Island of Hair

Pickwick Papers

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Fri, 27 Nov 2009 08:07:00 +0000

'Weal pie,' said Mr. Weller, soliloquising, as he arranged the
eatables on the grass. 'Wery good thing is weal pie, when you
know the lady as made it, and is quite sure it ain't kittens; and
arter all though, where's the odds, when they're so like weal that
the wery piemen themselves don't know the difference?'

'Don't they, Sam?' said Mr. Pickwick.

'Not they, sir,' replied Mr. Weller, touching his hat. 'I lodged
in the same house vith a pieman once, sir, and a wery nice man
he was--reg'lar clever chap, too--make pies out o' anything, he
could. "What a number o' cats you keep, Mr. Brooks," says I,
when I'd got intimate with him. "Ah," says he, "I do--a good
many," says he, "You must be wery fond o' cats," says I. "Other
people is," says he, a-winkin' at me; "they ain't in season till the
winter though," says he. "Not in season!" says I. "No," says he,
"fruits is in, cats is out." "Why, what do you mean?" says I.
"Mean!" says he. "That I'll never be a party to the combination
o' the butchers, to keep up the price o' meat," says he. "Mr.
Weller," says he, a-squeezing my hand wery hard, and vispering
in my ear--"don't mention this here agin--but it's the seasonin'
as does it. They're all made o' them noble animals," says he,
a-pointin' to a wery nice little tabby kitten, "and I seasons 'em
for beefsteak, weal or kidney, 'cording to the demand. And more
than that," says he, "I can make a weal a beef-steak, or a beef-
steak a kidney, or any one on 'em a mutton, at a minute's notice,
just as the market changes, and appetites wary!"'

- The Pickwick Papers, chapter 19.

3rd Year Anniversary – Pine Hills Lodge

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 01:08:00 +0000

We went to the Pine Hills Lodge in Julian, CA for our third anniversary. We went there for our first anniversary too, that same black and that same black and white cat from 2007 was still wandering around. We arrived late Friday night and the main building was locked up, couldn’t get the key. Pine Hills Lodge is in a tucked away spot up in the mountains, they shut the operation down early. Eventually they answered the phone and came downstairs and we went to sleep in Pine Cone 2 cabin. It’s a lovely room but it has curious graffiti inside the wooden dresser drawers, former residents signing their names and leaving positive comments about their stay.

The next day we went to ride horses (see previous post). Later we went to the Julian Grill for some dinner, went there in 2007 too. Nicole ordered some soup before dinner.

The real fun began when we got back to the cabin. For our anniversary Nicole got me “The Last Days of Disco” on DVD, one of my favorite movies. I’ve been waiting for this to be re-released on DVD for years. Before we watched it on Nicole’s tiny DVD viewer I wanted to achieve an appropriate level of excitement, so I opened up the Mountain Dew. As you may remember, drinking an ice bucket of Mountain Dew has been an anniversary ritual for me since our honeymoon. This year Nicole provided me with a test market size bottle of the experimental blue Mountain Dew. Blue Mountain Dew tastes disgusting but we gave it a whirl.

“The Last Days of Disco” is eleven years old this year and it stood the test of time. The Mountain Dew did its job. The scenery and horses can speak for themselves. Great food, it was an utterly satisfying weekend. But Nicole met a dog that she liked at the Julian Stable and now she wants a long-haired Chihuahua too.

3rd Year Anniversary - Julian Stables

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 01:13:00 +0000

We married three years. THREE YEARS! If our marriage was a person it would already have self-awareness and the ability to speak with limited coherence. Doesn’t seem that long, seems like, hmm, a year and half maybe.

To celebrate, we went back to the site of our first wedding anniversary, Julian, California (old-timey historical town in the mountains above San Diego). We visited the Julian Stable and went on a trail ride. You’re not supposed to take photos on a trail ride because the horse might get nervous hearing camera noises. The helmet ruins whatever decency your hair begins with, but riding the horse is worth it. I was surprised that the horse smell wasn’t that bad, I was expecting to have to destroy my clothes afterwards.

The horse that I rode was named Harry Trotter. Hm, okay. Nicole’s horse was named Angel. If you’re like me, the name Angel immediately brings to mind the 1984 film “Angel” about the girl who is a floozy at night and who attends high school by day.

The controls on the horse are easy to work. To turn right you pull the horse’s rein in your right hand and push your left foot into the horse’s body. To turn left you do the opposite. If you want to go slower or stop you pull the reins with both hands and say “Whoa.” The brakes on my horse were bad, he kept crowding Angel. Our guide said that he wouldn’t keep his distance because horses are herd animals, they like to stay together - that’s why he resisted control. In horse lingo that means that his gears are stripped.

After we got back from our ride we got to feed the horses carrot treats. There was one nameless horse kept in a pen who was forced to wear a blindfold – he had committed crimes against both humans and horses and so he was being brainwashed with sensory deprivation/isolation punishment. He didn’t understand English or any language. Actually that’s not true, he could see through his mask, he was wearing it to protect his eyes from flies and irritations. Can’t remember if he got a carrot, but the little pony got carrots. I can’t think of anything funny to write about the pony, his eyes were already crazy, but apparently he was normal.

We had a great time at the Julian Stables, they gave us each a blue ribbon that says, “Champion Trail Rider.” I’m looking forward to meeting new horses and learning how to control them.

Cruel Summer – “The Stoning of Soraya M.” – Get me off of this rock

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 14:43:00 +0000

This summer began in chaos and clutter. Work all day, come home and sort through boxes of paper. Preparing for Nicole’s pa and Dixie to come visit in July.

During the first week of its release we went to go see “The Stoning of Soraya M.” Without the momentum that Nicole provided I wouldn't have gone at all. I wanted to pay for tickets, contribute to opening week success, but I didn’t wanta watch. Not my first choice for a movie to help me relax. I got the heebie jeebies anticipating the climax. In fact, I didn’t plan to watch the climax. I planned to slip out and go chat with the snack counter attendants during the stoning. Buy some Junior Mints.

Thirty years ago (yes, thirty years), the summer of 1979, “Alien” was released. Seeing it in the theater was out of the question, I had to wait until it came on cable TV and go watch it at my cousins’ house. Even in that environment I was scared out of my wits. I had already been exposed to the graphic novel (or “illustrated story” presented by Heavy Metal). The prospect of watching the film had my imagination going haywire.

"Alien" was certainly harrowing, but even at it's most gruesome it couldn't compare to what I had built up in my mind. In addition, it was also cool.

A cool aspect of "The Stoning of Soraya M." that I wasn't expecting was the Iranian lead actress, Shohreh Aghdashloo . She wasn't Soraya, she played Soraya's aunt, and much of the movie is seen from her perspective. You might've seen her in "The House of Sand and Fog" or "The Exorcism of Emily Rose" (I haven't watched those yet). I can't imagine that she won't be among my top five actresses of 2009, she has a fascinating magnetism.

The movie takes place in 1986, but in the rock village where Soraya lives, most of the folk seem to live like Jawas. It's bad enough to see injustice performed by Romans or Communist China but it's doubly frustrating to see mob injustice at the hands of Jawas. It's like the Wild West without guns. Actually the two guys in the village who have Kalashnikovs instead of rocks are every bit the hillbilly as their brothers, but somehow their guns give them a sense of technological sophistication.

Of course I ended up watching the stoning. As with "Alien", my imagination turned out to be much worse than the actual film. Nevertheless, even when I know I'm watching actors performing in a drama and even though I recognize "Well, that blood came from the hidden squib that the special effects guys exploded", it's still pretty awful to watch somebody get buried up to the waist and get rocks thrown at them until they die. Sigh. It's unbelievable that movies like this need to be made and seen. It's the equivalent of needing movies about parents putting babies in microwaves for tax reductions.

The most peaceful scene in the movie occurs near the beginning when Soraya is playing with her two daughters in a meadow. Like the rest of the film, it's still creepy because you know what's coming, but it's comparatively peaceful. When Soraya finally dies the film cuts back to this meadow, as if to say this place is heaven for Soraya, where she can be at peace. I was thinking to myself, "You gotta be kidding - she's still on planet Earth, Planet of Bastards?" Nobody is safe on this rock, she should at least be allowed to go to outer space away from the cavemen.

I can't imagine the target audience for this movie, but when we went to see it the crowd looked to be made up mostly of Middle Eastern folk and female college students. I kept my sunglasses on until the moment the film started to delay the experience as long as possible. Not a good date-night movie but I'll be looking for the next film that features Shohreh Aghdashloo.

John and Nicole Three Year Anniversary / Northwoods Inn

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 15:05:00 +0000

Our third wedding anniversary fell upon the middle of the week. We were looking forward to a weekend away in Julian, but on June 24 we managed to go out to dinner. Hadn't been to the beloved Northwoods Inn for about six months.

I splurged and ordered coffee even though it was the middle of the week. Don't remember any ill effects. In addition, I was wearing my new "Jim Jones" shirt that Nicole procured for me as an anniversary present. She has knowledge of Jim Jone's tastes from her vast readings of People's Temple.

We both ordered steak kabobs and they were *perfect*. I don't often ingest beef but this was some fine meat. I couldn't even eat my potato. Cheese bread, yes, that was another case of splurging. The hostess told us that our waiter's name was Mike. He introduced himself as Michael. Usually it's the other way around, Michael to Mike.

Michael had a knack for snapping the plastic bags that he was putting our leftovers into. It was like a show, he was a showman. I asked him, "Did you ever work at Disneyland?" He gave me a flat "No." We gave him a decent tip.

So on the first night of celebrating our third anniversary we were very well fed.

"Now we are here in Xanadu..."

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Fri, 05 Jun 2009 20:30:00 +0000

...in the words of Olivia Newton John. I have a tendency to quote that to my cousin Jennie every few years, including last night.

But yes, we are done movin'. This photo was taken a couple of days after we moved in. Unfortunately the place looks pretty much the same now, about six weeks later. But what can I say - it's such a relief to be out of the old place that we obviously don't mind our cluttered condition in the new place.

Has it come to this? I'm blog posting about clutter? There must be something more interesting going on.

Moving to Pasadena

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 16:35:00 +0000

Oh, what can I tell you? We had great hopes for the Villa Montanic apartment complex. It used to be an attractive, quiet place.

I'll go ahead and say it - I didn't like the landlord. Life at Villa Montanic was like the old Soviet Union, both the just and the unjust suffered but there was centralized control. Last spring, after we endured a particularly annoying battle with the landlord over a small fee that he had no right to demand, he promptly died.

Suddenly the hitherto quiet and cowering neighbors became barnyard animals. The next door neighbors would bellow at each other morning, noon and night (this was particularly evident during my struggle with hyperthyroid and stomach flu when I would be blundering around the apartment at all hours listening to the ignorant, bestial peasants shouting at each other). I would pound on the wall with my hickory stick and they would have the effrontery to curse back in their own coarse foreign language. The new landlord turned a deaf ear, decent folk began moving out and anyone was invited to move in as long as they were loud, filthy, and enjoyed entertaining on their patios.

What put Nicole over the edge was when I gave up trying to clean my bathroom and started using hers. I couldn't help it, the fan in my bathroom would pull in all manner of filth and sprinkle it over every surface. The shower was tiled so unskillfully that the drain was at a summit, the water would pool in the corners. I was constantly fighting the slime. After years of previous abuse, the drain itself was chock full of human detritus. Even after repeated flushings with Drano I still had to cut circles of window screening to put over the opening to prevent several of my hairs from going down there and clogging the pipes. I quietly moved into Nicole's bathroom and she quietly began looking for another place to live.

In record time she found this lovely condo in Pasadena. At first I balked at the stairs ("When we have babies they're going to take a swan dive off of the top step and then I'm going to have to write a book about Fulfilling Your Destiny Despite Life-Shattering Challenges Because of Bent Children") but I can honestly say that this condo is the highest quality of life I've enjoyed since my last apartment in La Jolla (and I loved that place!).

That old landlord at Villa Montanic could inspire a whole series of uncharitable blog posts. I'm never going to rent from a human being again, only rental agencies from now on.

Branford Marsalis at Catalina Jazz Club

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Sun, 29 Mar 2009 05:43:00 +0000

I've been back in Los Angeles for almost three years now, but I haven't taken nearly enough advantage of the entertainment available. Visiting Catalina jazz club with Nicole and Dad was a step in the right direction.

Most of the time I don't recognize upcoming people on the Catalina calender, I had't been there since it used to be located on Cahuenga. The new place seems bigger. We got a table in a perfect spot close to the stage. Dinner was perfectly adequate, the equivalent of paying $8 for a beer at a stadium. Dessert was more than adequate.

The show was perfectly entertaining, Branford Marsalis and his group are at the top of their game. Many transcendent moments. The piano player wrote some terrific songs, I'll have to find out what his name is. They played a Thelonious Monk song that I recognized called "Monk's Dream".

Watching Branford Marsalis on TV never gave me an accurate sense of his physical presence. I was amazed. This guy is tall, handsome, charming, witty, talented, charismatic, well dressed, confident, and he doesn't perspire. I can't get any taller, but I could work on my charisma.

I'm sure I'll have more thoughts on the show, but Nicole and I are in the middle of packing to move to Pasadena and it'll have to wait.

Feeling Better

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Thu, 26 Mar 2009 03:20:00 +0000

After about a week and a half of Methimazole medication my condition has improved remarkably. I no longer feel poisoned and exhausted all the time. I’m not so itchy but my voice will still disappear now and then. I’ve gained some weight back and my heart has calmed down.

The top picture is what I look like tonight. Nicole looked at the bottom picture (from a week and a half ago) and she said “That looks like Patrick Swayze.” Flash photography does little for anyone’s features, but I felt as bad as I look.

More good news - Nicole and I are moving, we’re going to rent a condo in Pasadena. Pictures and details to follow.

Saturday was fun. Nicole and Mom went to hear a writer speak at a women’s club and I took myself out to breakfast. I still can’t have coffee but I went to Starbucks afterwards and ate pastries. All the while I was reading the book Sideways, ha!, so entertaining! I can’t recommend it because it’s appalling, but I was ever slapping my knee. We borrowed the Ciaran Hinds version of “The Mayor of Casterbridge” DVD from the library and we went to Moffetts chicken pie shoppe for dinner. The horror of Hyperthyroid is abating.

Hyperthyroid (I’m a Wreck)

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Wed, 18 Mar 2009 04:13:00 +0000

Compare for yourself from the pictures above: less that three months ago, at Christmastime, I was full-jowled and jolly. I would even wear funny hats. Now look at me. I’ve lost twenty pounds, I’m weak as a kitten, I'm exhausted all the time, my heart is always going like bongos, my voice is hoarse, I’m itchy and I’m restricted from coffee. It’s almost impossible to e-mail, can’t write, after work the most I can do is read. Watching lots of TV, “Intervention”, “Ghost Hunters”.

The doctor recommended a drug called Methimazole. It has potential side-effects: it can cause a rash on your chest, nausea, itching, muscle pain, headache, drowsiness, or change in taste (?). That sounds about as bad as, if not worse than, what I got now. I went to see the doctor yesterday to hear about the alternates.

“Well,” says he, “If you can’t tolerate Methimazole, you can swallow a radioactive capsule that will neutralize your thyroid permanently. You’ll have to take hormones for the rest of your life. Or we could remove your thyroid surgically and you would also have to take hormones for the rest of your life.” I chuckled in disbelief.

“That’s a very narrow alley of treatments,” says I. He did not chuckle with me.

I picked up the Methimazole at the pharmacy on the way home. Took my first dose last night, gonna take my second dose in a few minutes. The doctor says it’ll take three weeks to feel the good of it. I still feel terrible, but so far no chest rash, etc.

And what’s worse, when Nicole and I met Mom for St. Patrick’s Day dinner at Coco’s they had already run out of corned beef and cabbage. They said they ran out at about 3 p.m.

From Bad To Worse: John Adds Stomach Flu to Hyper-Thyroid

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 23:11:00 +0000

Horrible, this week has been horrible. This past Monday evening I started feeling ill. I was up *all night* taking every position on and around the toilet. Nicole took me to the doctor the next day, got some Cipro antibiotics and anti-nausea meds. Horrible.

Night before last, in the midst of sickness, I dreamed that I was a Roman slave boy (yes, wearing a loincloth). I was part of a small group of misfits that was attempting to organize a Christian circus and gymnasium. We were immediately dispersed by the authorities and I ran for my life.

What is going on?

Thank God for Nicole, she's been bringing home all the sorts of food that you're supposed to eat when you can't eat anything. Popsicles ahoy. And I'm supposed to go back to work on Monday.

Nosferatu Pix 2008

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Mon, 23 Feb 2009 01:02:00 +0000

My movie picks are a little late this year. The Oscars show has just started. I'm still sick but I've started taking beta blockers so that my heart will quit going bananas.

As usual, all the films in each category are listed in alphabetical order, because we're all winners! Well, usually we're all winners.

Not a great year for movies. Ordinarily "The Bank Job" would get merely a mention, but beggars can't be choosers. I'm not even very disappointed that I didn't get to see all the movies I wanted to see. I can't believe "RocknRolla" wasn't better than it was. Surely 2009 will have better movies. Surely.

Best Movie

The Bank Job
The Dark Knight
Iron Man
Slumdog Millionaire
The Wrestler

Honorable Mention

Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed

Best Actor

Gerard Butler - “RocknRolla”
Mos Def – “Be Kind Rewind”
Robert Downey Jr. – “Iron Man”
Mickey Rourke – “The Wrestler”
Jason Statham - “The Bank Job”

Honorable Mention

Viggo Mortensen - “Appaloosa”

Best Actress

Saffron Burrows – “The Bank Job”
Melonie Diaz – “Be Kind Rewind”
Thandie Newton – “RocknRolla”

Best Supporting Actor

Ralph Fiennes – “The Duchess”
Robert Downey Jr. – “Tropic Thunder”
Werner Herzog – “Mister Lonely”
Heath Ledger – “The Dark Knight”
Dylan Moran – “Run Fatboy Run”

Honorable mention

Jeremy Irons – “Appaloosa”
Ben Kingsley – “The Wackness”
Adam Scott - “Step Brothers”

Best Supporting Actress

Marisa Tomei – “The Wrestler”

Glad to see them

Billy Connolly – “The X-Files: I Want to Believe”
Jackie Earle Haley – “Semi -Pro”
Mary Steenburgen – “Step Brothers”
Alicia Witt – “88 Minutes”

Adult Men Spending Time with Young People,

Something’s Wrong Here

88 Minutes
Gran Torino
The Rocker
Slumdog Millionaire

Dismemberment

Mother of Tears
Tropic Thunder
The X-Files: I Want to Believe

Wanted To See, But Didn’t Manage To

Diary of the Dead
Frost/Nixon
Hellboy II: The Golden Army
Let the Right One In
Milk
Mongol
My Winnipeg
Quantum of Solace
Revolutionary Road
Shine a Light
Twilight
Valkyrie

P.S. Many scenes in "The Wrestler" take place in a strip club, so if nudity isn't a welcome part of your movie night, you've been cautioned.

John sick with Hyper-Thyroid

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Wed, 18 Feb 2009 00:17:00 +0000

I've been home from work since January 20. It took four visits to my Kaiser primary care doctor to diagnose me. In the meantime (and $700 later) Nicole's cardiologist figured it out after one visit - I got the Hyper-Thyroid!

Yes, I'm sick. I'm even too sick to post a visual aid. I'm not lying.

I've been trying to connect with an endocrinologist since last week. I have an appointment for Thursday.

With the Hyper-Thyroid you get very weak all the time. Your heart beats too fast all the time (even when you're sleeping). You get hand tremors and it's hard to type and it's even hard to turn pages. For some reason my voice is also gone - that's supposed to be a symptom of the Hypo-Thyroid. There's fatigue, lack of appetite, weight loss - last time they weighed me I'd lost eleven pounds.

This all started immediately after my birthday, as soon as I turned forty I fell apart. Nicole has been working overtime trying to get me cured - I'm a wreck and she's my angel of mercy. She also got me Nikki Sixx's The Heroin Diaries for Christmas. It's dismal stuff, but a page turner, and now I know things could be worse, I could be a rock star.

2008 Hurray for Christmas!

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 05:17:00 +0000

2008 Pre-Christmas portraits of John

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Tue, 30 Dec 2008 22:51:00 +0000

What can I say? As you can see, it was a fun pre-Christmas holiday season. Russell managed to show up and stayed almost a week. Unheard of! Typically Russell will threaten to visit for weeks on end, then, at the last moment, call and express regrets – he’s concerned that he was recently exposed to a cold at the supermarket and, well, anything might happen, so too bad, he’s not coming.

This time he arrived and somehow was convinced to stay for days. We probably won’t see him again for years. But at least we had fun this year.

An amazing aspect of this Christmas season was that Nicole and I got our first Christmas tree. Been married two and a half years and never got a Christmas tree. The amount of ornaments I used to have were enough for the little tree (on the table in the background) that I used every year. Had to buy some bulbs for the big boy tree.
I think Russell showed up on Friday night after he went to see “The Nutcracker” at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion downtown. I took a picture of him without the flash and it came out all blue.

Next night Russell picked out “The Last Picture Show” at Videotheque. Yes, that is Wallace Shawn standing behind him in the picture. I had recently read the book because the movie was on the schedule for The New Beverly cinema. I didn’t finish reading the book in time to watch the movie, but now I’ve read it. The movie didn’t feature the scene in which the teenage boys made love to the cow.

Somehow we went back to Videotheque and I picked out “Two-Lane Blacktop”. Warren Oates becomes more brilliant each time I watch it. Russell liked it too. You can see me standing in front of the screen (wearing my Billy Graham Training Center t-shirt) while he was watching the supplementary material disc. I brought a projector home from work and we projected the DVD onto the wall.

After church on Sunday, we went to Ernie Jr.’s for lunch. Nicole and I were clearly in a good mood before I ate clearly too much chili con carne. I was thrilled to notice that Anne Rice was sitting in the booth behind Russell. After all that chili con carne…well, I felt unusual.

I don’t remember what day Russell and I went to Starbucks on Lake Avenue in Pasadena. I had a peppermint mocha latte; it was out of this world! My passive expression doesn’t convey the thrill of a caffeine fan enjoying Christmas peppermint wonder in coffee form. I think Russell got an eggnog latte.

After lunch at Ernie Jr.’s, we took Russell to Forest Lawn. Nicole and I had been there a few weeks ago for my Uncle Gary’s memorial service and Nicole fell in love with the place. She recently visited the Billy Graham Training Center in North Carolina (she won a radio contest) and it was there that she heard about the largest oil painting in the world. It’s about a hundred feet long and about forty feet high, depicts the final moments before Jesus’ crucifixion. It’s housed in its own auditorium at Forest Lawn in Glendale. Once an hour there’s a presentation that includes a documentary about the painting’s history. After the presentation we took some photos behind the building. Looks like I disputed with Russell over one of them.

Somehow we ended up at North Woods Inn. Appetizers in the lounge. Terrific Christmas decorations. Nicole looks so beautiful looking sideways with dimples! We don’t see that face often enough. Many pictures of John apparently in conversation. Posed or candid? Can even I distinguish? I performed my party trick of drinking alcohol. I wanted to order something seasonal, festive. I ended up with some kind of vanilla chocolate blah blah blah. Ridiculous. Turned out to be basically a White Russian. I seem to be pleased with myself nevertheless.

The last stop was the supermarket. Picking up supplies. The only essential item for me was eggnog. And not eggnog lite. I swear I paid for it. At the check-out counter, and later.

2008 Thanksgiving boiled in oil shrimp

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Tue, 23 Dec 2008 05:29:00 +0000

Nicolette and I had Thanksgiving in Illinois this year. The turkey was boiled in a deep fryer. Dixie provided vast quantities of food, and Nicole's dad provided us with a shrimp ring. This is a ring of cold shrimps that you dip in cocktail sauce. The weather was cold too. I like my shrimps hot, so I asked Dixie for a wooden skewer. She had one of course. I skewered the cold shrimp and plunged it into boiling oil. Kept it there. When it had had enough, I took the shrimp into Dixie's house and showed it to Nicole's dad. I told him that I eat the whole shrimp complete with its tail, and he was surprised.

Gosh, I ate a great deal this Thanksgiving. It all began with that little shrimp. And the holidays were only beginning.

Siberia

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 05:16:00 +0000

“…the need to populate Siberia and to mine its ore drew out a deepening river of deportees, and by 1753, when the death penalty was abolished in favor of lifelong labour, the variety of offences punishable by exile had grown bewildering. Prize-fighting, wife-beating, begging with false distress, illicit tree-felling, vagrancy and fortune-telling might all condemn a man to Siberia as well as the European innovations of taking snuff (exile was accompanied by ripping out the nostrils’ septum) or driving a cart with the use of reins.”

- Colin Thubron In Siberia.

Russian Tuva throat singer on David Letterman

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 04:14:00 +0000

A Journal of the Plague Year

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 07:58:00 +0000

I just finished reading Daniel Defoe’s A Journal of the Plague Year. This book is a description of London during the Great Plague of 1665. It sounds like people back then were as ungrateful and oblivious as they are now:

“But the Mercy of God was greater to the rest than we had reason to expect; for the Malignity, as I have said, of the Distemper was spent, the Contagion was exhausted…and the Health of the City began to return…

“I wish I cou’d say, that as the City had a new Face, so the Manners of the People had a new Appearance: I doubt not but there were many that retain’d a sincere Sense of their Deliverance, and that were heartily thankful to that sovereign Hand, that had protected them in so dangerous a Time; it would be very uncharitable to judge otherwise in a City so populous, and where the People were so devout, as they were here in the Time of the Visitation [of the plague] itself; but except what of this was to be found in particular Families, and Faces, it must be acknowledg’d that the general Practice of the People was just the same as it was before, and very little Difference was to be seen.”

Thank you California

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Thu, 06 Nov 2008 05:18:00 +0000

Clearly there are lots of people (maybe you) who disagree with me about Proposition 8. I can tell because my car (and its "Yes on 8" bumper sticker) has been taking it on the chin for me. One day somebody left a critical note, another day somebody smashed an egg on the car, and yesterday somebody splashed coffee on my windshield. I wouldn't do that to somebody with a "No on 8" bumper sticker. It's un-American, and ill-bred.

There's no middle ground between the "Yes on 8" position and "No on 8", and there shouldn't be. And there's no middle ground in my feelings towards my "No on 8" friends and family - you have my love and warm feelings. Even if you throw eggs and coffee on folk's cars (but it's still ill-bred behavior and you ought to be ashamed).

Catawampus

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Wed, 15 Oct 2008 04:56:00 +0000

Nicole and I live about a mile from the L.A. Arboretum and manage to visit regularly. The Arboretum currently features an art installation made of saplings called Catawampus. The tram driver said it'll be there for about two years. I think it looks like a living space built by a space alien culture that doesn’t make sense to normal humans. Sort of like the derelict space ship in the movie “Alien”. It has different chambers that you can walk into. You can read about it here:

Catawampus

I looked for some definitions of the word Catawampus online. The MSN Encarta definition of Catawampus says that it means “in a diagonal position or arrangement.”

The Urban Dictionary said that Catawampus is, “a verb used to describe someone who walks strangely.”

Then there was the Urban Dictionary’s definition of “Catawumpus”: “When something is all off balance or disheveled to the degree that you can see how its supposed to be and yet its clear that some rough-housing or real messin/cuttin up has made it nearly unworthy of bothering with to get it back that way due to the humor of the present state.”

There was also a sky writer making designs overhead.

Blindness

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Fri, 03 Oct 2008 04:09:00 +0000

Someone on Nicole's drug withdrawal internet forum recommended the 1991 Jim Jarmusch movie "Night on Earth", so we watched it last night. I seen it when it come out; I probably enjoyed it more last night because I was expecting less. Roberto Benigni, in the Roma sequence, where he drives the priest in his taxi and confesses his increasingly mortal sins to him, is still unstoppable and stands the test of time. What I forgot was how entertaining it is to watch Beatrice Dalle as the blind woman in the Parisian taxi. All blind women should put on their lipstick and fuss with their hair like Beatrice Dalle. Sighted women too. She had a mesmerizing, Stevie Wonder manner of rolling her head around. Beatrice Dalle needs more roles like this. In the 2001 movie "Trouble Every Day" she played a cannibal.

Old Finn

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Sat, 13 Sep 2008 06:50:00 +0000

"After supper pap took the jug, and said he had enough whisky there for two drunks and one delirium tremens."

- Huckleberry Finn chapter 6

Take a little off the top. And off of the sides. And off the back.

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 22:10:00 +0000

Seven years after 9-1-01, it’s a fine, fine thing to be a local. I don’t have to drive two hours from San Diego to South Pasadena to get a haircut. Down the block from the barbershop, Videotheque is still there in case I get an impulse to rent something without waiting for Netflix. I haven’t been to the new Gus’s BBQ yet, but whatever they’ve done to it I’m sure that it’s better than no Gus’s at all. Small town America is flourishing in the midst of the metropolis.

Seven years later, small town America is also flourishing in rural America. Illinois was the last place that I ever expected to spend any time in. It is a good place, I want to spend more time there.

Lastly, I recently got my own copy of Huckleberry Finn. Seems like I’ve forgotten almost all of the story. My favorite character is Huck’s father, Old Finn, with his delirium tremens and wrongheaded political ideas. I hope he shows up later in the book. Nicole has been volunteering to read the book to me when I’ve been sleepy. For this I am hopelessly grateful. In addition, she has a devil of a time with Huck’s pal Jim’s old fashioned slave jargon:

“Dese las' skifts wuz full o' ladies en genlmen a-goin' over for to see de place.” (from chapter 8)

“Dese” (for example) comes out “Day-say” instead of “Deez”. The girl grew up pretty close to Missouri but I’ll be swizzled if she can manage any kind of regional accent. But how can I complain - she's an American girl reading American literature to me, life doesn't get any better than that.

Shakespeare at the Park

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 23:12:00 +0000

I think we went to see this performance on July 26 at Memorial Park in Sierra Madre. What a charming little small town it is. Having a permanent stage in the neighborhood park must be fun for the young people. Around sunset we sat on the grass in our beach chairs with the neighborhood folk. The price was right and the entertainment was worthwhile.

In addition I noticed that my interest took more notice whenever one of the two leads was on stage. That must be a good sign. Unfortunately the program got thrown away so I don’t know who they were. Let me know if you can recognize them in the picture.

The play takes place in Sicily and this production made the interesting choice of setting it during the 1930s. That would put us in Fascist Italy. Other than the appearance of the actors, there were no other cues to the time period; never picked up on any subliminal signs of allegiance to The Leader ("Libro e moschetto - fascista perfetto!")