 years.
Also tonight, filed under things I didn't expect to do:
- Meet Alfonso Cuaron, who is a hottie
- Meet Darren Aronofsky, who is not
- get drunk off of one screwdriver
- try to get Cuaron to come with me to Brooklyn to see this. In my stupor I was thinking the parody was done of his Harry Potter, not the first one. Fortunately, the man had to pack to go to London to, well, make a new movie and politely turned me down. But he did take my card.
And it's only Tuesday!
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Reading is soooooo hard!
"Sherre Sachar comes from a book-loving family. Her father, Louis, is an award-winning author, and the graduating senior thinks that settling down with a good book should be one of life's great joys. But as she prepares to leave high school and head to Cornell University in the fall, she is tired of reading. The extensive required reading in her high school classes — including Advanced Placement English Literature, where she flew from one classic to another — left her with no time to pick up books she thought would be fun."
My AP English class was one of the best I ever took. They gave us a list of books to read over the summer, everything from "Red Badge of Courage" to "Heart of Darkness" to the (dreadful) "Billy Budd." I had a teacher, Mr. Sampselle, who was dry-witted and hilarious and let us call him "Uncle Dave." I was thrilled to be forced to read the classics, as the lame-o classes I'd taken up until that point had given me "The Odyssey" and "Great Expectations" -- and that was 9th grade. And that was pretty much it until the 12th grade with Sampselle. We had a ball, I learned a lot, and yeah, I read a lot. It's Advanced Placement.
My big whine is that I wasn't forced to read more classics. Yeah, I might have picked them up on my own, but fact is I needed some guidance with the bigger picture in several books, and having a class to help me through "King Lear" was beneficial. I just wish I'd taken classes where they led us through some of the other greats, because in the end I feel like I got short-shrifted. My friend Julia was reading "The Count of Monte Cristo" and a book about the history of Mary, Queen of Scots, in 6th grade, and I tried to tag along. That was about the sum total of my classics reading before 12th grade.
The fact that a reader gets "burned out" by too much required reading -- screw off. Don't take the class. Sit with the lower levels and manage your way through the easier stuff. It's called learning.
Now, later on in the article a girl opines that they basically had to read the texts and explicate them until they bled, and I agree: That stuff is a pain in the ass, and can sap a story of some of its fun. I mean, as Mark Twain says before one of his books kicks into gear, all metaphors and so forth are completely unintended. It is important to understand the story beneath the story, but the fact that "Red Badge of Courage" is an anti-war book ... you know, I can get that on my own. But knowing about "Heart of Darkness's" "noble savage" trope, and the metaphor of the river as heading into death -- that's good stuff. That shows up everywhere. It's useful.
My brain probably was tired, too, and I remember being completely pissed that of all the books we studied, not one was on the AP Essay portion of the test, and I had to dredge up what I remembered about Richard Wright's "Black Boy" to write something coherent -- a book I'd read for fun. That said, I should have just thrown caution to the wind and done "Gone with the Wind," which if I remember right is what my canny friend Lynda wrote about.
I wish people would quit letting students whine for being too well educated.
My AP English class was one of the best I ever took. They gave us a list of books to read over the summer, everything from "Red Badge of Courage" to "Heart of Darkness" to the (dreadful) "Billy Budd." I had a teacher, Mr. Sampselle, who was dry-witted and hilarious and let us call him "Uncle Dave." I was thrilled to be forced to read the classics, as the lame-o classes I'd taken up until that point had given me "The Odyssey" and "Great Expectations" -- and that was 9th grade. And that was pretty much it until the 12th grade with Sampselle. We had a ball, I learned a lot, and yeah, I read a lot. It's Advanced Placement.
My big whine is that I wasn't forced to read more classics. Yeah, I might have picked them up on my own, but fact is I needed some guidance with the bigger picture in several books, and having a class to help me through "King Lear" was beneficial. I just wish I'd taken classes where they led us through some of the other greats, because in the end I feel like I got short-shrifted. My friend Julia was reading "The Count of Monte Cristo" and a book about the history of Mary, Queen of Scots, in 6th grade, and I tried to tag along. That was about the sum total of my classics reading before 12th grade.
The fact that a reader gets "burned out" by too much required reading -- screw off. Don't take the class. Sit with the lower levels and manage your way through the easier stuff. It's called learning.
Now, later on in the article a girl opines that they basically had to read the texts and explicate them until they bled, and I agree: That stuff is a pain in the ass, and can sap a story of some of its fun. I mean, as Mark Twain says before one of his books kicks into gear, all metaphors and so forth are completely unintended. It is important to understand the story beneath the story, but the fact that "Red Badge of Courage" is an anti-war book ... you know, I can get that on my own. But knowing about "Heart of Darkness's" "noble savage" trope, and the metaphor of the river as heading into death -- that's good stuff. That shows up everywhere. It's useful.
My brain probably was tired, too, and I remember being completely pissed that of all the books we studied, not one was on the AP Essay portion of the test, and I had to dredge up what I remembered about Richard Wright's "Black Boy" to write something coherent -- a book I'd read for fun. That said, I should have just thrown caution to the wind and done "Gone with the Wind," which if I remember right is what my canny friend Lynda wrote about.
I wish people would quit letting students whine for being too well educated.
Monday, May 23, 2005
Hands across the ocean — shake or wave?
So, because I have an inability to just let things rest, I have now gone and stuck a stick in a place that was, so far as I knew, fairy stable.
It's a completely self-indulgent gesture, but knowing that I have a hard time not knowing all the gory details about a thing, I've long wanted to find out the answer here. So last night I sent off a brief email to a total stranger to confirm he was who I thought he was.
And got an immediate email back this morning confirming it -- but from a different email address. A little hostile, even: "Why do you ask? Who are you?" they wrote back. I've since replied.
More details as this progresses. The way I see it is this: The hotter the teapot grows, the larger the uncovered tempest is. If it all just is a big shrug, then there was nothing worth wondering about in the first place. Based on that one responded-to email, I put this tempest at a 7 of 10 (with 10 being explosive).
My big concern is that this total stranger will now contact people I have known before ... and it could get ugly.
My bigger concern is that he never writes back.
Oh, I guess I am a big drama queen when all's said and dne.
It's a completely self-indulgent gesture, but knowing that I have a hard time not knowing all the gory details about a thing, I've long wanted to find out the answer here. So last night I sent off a brief email to a total stranger to confirm he was who I thought he was.
And got an immediate email back this morning confirming it -- but from a different email address. A little hostile, even: "Why do you ask? Who are you?" they wrote back. I've since replied.
More details as this progresses. The way I see it is this: The hotter the teapot grows, the larger the uncovered tempest is. If it all just is a big shrug, then there was nothing worth wondering about in the first place. Based on that one responded-to email, I put this tempest at a 7 of 10 (with 10 being explosive).
My big concern is that this total stranger will now contact people I have known before ... and it could get ugly.
My bigger concern is that he never writes back.
Oh, I guess I am a big drama queen when all's said and dne.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
The art continues
This is the Luke Chueh artwork I really wanted; he's just issued it in a second limited edition print, and so I will now have three. And then I gotta stop.
"The Soundtrack of My Life"
"The Soundtrack of My Life"
Spring fever
I'm not sure if it's in the air or what, but the number of crazy people in my neighborhood has been growing exponentially in the last few months.
When I first moved here I didn't notice any; it's a pretty stable family type neighborhood. And then one morning a squirrel woke me up with chattering, and I was pissed because it was something unreasonable like 8am on a Saturday. So I got my water pistol and went squirrel-hunting. I was just getting him to go when this woman on the ground walking her dogs yelled up at me and I took aim and and then ducked back in. I've since seen her later on but she doesn't seem to connect me with the incident. She walks two overly-hairy hounds who look like they really could use a bath, and if you approach her with your own dog she'll keep you locked in place at least 20 minutes. This alone is not a crazy thing. But if she catches me and the dog running out for our late-night pit stop (which involves running outside, doing the thing, and fleeing back inside) she breaks out into cackles of laughter even if she's halfway down the block. So, a little more nutty. Then one time I was walking my dog back into the house and she was (dogless) leaning up against the wrought iron fence and standing next to what I thought was a folded-up grocery cart but was likely more like one of those cart/walker items. Since she likes seeing Ciara fleeing down the sidewalk home, I gave the dog her head and we ran, and as we passed her she let out this blasting series of epithets and claimed we were trying to run her down and couldn't we see she was taking a rest right there and what is wrong with people today!
The next time I saw her she made no reference to the event. So now I treat her with a wide berth. And think of her as the Crazy Dog Lady.
Now we have at least two more, neither of which I have any intention of interacting with: One, a great big hulking guy who's over six feet and probably 275 pounds, unshaven and kind of sloppy but not quite homeless looking with a really deep voice. He's the nightmare crazy man because he looks like a Sopranos enforcer and makes bizarro comments when you walk by. You feel like he's going to lunge out and grab you and try to send you back to the Planet Zoltron. I've seen him more than once and he's the kind of person who you hope isn't talking to you but maybe he is so you'd better pay attention in case that pisses him off and then suddenly he's continuing on his muttering way.
I'm reminded that briefly we did have a semi-crazy homeless woman living in the hood, who is now gone: She was Asian and sat in a very low-to-the-ground beach chair on random corners and often had an umbrella over her head.
So, this morning I saw our third. I was walking Ciara and heard a woman on a far opposite corner of the block yelling in what I think was Spanish. Since I couldn't make out what she was ranting about at first I thought she was yelling at someone across the street, but as we got closer to that side of things, there was no one there. A teenaged boy was standing and waiting for his ride, but I've seen him before and she didn't seem to be addressing him. We continued down the street and by the time we got to her corner she'd crossed and was standing about a yard or so from the boy, continuing to rant. Then she very deliberately jumped up and stamped down with both feet on the pavement about 6 or 7 times. When we got back around again, she was gone.
So, I'm beginning to worry about the water in the Heights these days.
When I first moved here I didn't notice any; it's a pretty stable family type neighborhood. And then one morning a squirrel woke me up with chattering, and I was pissed because it was something unreasonable like 8am on a Saturday. So I got my water pistol and went squirrel-hunting. I was just getting him to go when this woman on the ground walking her dogs yelled up at me and I took aim and and then ducked back in. I've since seen her later on but she doesn't seem to connect me with the incident. She walks two overly-hairy hounds who look like they really could use a bath, and if you approach her with your own dog she'll keep you locked in place at least 20 minutes. This alone is not a crazy thing. But if she catches me and the dog running out for our late-night pit stop (which involves running outside, doing the thing, and fleeing back inside) she breaks out into cackles of laughter even if she's halfway down the block. So, a little more nutty. Then one time I was walking my dog back into the house and she was (dogless) leaning up against the wrought iron fence and standing next to what I thought was a folded-up grocery cart but was likely more like one of those cart/walker items. Since she likes seeing Ciara fleeing down the sidewalk home, I gave the dog her head and we ran, and as we passed her she let out this blasting series of epithets and claimed we were trying to run her down and couldn't we see she was taking a rest right there and what is wrong with people today!
The next time I saw her she made no reference to the event. So now I treat her with a wide berth. And think of her as the Crazy Dog Lady.
Now we have at least two more, neither of which I have any intention of interacting with: One, a great big hulking guy who's over six feet and probably 275 pounds, unshaven and kind of sloppy but not quite homeless looking with a really deep voice. He's the nightmare crazy man because he looks like a Sopranos enforcer and makes bizarro comments when you walk by. You feel like he's going to lunge out and grab you and try to send you back to the Planet Zoltron. I've seen him more than once and he's the kind of person who you hope isn't talking to you but maybe he is so you'd better pay attention in case that pisses him off and then suddenly he's continuing on his muttering way.
I'm reminded that briefly we did have a semi-crazy homeless woman living in the hood, who is now gone: She was Asian and sat in a very low-to-the-ground beach chair on random corners and often had an umbrella over her head.
So, this morning I saw our third. I was walking Ciara and heard a woman on a far opposite corner of the block yelling in what I think was Spanish. Since I couldn't make out what she was ranting about at first I thought she was yelling at someone across the street, but as we got closer to that side of things, there was no one there. A teenaged boy was standing and waiting for his ride, but I've seen him before and she didn't seem to be addressing him. We continued down the street and by the time we got to her corner she'd crossed and was standing about a yard or so from the boy, continuing to rant. Then she very deliberately jumped up and stamped down with both feet on the pavement about 6 or 7 times. When we got back around again, she was gone.
So, I'm beginning to worry about the water in the Heights these days.
Monday, May 16, 2005
If I lived in South Park....
I'd probably fart a lot more.
And I'd look like this:
This image brought to you courtesy of this site.
And I'd look like this:
This image brought to you courtesy of this site.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
The Weekend in Central Park
Friends in from out of town with their triad of offspring (adorable and weepy in alternating moments; we went to the zoo, climbed on things, petted goats and got ice cream) ... all within the general Central Park area.
At the pooping elephant statue:
Becoming turtles. This is my favorite shot.
Then returned to the park at 8:15 this morning (!) for the 10K AIDS Walk which took us through the park and out the top, down Riverside Drive and back in again. Foot is hurting! But who can resist any charity effort that includes these dancers right at the very end?
Favorite shirt: "I'm not gay, but my boyfriend is." Worn torn and clipped to the back of a man's shirt. The man in question was in electric blue clingy pants and carrying a cane across his shoulders. Always entertaining!
The crowds. I think they were expecting half a million. I raised (with generous help) $275, so imagine that amount times half a million. Sweet.
At the pooping elephant statue:
Becoming turtles. This is my favorite shot.
Then returned to the park at 8:15 this morning (!) for the 10K AIDS Walk which took us through the park and out the top, down Riverside Drive and back in again. Foot is hurting! But who can resist any charity effort that includes these dancers right at the very end?
Favorite shirt: "I'm not gay, but my boyfriend is." Worn torn and clipped to the back of a man's shirt. The man in question was in electric blue clingy pants and carrying a cane across his shoulders. Always entertaining!
The crowds. I think they were expecting half a million. I raised (with generous help) $275, so imagine that amount times half a million. Sweet.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Awww, a baby!
So, we're starting to very slowly go through my late grandmother's things.
While I was home recently I came across a small photo book called "Grandma's Brag Book."
Since we never thought of her as "Grandma," only "Buddie," it seemed fair to call it "Buddie's Brag Book." And, of course, put the contents online.
Have fun!
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Celebrity Skin
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
High art!
I bought art!
Well, prints of art. But signed and numbered prints!
I love this guy: Luke Chueh. Sometimes the titles of his works are as good as the works themselves ("Everything you love will destroy you" is the title of a drawing of a big pink bunny stepping on a cowering human) but there's something both adorable and melancholy about his style.
Here's what I got (because they were the only ones available):
Possessed
and
Locked
I am a patron of the arts now. Heh.
Well, prints of art. But signed and numbered prints!
I love this guy: Luke Chueh. Sometimes the titles of his works are as good as the works themselves ("Everything you love will destroy you" is the title of a drawing of a big pink bunny stepping on a cowering human) but there's something both adorable and melancholy about his style.
Here's what I got (because they were the only ones available):
Possessed
and
Locked
I am a patron of the arts now. Heh.
Monday, May 02, 2005
Small things
There is a munchkin in our cafeteria.
This guy (not Mickey Rooney) is selling his book, which recounts his time on the set of "The Wizard of Oz"; apparently he was either the mayor or a minister or something like that. He also appears to have kept the costume, or gotten a replica, as he's dressed in a purple and green hat that curls on the end. He also looks like an old woman from a distance.
Sometimes you don't know whether to laugh or cry.
P.S. That is not ME in the photo above. Just a pix I nicked b/c I don't have a camera with me.
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