Feeds:
Posts
Comments

I wish my brain had an OFF switch.

There are times when it just gets in the way. I mean it’s thinking. All. The. Time. Thinking thinking thinking. Every damned minute it’s filled with thoughts, memories, comparisons, evaluations, judgments, decisions.

And there are times when it’s a real pain in the ass.

One situation in which it really gets in the way is when I’m watching actors do something I know in great detail. You know what I mean. It’s that part of the movie where the star sits down to a keyboard and supposedly starts typing in code/prose like a savant, but you know–from the position of their hands or the regular stadium-wave pattern of their fingers–that they’re just frobnicating, mindlessly tippy-tapping the keys while they utter their lines.

I have the same problem with actors who “dance” ballet or “play” a musical instrument. Few actors can fake it well enough to fool me. Hell, few can fake it well enough for me to suspend my disbelief. Especially painful (for me) is when actors pretend to play a violin, viola, or cello. My decades as a concert violist and my knowledge of the instruments make the tiniest misstep a glaring error, and it just pops me right out of the story (like when a character in a story set in Victorian England says “Okay.” Arg!)

And so, it was with great trepidation that I queued up A Late Quartet, the story of which centers on the members of a world-famous string quartet. Continue Reading »

Unexpected Interest

Bath Abbey Fan VaultingSometimes, the word “interesting” isn’t enough.

This weekend past, as well as being sad, stressful, productive, lazy, and maddening, was also interesting.

It was the 31st anniversary of my wedding. It was the yahrzeit of the death of my wife’s mother. It was a weekend of plans, and of disrupted plans. It was a weekend with three reservations to the same restaurant, each one made and canceled in daily succession. It was a weekend of editing, rereading and rewriting my latest short story (“The Book of Solomon”), proofing it, polishing it, and then sending it off to a paying market.

It was also the weekend when I got an email from the Senior Librarian in Sumner, WA, asking if I’d be interested in participating in a panel, this October.

Yeah, “interesting” doesn’t really cover it.

Continue Reading »

When Bad Isn’t

In the world of Hollywood movies, the name Ishtar is synonymous with flop.

Ishtar, Elaine May’s 1987 version of a “Road to Morocco” type movie, stars Warren Beatty and Dustin Hoffman, and when it came out, it was an unmitigated flop, recouping only $14M of its $55M price tag.

The press that preceded its release was so bad that, despite its star quality and Elaine May’s impressive credentials (A New Leaf, Heaven Can Wait, Reds, Tootsie), I never went to see it, never rented it, and never even considered buying it.

Then, yesterday, I found this 27-year old movie available for streaming on Netflix. Curious, I queued it up.

Continue Reading »

Tango with the Tiger

NikeLast weekend, the Seattle Times ran two opposing op-eds on the Amazon/Hachette contretemps. Frank Schaeffer wrote in favor of Amazon, while Nina Laden countered in favor of Hachette, creating a “debate” of sorts. I put “debate” in quotes because, from a purely debating standpoint, it was no contest.

Unfortunately, both pieces missed the main point.

Continue Reading »

I Don’t Want to Know

I know nothing about James Garner. And I want to keep it that way.

When I was young, I had several TV Westerns from which to choose:  Have Gun Will Travel, Branded, Bonanza, F Troop, The Rifleman, Rawhide, Gunsmoke, and Maverick, just to name a few.

By far, Maverick was my favorite, and James Garner was the reason why.

Later, when Mr. Garner showed up in a new series, The Rockford Files, I tuned in regularly.

Growing older, I looked farther back and found his movies, including Sayonara, The Great Escape, and my favorite, The Americanization of Emily (which I echoed in the title of my novella, The Revitalization of Emily).

In short, I was a fan.

Continue Reading »

Lately, the world has been getting on my nerves, and things that otherwise might roll off my back just…aren’t.

A friend posted a link to Rebecca Traister’s article in the New Republic:

I Don’t Care If You Like It
Women are tired of being judged by the Esquire metric

In it, Traister takes issue with an Esquire article lauding the beauty of 42-year old women. She goes on to take issue with other things as well, such as Marvel’s recent announcement that they’re going to introduce a female Thor, and Harry Reid challenging Mitch McConnell’s assertion that women have achieved parity in the workplace.

I’m not commenting on the article per se nor on the Esquire article when I say that it seems that a man can’t say anything positive about a woman that doesn’t get taken by some as an offense. The ultra-nuanced deconstruction of every comment males make about females is to a certain extent counter-productive, and if men complain (as I’m doing here), they often get lambasted, which is also counter-productive.

do get it. I get the fact that women don’t want to be judged solely by the “Esquire metric” (a metric that gets more and more difficult to achieve the older we get, thus pushing more and more women out of the “acceptable” range as they age). Esquire’s lauding gorgeous, 42-year old females for being, well, 42, female, and gorgeous, is merely applying the objectification standard to a non-standard bracket. I do not consider the Esquire article to be a “step forward” for women. But what about Marvel’s female Thor, which Wired magazine complains doesn’t go far enough? And what about Harry Reid giving Mitch McConnell hell on the topic of gender equity, which Traister says makes her feel “obligated to feel grateful”?

It’s as if we (men) can’t appreciate female beauty, can’t stick up for women, and can’t try to nudge the pendulum of social change in any way toward real gender parity, because whatever we do, it’s too little, too late. We’ve failed before we even start.

When you boil it down, heterosexual men are attracted to women, but there doesn’t seem to be a way for us to express that anymore.

My wife and I were both young and beautiful once (or so she tells me), but now after 30+ years, we’re both old and squidgy. She’s still beautiful to me, in so many ways, and yes, sometimes she doesn’t feel that it is so. Am I to wave her off with a dispassionate “Oh, come on. You know you’re beautiful”?

In my fifty-plus years, I’ve seen women’s issues and rights advance and improve. I’ve also seen plenty of setbacks. And, in a sort of reverse reaction, I’ve seen beauty standards applied to men in a way they never were before, and seen men become vainer and vainer in response. Yay, equality.

But my question is this: In an age where women are seeing their rights, freedoms, and even their safety curtailed by SCOTUS, politicians, and religious leaders, is it wise to slam the actions of those who are actually moving things forward or at least trying to do so? If we condemn the small steps because they’re small, we may never gain any ground at all.

k

Raku

What Once Was Lost

Lupine Hi-RiseI’ve never really been one who lost things. (Except for gloves. I used to lose gloves all the time.) And I’m especially good about computer files. After once losing the first three chapters of a novel, I got really strict about my file management methods.

So, back in the mid-Naughties, when I “lost” a handful of poems, I was pretty mad at myself. Granted, I had a couple of “vascular events” during that time, brought on by workload and stress, but still, I was disappointed. I mean, how can you “lose” a computer file? Luckily, I was able to recreate most of them from offsite storage, but a few were lost and gone forever.

Then, two days ago, while editing my latest short story, I noticed a folder in my “Writing” directory. The folder was labeled: Poetry.

Guess what I found in there.

Here’s one of them: Non-Euclidean Geometry

k

Chamomile