When I found out Oprah had picked A Million Little Pieces as her new book club book, my first response was close to anger. I was particularly down on Oprah last week after her deluded Hermes incident, and to suddenly have her audience of cowlike suburban Oprah watchers reading a book that meant so much to me, just floored me. I had seen James Frey speak over the summer and I knew that he could be prickly and wondered how he would do on Oprah.
I watched the show where she announced the book, and completely agreed with all the good Oprah had to say about it. Especially moving was that James Frey had gotten his mother tickets to be on the show, and she was so moved that even I began to shed a tear. This woman is your typical Cleveland Mom/Oprah fan, and while I believe everyone's motives were entirely sincere, it also added a layer to the book that will make it more appropriate for the cowlike suburban Oprah watchers - this guy may be a bit of a jerk in this book, but his Mom is one of us!
As someone who occasionally reviews books and music, it is easy to forget sometimes that there are real human beings behind the art that we read and listen to. Human beings with families, personalities, foibles, etc. The first time I got a comment from an author to whom I'd referred in an article, it really jarred me. He read what I had written (luckily positive) and offered to send me an autographed ARC of his new book. The Oprah show brought me back to reality in a similar way - this is ultimately not "my" book, it is James Frey's book and his Mom's book and now it will be read, and possibly beloved, if for no other reason than because Oprah told them to.
So if you haven't read it, let me and Oprah tell you to go get it now!
Napalm Death/Obituary, Trocadero, Philadelphia
Napalm Death and Obituary were originally to be a "boys only" show for
my husband and friends, but suddenly I found myself along for the
ride. I really dig that Napalm Death covers record, "Leaders not
Followers, #2" especially for the Die Kreuzen and Offenders covers.
They did do a few covers - a Cryptic Slaughter and a blistering "Nazi
Punks Fuck Off" that made me yearn for the subtlety of the original.
Lead singer Barney Greenway looks and moves like Henry Rollins in the
body of a Towson engineering student - and the knee brace didn't help
his slightly dorky demeanor. They also influenced the greatest pit
I've seen in years - complete with girls toughing it out.
Obituary had a tough act to follow, and after about 2 songs, they
failed.Thank God for cel phones - I text messaged some friends. I
checked the tennis scores-- (this was the night of Blake-Agassi) I
followed a dude around because I thought he was Howard Stern lacky and
ex-Death drummer Richard Christy(he wasn't.) I thought back to when
all metal that wasn't
Poison and Bon Jovi was called "thrash" and then thought of other
funny words that we don't use anymore, like "icebox" and "slacks" and
"davenport." The Husband agreed - really it was tough for a standard
issue death metal band to follow Napalm Death.
Last Day of Summer
There's a few movies that I think of as perfect summer movies - like Jaws, or Meatballs. I often like to watch Bull Durham on the night before baseball season. But I don't think any movie captures the melancholy of the last day of summer like Hollywood Knights.
Yes, I mean Hollywood Knights, of Robert Wuhl, and Fran Drescher, and Tony Danza and Michelle Pfeiffer. And Stuart Pankin and Moosie Dreier!! How can you forget them? (And no, I didn't look those names up, but I'm 99% sure I got them right.)
If you haven't seen it, and didn't know the most important piece of trivia, which is that this is where the New Bomb Turks got their name, let me bring you up to speed. it's Halloween, and the last night of Tubby's Drive in. (That one I did have to look up.)One of the regulars is getting ready to go to Vietnam. Most of them are just out of high school and haven't yet figured out what to do with themselves. Some young car club recruits are dropped off in Watts and need to get the soul dj there to dedicate a song to Tubbys. (And, no I haven't seen this movie in over 20 years, but I'm fairly sure the song is Heatwave.)
So, no, Halloween isn't exactly the last day of summer, but they live in LA, so summer never really "ends" like it does in the East. And yes, this movie is a dumb sex comedy, that were comedy gold in the early 80's. But while I can't remember anything about Porky's, other than that Kim Cattrall howled when she had sex, I remember almost everything about Hollywood Knights. I think Stuart Pankin's name was Dudley, and he had asthma, and said "I cannot function without my glasses and my puffer." and I thought that was brilliant. I bet I watched that movie 20 times on HBO.
But what sticks is that melancholy feeling at the end. That this day is great, and was fun, but tomorrow the fun goes away and real life begins. And you're not even going to be able to go to Tubby's and jaw about it. It's gone, and it's not coming back.
I spent this summer at the pool in my neighborhood. Yesterday I learned that after next summer, they are tearting the pool down, and building still more freaking condos. And the first thing I thought of is "this is just like the end of Hollywood Knights." Summer's over, and it might never be like this again.
Granted, all the news has been making me feel a little fragile, the kind of fragile where you cry over heartwarming soup commercials (tm Gretchen) But I can't quit thinking about Hollywood Knights, and I'm going to have to watch it to see if it holds up. And even if it doesn't, it'll just prove my point, that the time in my life where I can be moved by Hollywood Knights is over, and it's never coming back. But I bet I still giggle a little when everyone detemines that the punch has a little "whang" to it.
Thanks to Salon and to lastplanetojakarta.com for the image.
Ostrich. Head. Sand.
That's been my mantra lately. Ostrich. Head. Sand. I know the war in Iraq is totally fucked up, I was especially bothered by the entire unit from Ohio being ambushed. I know this. I don't need any more details about more fucked up things.
Now, The Husband has hurricane fever. The only time he turns the channel is if there is discussion of dead animals, a long time forbidden subject in our house. So today I watched lots of hurricane coverage. All those people stuck on I-10. In the Superdome. On their roofs. Then I hear stories of dead people and animals floating, laying there, DEAD. all those cars, trying to escape, and then the road caved in. It's like the Stand. Only that's a made-up-story and this is real.
Ostrich. Head. Sand.
Next summer, the American Library Association has their annual conference scheduled in New Orleans. The convention center is currently filled with refugees, and people are being assaulted in there, raped, killed. But because Librarians are by and large Chicken Littles, the questions started coming around today - What does this mean for our convention? Emails I get from the publishing industry talk about bookstores that have been damaged. Other listservs talk about authors who live in New Orleans, how are they?
I suppose people want to know how things that relate to them are affected. But I honestly can't understand how people can worry about conventions or bookstores at a time like this. Isn't anonymous human suffering enough reason to worry about New Orleans and Mississippi? Perhaps a quick Google search for Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs is in order.
Beyond even my ability to understand - it took me til today to realize that those thousands of people are in the Superdome and there is no plumbing, This is what was meant by unfit conditions.
Ostrich. Head. Sand.
I don't need any more details. I don't want to know how much worse it is going to get. Perhaps it's time for me to read Safe Area Gorazde again, a book that shows how when humans are faced with misery, they escape, into desire for new jeans, or rock music, or drinking.
Each night when The Husband gets home, I'm watching the US Open. I can't sit here, feeling helpless about my lack of ability to do anything. I'd rather escape with tennis. I know enough details. I've seen Fox's stupid Hurricane logo. I'd rather be Ostrich. Head. Sand.
There are many places to donate. Please do.Tonight I learned that the Humane Society is doing animal rescues there, and they are taking donations. Please don't forget the people or the animals. The animals never got a choice about staying or going.
