Horace Greeley & My Large, Overeducated Brain
Go west, young man. UC English Double Grad Nick Story and yours truly are doing just so, much to the dismay of our families, loved ones, doctors, enemies, etc. What are you when your enemy leaves for the dry, inhospitable, early-summer desert heat? You’re nothing, slick. Your life is meaningless.
I’d be much too presumptuous to say this is a start of a trip blog (travelogue if you’re French or something), but if I have the energy, and time, and good stories to tell, I might write something here for my future enjoyment.
For example, I rediscovered a dream today I must have written in my phone while still in the clutches of sweet slumber. It reads:
Thu. Apr. 19. 5:01 am.
“Dream. colson whitehead reading.
friends and family. smoking weed
with cuz mike. he has a bed/desk
he can drive. skating with 212
chairs thru the streets. skatepark.
german band covers angry birds”
Groovy.
Current Location: Franklin, Michigan
Latest Meal: Crab cakes, scallops, salmon ravioli @ The Franklin Grill. (Thanks Mom & Dad!) Dietary restrictions force me to avoid too many good things, but I ordered this dish mainly for the ravioli because I rarely come across pasta without the standard cheese and tomato/cream sauce (stuff that’s tought for me to swallow right now). Scallops were great, but eating good pasta for a change was the treat I’d thought it’d be.
Where to: Columbus, Ohio, to pick up the Storied One and begin this journey. Then onto Mammoth Cave National Park and whatever else the South has to offer.
Funny Story: My cousin liked Prometheus. I told him what’s for. Also saw Extremely Californian Looking Kid at the restaurant and thought that this must be a good omen for the trip…our very own Hollister-wearing albatross.
The picture on the right is to tide you over until I can take some.
Chrislowski’s Digital Poem
Maybe I think the following because I’m a fiction writer, and therefore more closely tied to traditional print publication of stories and novels and the conventions of that medium, but poetry seems far more receptive to digitization than prose. Reading Marino’s A Show of Hands was the least enjoyable part of this week’s literature for me. Why do I feel this way?
Perhaps I feel that fiction, at its most elemental level, has a job to do: to tell a story. Even in the most plot-free works, I don’t think this expectation goes unfulfilled. Even something like Nicholson Baker’s The Anthologist, which is mostly the ruminations of its main character on poetry, music, life, anthologies, etc, tells some kind of story, offers some sort of glimpse into a life. Even if a certain fiction doesn’t do that, it might allow the reader to fill in the blanks herself, to provide her own story.
Nicholson Baker was Santa before Santa was cool.
Different ways of communicating prose have varied success in fulfilling fiction’s role. In The Anthologist, the light plot works. In The Hunger Games, a heavy, suspenseful plot works. In A Show of Hands, I don’t know if the hyperlinked fragmentation provided by its digital medium works as well. I guess someone could just as easily have the opposite opinion, but for me, the interface obtrusively interferes with my navigation and understanding of what story is trying to come out of this work. If I were more familiar with the interface or reading prose in this manner my feelings would be different.
However, interacting with the digital poems offered this week was a much more fluid, organic, good-feeling experience, and I want to attribute this to the lack of expectations I have for poetry. Again, I’m sure there will be more than a few poets who disagree with me, and I apologize for my ignorance, but I don’t pick up a poem with an expectation that it has an agenda. When I read poetry for the Cincinnati Review, I’ll rank a competently written poem based on whether or not it moves me in some way, or if I think the poem achieved what it has, individually, established and set out to accomplish – and that could be any number of infinite things or nothing at all. I have no problem with calling any of these digital poems “poems,” because (I’m using Brandon’s post as inspiration here), I see poetry and art as having a similar resistance to definition that fiction doesn’t have due to this job of storytelling. Oh, shucks. I’m back to definitions, aren’t I? Curses.
Click here if you think “Chrislowski” is the coolest nickname.
Click here if you think “Cool-lowski” is the coolest nickname.
Click here if you don’t care, and am sick of my antics.
Weeks of not posting are to be expected under the dreary, artificially lit dome of the blogosphere. But, as promised, here are the last five Disney songs…most certainly in a different order than I had originally intended.
5) Gaston – Beauty and the Beast
Villain songs. They’re what Disney does best. Gaston’s feature number in Beauty and the Beast is different from most. It’s not about how evil he is…or even about what he wants. No, Gaston’s song is a three-minute long wank to the burly Frenchman’s massive ego…and oh is it ever satisfying. He can pick up a pine bench holding three vapid French whores with one arm. Now that he’s grown, Gaston eats five dozen eggs…a day. Sixty fucking eggs. Screw that hairy guy, Gaston is a Beast. The amount of beer consumed during this sequence is on its own enough to make Gaston one of the best Disney songs of all time.
What it beat – Be Our Guest – I feel like Beauty and the Beast got screwed by this list. I swear both Belle and the titular song (as sung by Angela Lansbury, that fox) sit just outside the top 13. But Be Our Guest just doesn’t do it for me. Maybe it’s the fact Lumiere is the only character or inanimate object in the movie that really speaks with a French accent even though the movie is set in France. Maybe it’s just overplayed. Kudos to this film though. It has some great, great tunes.
4) Kiss the Girl – The Little Mermaid
Scenario time. Pop quiz, hot shot. You’re on a blind date with this smokin’ hot redhead. Everything’s going well, the problem is, she’s pretty quiet. From what you understand, she has laryngitis or something, but she might just be really shy. In spite of that, you really dig her…and you can tell my the way she’s looking at you with those outrageously gigantic cartoon eyes that she’s in to you, too. So now you’re in a rowboat. It’s a beautiful night, and everything’s going your way. You just guessed her name! What are the chances of that? It seems fate has you destined for this woman, and all the while you can’t get this voice out of your head that keeps on saying Kiss The Girl.
But it’s the first friggen date. And your hot, mute, hopefully future lover can’t exactly give consent to the kiss. The last thing you want to do is swing for first base only to get countered with the awkward lean-away…or even worse, the cheek. What do you do? You could be Cassanova, or you could be a creeper. What do you do?
I love this part of the Little Mermaid because there are actual stakes to this kiss outside the romance. Ursula’s Mermaid to regular-maid spell can only be broken by true love’s kiss. If that doesn’t happen, Ariel turns into once of those spermy looking dudes inside her cave. Sebastian and the sea-creatures know this, so they want to see some saliva swapping. BUT, think for a second. A kiss at this point in the film would probably be more out of lust than anything else. It’s only after Ariel and Eric fight Ursula that the true love sparks fly.
What it beat – Under the Sea – Can’t really say much other than Kiss the Girl is a better song, has more to do with the plot, escalates beautifully, and enjoys the wonderful dash of oddity that comes with a bunch of fish and frogs that are really, really interested in two people making out. Under the Sea is still great, though, and contributes to what’s probably my favorite Disney movie for music.
3) Poor Unfortunate Souls – The Little Mermaid
Top three, top three. We stay with The Little Mermaid and look at Ursula’s delightfully evil temptation of Ariel to give up a trait which defines her in order to fulfill a childish love fantasy. Critics bash Little Mermaid as typical Disney gender-stereotyping, but Poor Unfortunate Souls does much to topple that argument. First, Ursula goes about her evil ways under the guise of helping people. Imagine how screwed you would be if you had a magical octopus-lady to make all your sick and under thought fantasies come true. As far as intelligent manipulators go, Ursula is a pro. Meanwhile, Poor Unfortunate Souls starts the story in motion through which Ariel transforms herself from a spoiled brat who has everything but still wants more to a true heroine who saves her father and rids the sea of its most dangerous calamari. What do you get in this song? Magic potions, evil laughs, a catchy waltz of a beat, and a mind-blowing (in a “how did this get past the cutting room floor” way) fade/cut away from the quivering of Ursula’s ample bosom. Nice.
What it Beat – Part of Your World – But who cares? No big deeeeeal. I want MOOOOOOOOORE! What’d you call ’em? Oh, feet…
2) HellFire – The Hunchback of Notre Dame
She will be mine or she will burn. Damn. Though Count Frollo isn’t one of the best known Disney villains, he may have the best story. Clearly, this guy loves sex way to much to be priest. But, back a few hundred years ago in France, you needed to be clergy or royalty or rich upon rich to have any power at all. Wanting power, Frollo chose the life a priest, with stringent behavior rules that he’s obviously having a tough time with. His answer to his temptation marks him as a man of pure evil. He’s not going to fight it or even give in…he’s going to eliminate it. Screw the gypsy woman. Be mine or burn, wench. Damn. That’s some Grade A, black-hearted shit. Hellfire sounds like a church hymn Lucifer himself decided to compose. Dancing naked lady flames as Frollo sings about his lust are much, much too risqué for normal Disney fare…which makes it even more special.
What it Beat – Every Aladdin song – A Whole New World and Prince Ali are okay, but the rest of Aladdin is the Genie being goofy and other forgettable numbers.
1) Be Prepared – The Lion King
Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure Scar is one of the few Disney villains to actually murder a major character onscreen. Lemme think. Jafar kills no one. Gaston? Nope. Ursula? Just some fish. I think Frollo kills Quasimodo’s mom but it was nowhere near as first degree as Scar’s premeditated offing of Mufasa. Does Shan Yu kill anyone important, because Scar admits in this song his clear intention to kill his brother and his young son. Anyway, Scar is a bad, bad kitty. And his villain song is awesome. Jeremy Irons actually sings a few bars before the sound alike steps in at the end. The hyenas turn into goose-stepping Nazis. And all the while, Scar’s volcanic lair is literally erupting around him…and he doesn’t give two shits about it. In fact, he rides a giant stone precipice as it rises from the molten earth without missing a beat, and without the slightest regard for how he’s going to get down. That’s dedication a murderous plot. Did you ever notice that Whoopi Goldberg’s hyena has a hint of Whoopi hair? Good times.
What it beat – Everything – Because it’s the vilest and most outrageous of all the Disney songs…and Scar isn’t just talk. He murders his own brother with his Lion hands hours after gleefully singing about it. Wow.
Top 13 Disney Animated Feature Film Songs
A top 10 list? Oh, Kos. How low you’ve stooped. Hey, shove it. It gives me a chance to listen to some excellent Disney tunes and tell you why many of the more popular songs can’t hold a candle to these classics. So grab your sing-a-long VHS and don’t choke on that popcorn. It’s nostalgia time.
13) Heigh-Ho! – Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
This list will be highly biased towards 90s Disney, because that’s my jam. But you can’t deny the dwarfs. Just look at that mine — Lil’ John ain’t got nothing on these seven. The walls are made of bling. I can only imagine this is what the American West looked like before greedy westerners spoiled it forever. Caves of diamonds. I’d whistle while I work too if one swing of my trusty pickaxe could harvest rocks the size of my fist. Diamond sink, diamond john, diamond dog, diamond lawn.
What it beat – Someday my Prince Will Come – It’s the 21st century, Ms. White! You don’t have to wait anymore. Prince is available in most music stores and by affordable Mp3 download.
12) Savages – Pocahontas
I like war songs. The Imperial March comes to mind. I also like how people give Disney crap for being racist or sexist or whatever and then when they make a movie specifically to make up for their questioned past, folks still find issues. Savages is a great song because it describes the mutual hate and ignorance and human failings that lie at the root of virtually all war. A lack of communication and understanding in which both sides refuse to recognize they hate each other for the same reasons. Yet, this song was deemed too offensive and had some lines rewritten to have an evil 1600s Indian killer actually say the word “diverse.” I think it’s a more egregious offense to assume people like that would understand the concept of racial diversity…after all, the whole point of the song from the antagonist’s point of view is about how the Natives aren’t people so its okay to kill them.
What it beat – Colors of the Wind – Oh, synesthesia. Talk to the victims of tornadoes or forest fires that used to burn 10% of the country every year about what colors the wind can be.
11) I Wanna Be Like You – The Jungle Book
Jazzy. Another theme you’ll see in this countdown is sinister characters trying to get the good guys to bend to their will via song. Louie’s song is so good, even Balloo joins in, completely forgetting he’s supposed to be saving young Mowgli from the ape’s clutches. And c’mon, who doesn’t want to be people? We have air conditioning… and fudgecicles…and porn.
What it beat – Bare Necessities – I actually like this song. Balloo is one my favorite Disney characters. He just loves a beat. But I Wanna Be Like You is more hip. And hip is in.
10) Everybody Wants to Be a Cat – The Aristocats
I guess cats don’t want to be people. Why? Well, there are cat people and dog people. I get that. But ask yourself honestly now — would you rather be a cat or a dog? Answer: dogs have masters, cats have staff. You’d be a cat. You don’t want to chase your tail, roll in feces, slobber all over the place. You want to be lazy, shit inside where its warm, and not give a fuck. That’s what cats do best. This song is cool as a cucumber then crescendos with a beat that literally brings down the house. Cats are jazz. Dogs are…well…
What it beat – The Siamese Cat Song, Lady and the Tramp – Yikes.
9) Zero to Hero – Hercules
What does gospel music have to do with Greek Mythology? Don’t matter, cause this song is bumpin’. Great pun on ‘Grecian Urn” too. Keatstastic. Again, another song that really turns it on during the last third. Hercules! Hercules! Those muses can serenade my montage any day. Whodathunk!?
What it beat – Go the Distance – It’s not a bad song…but it’s a pretty standard “I want more” self-motivation tune the protagonists in so many Disney movies sing. You won’t find many of those on this list. Please don’t hate me.
8) I’ll Make a Man Out of You – Mulan
First off, Donny Osmond. Yeah. Instant classic. Second: this song is a lot like Savages. Well, it’s not evil…in fact it’s quite fun and is more of summary of Mulan’s experience in the male-only military. But, it has a similar depth. The Prince offers a lot of sound advice in this song. Strength, character, cunning, training, dedication, yadda yadda. Only thing is, at this point in the film he believes only men are capable of all that. Good thing Mulan is there to prove women can also kick Hun ass. The Prince learns this and it completes his character arc. Good times. This song also respects the ultimate force of mother nature. Rain, typhoons, and fires to be exact. Score one for environmental awareness.
What it beat – Reflection – Christina Aguilera? I guess its servicable…but what song are you gonna belt out in the shower later tonight? That’s right. It’s all Donny baby. TIME IS RACING TOWARDS US!
7) Circle of Life – The Lion King
Don’t you wish the first thirty seconds of this song played when you woke up each morning? How many second and third cups of coffee could I have passed on because I had Circle of Life to greet me upon my slumber’s termination. Maybe I’ll download it to my phone and use it as alarm. And now I’m wondering why I didn’t think of that 17 years ago. Yes, you heard me. 17 years. We are all old and slowly dying.
What it beat – I Just Can’t Wait to Be King – Young Simba is the biggest little shitstain in any Disney film – Hakuna Matata – Translated loosely into English, Hakuna Matata means “Fuck it.” I’m serious. Listen to the song. If Disney would have just been plain with us, HK might have been number one.
6) How Do You Do? – Song of the South
Have you heard of Song of the South? Maybe not, because I don’t think Disney has ever released it on VHS or DVD. Understandable, I guess, because it sort of turned a blind eye to that whole evil part of slavery…yeah. Oops. Tough to defend racial insensitivity aside, How Do You Do? is an amazing song which you can hear while riding Walt Disney World’s Splash Mountain…a log flume ride based on Song of the South. It’s like It’s a Small World if it was good. You’ll either be whistling it later or damning my soul to the deepest circles of hell.
What it beat – Zip-A-Dee-Do-Dah – A decent song, but it’s a travesty that ZA-3D became a veritable anthem for the Disney Empire while How Do You Do? was lost to history. It’s catchy, but it won’t infect you and bury into your soft tissues like HDYD will.
…Stay tuned for the Top Five!
Kos’s Book Club: Trophy
Have you seen a better cover?
Vada Prickett is a corpse.
In University of Cincinnati Professor Michael Griffith’s latest novel, the old cliché is true — just before you die, your life really does flash before your eyes. What you see, however, is less a clip-show of greatest hits than a marvelously interminable cavalcade of digression, punctuated by puns, golf, and unrequited love.
Vada, a nearly-thirty South Carolinian car wash “hose associate,” orphaned on the cusp of adulthood, is still waiting for his life to start. Unfortunately, the something Vada has been waiting for takes the form of his neighbor and lifelong rival Wyatt Yancy’s giant, taxidermy’d grizzly bear trophy crushing him to death. In the few seconds before poor Vada bleeds out, we get his story — hilarious, tragic, and for those of us similarly waiting for that “adult” part of our lives to kick in, a tad frightening.
Griffith’s command of his prose rivals a Rory McIroy wedge from 100 yards. Phrases don’t just turn, they Salchow. The world is Griffith’s reference, and he plunges his lines to remarkable depths given their consistent hilarity, Hush-Puppy homeyness and Shawn Johnson cuddly-ness. He’s Shelby Foote if he did pop culture. Readers quickly understand that they’re dealing with a superior mind, but never think twice about the author’s gentlemanly hospitality. You might not understand a particular reference, but that will never push you away.
Trophyis a novel about letting go — but also being able to grab onto something else before you fall all the way down. The untimely demise of his parents hangs over Vada as he struggles to keep the memory train a-moving to thwart death just a moment longer. We see him make progress towards moving on, but the tragedy of the book is Vada’s inability to
Frickin' Cute
grasp the next thing and the realization that, for Vada, perhaps there would have never been a next thing. After all, it’s Wyatt’s literal letting go of the Bear as he and Vada move it into Wyatt’s lavish trophy room that seals Vada’s fate. While Wyatt’s trophy does the deed, Vada’s own trophies — the memories of his parents, his shortcomings, his failures that he’s refused to discard — lead him to the slab.
Much like US!, Griffith organizes Trophy into short chapters, which fragments the book into flashes of memory, short anecdotes strung together, and superfluous asides. Though Griffith is sure to apologize for wasting the reader’s time, these digressions often harbor the most poignant and funny observations he has to offer. Vada himself is the relatable blend of lovable and loathsome, and by novel’s end, Griffith portrays the memory of baking cookies and a game of Scrable with the woman of Vada’s dreams with profound intimacy. The expiration date on that moment makes it all the more beautiful. Darla, Vada’s love, must return to her fiancée — who is of course Vada’s rival Wyatt, and Vada must die…remember, it is the first line of the novel. Griffith reminds us of life’s brevity and, thus, how truly precious it is.
And that’s what I took away from Trophy. It really is a celebration. If poor Vada can offer us a life story of humor, love, and humanity, certainly there’s hope for the rest of us.
He holds still. And then still isn’t something he has to hold.
Next time: Portnoy’s Complaint by Philip Roth
Kos’s Book Club: US!
Tony was driving — he had his father’s old four-door Plymouth Valiant — so it was me in the backseat with Upton Sinclair.
Couldn’t bring myself to open Atlas Shrugged. Instead, I cracked this 2006 novel from incoming University of Cincinnati professor Chris Bachelder, the author who finally put an end to the age-old debate: who would win in a fight between a bear and a shark.
Everyone’s favorite turn-of-the-20th-century muckraker, Upton Sinclair, is alive — resurrected for the umpteenth time to reignite the socialist fire in the bellies of the American working class. But this ain’t 1906, and Upton has a whole different kind of jungle to deal with, populated by professional hit men hell-bent on seeing him and the American Left wiped out…and cashing in on the resultant fame and fortune. Luckily for our perpetually-pursed-lipped crusader, America’s underground socialist network is willing to lend a hand keeping him in relative safety. But, ever the optimist, Upton is convinced that the revolution is close at hand, and his supporters can’t keep the old muskhound off the pulpit for long.
Those familiar with Bear v. Shark will recognize Bachelder’s penchant for short chapters borrowing from a grab bag of media sources from poetry to Amazon.com user reviews. About 2/3 of US! is more or less divided this way in a section entitled Resurrection Scrapbook. The last third of the book is a more straightforward narrative focusing on The Greenville Anti-Socialist League Fourth of July Book Burning which youngster Greenville resident Stephen volunteers to organize — only to become entranced when he actually reads one of Upton’s newest novels slated to meet the town’s patriotic fire.
The back cover blurb had me expecting that Bachelder was going to draw all guns against the American Right — and so it had me a little nervous. But Bachelder pulls off a very touching, often hilarious book that can be enjoyed across the political spectrum. You can’t help but sympathize with Upton, whose dogged persistence and unwavering conviction that his next novel will finally turn the tides of social justice in America frames him somewhere between a stalwart tallship captain and a naive puppy. Stranger still is our willingness to forgive the residents of Greenville, as violent and single-minded as they are, for succumbing to a status-quo involving the celeb-worship of the latest Upton assassin and setting books on fire. As absurd as they are, we see ourselves in Bachelder’s characters, and that’s a mark of great satire.
Maybe it’s a personal preference for plot, but the narrative segments of US! stood out as exceptional for me. The humanity in these parts — which Bear v. Shark lacked much of the time, though that was probably the point — rang true. Upton is striving for his American Dream of changing the American Dream, and damned if we don’t want to see him succeed, even though part of us may feel like putting a bullet in him too…or at least something to stop him from trying so hard after his terrible 70th novel is no better and no closer to changing anything than his 69th than his 68th and so on.
Writers should definitely read US! …as it shows us, or at least me, our biggest fear — that our work will cause people to shoot at us and we won’t have enough sense to stop. US! offers solace in its hint that such an endeavour, though idiotic and suicidal, may be just a bit honorable…though perhaps I’m just desperately grasping for validation.
With spades and hoes and plows, stand up now / Stand up now, Diggers all.
Next Time: Trophy by Michael Griffith
The Machinist (2004)
Oh, good for you! And how was it?
Z? Fuck, I'm terrible at this.
A step back into the past (which incidentally was the height of my movie review days) with the Christian Bale Starvation Diet Hour. You too can have the BMI of a stick insect. All it takes is not eating anything at all followed by a marinade of 2 to 3 hours in your own sense of self-entitlement.
For some reason I always thought the Machinist was a POW movie. Wrong, sir. It actually is quite, quite similar to Black Swan — except whereas Black Swan had ballet and Mila Kunis, The Machinist had industrial accidents and Jester from Top Gun.
Christian Bale is crazy and he does crazy things. The movie becomes something of a train wreck in very slow motion — but not those exciting real train wrecks where the metal twists in all sorts of unbelievable ways and you get that sense in your diaphragm like you’re witnessing the closest thing we can get to an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. No, the Machinist is like a toddler repeatedly smashing two plastic toy trains together. Nothing much happens that you couldn’t predict from the preliminary collisions. What you get before long is a bunch of noise from a kid who’s just trying to get your attention. Once I got beyond the shock of Skeletor Bale, the film didn’t have much to offer.
Black Swan ran into a similar problem that The Machinist did — though I thought Arronofsky did a better job of distracting me from it. Movies about crazy people have the potential to be real snoozers — even if the afflicted turn radical or murderous. The issue here is motivation. You get a scene with Bale that could be easily handled by any person with even the most tenuous grasp of reality. Bale comes in with his deepening madness and screws it up. This scenario gets repeated, and repeated, and before long you’re laughing as Bale overracts and the extras have to find yet another face to express shock and confusion that was unlike their previous dozen.
Black Swan gives its crazy protagonist a very specific goal — to become and to hold onto the role of Swan Queen. Even when Natalie Portman’s character makes poor decisions due to her madness, viewers get the sense that within her crossed wiring is a logic that makes sense — at least to her — in her pursuit of achieving that goal. Bale’s motivation in The Machinist is entirely within his subconscious. The mystery his character sets off to solve is never a mystery, and the reveal of the source of his chronic insomnia at the end comes far to late to hold any emotional impact. Bale’s character becomes predictably crazy, and any sort of investment we may have made in him fades away as we realize that his journey in this film is a straight, inevitable, tiring march to the bottom.
The Bottom Line: This is Sussudio, a great, great song, a personal favorite………………..C+
Kos’s Book Club!
Horray for books. I have three things I want to accomplish this summer
regardless of my employment status.
1. Rewrite Fluffers, my latest screenplay.
2. Write at least one (decent) short story.
3. READ!
I officially love Amazon since it started offering free shipping to students. It’s like those Scholastic Book Catalogues for grown-ups, or in my case sort-of-grown-ups.
So I’ve devised a schedule so y’all can follow along at home. Of course these will be accompanied by gripping Koscommentary — It’ll make you salivate! Join me as I try to become less under read.
June 26: Atlas Shrugged – Ayn Rand – Tried to read it last summer. Failed. Trains are fucking boring. BUT. The movie is out, and didn’t do so hot, so I want to read the book so I can see how badly they muddled it up. You know it’s gonna be on Netflix. Plus, Dan from The Broshack will finally be off my back about it. I have a long flight to and fo Las Vegas to knock this one out. Horray for reading about outmoded transpo while riding on modern transpo. (Don’t tell my Mom I’m belittling trains)
July 3: The Hill Road – Patrick O’Keefe – Patrick taught my winter creative writing class and he taught at Michigan when I was there. I’ve had his book for months but haven’t gotten to it with all the required reading. A series of novellas, fairly short. Should be a nice Change O’Pace from John Galt’s 100 page speech.
July 10 – Script Week! I have procured through late-nite shady deals and selling my precious bodily fluids on the black market two yet-to-be-produced scripts from screenwriters I admire. If I haven’t started Fluffers work yet, these should give me the boost.
July 17: Portnoy’s Complaint – Philip Roth – Comes on recommendation from a friend. Masturbation comedy — which is something I want to stress more in Fluffers. (When John Patrick Shanley tells you to concentrate on the porn, you concentrate on the porn).
July 24: Pastoralia – George Saunders – Contains my favorite short story (Sea Oak) that features a World War II air-combat themed male strip club and an old lady that reanimates after death. Great stuff. I gotta have more Saunders.
July 31: Spikes – Michael Griffith – Michael taught my fall workshop and is one of the nicest folks I’ve ever met. His family is awesome and his commentary astounding. Glad I’ll finally get the chance to read one of his books like I should have long ago.
August 7: The Crying of Lot 49 – Thomas Pynchon – Though I am oodles dumber than most everyone I know, I stick out my chest and hold my head high when people pronounce his name Pinch-in. I know it’s Pinch-on…(rhymes with Cray-On!) from his Simpson’s appearance. Of course, I had no idea who they were talking about when I first viewed that episode.
August 14: Self Help – Lorrie Moore – At the bar one night I drunkenly wrote BUY LORRIE MOORE BOOK on my cell phone’s notepad application. I always listen to drunk Kos — though you probably shouldn’t.
August 21: The Myth of You and Me -Leah Stewart – Also my workshop professor, and also went to Michigan! It’s like I’m in their MFA program! Take that, rejection letter! I beat the system. Looking forward to Leah’s work, and hopefully buying her novel will bring me good karma for my novel workshop next week.
August 28: Sixty Stories – Donald Barthelme – Time to get ramped up for another year at Cinci. DB will lead the charge. Story Time Motherfucker. PROSE-OWN’D.
September 4: The Mezzanine – Nicholson Baker – Read The Anthologist this quarter. Really liked it. Baker came to read at Cinci. Excellent stuff. Squeef Corntoasty will ride again in his first novel.
And that’s it. Short summer. Should be good times. Hopefully I’ll learn a few things about writing. And Fluffers 2.0 will get written if it kills me.
ABC TV in 3D Week
Short post today. A question actually.
Does anyone remember ABC TV in 3D week? I’m fairly sure I can. I remember you could pick up glasses from Wendy’s or somewhere and all the primetime comedy shows were in 3D. I distinctly remember Home Improvement because they did all sorts of wacky 3D stunts during Tool Time. The 3D, I think, was fairly good. Much better than I expected for the small screen.
I don’t think it was Red-Cyan 3D either. It was legit 3D.
Ah! I found the Home Improvement clip.
So they are wearing Red-Cyan glasses, but I swear we had clear 3D glasses at home. I could be wrong, though.
But if I’m not wrong, how did they make a 3D effect? Why do I need to buy a special 3D tv today? I assume the 3D technology is different/better, but is the only way to do 3D on a non-3D TV with the Red-Cyan? If not, have we all been swindled?
Wigsnap, Apologies
Blogging is so hard. It takes me so long to write things.
I was commenting on Lisa’s blog when I discovered I’ve had some semi-interesting people cut my hair over the years.
1. Mel – Beatnik, long hair, wore sunglasses inside. Cut my Dad’s hair and therefore cut my hair probably from age 4 to age 14 or so. Stack of Playboys in the corner of the shop. Always scared to look at them with my Dad there/older dudes. Some would look at them while they were getting cut and I’d sneak glances. My Dad stopped taking me to him after he got suspicious Mel was getting drunk on the job and giving bad cuts. Good times. I remember he often had golf on the TV. It was here my love affair with the Masters most likely began.
2. Joe. Older guy. Really deep voice. I liked Joe because he worked in a walk-in place so I didn’t have to call ahead. His shop had toys, and his name was on the glass above his chair. Went to Joe until I was 17ish? My parents didn’t like him because he supposedly gave me a “little boy’s cut.” Okay?
3. Vikki, “The Russian Temptress” My current barber. Russian. Sexy accent. Sexy sexy. Cute daughter a year younger than me who moved to Oklahoma to work in the Oil Industry. Shit. Could’ve been a rich house husband. Vikki tells me stories about wild parties and what it was like in the “old country.” She works at Franco Colombo’s Barber Shoppe…which coincidentally is in the same place Mel used to work before he moved into his own building. Franco is an older Italian guy who answers the phone “FRANCOOOOOOOOO” when you call for an appointment. Big time accent. If I get married, if Franco is still around, I’m coming back to get me haircut by Vikki and have Franco give me a straight-shave. NOW I’M A MAN.
Though I live in southern Ohio, I have yet to get my haircut here. I can’t betray Vikki. She loves me too much. And I her. Franco has Dum-Dum lollipops at the front and I always take one when I leave.
Now, apologies are in order. I should be posting more. I’m not lazy, though. I’m just incapable of doing short posts. This must be remedied. The work just keeps piling up.
Good news everyone. The Broshack is back. If you don’t know what that is, you soon will. This means for all of you itching to touch the political lion crouched and ready to strike within my very soul, you will soon get that chance. If my conservo-libertarianism offends you, be pleased that I will continue to try to keep Kozmopolis as politics-free as possible. And stop being offended. There’s only so much life ahead of you, and odds are if you’re offended at a given time you are probably not enjoying its finer points…like ice cream, orgasms, new car smell, skipping through a spring rain, snuggling, and ketchup.
Kozmopolis 
