The Year in Books: 2007

Hope you all had a Merry Chrismahunakwanzeid! The New Year is just four days away and hope that is equally festive.

In one of my few blog traditions, I present my year in books. If there is one thing I like more than reading books, it is talking about books.

First, the raw list...

)1 Blind Man's Bluff - Sherry Sontag, Christopher Drew, and Annette Drew
2) Cat's Eye - Margaret Atwood
3) Big Box Swindle - Stacy Mitchell
4) Strapped - Tamara Draut
5) Blame It On The Rain - Laura Lee
6)Spook - Mary Roach
7) Ransom - Jay McInerney
8) The Last King of Scotland - Giles Foden
9) Man Without a Country - Kurt Vonnegut
10) Cod - Mark Kurlansky
11) God's Politics - Jim Wallis
12) Stories Rabbits Tell - Susan E. Davis and Margo Demello
13) Platypus - Ann Moyal
14) The Big Oyster - Mark Kurlansky
15) The Food Chain - Geoff Nicholson
16) Perfect Circle - Sean Stewart
17) Rant - Chuck Palahniuk
18) Suburban Safari - Hannah Holmes
19) The Demon in The Freezer - Richard Preston
20) In Persuasion Nation - George Saunders
21) Glamorama - Bret Easton Ellis
22) Snowcrash - Neal Stephenson
23) Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson
24) The Three Only Things - Robert Moss
25) Snow Flower and the Secret Fan - Lisa See
26) Reefer Madness - Eric Schlosser
27) The Braindead Megaphone - George Saunders
28) Songbook - Nick Hornby
29) Watership Down - Richard Adams
30) Reservation Blues - Sherman Alexie
31) Into Thin Air - Jon Krakauer
32) Schulz and Peanuts - David Michaelis
33) The United States of Arugula - David Kamp
34) Rosemary's Baby - Ira Levin
35) The Stepford Wives - Ira Levin
36) A Guinea Pig's History of Biology - Jim Endersby

I always try to shoot for fifty books a year, but I now realized that was a lofty goal. I cheated on my old lists, counting those books I read for school. Not textbooks, of course, but those paperbacks professors put in syllabi. Botany of Desire for Science Writing? Frankenstein in Science Fiction? Stone Butch Blues in Personal Essay? Well, alright!

Amanda told me that at a conference she attended, one of the speakers cited a study that found "genius" level people read, at least, 23 books a year. I'm no genius, but it's good to know that I can apply for the club. Look at my list, guys! 36 books! No, I don't know the 500th digit of Pi, but 36 books! Woo!

The book club fizzled out this year after folks moved away or, myself included, took on extra work. I still remember the first meeting in Stewart Park, looking for the lawn chair with a hand-drawn sign reading "Ithaca Book Club." Some really great reads, especially books that I would have never picked up; particularly Perfect Circle by Sean Stewart, which is on the list. I hope everyone from the club continues to read and enjoy!

Other notables books on the list include...

Rant by Chuck Palahniuk for making me want to puke. And in the purely biological sense, mind you. A great read, albeit not my favorite Palahniuk books. I understand how Palahniuk's previous book, Haunted, made folks queasy. Legend says that several folks passed out while he read an excerpt of it. Cannibalism, doll raping, and dangerous masturbating never got me as queasy as Rant's "toiletery swarm" and the boy that can tell each girl in town from her used tampons and each man from the leftovers in a condom's reservoir tip. ACK! FREAK OUT!

Strapped by Tamara Draut for showing me I'm not alone. Forget the aging boomers and old-timers that say use Generation-Y 20 and 30-somethings have it easy. And that's all I will say because I can feel myself get into rant mood. I'm too close to the subject of the "starving young professional." I will not do the book justice by ranting. Please read it, especially if you a parent that doesn't understand why we can't get jobs with health care or vacation time.

Stories Rabbits Tell by Susan E. Davis and Margo Demello and Watership Down by Richard Adams because I love rabbits. Guinea pigs, too!



Schulz and Peanuts by David Michaelis for being the best read of the year. I looked forward for this book about the iconic strip. I learned English by watching those animated Peanuts episodes and I had that damn Snoopy Snow Cone maker that never worked! Michaelis works in strips to chronicle Schulz's life and the humor still rings true. Charlie Brown as this everyman who asked why can't we be happy or just get it. Considering that both Ronald Regan and the 60's counter culture considered Peanuts an icon speaks volumes about the strip's intelligence and observation.



Most interesting is Schulz himself who comes off as conflicted in the book. Incredibly determined and aggressive, yet he never understood why people liked his work so much. Worldly, but terrified of leaving Minnesota and, later on, California. Haunted by his parents; who never believed cartooning would amount to anything, yet inspired his strips. Introverted, yet he never denied an interview request from any reporter or author. Wary of commercialization, but unable to empathize with the exploited factory workers that made the products. Proto-father to an entire generation of modern cartoonists. He hated Garfield and snubbed Jim Davis, who just wanted Schulz's approval. So did Cathy Guisewite of the Cathy strip. He freaked out at Lynne Johnston of For Better of For Worse when she ran by the idea of killing the Patterson's family dog. (Quick aside: Unlike most comics, For Better of For Worse, is told in real-time. Hence, character's age and most dogs just don't live twenty something years). Schulz threatened to kill of Snoopy, just to eclipse the weight and media hype of what he believed was a dumb move on Johnston's part.

Understandably, some of the Schulz children have taken offense at the later parts of the biography. Particularly Schulz's idea on love and affection. He feel in love quickly, ending his first marriage by dating a woman almost twenty-years his younger. Yet, he felt he could never love anyone back, having been denied that by his own mother. From the book alone, you would imagine he never loved his kids! Instead, he just liked them. It is wonderful that the Schulz children have warm memories of their father and want to protect his legacy. However, Michaelis counters the idea that Schulz was this happy old man filled with love for animals and small children. As his strips represented an American generation, he had to be an equally diverse man. Kowtowing to the master narrative of this American icon would be a disservice.

HAPPY NEW YEAR AND HAPPY READING IN 2008!

Peace!

Happy Holidays!

Amanda and I will be leaving town for the Christmas weekend soon, so I wanted to wish all two of you readers happy holiday season. Merry Christmas! Happy Chanukah! Happy Kwanzaa! Blessed Eid! HOORAY!


However, I do realize that I have blogged more frequently these past two weeks than in two months. Its been fun! Not going to say I have a great blogging groove, but, like Stella, I got it back. If not, for just a few days. Want something to hold you over? Maybe you are a new reader and have yet to skim the archives!? Well here are some of my favorite posts!*

1) The Co-Op of Justice! When gangs, race riots, and Fay Gougakis threaten Ithaca, where will you turn!?

2) Heroes need villains, no?

3) The story that took five different forms. Started with a bunch of kids in a stream and now you get this...

4) We're an entire generation raised by women.

5) Except for several milestones at the newspaper (Being listed as a contributor, that first byline, that first angry letter to the editor, the first front page), as a wanna-be writer, this was my greatest moment. The parking lot of the Family Dollar never heard such a scream of glee!

Hope you enjoy them, and the holidays as well.


Of course, the animals are excited for Christmas. Dante already went to bed!

And all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not a pesky rabbit, not a seven-inch plecostomus, or even a piggy....

MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM FEAR OF THE BLANK PAGE!

PEACE!

*Yes, it's a greatest hits list. I have stooped that low.

Books I Should Have Already Read #3

I'll find you somewhere. Show you how much I care...

Books I Should Have Already Read #3

ROSEMARY'S BABY

By Ira Levin

And, no, I have not seen the 1968 movie. So we can count this as sort of a "Movies I Should Have Already Seen" as well. An early Christmas gift for all of you loyal blog readers!

*** SPOILER ALERT***

Part of me wishes I had lived in the late 60's and through the 70's. I'm very happy in my post-Boomer, Generation Y bracket, but it seemed like a big heyday for horror. You would not tell at first glance, but I actually enjoy a good horror movie. Imagine young Garik wearing a smiley face t-shirt going to see Jaws, Alien, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Carrie, The Exorcist, The Omen, Dawn of the Dead, as they premiered? Without the need for caveats like "Well, you need to understand, that was really scary when it premiered..." Just old-fashioned creepiness and desire to hang out with your mom for comfort. "Nothing is wrong, mom! I just want to hang out on the terrace with you for six hours!" I like for horror movies to get under your skin and not just startle me. I'm looking at you The Ring and The Sixth Sense! I get startled when Carson Rabbit jumps out of his cage too quickly!

Chuck Palahniuk thanked Ira Levin*, author of Rosemary's Baby, in a chapter to his non-ficiton book, Stranger Than Fiction. Portrayed as a letter to Levin, Palahniuk thanks Levin for his work and how it approached national issues. The essay is also a treat to Palahniuk's fans, particularly those with dreams of becoming writers themselves. I am comforted to know that Palahniuk has heroes and writers he admires as much as his legions, myself included, do. Take it away Mr. Palahniuk....

"In Rosemary's Baby...the battle is over a woman's right to control her own body. The right to good health care. And to the right to choose an abortion. She's controlled by her religion, by her husband, by her male best fried, by her male obstetrician."

Maybe it's the thirty years between then and now, but all these 70's horror stories always seem to counter some societal trend. Dawn of the Dead attacks consumerism while The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is supposed to reflect the horrors of the Vietnam war. I hope that in thirty years, the films and books I loved are looked at in such an academic light.

More Mr. Palahniuk....

"You showed women exactly how not to be. What not to do. Do not just sit around your apartment sewing cushions...Take some responsibility. If you get date raped by the Devil, don't think twice about terminating that pregnancy. And, yes, it's silly. The Devil..."

Palahniuk then refers to some of the crazy shit that happens in Rosemary's rape scene. Jacqueline Onassis is there. So is the Pope John Paul the Second. People making love in suits of leather armor. However, Levin hides the message in what is supposed to be entertainment. Its horror. Its supposed to be freaky and weird, not necessarily thought provoking. Messages are nothing new in horror or the plain weird. Plains Indians have the "White Buffalo Woman" story, the Bogey Man scared kids straight way before Sallie Jesse Raphael and most ghost stories have some sort of warning. Be nice to folks, because, if not, they come back and haunt your ass.

As you can tell, others can better explain the messages in Rosemary's Baby. I appreciated how creepy the whole book proved. Having a girl get raped by the devil opens up some enticing imagery. A little beast comes out screaming from the drain! Rosemary opens the bathroom door and sees dead bodies stacked upon each other! Everyone's mother sucks cocks in hell! Instead we get a nice everyday creepiness where the apartment we liked is suddenly terrifying. Everyone understands the idea of a nosy neighbor. Why the hell are they so nosy anyway?! What do they want from me.!? If you think about something long enough, it begins to feel unfamiliar. This is the opposite of deja vu--jamais vu. You can do it at home! Devil-free!

Pick a word. Any word! I am going to choose "orange."

Say the word over and over again. Try to pick at it's etymology. Where did this word come from? When we say it in conversation, the word makes sense. But why does it make sense. Why do the letters 0-r-a-n-g-e describe anything? It feels weird, no? And the unfamiliar can be fascinating or terrifying, if not both. There lies the appeal of Rosemary's Baby and Levin's writing.

The final moments left me a bit unsettled. Rosemary falling in love with her little devil baby. Oh, you're claws aren't so bad! Your yellow with black eyes aren't so bad! I am going to put you in your little black carriage and push you around! WEE! Acolytes scream out "All hail Andrew!" It's a kitschy baby shower...FROM HELL! Where the Adams Family and Munsters were funny, Rosemary is perverse. Levin also has some sick touches here and there. Not to spoil all the fun, but I wanted to share my favorite.

After giving birth, Rosemary believes that her baby is dead. The cult took it away and trapped her in bed. She still produced breast milk which she need to drain by pressing a crude pump (really just a cup with some tubing) against her breasts. She hands them off to cult members in scenes like this...

"And more often than not, the pump and cup were brought to her a few minutes after the cring began; and the crying stopped a few minutes after her milk was taken away.

'What do you do with it' she asked Laura-Louise one morning, giving her back the pump and the cup and six ounces of milk.

'Why throw it away, of course, Laura-Louise said, and went out."

Cold!

Laura-Loiuse then goes on to use Rosemary's breast milk cup to dump a dirty spoon.

COLDER!

Thank you, Mr. Levin

Peace!

*Ira Levin recently passed away and in reading his obituaries I learned that he only wrote seven novels and about nine plays. Most have become stage or screen icons like Rosemary's Baby, The Stepford Wives, and The Boys from Brazil. Amazing, but wish he could have written more for us later comers.

Here Comes Santa Claus...

At risk of further distancing myself from the Ithaca intelligista...I have to say that I always took critiques of the Bush junta creating a modern theocracy lightly. I understand the impact religious voters had on the 2004 election, but claims of theocracy seemed a bit too heavy-handed, much in the same vein as when Republicans call Democrats "Marxists." Getting a bit overboard, aren't we boys?

Also, after reading God's Politics by Jim Wallis, I realized that when it comes to religion and politics, both sides need to give up some ground. However, I just learned about this recent House Resolution.

DIOS MIO! A DONDE SE FUE LA CONSTITUCION DE LOS ESTADOS UNIDOS!?

Such are the levels of crazy in House Resolution 847! It makes me break out into Spanish like some Saturday morning cartoon character. Porque Miguel Arcuri!? POR QUE!?

I understand bits of the language in the resolution.

"(1) recognizes the Christian faith as one of the great religions of the world;
Yes. Quite true.

(2) expresses continued support for Christians in the United States and worldwide;

Not a bad thing. Hang on me brother...

(3) acknowledges the international religious and historical importance of Christmas and the Christian faith;

Yes, true again. The Crusades gave us algebra, stolen from the Muslims, but algebra none the less! Mendel was a Franciscan monk! Ceiling of the Sistine Chapel looks great!

(4) acknowledges and supports the role played by Christians and Christianity in the founding of the United States and in the formation of the western civilization;

True. Religious fervor whipped up many an explorer and colonist to the Americas. Some more than others...

(5) rejects bigotry and persecution directed against Christians, both in the United States and worldwide; and

I agree, no one should be persecuted for their beliefs. It's kind of a duh idea.

(6) expresses its deepest respect to American Christians and Christians throughout the world.

See 5

All wonderful points, but the resolution still strikes me as kind of creepy. Imagine the precedent set by a resolution that so mingles religion and government. It's basically a big endorsement!

Christianity: USA APPROVED!

I realize the bill, introduced by Representative Steve King (R-Iowa) is a lot of fluff designed to appease those on the religious right that continue to say us Godless savages wage a war against Christmas. Such is the genius of the religious right. Try proving a negative? Even without the "God did it!" trump card, the religious right can continue to perpetuate the assertion that Christmas is dying. Every "Happy Holidays!" is interpreted as an attack against Jesus, instead of the jovial sentiment actually intended. Every mention of Hannukah, Kwanzaa, Eid, or the winter solstice constitutes blasphemy brought on by politically correct ninnies. Never mind someone might actually want to learn about other cultures.

The resolution mentions that there are "225,000,000 Christians in the United States, making Christianity the religion of over three-fourths of the American population," With such high numbers, how can there be a war on Christmas?

I don't think there is going to be very much fallout from the resolution. While skirting the boundaries of our constitutional republic and emboldening the supposed battle over Christmas, it doesn't destroy the Constitution or the Bill of Rights. It's one thing to say "Gee, isn't Christmas great!" and another to say "It's Jesus or Canada, buddy!" That will take many more microphone cuts on the O'Reilly Factor!

Actually, the resolution is quite laughable when you consider Congress passed a bill saying that Christmas was indeed important to Christians. Next up, water is wet and 2 + 2 = 4!

Peace!

Blog Watch

For how much Ithacans rave about their love for the community and open debate, I am amazed about the lack of good local blogs focused on Ithaca. Sure we have Steve Burke's Ithaca Blog and Ez's Ithaca Sucks, but why hasn't the Ithaca intelligista caught up with the neighboring communities. Shane Seger left Ithaca recently and who knows what will happen to Happily Stuck in Ithaca. Well, Shane does. But who else knows!? Dryden wields their own private blogging army. Ulysses and Trumansburg are lucky to have Jonathan Cook, especially now that there seems to be additional posts from other contributors on the blog.

Surely, there are other wonderful Ithaca blogs out there? I might be leaving soon and I want to get some sort of final sense about what Ithaca is and what happened these past six years. I understand that Ithaca enjoys the most coverage from the Ithaca Journal and near exclusive coverage from the Ithaca Times. It has the Craigslist rants and raves section and the Story Chat community. However, why hasn't the "enlightened city" taken advantage of the new revolution in user-generated media? Citizen journalism, anyone?

On the Ithaca Craigslist, one reader posted a comment about how Ithaca's progressivism is not as progressive as some would like. He or she identified streaks of iconoclasm and regression in a movement designed to take us forward. Suspicious of modern technology (Ever been yelled at Greenstar for your cell phone ringing?), outright rejection of mainstream culture (You actually saw something that wasn't at Fall Creek!? ARE YOU OK?) and a battery of "progressive" litmus tests (Eat meat? Bad! Watch TV? Oh, so bad! Don't ride your bike? The worst!) Even as a proud liberal, the whole Ithaca political lefty scene turns me off. In a city, supposedly so accepting and open-minded, I have to constantly justify my interest in progressive politics. This is the subject of a whole other post to come later in the winter season.

In the Ithaca zeitegeist, people use the word "silent majority" often. However, exactly what that silent majority means changes from poster to poster and blogger to blogger. Is it a silent majority of the more right-leaning demographics that surround Ithaca? Is it a silent majority of moderates or un-extreme liberals trying to squeeze in change between discussions about impeachment? Or does it just not exist at all? If there are ways to counter the Ithaca Sound Machine then blogs are the way to go. Anyone have some suggestions for good Ithaca blogs? I would love to see some and be proven wrong.

Peace!

Singer at IC

Last week, Amanda and I went to see Peter Singer speak at IC. Singer is most famously known for his book Animal Liberation which still acts a major touchstone for the animal rights movement. If you have ever taken an Introduction to Ethics course sometime in the past three decades then you have probably read something by him. Most likely the essay, Famine, Affluence, and Morality, which charges everyone living in financial security to do everything they can to help those who lack the stability. I.E., if you can donate half our your paycheck to UNICEF and not endanger your own life, then you are morally responsible to do such. Feel free to discuss, class.

He introduced the term "speciesism," which meant discrimintating against something because it was another species. If it was OK kick the dog because it's just a dog then that is speciesism. He also has block-rocking* views about abortion and euthanasia. The right to lifers do not like him and neither do several advocacy groups for senior citizens and the mentally/physically disabled.

His talk focused on food and our ethical connections to food. While it was great to actually see Pete Singer in person (He really does exist, outside of the textbook that the bookstore won't freaking take back!), we both left the talk dissapointed. We both wanted to hear something new, but Singer focused his talk on a public presentation about how our food is produced and the conditions of factory farming. Coming out of the environmental studies program and living in Ithaca for six years, most of what he said was old hat.

There were little bits of gold during the talk. I always imagined Singer as a very crunchy-professor type who would fit in as well at Greenstar Cooperative Market as Princeton University. However, we both listened to a practical, intelligent man who used logic and reason to argue his points. Even if you don't agree with Singer, his stlye proved refreshing amongst all the rhetoric we hear. He focused almost entirely on farm animals saying that dogs and cats have it much easier then the animals we do interact with the most--livestock.

Most appreciated was his stance on local foods. Actually, stance is a bad word for what Singer said. More of a cavaet on local foods. For the most part, local foods are better for the welfare of the environment, the people on the farm, and the animals. Shipping food from only a hundred miles away uses less fossil fuels than something from 1,500 miles away. Local farms tend to be smaller operations that cannot use their size to intimadate workers. Neither can they afford to lose profits and capital by scamming clients. Finally, local farms tends to steward the land, instead of exploit it, because they cannot just pikc up and move to new pastures.

Still, these are all generalities. Local doesn't necessarily mean better, just that it is local. Technically, I could get local tomatoes in December if I went to a hothouse up a Cornell. Is the energy use there any worse then the energy expended to ship a non hot house tomato flown up from Florida? Singer also advised that people need to educate themselves about local farms and their practics. Yes, local famrs and businesses are much likelier to be caring and kind, but it is not a guarantee. The beauty of local structures is that you can go see them for yourself! He concluded by saying that if you wanted to eat local then you had to combine that with seasonal, which was an additional commitment. He also added cavaeat to the "organic" label, pointing out that you can have 100% organic beef and milk from equally horrible factory farming conditions.

I appreciated Singer's characterization of vegetarianism and veganism. When asked by an audience member if he was vegan he answered yes, but added that he considered such diets more of an ethical stance then something about personal piety. It is not that eating meat, cheese, and eggs is bad. Instead the issue rests in the fact that most of the meat and dairy produced in this country comes from factory famrs that do not reflect the true cost of that product at the butcher's block.

Singer ended the talk by saying "I have given you a lot of information, but not many answers." I suspect he wanted most of the talk to center around the Q & A discussion. Ethicists prove their muster when faced with questions. If not you are just an empty essayist or, worse yet, a blogger**! Organizers only allowed for a few questions because of time constraints. I remember planning events at IC with my cohorts in the environmental society and trying to balance the wrap-up time. It's difficult considering that everyone does need to get back to their lives (Earth Week always fell on the week right before the last day of class. Mothafucker.) and still want that extra knowledge. A lot of people stuck around for the Q & A and considering that everyone I spoke to aftwerwards was dissapointed by the talk, I feel I am not alone in my thoughts.

As a quick aside, Amanda and I have begun to make official airs of leaving Ithaca for good come late spring/early summer. Nothing concrete as of now. We are not giving away our cache of trash tags and Ithaca Hours just yet! But who knows. Expect some big blog posts about that later, but I will miss the speakers that come through the town. For how much heat the colleges get (and deserve!), you could have seen the Dalai Lama, John Ashcroft, and Pete Singer all withing the same two month stretch.

Peace!

* Chemical Brothers can go with anything. Even ethics! I purposefully did not summarize Singer's views because both he, and the introduction at the talk, mentioned that his long essays and books are often warped and condensed to scintillationg talking points. Reading my one setence about speciesims does not do any service to Singer or his critics. Feel free to read for yourself on-line.

** I kid! I kid! Blogging, citizen journalism, and user generated media is the wave of the future. But we can still have fun, no?

Movies I Should Have Already Seen Vol. 3, #7

If dealing with this were school, I'd had a Harvard degree....

Movies I Should Have Already Seen Volume 3, Issue 7

Forrest Gump

This is a hard one to see 14 some years after it's initial release. Not because the movie is unwatchable or bad. Not at all. However, after watching umpteen bench sketches and listening to Weird All Yankovic's Gump (Bad Hair Day was the first ever album I bought) all of the magic of Forrest' s accidental philosophy does not hit me too hard.

So, yes, except for the very end and the whole wrap up with Jenny, all those iconic moments were already with me. The braces falling off, the gunfight in Vietnam, the ping pong, etc. However, it as still wonderful to see them all put together. Visually, the movie struck me with coffee table book landscapes and the CGI seamlesness. While dated, the special effects still hold strong. I didn't know that Gary Sinise's legs were amputated on via computer. It looked amazing and I just thought they subbed in a double amputee. Except for that one clip where Forrest meets John Lennon, everything looked great.

And let's diverge for a moment about Gary Sinise and his Lieutenant Dan character. I loved Lieutenant Dan and the way that Forrest lead his life from anger (I had a destiny!) to happiness as co-owner of the shrimp company. Lieutenant Dan is pimp. If anyone deserves to still be called Lieutenant whatever after the war it is lieutenant Dan. The man stood up to a whole hurricane! And he had no legs! NO LEGS! And he hadn't buttoned up his shirt, which must have made it very chilly. We needed Lieutenant Dan during Katrina! "Your not going to break these levees dammit! Where's God now, huh!?" Also, its FUNNY! Not because Tom Hanks plays someone with an IQ of 75. We are beyond crude retard jokes here at the blog and so was the movie. It's just damn funny, filled with pointed references and visual jests. Amanda taught me the wonder of "Lieutenant Dan! Ice Cream!"

It's a damn sweet movie, but I found it off that Forrest Gump, a movie that crafted many moments with the people in power during the past 40 year, didn't really take a stance. Not that such plot points are required, but the movie made a concerted effort to frame Forrest's adventures in the tumult of the 60's, 70's and 80s. Like a Greek chorus, the radio, TV, or Forrest's asides himself tell us why the world is a crazy place. Did Forrest, the character and the movie, agree with the counter-culture? Or should we all have stayed home? Yes, Forrest is a nice guy, but what happens when you stick that nice guy at the Watergate hotel or at a Black Panthers rally? Where does that nice guy fit in?

Don't get me wrong, I am all for letting books and movies exist just for the sake of story and pleasure. Trust me, Amanda and I live in Ithaca where we have to justify why we saw the latest Hollywood movie and not whatever was playing at the local art house cinema. However, Forrest Gump garnered so much praise and so many Oscars (6) that I wanted it to say something besides "Stupid is as stupid does." I must mention that the movie does touch upon this. In a scene where Forrest is running across the county, a gaggle of reporters ask him why is he doing this? Is it for the environment? Women's rights? World peace? Forrest just says because he wanted to run. And there are other little nuggets of reflection. Maybe we can all find redemption in just being ourselves and staying home? Forrest just did everything people told him to do, never injecting his own thought, and he became wildly successful. Conversely, Jenny rebelled against her life and ended up a druggie. Is ignorance bliss? Should we just ignore all that about Vietnam, Watergate, AIDS, Iran-Contra, MLK, JFK, RFK, Malcolm X, civil rights, Roe V. Wade, the environment, Berkley, etc, for our own good? While anyone can enjoy this film, it was made for Baby Boomers. Isn't everything that Forrest what you ask Baby Boomers? Where the hell were you during Vietnam, dad?! Hell, I even asked my parents that when I was young and we lived in quasi-isolated PR. Imagine if I ever had a kid and he or she asked me, 'Hey, dad. What were you doing during the 2000 Florida re-count, 9/11, or the 2003 Iraq invasion?" And all I gave them was this big smile and a "Meh." That kid woulf probably be pissed.

Maybe the movie as trying to tell us something, but really just wanted us to focus on the heartwarming aspect of Forrest's life. I can give it that, in fact, I feel too many people today do not realize that you can just have fun at the movies whether it be though explosions or a life-story. I enjoyed all the little references sprinkled throughout the movie, which helped merge Forrest's life with the times. However, part of me still wants to know how those two work.

Peace!

Hey Ace!

I should be working, but here is one quick post.

While I still think of myself as partially employed, I am slowly realizing that the paper takes up a good portion of my days off. Sitting in on various meetings eats up most of that time as does the travel time between locations. I don't mind this. I want to write and prefer a lifetime of freelance writing over a day-job.

Even with the effort I put into the paper, I still sometimes feel like I am writing in a vacuum. Amanda is immensely supportive and I love her for that, but we are still a young paper. Like a new business, we continue to introduce ourselves to the audience. That gets better every day and today was a singular day, at least for me.

I went to get a quick picture for a story. It was a head shot of a local official and I had to wait in the lobby of the building while the clerk staff let the official about me. I introduced myself with my Christian name (Long story why I use that tongue twister for bylines) and what paper I was from.

Upon hearing that I worked for a newspaper three other staffers immediately rolled their eyes and one groaned, "Jeez, what's a reporter doing here?"

Contrary to any ill will they wished on pesky old me, I FELT GREAT! I do not think myself as a reporter. And not because of some high-minded semantics. Instead, reporter feels too professional a title for me. Reporters don't have day jobs because the news is their day job. I am proud of what I write, but I know they are not the best pieces. Reporter is a very Romantic term for me and because I am not the best, I don't like to use the name of the best. Forget calling myself a "journalist." Might as well call myself the Pope. Instead, I remain comfortable as a contributor, growing until the one day I feel solid enough to call myself a reporters or even a journalist.

However, how damn cool is it to know that someone felt annoyed, maybe even worried, that I might put their actions to paper! I brought up all these images of Richard Nixon sitting in the Oval Office screaming, "Damn you Woodward and Bernstein!"

I played dumb after hearing the comment. I felt good about myself and is that so much to ask from a job and hobby?!

Consequently, paper-pushers, I was doing my job. If you are going to work for a municipality then be ready for any one to come through that door and corner you with a question. Maybe even the odd journalist, reporter, contributor, fact checker, ranter, video blogger, or activist. If you don't like it, then go to the private sector. Like all the other elected officials and senior staffers on my beat (i.e. your bosses), the person I came to visit was happy to answer my questions!

Peace!

*Image pulled from the George A. Smathers Libraries at the University of Florida.

Dropped Books

In the past year or so, I have become a hard-liner when it comes to book. I employ a strategy called the "100 Page Rule." I read each and every book I get for the first 100 pages and if it doesn't entice me by then, it gets the drop.

I know it sounds mean, but I want to tap into the things that I love and that challenge me. No need for dead weight.

It is with mixed emotions that I have to drop my latest read, Jimmy Carter's The Hornet's Nest.

Readers of the blog will know that I very much like President Carter. Considering his history as the 39th president, you have to mention that when talking about this book.

Carter has about a dozen plus books to his name, focusing on subjects from the presidency to friendly monsters. I haven't read any of his other pieces, but considering that they were produced throughout his lifetime, I know he is doing something right when it comes to writing.

The Hornet's Nest is an ambitious book about the Revolutionary War in the American South. It does a great job at showing what life was like back then and in challenging the ideas of the American Master Narrative. I was excited to read it, and disappointed to have to drop it.

My biggest hangup? If the book were presented as a non-fiction account than I would be fine with it. Carter did an amazing amount of research, learning how Colonials made shoes and bought land. The minutiae in the book create a wonderful sense of place especially as the characters move from Philadelphia and into the Georgia. However, it is supposed to be a novel. As one reviewer on Amazon said, "It isn't a page turner."

With very little dialogue, the book feels handed to the reader. The sheer amount of detail would serve a historical textbook well, but as a novel it takes away from the central action. When the book does feature dialogue, it sounds like something pulled from an 8th grade oral presentation on the Revolutionary War...."Most colonial governments met the official requests from London for financial contributions, which rarely even covered the expenses of the colonies. But, in fact, a lot of merchants, including my own company, continued to trade freely with the French even during the conflict." That quote comes early in the book from a character named Mr. Know, who serves as a sort of Greek chorus for the protagonists. He is referring to the French-Indian War and Colonial involvement in the conflict. Why should our protagonist join the rebels? Insert Know. Oh, know we see!

I dropped the book around page 150. Maybe it was building towards something much bigger. Entire chapters were often designated to introduce a new character who could have played a larger role in the later plot. A friend of mine, who read the book, said this was the kind of book you wanted when stuck in an airport. I can see his point. With the amount of details and the sweep of this book, you want to give it a good chunk of time.

I was excited to read the book. Who had ever heard of any standard US history course mentioning anything about the Revolutionary War outside of New England? A great idea and some good words to go with it, but the attempt to fictionalize parts of this unknown history falls flat.

I still think you are one of the coolest, President Carter! I look forward to reading your other books in the new year! Peace!

Mango Raking

As I mentioned in my last post, here is something about what I actually shoveled back home in PR.
While drawing from memories, the piece isn't truly autobiographical. I only raked mangoes once, maybe twice, in my life. And I just used my hands. Fingertips, actually since those things are messy! However, I loved the image of going around picking up mangoes as a chore. I scribbled out some notes in my journal and here is the blog version.

* * *

My grandmother spoke of plants in homespun anthropomorphisms. A tree my father planted never bloomed because it was "manly." A tiny weed, whose leaves reacted to touch, was "magic," and she mentioned an old neighbor that tried to label it as the eight wonder of the world. Right there in Mayaguez, Puerto Rico.

I am sure she would have described the mango tree in our neighbor's backyard as "pregnant." Fruit always seemed present on the tree, hanging down from leathery vines in the branches. While planted in the neighbor's yard, two solid branches jutted over the hibiscus strangled chain link fence and over our property. My mother said rats lived in the hollowed out recesses of the trees roots. "Go pick up the mangoes to stop the rats," she said, handing me crumpled up plastic supermarket bags from underneath the sink.

The mangoes begin rod shaped, hanging hard and green on the tree. They fall to the grass with soft thumps once they turn peppered emerald color filled with tiny black spots. They are in stark relief with the mangoes you see in the stateside supermarket. Those are softball sized balls that look more like avocados. My grandmother called these "Cuban" mangoes, which were better for straight up eating. Our mangoes, Puerto Rican ones, were better for making into jams and pastes. Better for baking too. She also called the hydroponic lettuce sold at store "Puerto Rican Lettuce" because it came from facilities on the island. Each bag was embossed with an outline of the island. This lettuce supposedly made you sleepy. "American" lettuce came only in bundles of threes. A single head of Romaine lettuce would have probably blown her mind.

The mangoes ripened on the ground, even though, at this point they already developed a blush coming from each end. Then like a banana they turned a splotchy black with a cucumber beetle orange skin. If left for too long, they became completely black with intermittent rings of deep purple in the bruises. At this point the fruit was so soft as to quiver when touched. These were my least favorite to pick up as I imagined centipedes and rats under each one. I filled the supermarkets bag full and carried them over to the trash at an arm's length. "Not in the trash, boy," my mother would say. "The rats will get them there!"

* * *

I wrote that stream of consciousness style, with some help from the notes. It shows. But, you got a post, eh!?

Peace!

More EEE!

Hey, you liking the somewhat regular posts, eh? Well TOO BAD because I just got slammed with some more stories for the paper and the Transformers Score came from Amazon today! Only thing greater than the movie was the rocking score composed by Steve Jablosnky. I know even less about music than I know about acting, but I know what I like. Thank you for the moving score Mr. Jablonsky!

Gosh, I'm a sucker for these heavy-handed action scores. Really like the Firefly/Serenity music as well. Especially that one part in Serenity where we pan to the ship re-entering a planet. The scene is very early on it them film, following the title. I dig the curly space banjo coming right after the somber liquid string notes. Here it is on YouTube.
Can you describe music as curly? I guess, I just did. Avoiding the snow by cutting through the IC music school during college finally paid off! YES!

For those of you unfamiliar with the Transformers score, play around on YouTube and take a listen. Here is my favorite:



Geeks: We may not know whose on the Top 40, but we sure can hum our favorite tune from Final Fantasy!

I will bring you a post sometime this week. What did I shovel growing up instead of snow. Mangoes. Yes, mangoes.

Come Mr. Tallyman....

Photo originally from University of California- Davis

Peace!

First Snow 2007

We all awoke to this on the West Hill.

The first snow of the season. Earlier this week, some of the higher elevations around here got a decent first snow, but the valley where the city lays makes for noticeable differences.

Don't expect me to blog all lyrical and Romantic about snow. I don't like winter at all. In the closing chapters of Watership Down, Richard Adams inserts a brief narration on winter. I don't know the exact text , but it goes something like this: "Some men say they like winter, but what they really are saying is they like the ability to combat it. With their coats, fireplaces, and woodlots, they can endure the season and find some enjoyment. But for animals, as for poor men, it is a harsh season when existence is the act of just surviving."

Sorry that I don't have the direct quote, but that thought sums up why I don't enjoy the winter season.

However, winter presents me with an interesting Catch-22. While I dislike winter as much as others longingly await the crunch of hoar frost under their new boots, I love the shovel snow.

Seriously, I LOVE TO SHOVEL SNOW. Just decimate the crap out of it! Carve out islands of non-slippery safety amongst all the white the neighbors have let accumulate. I make games out of it, dreaming up scenarios Walter Mitty or, better yet, Snoopy* style. Imagine it:

First Panel: "Here comes the world-famous snow shoveler."

Second Panel: Digging into the snow, a mound of the stuff already piled behind him, "He has to clear the path for the Colonial Militia! They need those cannons to take Fort Ticonderoga!"

Third Panel: Exasperated and leaning against the handle of the shovel. "It's just practice for Valley Forge!"

I worked for about a year and a half during college as a janitor. Well, Facilities Attendant, actually. It is a neat little euphemism that means you just don't clean toilets, you shovel snow! The sidewalk is a part of the facility, you see. Because it was a residential college, the administration wanted to make sure that every sidewalk and road was plowed. Last thing they wanted was for some kid to slip on the umpteen stairwells on the IC campus and have his or her parents sue the school. There was a joke that circulated amongst all the Physical Plant staff that went, "On the campus you really don't drive through snow, but through slush." Well, that sounds like a motto to live by! I had this "scorched earth" policy to clearing away snow. I used a lot of salt and pulled a muscle the first time I cleared the little dip between Terrace 3 and Terrace 4. When I worked as a barista, we had to clear the snow from the front of the store while on shift. The customers appreciate the plowed strip of sidewalk welcoming them for espresso and brewed coffee. Of course, I, once again, went nuts with the salt to the boss's and our petty cash fund's, dismay. One of these days, I will match when snow shoveling zeal with the appropriate amount of salt. Until then, I appreciated your patience, guys.

Why do I enjoy it so much? Everyone else hates it. It's a chore. Why love a chore!?

Maybe it's because I never grew up with snow, being from PR . Or because I am "selectively compulsive" freaking about having to get that snowed cleared. I do feel a nice sense of accomplishment after I am done with the snow and it does make me feel good. People appreciate plowed sidewalks and roads, and I appreciate their silent thanks. If you need some snow shoveling in and around the West Hill then contact me or look for the cleanest patch of asphalt in town!

Peace!

*I just finished reading a wonderful book called Schulz and Peanuts: A Biography by David Michaelis. Hence, the Snoopy reference. Amazing book about the iconic strip and the conflicted man behind it. I'm also reading Jimmy Carter's The Hornet's Nest which is about the American Revolutionary in the South. Hence, the Ticonderoga reference. Hey, it's a liberal arts blog.

Cracked!

It's fire and ice time here in Ithaca. I don't mean the changing seasons (I saw snow flurries on my walk to work today) or those blasts of hot air that wash out of buildings as you step in from the cold. No, I mean the swing in emotions the local populace can now begin to feel.

Still giddy from the Dalai Lama's visit to Ithaca, locals can now FREAK OUT again because John "Put Some Clothes On" Ashcroft is speaking at Cornell!

That's John "Let the Eagle SOAR!" Ashcroft!

That's John "I Know You Checked Out Danielle Steel Novels" Ashcroft!

John "Patriot Act" Ashcroft!

WOW! A real former member of the Bush junta is coming here! A Cabinet member! The sound you hear is the collective Ithaca Sound Machine pushing the dial way past 11! Or the Ithaca zeitigeist cracking in half.

I wasn't a fan of John Ashcroft and his Attorney General policies. However, I think it is wonderful he is coming here to speak. It's much different to hear an opponent actually speak and elaborate on why they think what they are doing is right, then to just listen to the sound bites at Moveon.org. I have learned from the townies and given up on trying to get tickets, but maybe there will be a live broadcast or a speech archive later.

I wonder if CU will cover up the naked statue outside Uris Hall for the event?

Peace!

More Great Works Defiled!

JESSE JAMES BUNNY!

I'm the greatest American outlaw! I took the lives of over 15 men and feared no Pinkerton operatives. I never meet a train I wouldn't rob or a stagecoach I wouldn't turn. Oh, and the South shall rise again.

OH NO!



PIGGY FORD!

I sure did like Jesse, but I loved the reward money even better! I shot Jesse James, governor Crittenden! Love me! Oh, and fuck the South, even though I am from Missouri.

"Bah! Whatever, Piggy Ford! No one named Pokemon villains after you. Or whole American mythologies either, by the way."

"Whatever. I still killed you. Cause it's 187 on an undercover cop! YEAH!"

"What? That lyric isn't relative at all!"

"Oh, um. That picture is awful dusty?"

"Those are my last words! You thieving Yankee cowardly piggy!"

__________________________________________

Amanda and I saw The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford last week and I thoroughly enjoyed my first ever Western. However, I was disappointed by the lack of gunfights in my first ever Western. More gunfights! More swindling and horse rustling. More stereotypes!

Scratch that. I don't know very much about the Old West, but I do understand that most of the action around it was framed by the Reconstruction period. Former Confederates flew to the Territory hatching schemes on how to bring back Dixie. However, it was also known national for federal expansion and the conflict over local autonomy. Finally, it's the frontier and living on any frontier isn't easy. Gun fights weren't as deadly as in the movies because, well, it wasn't the movies. The railroad dominated the landscape and you had to be one tough criminal to take them on. Like most things in the American "Master Narrative," the imagery sometimes does not hold up to the reality.

I enjoyed the films rolling narrative and thought the voice overs were a nice touch. I read some reviews on Rotten Tomatoes that found it too didactic. While it did feel like the book the movie was based on just came onto the screen, the technique is justified. Jesse James story was a whole myth and you needed a separate storyteller to build all that. If we had that all through some words flashed on the screen then it would have been harder to absorb. They also gave the movie a good sense of pace, leading up to Jesse's assassination, building him as all to real man that was still legendary. Imagine if someone described you in a solid, haunting, lyrical voice-over.

By the time he was 23, Garik would be diagnosed with asthmatic allergies, as if the air were too rich for his introspection. He took full claim for all 93 blog entries, but little would read them. And he never meet justice for all the drinks he screwed up while as a barista for he fled Tompkins County to parts where people would believe, 'Yes, it's decaf.' I swear."

Finally, I like Brad Pitt no matter what anyone says. And I also like Ben Affleck and his brother is in the movie giving a great performance. It feels weird for me to say someone acted well. I don't know anything about acting except that I certainly couldn't even do a second of screen/stage time. Even if I was "Pedestrian 4" in the far left corner of the screen, I could not produce the right combination of standing in my costume and staying quiet necessary for high-caliber cinema. Forget it if I even had to move. Imagine me as "Guy Buying Fruit 2." Disaster.

With that said, even all those directors frien...err...I mean struggling actors you see in student films could out act me. Still, Brad Pitt and Casey Affleck rocked their respective roles. Pitt having this hurt bravado, a man increasingly paranoid, but still believing he was in control. Affleck runs with a dangerous innocence, someone inherently harmless and weak, but still capable of the simplest violence. Imagine a five-year old with a gun. Or something like that.

For more (eloquent) reading, the film critic for our paper, Nicholas NiCastro, did a great review of the movie for the paper in our October 29-November 4th edition. Check it out!

Peace!

More Local Legends

Been a while since I have blogged. I have been doing a lot of brainstorming about what I should focus my blog posts on. I tried comics for a while, but the comics blog-o-sphere is loaded with tons of little fish trying to be as good as the masters. I could weigh in on local issues, but that would be really unprofessional considering my position at the paper and I am just a pesky transplant anyway. Of course, there are masters there as well. Books maybe? You guys like books and reading? We shall see.

Here is a little series of anecdotes I wrote up about a little rumor my lovely GF Amanda told me about. I enjoy the fragmented style, but I realize that I am not that deft in applying it. It is more of a crutch for me, a handy way to frame stories. The style gives the narrative a "newsy" feel as if we were trying to garner the full picture from things we overheard on the radio or on the news ticker at CNN. Palahniuk did this with his last book Rant, framing it as an oral history of his protagonist.

I tend to write in sound bites anyway. A little scene here, then a quick scene there. I have focused what little professional writing I do on journalism because I do not have the patience to write a full fledged short story. Except for these blog posts, I write in a world where 800-words is a lot of space. I tried to find something, anything, about this rumor, but could not turn up anything. Tioga County is a relatively rural county with no county-wide newspaper. Maybe their local media haven't made as big a presence online. If anyone from Tioga County or Candor stumbles upon this, are these rumors true? Did someone every release cougars up there? Peace!

___________________________________

Shadow Cats

Terrence Liddle reinforced the floorboards in the tree stand. Since his grandfather passed, there had been little interest in hunting in the household and the wood turned soft and green. With the rumors, Gran forced him to take the post and protect the family investment on White Church Road. At the gas station, Gran heard that the animals could gauge out the siding from a house with their paws as big as catcher's mitts and claws longer than pocket combs. Terrence believed all that to be exaggeration, having looked up cougars in the old set of World Books his father kept in the crawl space.
"I don't think they get that big," he told her while Gran tried to convince his daughter Jamie of the gravity of cougar attacks.
"Oh, maybe this ones special because the whole town is talking about them!" She grabbed Jamie by the waist and made the girl sit on her lap. "I will stay here with her while you make sure that stand is alright."
Terrence remembered something from the encyclopedia, but ignore it. He made a final check of the new pine boards and nestled a cushion from the sofa up there. "Might as well be comfortable," he mumbled, the evening before his first watch.

* * *

"Lions, tigers, and bears! OH MY!"
"Shut up!"
"Lions, tigers, and bears! OH MY!"
"SHUT UP!"
"Lions, tigers, and bears! OH MY!"
"Oh, fuck you, Luke!"
She choked the silver door handle of the Buick and swung the heavy car door open. The hinges popped as the door swung shut. From the outside she fumbled for her cell phone under the yellow light of the lonely streetlight.
Luke rolled down the passenger side window. "Oh, c'mon, Marie. It's just a joke! A rumor!" He leaned further over and managed to get the crack the door ajar. "There aren't any cougars!"
"It was in the paper," she interjected. Far out on Route 33, the hills block any phone service and her phone chirped, "We're sorry" in harsh, soft tones.
Luke rolled his eyes. "The Random Observer, Marie. The new golf course on Route 95 was the headline. Just get back in the car."
Marie cocked her head to the side and saw the white glow of Dassy's Gas Station and Mini Market down below. She popped a leg over the wire divider and prepared herself to skitter down the embankment to the valley below. It wasn't that steep and even in the night the grooves would be familiar from the highway cleanups she did back in 4H.
Luke heard the gravel crunching. "Where the hell are you going!?"
"Away!" She slid off the gravel and began jaunting down the weedy hillside.
"Hey, hey!" Luke screamed from the driver's seat asking, "What the hell do I tell your parents when you don't show up!"
"A cougar did it," said a voice from close to the bottom.

* * *

Police Chief Deborah Capet spent the evening preening through the pages of a yellowed HTML help book the department bought years ago. No one had updated their department's website in years. She hammered out a quick message before a call on the radio reported another mysterious sighting.

* * *

Killing time in the public library and getting near the end of his 30-minutes, computer limit Virgil Stakum stumbled across the police department website. He ran search for "Tendia Town" and "Crime." On the welcome page he found:

Please be advised that it is illegal to discharge firearms within the borders of the Town of Tendia and all other county municipalities unless in self-defense. Illegal discharges and hunting will be prosecuted. Call 557-3870 for more information. Ask for Chief Capet. Thank you.

* * *

Trying to find a comfortable distance form the tape recorder, Town Supervisor Larry Corradino dismissed the rumors. He had dealt with reporters from Binghamton before, but he couldn't find his footing with this story. He later told his wife that, "There is no way to sound intelligent about it. The whole cougar fiasco."
But he tried with the reporter.
"Look the only cougars here are those at the high school," he said trying to crack a smile. The reporter didn't carry a notebook with him, so Larry got in close to the microphone, ignoring his previous apprehensions. "That's the mascot, you see."

* * *

The sound of gunshots disrupted church service all month long. Taking a historian though a tour of the First Presbyterians country cemetery, councilmember Peggy White apologized for the red discharged shells that peppered the woods behind the graves. "People just get a little carried away here when it comes to safeguarding the town!" She smiled her widest grin. "It's why we have so much history!"

* * *

The deer didn't seem to mind the supposed cougars. They still strolled down in the early light of Main Street, stripping the young leaves of forsythia shoots. Opening her bakery, Hope August told the newspaper delivery man if he had heard about the rumors. "Oh, yeah, Hope. Even as far as Syracuse where my cousin lives. He told me, 'Hey, Vince be careful with those cougars!'
Hope helped him heave a bundle inside and made sure the loud thud could be heard by the deer. They scampered away when it hit. "Well, sometimes I hope they had done their duty and controlled some of those deer," she said.

* * *

When the town library checked out all its book on big cats it started a wait list. Michael Bassett, terrified for his family, went to the elementary school library and sat in the plastic bucket chairs around the nature section. When a little girl asked him what he was doing, Michael just held up the cover of the book and the girl understood. "Ohhhhh, OK."

* * *

Elsewhere in the elementary school, Ms. Janson asked all her sixth grade students to write a short poem for their language arts class. Most centered around cats. Eve asked Ms. Jason if it was OK if her poem didn't rhyme.
"Well, sure, Eve. But why did you choose to go that way?"
Eve shrugged her shoulders, acting for the class as much as asking. "Nothing rhymes with cougar!"

* * *

Another child from Ms. Jason's class, Darien, spent the rest of the day in Principal Sherman's office. When he finally meet with Adelle Sherman, she asked Darien to read his poem again. Ms. Janson was there and so was Superintendent Digger. He read it:

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forest of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry

"That's awful good for 12-year old boy," said Principal Sherman.
Darien almost cracked a smile, but Superintendent Digger quickly jumped in. "Ok, where did you steal that from?"
"It's Blake, Jim," interjected Ms. Janson.

* * *

At the coffee shop someone asked, "Where did all these cougars come from?" They must have been a tourist passing through to the wine trails in the next county. No one remembered their face. Could have been in a group. No one knew the answers. "They just are here," said a Denise Hutchinson, a waitress. Everyone agreed. After the stranger left, word began to circulate that Terrence Liddle had bagged one from his grandfather's tree stand.

Election 2007

Locally, (i.e. City of Ithaca) this year's election for various county positions is not too excited. My first election ever as a citizen of this city and everyone is running friggin' un-opposed! However, it's hard to keep me down when it comes to voting. It's the Puerto Rican in me. Puerto Rico has so many problems, in so many ways, but one thing that is so amazing is how it fields near 80% voter turnout each and every election year.

Seriously, I love to vote, and you should too, because no amount of Star Spangled knick-knacks can trump a single vote.

Democracy is kind off a big deal, so, if you are in Tompkins County, please get out a vote in any and all our your local elections. It's very un-progressive to not vote so if you are part of the "Ithaca Sound Machine," put all the rhetoric on the record. If you really like Carolyn Peterson, all of Common Council, and Herb Engman, then solidify their victories! It will probably make then feel a lot better if they win by a true mandate and not their closest dozen friends. And it will also clearly say that this is the local leadership we want, not some powerful circle of (insert your favorite pejorative here) that can scream the loudest.

If you are a part of the "Silent Majority" then STOP BEING SILENT! Write-in the opponents who lost in the primaries and, hell, write in Matt Murdock or Bruce Wayne! Deny them the sheer technical win! Tell them that maybe we weren't strong enough to have a candidate this year, but we will next time! And remember, this is Ithaca, so even just a handful of write-ins will get some sort of committee started-up where you can discuss the effectivenes of Zachary Winn or a kick to the face.

There is a competitive election for the state Supreme Court and the Sixth Judicial District and I admit that I am woefully un-informed. Seems like most of the action is concetrated in the candidates home areas and I don't spend any time in Coopperstown, NY! I got some research to do.

PEACE!

Up A Mountain, and Down Some

Jon Krakauer is a writer I just came across, but I have devoured his short list of books. I do not tend to like specific books, instead focusing on specific writers, and its is a lot easier to pack away Krakauer than Sherman Alexie or Kurt Vonnegut.

I cried after reading Into the Wild. I do not plan on watching the recent movie about it because this is the first book ever where I don't want my imagery influenced by a directors, even if it's Sean Penn. Good books leave concrete images in your head. If they leave amorphous shapes that you need a movie to shape up then something was lost in translation. Don't take that as my stance against Hollywood or people making movies out of books. It just was a damn fine story to begin with, regardless of medium.

Looking back at lists of books I have read, I am amazed at how I have forgotten entire details from certain books. The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros, which I just read last year, is lost to me. I remember liking the book, but I guess not enough to really enjoy it. However, Krakauer's Under the Banner of Heaven will always stay with me. The mix of gumshoe reporting and honest analysis of America's homegrown religion, Mormonism, is signature of Krakauer's style. All his books are honest, no spin, which is why those involved in them sometimes get pissed at him. He deals in very personal subject. The death of a lone boy in the Alaskan wilderness. A warped faith fueled double murder in rural Utah. Or a disaster on Mount Everest. I have to sympathize for all those families because Krakauer has the wonderful ability to craft final moments to his readers. In Into Thin Air, the subject of this post, he relates the final moments of an experienced Everest guide, Rob Hall, as he is trapped at the top of the mountain in a freak storm. Krakauer presents the time through a series of radio snippets that Hall shared with a camp lower on the summit. They eventually patch him through to his wife back in New Zealand where his last words to her are: "I love you. Sleep well, my sweetheart. Please don't worry too much." Remember, Hall is at THE TOP OF THE WORLD IN A HURRICANE-FORCE SNOWSTORM! The preceding conversation with his wife was rather cheerful, with both dismissing the fact that the had no hope. His wife, also an experienced climber, was later quoted as saying anyone stuck up there might as well be on the moon.

Krakauer makes it feel like he is there in the radio tent exchanging the dispatches. However, he is actually at another camp, trying to save his own life after stumbling off the summit in the early throes of the storm. However, his journalistic integrity shines through and he creates a highly involved narrative of the events from his research.

Krakauer also writes, gut-wrenchingly, that while he lay in his tent, another climber stumbled in. Being in better shape, this climber tried to rouse Krakauer and tell him to come out and shine lights and bang pots around the camp. His hope was to create a makeshift beacon for those trying to escape the whiteout. Krakauer, fighting off exhaustion and frost bite decides to stay, later learning that only 350 yards away there were survivors trying to find there way back in. During his research back in the states, Krakauer discovers that once he did go out into the storm to search for survivors he thought he saw Andy Harris, another climber that perished on the mountain. For months, Krakauer's report was considered the official report of Harris' death. That Krakauer saw him, but in the whiteout and scramble for human lives, though he was OK for the momemnt. It was assumed Harris died of exposure and his body never recovered. Krakauer later discovers, during a routine interview, that he mistook another survivor for Harris. He later had to tell the authorities and Harris's family that he was wrong and that no one exactly knew what had happened to Harris. Some later reports believe he took a wrong step in the storm and fell of a ridge and the face of the mountain.

As readers, we all find this interesting, but we need to remember this all happened recently and in our lifetimes. These aren't stories of the Titanic or Mt. Vesuvius. These are people whose families could read this very blog and critique what I have to say. Writing from the comfort of safe haven, Krakauer, justifiably, presents, the climbers that day as archetypes we are familiar with. A posh Manhattan socialite that drags accessories and portable TVs up the mountain. A Japanese housewife trying to defy the gender roles in her country. Rival climbers trying to beat each other to the top. Of course, all these people are not that simple, but we need to create instant bonds with them, if not, then the book is lost. And because Krakauer wrote the book (He first wrote a magazine article about the piece) as a form of catharsis, the entire plot is framed as his way of handling the events. Being that the book is cathartic*, even Krakuer admits it is not his best, and it does feel a little weaker then his others, a little bit more jumbled at first before it all becomes clear. With the other books he had the distance of an investigative reporter with no investments in the stories he chronicled. Of course, it is still a great book, only diminished by the fact that Krakauer is trying to fight off personal demons at the same time. Others have critiqued his narrative saying he ignored certain stories (particularly about his own climbing slip-ups) and did not interview everyone involved. To many, including myself, he is the official voice of that tragedy, but everyone has a story and everyone wants to make sense of the event in their own way. His just happened to gain the most attention because he is an amazing journalist!

Peace!

*In the introduction to the book Krakauer says, "I agree that readers are often poorly served when an author writes as an act of catharsis, as I have done here." That is a sharp piece of writing advice. Most of the posts on this blog are cathartic, if not masturbatory, and you can judge the quality of them. Must be the whole writing for an audience of one:yourself. However, like Krakauer, I hope to pull something from all this.

Books I Should Have Already Read, #2

I am back after another long hiatus. I did spend a lot of time watching Transformers, but its the usual excuses for why I have ignored the blog.

And to return, here is the long awaited second installment of a blog series that premiered earlier in the year.

Books I Should Have Already Read #2

Watership Down

Damn, I loved this book. And not just because it is about rabbits! Rabbits that sing songs and tell animal myths to each other! Rabbits that survive against countless enemies, including themselves. Rabbits with names like Cowslip, Bigwig, and Blackberry! OH MY NO!

I am not going to deny that the sheer amount of bunnies in this book didn't make me heart get twitterpatted. I adore rabbits, mostly because, like everyone, I can conjure up instant images of them. However, living in PR, I had not bunnies to chase around or even look at. We had lizards. Lots and lots of lizards. Anoles are just not that evocative. The first time I saw an Eastern Cottontail rabbit pop out of the forsythia bushes on the Ithaca College campus, I freaked! Here is a reenactment. Just this tall awkward guy squatting over some grass and clapping his hands saying....

BUNNNY! EEEEE! YAY!

I think someone might have called Campus Safety upon seeing me. But, I got away. Quick as a bunny!

I don't know much about writing. Have you read what I post here? And I know even less about writing children's literature, but I can see the classics when they come across.

Watership Down never, ever talks down to its audience. For a book compiled from bedtime stories Richard Adams told his daughters, it never loses it edge, which is weird since it is book about rabbits-the iconic prey animal.

Imagine being one of his daughters and seeing this wonderful gift your father gave you. If your parents ever had some goofy character they threw around in stories and yarns then imagine Chambon* or El Culebron** becoming this modern classic. And then they made a movie. And an animated series. And they referenced it Donnie Darko, Lost, Gundam, and Wallace & Gromit. That George Lucas considered it one of his inspirations for the uber-mythology of Star Wars. That there are over 300 editions and it have never been out of print! Yeah, awesome! Thanks, dad!

People that are not into fictional universes often ask why would someone get so wrapped up in fake people and events like with Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, Doctor Who, or The Rocky Horror Picture show. There are as many answers as their are cult-classics and geek fests, but I always appreciate the amount of effort put into creating these fake universes. Great ones reflect our own real world and they should always invite another visit, whether it be through tons of crazy stuff happening in the background (ex., The Simpsons) or the mythology in Watership Down. Adams actually researched rabbits, discovering that wild bunnies live in a quasi-caste system with some dominant males ruling warrens. That the cutesy animals are actually vicious little fighters that can tear each other apart when fighting over food or mates. And that the bucolic imagery of rabbits living happily in the fields is false. Everything kills them.

The book portrays a group of English rabbits (The only rabbits in the world to actually live underground) that listen to the prophecy of one pipsqueak named Fiver. The group flees their home because Fiver feels it will be soon destroyed and then travel across the English countryside looking to establish a new colony. Realizing they are all guys (Do'h!), they try to find some female rabbits to populate the new home. Hilarity does not ensue. But we do get adventure, heroism, tragedy, and action!

Adams gives the rabbits the standard commando team breakdown. Of course, this probably wasn't as cliched back then, but you got: the tough one (Bigwig), the smart one (Blackberry), the leader (Hazel), the first lieutenant (Silver), the annoying one (Fiver), etc. He throws in a villain (General Woundwort) and disastrous uncontrollable events like dog attacks and farmers. He creates a dichotomy between domestic and wild rabbits. The band tries to free some domesticated females from the farm and, in a funny exchange, begin to fantasize about the dolled-up domesticated females with their ears that hang down or fluffy Angora fur! The rabbits have a language called Lapine which consists of a sort Hawaiian/Celtic, onomatopoeic jumble of letters. "Hrududu" means any man-made vehicle, "Silflay' for eating out in the open, and "Hlessi" for a rogue wandering rabbit. A true triumph the imagination.

Watership Down has a certain darkness to it, showing that nature, while adorable, is vicious. The rabbits believe in a sort of rabbit Robin Hood named El-ahrairah (Yeah, I can't say it either) who defied the Creator (Firth) and brought doom upon all rabbits In a take on the Judeo-Christian original sin concept, El-ahrairah's insubordination destroyed the equality of all creatures. Firth gave all the other animals unique attributes to better hunt and kill rabbits.

"For Firth has give the fox and the weasel cunning hearts and sharp teeth, and to the cat he has given silent feet and eyes that can see in the dark..."

Other children's literature would dismiss the sheer suffering of rabbits. We would know that the fox and weasel eat them, but our band will never say such things. It will be like Finding Nemo where the sharks are bumbling fools! Yay! Adams does not dismiss any of this. He does have Firth give the rabbits great speed and intelligence, but still hands them the shaft.

"All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you, digger, listener, cunning, prince with the swift warning."

I love the message and it sums up why I wish I had read this book as a kid. Kids will be "Sweet rabbits on adventures!" But as adults we can come back to this intelligent read and be soothed by the rabbit's travels, whether how saddening. So no matter who your enemies are (Foxes, bill collectors, rampaging robots, the landlord, your boss, Republicans, etc.), take a lesson from the rabbits and keep fighting because it will only enrage them more and, hey, you might even make it. Adams is not the first to write down such a philosophy. During the Spanish Civil War, author and bane of my existence during Spanish AP literature class, Miguel De Unamuno told a Nationalist leader, "You will win, but you will not convince." That same spirit lead the US civil rights era. I am sure everyone has heard or read the famous quote "It is better to die on your feet then live on your knees," which is often attributed to Emiliano Zapata. "The people united will never be divided," is a close second behind "Fur coat and cowboy hats aren't immune to tear gas!" when it comes to my favorite protest chants. However, Adams is the first time I have ever heard those words and been actually moved. It is one thing to get angry or challenged, but the rabbits pluck and determination just made me feel good.

I don't do the book justice. I get all lackadaisical when talking about things that I truly enjoyed. I am right now reading a phenomenal biography on Charles Schulz that I will share on the blog soon, and already I am struggling with the words. I hope you read the book or even check out the old 70's animated movie, which is up on You Tube. I have no idea who reads this blog, but if some random parent stumbles across this, maybe looking for the Transformers DVD or something, I hope that you get your kids to read this book. Some of said that the violence and darkness in it (especially the movie) are too much for kids***. We spend a lot of time as a society trying to hide ourselves from the ugliness in the world. Nothing makes me sadder or angrier then when someone says, "I don't watch the news because it is just so depressing." or "I don't get involved in politics." AAARRRGGGGHHH! It is so easy to dismiss things, instead of trying to understand and challenge them. The rabbits could have easily laid down and waited to be eaten by one of "the thousand." Instead they fought, challenging the role that the creator itself gave them. The book's biggest achievement is demonstrating that courage, compassion, and cunning exist in creatures most, incorrectly, view as cute and dumb.

PEACE!

*What my nephew calls his imaginary friend. I think it's supposed to be French. "Chambon, I am with zee Freeeencch Reziztanze!

**Some imaginary wrestle my mom would call herself when we played fight. It means the big snake, which is getting a bit to Oedipal for me.

*** Don't worry! The story has a marvelously happy ending! No joke, a bit realistic since even the pluckiest wild rabbit dies of old age at four years, but happy nonetheless!