"Death to the Death of Poetry"

An interesting essay by Donald Hall.

Link via blog of a bookslut.

Go Vote

for family favorite HAVERCHUK to be the MKE blog of the week.

As If You Needed Another Reason to Love the Internet

I just discovered this link on the Discovery Chanel Website.

While you're at it, go listen to Panda Panda Panda by Deerhoof.

And check out Panda Go Panda, which features the talents of Hayao Miyazaki.

"the postreading generation"

Barbara Ehrenreich has a funny and frightening article about "how to succeed in business"-type books in today's NYTBR. Interestingly, one of the main features of these books is their, er, terse language.

The few words that do appear in these books are likely to be bolded, bulleted or boxed. Lists are unavoidable. ''Now, Discover Your Strengths'' includes a list with 34 possible strength-related ''themes,'' from ''achiever'' to ''maximizer'' to ''woo.'' Chapters are often embedded with simple exercises you can perform at home, like this one from ''Secrets of the Millionaire Mind'': ''Place your hand on your heart and say . . . 'I admire rich people!' 'I bless rich people!' 'I love rich people!' 'And I'm going to be one of those rich people too!' '' In some cases, the author seems ready to abandon print altogether, ending the book with instructions to visit his Web site, purchase his nonbook products or attend his motivational seminars (and they are, in the current batch of business success books, always ''his''). For members of the postreading generation, ''How Full Is Your Bucket?'' and ''The 8th Habit'' tuck in a convenient CD.

I've always wondered about books like Who Moved My Cheese? When Lorelei and Rory take a little trip to Harvard in The Gilmore Girls, there is a moment when Rory, stunned by the size of the school's library, laments that she'll never read all the books in the world. Lorelei promptly reminds her that she can skip books like Tuesdays With Morrie and Who Moved My Cheese? I've never read either, and I can't say I've ever really wondered if I'm missing something. But Ehrenreich's survey makes me suspect that there's some corrollary between these books and the popularity of FOX news and right-wing radio. I mean, Who Moved My Cheese is no "Richard Cory."

Missy, My Idol

The video for "Lose Control" is a mish mash of the sandy desert, gritty industrial materials, marionette-like dance moves, prairie dresses shimmying amidst grainy blinky-blink early film era flickers, black-light dancing, and an oscillating, tingly loop that makes one feel as though Missy is playing their own spine like some post-modern xylophone. First she's buried in sand, then she's rising out of it like a hip-hop Persephone, then she's holding a puppy (who I think is her "baby" -- a yorkie named Poncho) , then she's shaking it like a polaroid picture.

I *LOVE* HER. And, I hope she cleans up at the VMA's. Like P. Diddy and the Beastie Boys, Missy is putting her name on something you can wear. Yeah, I'm totally buying some of those.

The Perks of Being a Writer in Residence

One of my "jobs" this summer has been to copy hours and hours of video footage from readings and lectures and Q+A's that have occurred in these here parts to DVD. Most of the tapes are old and crusty. Adjectives some people are eager to apply to academia.

The tapes, however, are very interesting. And occasionally I'm amazed by how much and how little the "climate" of readings seems to have changed in the last couple of decades.

For example:

In a q+a from 1989, Margaret Atwood says that it took her 25 years to write Cat's Eye* She takes milk in her coffee. She seems rather bored with the whole q+a routine, probably because everyone is too afraid to ask real questions. She expresses extreme interest in going to see Ralph, the famous swimming pig. And she signs books. No electronic signatures in 1989.

Her fee today would be at least three times our annual budget. All the more reason to preserve the footage, I suppose.

*I highly recommend this book. The writing is fantastic. Moreover, like the wicked stepsisters, Cordelia is one of the original mean girls. But be warned: you'll never look at a ravine the same way again.

**Stay tuned for details re: Stanley Fish, John Barth, Sharon Olds, Hugh Kenner, and James Dickey (from 1979!).

This is a fascinating article about Hiroshima and Nagasaki .

K-MART Joins the Club

Remember that rad Kim Wilde song called "Kids in America" (covered by the ever lovely The Muffs for the Clueless soundtrack)?

Well now its the backdrop for a new K-MART back-to-hell commercial. Gross.

Rock on, kids.

This Book Made Me Cringe: PLEDGED

Enter "the secret life of sororites" in Alexandra Robbins' book Pledged.







What happens when mean girls go to college?

I am still reeling from:

-"circle the fat": pledges are blindfolded and ordered to strip. Frat boys proceed to draw on their bodies with permanent marker. The pledges are then led into a room with a full length mirror and told to remove their blindfolds so that they can see the areas of their bodies that the frat boys determined were "in need of improvement." It's no wonder the plumber is such a frequent visitor to sorority houses -- pipes are frequently corroded by or clogged with vommit. Shocker: sorority houses are hotbeds for eating disorders.


- the racism that is not only tolerated but sanctioned by historically white sororities and fraternities in the South. Not too long ago, two white students at the University of Alabama burned crosses on the lawn when a historically black fraternity tried to move into a house on "fraternity row."

- the sexism: everything in sorority life revolves around men. EVERYTHING. Girls receive recognition and special ceremonies when they get "pinned" or "engaged," but can expect little more than a bag of chips for having the highest GPA. Date rape is not uncommon. Nor is gang rape, affectionately referred to by frat brothers as "specs" (short for spectator).

- the classism: better be rich -- dues range from several hundred to several thousand dollars. This doesn't include the cost of tickets, clothes, alcohol, drugs, or gifts that sisters are expected to buy.

- the homophobia: forget the fact that so many of the "rituals" in greek life are rife with homoerotics, homosexuality is frowned upon by many in the greek system.

- the hazing: goes beyond humiliation and into the territory of organized, systematized cruelty. It's an ugly, ugly world.

- the overall risky behavior: extreme promiscuity and drug use help girls appear "cool" and "fun."

- the DEATHS: every year kids die during dangerous hazing practices. And you can bet your bottom dollar that many others must come dangerously close.

UPDATE: Check out this thread at the Greek Life Forum.

Annoying Boy of the Week: Wes from the Real World is a Really Wretched Weasel

WES IS A PIG*

We haven't watched the Real World regularly since it was in London, and then it was mostly because I thought Oxford punker boy Neal was hot. But this season the show is in Austin, and since we live here, it seemed like it would be interesting to tune in.

But it wasn't interesting. It was embarrassing. I mean, this show is boring (and you know we have an iron stomach for MTV offerings). In fact, the only thing we've gained by watching this crap is another boy to loathe. And we are not alone.

When I've tried to imagine what old W was like as a youngun, I've pictured a gangly monkey (in a diaper) with a needle hanging out of his arm and swinging from a chandelier. Wes is sort of close to that. He is smug, entitled, and mean. A real chauvinist pig. It was his idea to keep a drawer full of girls' phone numbers so that he and the other male cast members could dip into it any time they need to assert their virility (I still can't believe that there are any women willing to hook up with these people). Ironically, however, he feels compelled to "warn" one of his female roommates when he finds out one of the men she is seeing is only going out with her "because he can." Never mind that he's doing the same thing to as many women as possible! He's just that stone age. A real bam-bam. I kept looking for a club. And I just know that there is going to be a pissing contest before the season wraps.

Check out some excerpts from his roommate q + a:

1. Why did you audition for The Real World?

I auditioned at first because I was trying to hook up with a girl. I went to the open call plastered and trashed everyone in the bar. Who would have known?

2. Describe a typical day in your life, pre-Real World.

Wake up at 4 (p.m.?). Stumble to class. Sit in back. Fall asleep. Lift weights. Party...Party...Party...

and

16. What's the one thing you want people to know about you after watching the show?

I am really into the entrepreneurial world and cannot wait to invest in my own business.

17. What's your favorite thing to do in Austin?

Go to Dizzy and dance with all the Austinite groupies. Also dancing with Johanna [another cast member] and making her rip her pants.

Charming. I don't know which is more horrifying: the fact that this asshole has "austinite groupies" or the creepy, implied violence in the phrase "rip her pants."

I'll end by noting that on the snippet of the last episode I watched, Wes got into the shower while two of his roommates were hooking up to, like -- y'know, be funny. What is wrong with this person??? Perhaps that whole hazing thing messed him up:

7. Before moving into The Real World house, what roommate experience did you have? Were you nervous about living with Seven Strangers?

One of my old roommates in my fraternity house got some pledge brothers together and taped me up with duct tape so I couldn't move, then poured hard alcohol down my throat.

So it could be that. But it's probably more likely that Wes is just an asshole. I'd call him a weasel** again, but I just don't think the weasel deserves it.

*My apologies to pigs of the world as well.
** And the above mentioned monkey don't deserve it either.

Find annoying boys of weeks past here, here, here, and here.

Life on the Night Side

Summer in Texas is hot. Very hot. And though we love to bathe in the oily humidity of the lazy south, the twilight respite and velvety night calm are especially comfortable. In summers past we were often too exhausted to properly enjoy this time, mostly because we had to wake up and go to work (ew!) early in the day. But this summer we are on our own schedule, a luxury so profound that we often have to pinch ourselves when, on the nightside of 8 in the morning, we are finishing up a scene for our novel or tweaking the poetry collection or watching the remains of an America's Next Top Model marathon. Skunk Hour indeed.

But we've noticed that life on the nightside isn't held in, er, the highest esteem. We won't go into details here, but we've seen the brief flicker of judgement in peoples' eyes when we confess the details of our schedule. Shame on all the judgers!!!!

So we take comfort in the fact that we are not alone. We have our Nocturnal Comrades, both animal and human.

For example:

The Raccoon

Both the SB and my mother have a disdain for this creature. The SB had a micro-second showdown with one in the laundry room of our old apartment building, and just the other night my mother referred to these creatures as "scoundrels," and remarked that she "saw three raccoons on the side of the road and they looked just like a pack of bandits!!!"

I'll admit raccoons can be pesky, but they have those cute little masks! And their fluffy ringed tails? Adorable! And I think its cute that they sleep in the hollow trunks of old trees. We have a raccoon who has been raiding the bird feeder, and he even left a trail of seeds in the driveway! This creature is now knows as "the greeeeeeedy raccoon." Plus, on one episode of Little House on the Prairie, Laura decides to try to keep a raccoon as a pet. She named him Jasper and he did this funny trick where he would peel a hard-boiled egg and eat it. Because this post is about happy raccoons, I won't recount how the episode ends.

The Opossum

Of course we prefer the spelling with an "O," because, y'know, why leave out an "o" if you don't hafta? And we love animals with pouches. A mama will also carry her babies on her back, and if you've ever seen this then you know it is pretty cute. And they have prehensile tails! Once, we saw a pretty little ghostface possum roaming around in our back yard with -- get this -- a little cat friend. Really, they seemed quite amicable in the cat not attacking the opossum part. Poor little opossums -- they have a very high mortality rate, mostly because they are very placid and not into confrontation. Thus, they often lose. And who can't relate to that?

And we love this Emily Dickinson poem about the bat. And Wallace Stevens wrote about owls (see Owl's Clover and "The Owl in the Sarcophagus").

And plenty of peeps have kept our schedule. And though we do sleep, and therefore aren't technically insomniacs, if we were then we'd have company. Anyway, John Keats often wrote poems at night. And check out this Mina Loy poem. And BUFFY had to stay up to slay her nocturnal nemeses.

Of course we have many other night friends. And, truth be told, the best description of our schedule is probably crepuscular. But we're doing what we can to rehabilitate the reps of the noctunral crowd.

Please check out the website of my new favorite band

The Long Telegram

Fluffy Foodstuffs

You Are an Espresso

At your best, you are: straight shooting, ambitious, and energetic At your worst, you are: anxious and high strung You drink coffee when: anytime you're not sleeping Your caffeine addiction level: high

What Kind of Coffee Are You?

Veggie Pizza

Upscale and trendy. You're the most likely to go for a gourmet pizza. You have impeccable taste in everything. You truly enjoy the finer things in life.

What's Your Pizza Personality?

Shredicine is the Best Laughter

Hi, everybody!

Remember that episode of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" where Richard Lewis is trying to get Larry to help him be included in the next edition of "Bartlett's Quotations" ? Lewis insists that he is the original coiner of the phrase "the blank from hell" but nobody believes him. Well, I thought that episode was funny becase a) nobody can really claim credit for most of the really familiar quotations we use all the time, and b) that particular phrase ("from hell") is really played out and stupid.

Or so I thought. Because I have recently discovered the awesome heavy metal guitar instruction website, "Chops From Hell" (www.chopsfromhell.com). This, in my opinion, is the best thing on the internet right now.

First off, you've got the fantastic fire-and-brimstone graphix. Then, the fact that one of the contributors of columns about playing very speedy Van Halen-style guitar is a 55-year old lutenist-of-the-cloth, one "Father Stanislaus" who also goes by the name of "shreddingpriest." Finally, the plethora of short videos of hirsute bedroom rockers demonstrating their most fabulous hot licks. To me, this is better than any minimalist music composition I have ever heard.

I should confess that I grew up loving the shred. I worshipped at the altar of Yngwie J. Malmsteen, Paul Gilbert and David T. Chastain. I didn't like the lyrics, the screaming, or the spandex. But the widdly-widdly-widdly? Fantastique.

Recall that the seminal "philosopher of the baroque" Leibnitz used to love taking court ladies into the garden to observe the wild multiplicity and individuality of each leaf and butterfly. So too with the self-proclaimed "neo-classical" shredders of the 1980s (who imagined a classical music canon consisting only of J.S. Bach and Nicolo Paganini, a move which should be embraced by all because: 1) it would drastically reduce the stress caused by too many plaster "great-composer-bust" figurines on pianos, and 2) it would remove all of the crappy Russian composers from orchestra repetoires), and their intricate tapestries of howling digital aerobix.
The pleasures of apprehending the difference between the widdly-widdly-widdly and the widdly-widdly-wangily also causes corset-bursting waves of aesthetic bliss. I feel faint, Viscount Von Shreddingham!.

Tibetan Terrier

Wanna play?

BRAISED AND CONFUSED (or, too much wine in the braised broccoli I just made?)

Mark Bittman throws down


So, I was reading my brother's blog, haverchuk.blogspot.com, and I came across a very provocative statement. I could look it up and quote it verbatim, but where would the sloth be in that? Anyways, my brother was describing braising something, and said that he had conclusively decided that he was throwing down the gauntlet re: the Bitman vs. Batali braising debate (to brown or not to brown).

Whoa!

So I googled "Batali Bittman braising debate" and came up with only one match, something called "e-gullet." What in Sam Hill is that? Some folks were talking about a Mark Bitman article from the New York Times about braising in a slow cooker, but no details.

Mark Bitman is the "Minimalist" who writes for the NY Times. Sometimes he talks about food on NPR and comes across as something of an enfant terrible. Or eminence grise. I really don't know French. He said that green peppers suck, and that 24 hour marinades are for patsies. Holla!

Mario Batali is the highly eloquent and impassioned ambassador of Italian cuisine on the Food Network. He kicks serious booty in the Iron Chef America cook-offs.

It just seems weird to me that Bitman would ever be righter about something than Batali. Does that make me a monster?


so there

Carson McCullers

A very fluffy back to school shopping list

1.) Our lunchbox.

2.) Our books.

3.) Our pencils.

4.) Our crayons.

5.) Our student ID holder.

6.) Our bookbag.

yo!

Image courtesy http://www.kawaiigifts.com/home.html