Surreal, near-'60s afternoon brings us to the park for basketball, brief hide-n-seek tag and a good bask in the sunlight.
Feb. 25-26
Plenty o' viewings this weekend:
*"The Secret of Roan Inish" -- what more could you want? Story-telling, redemption, remembrance and embrace of things past, and a child actress who doesn't make you wince. The scenery and the Donegal accents had me ready to book tickets.
*"Toy Story 2" -- shepherded the kids and two of their friends along for this, but was well-rewarded. Interesting venture into some sophisticated waters, i.e., the power of ego and attraction of immortality pulling at Woody as he considers going to the toy museum. Aw but, hey, it's all about great voice-overs from the likes of Wallace Shawn, Wayne Knight, even Kelsy Grammar.
*"What Dreams May Come" -- disappointing. I'd seen the ads, remembered the promise of Vincent Ward's earlier films. But only Jay Ward could've done anything with this script. Lovely to look at, but you'd probably be best served turning down the volume and reading from The Book of the Dead, or The Bible, or Dante's Inferno...you get the idea.
Feb. 24
So, OD and YD are now formally linked to our nation's banking system -- I suppose that's global banking system, really. And at an earlier age than I was, too. But then, I didn't get paid upwards of $8 an hour for babysitting.
Feb. 22
Recent musical acquisitions:
*"Cornerboys," by Patrick Street -- there is something so comforting about an album in which Andy Irvine sings. His voice is so utterly without affectation, a good, honest Irish voice -- especially on the likes of "Sweet Lisbweemore" (which also benefits from his saucy harmonica breaks). Oh yeah, Kevin Burke, Jackie Daly and Ged Foley are pretty damn good, too.
*"Infinite Blue," by the Poozies -- twin harps and piano accordion as melody instruments is compelling enough, but throw in Kate Rusby (whose exquisite "Sleepless" had me near tears first time I heard it) and this is a helluva ensemble. Highlights: "Neptune," with Kate's vocals backed by an otherworldly harp duet, and their Scandinavian set.
Feb. 19-20
Weekend marked by sledding -- thanks to a substantial snowfall on the 18th -- and early bedtimes for yours truly, sandwiched around a family viewing of "American Grafitti."
Feb. 18
This year, we're actually grateful that there's a February school vacation, given the complicated, exasperating nature of OD's friendships at the moment. If nothing else, the previous week has (hopefully) demonstrated to at least some of them that A) popularity is a myth powerful enough to launch a thousand potentially tragic and useless undertakings and B) none of them can do without parents or other benevolent adults in their lives yet.
Feb. 13-14
Abundantly low-key weekend to start, as kids and I take in Mystery Science Theater's "Atomic Brain" episode. But then harsh reality of pre-teen social dysfunction -- not ours, mind you -- asserts itself. Given the circumstances, however, it's a situation which evokes sympathy and concern, for the kid and family. Nothing is so cut and dried anymore, even when it comes to bullies.
Feb. 8
Rather late on this one, but yes, I must officially acknowledge my being kicked upstairs (literally) to the editor's office. Some day, when we manage to get our on-line Chronicle difficulties figured out, I'll post the link affirming this great watershed in journalistic history.
Feb. 7
OK, age-wise, I am the answer to the Riddle of the Universe as proposed by Douglas Adams. Thanks.
Feb. 4-5
*Weekend begins with fine satire, first with a middle-school performance of classic Greek myths retold at lightning pace with contemporary phrases and references, from "Whatever" to Adam Sandler impressions -- that featured our OD as a perfectly exasperated Cassandra. Next day, I find and borrow from local library a copy of Weird Al Yankovic's "Running with Scissors," highlighted not only by the much-discussed "Phantom Menace" capsulization but also the inspired "Polka Medley" of "Wannabe," "MMMBop!," "Walking on the Sun," et al. Weird Al: the Les Barker of rock 'n roll.
*Considerably less humorous was the viewing of "Once Were Warriors" -- a familiar tale, in many respects, of people cut off from their heritage who feel like economic and social immigrants in their own land. But that doesn't make the story any less compelling.
*Sunday evening, OD and I head off to suss out a session in Brighton. Only two folks there (a couple I'd met before; guitarist-vocalist and his girlfriend, who plays whistle, flute and sax), but we spent an enjoyable couple of hours playing the likes of "Back Home in Derry," "Ordinary Man," "Whisky in the Jar" and a few tunes. OD remarked afterwards that maybe she should learn "a Celtic instrument." Careful what you wish for, luv�
Feb. 1
Viewing: "The Nasty Girl" -- could have been a far more morose film, given the subject matter (i.e., a small town's life during the Third Reich), but Michael Verhoeven's use of rear-projections and cinema-verite, as well as the recurring phrases ("Follow Sonja's example!" and "Very commendable," among others) give it the right amount of audaciousness. Topping it off is Lena Stolze, who seems to draw sustenance from confrontation.
Jan. 31
OD receiving a few very lucrative -- obscenely lucrative -- baby-sitting offers of late. The catch is, of course, if she went into child-care as a career, her salary would put her towards the bottom of professional earning levels.
Jan. 30
Story in the Boston Globe Sunday Magazine recounts the attempted partnership between Walt Disney and Salvador Dali on a "Fantasia"-like film. Now, why couldn't Norman Rockwell have paired up with Ralph Bakshi and R. Crumb?
Jan. 29
*Storm clouds over Lough Erne again? The international commission monitoring the disarming in Northern Ireland is apparently going to report the IRA has not met the quota, which means Trimble and his boys will be set to walk out of Stormont�and this time there's no George Mitchell on hand.
*Somewhat lighter note: New York City's welfare department has terminated its relationship with a "psychic service" that was training clients how to tell fortunes over the phone. One instance where politics and the ancient arts just don't mix.
*Nice crisp day, tailor-made for sledding. Which we did. For almost three hours. Couldn't even make it to "Mad TV."
Jan. 28
Recent musical acquistions:
*"Vol. 2: Release," by Afro Celt Sound System -- a bit tighter, more focused this time around, and even better than "Vol. 1." The title cut is a fine piece of work, especially with Sinead O'Connor's high-tension vocals.
*"Tierra de Nadie," by Hevia (Jose Angel Hevia) -- it's easy to be wary about a performer who chooses to go by one name, but no cause for alarm here. As with Afro Celt, an intelligent blend of cultures and tradition (Spanish-Celtic-contemporary), and imaginative arrangements.
*"Vol. 2," by Le Mystere Des Voix Bulgares -- maybe it's because they employ just a touch extra echo/reverb in their recordings, but "mystere-mystery" seems very appropriate here. Or perhaps "mesmerizing."
*"Primeval," by Rare Air -- a bit of a disappointment, to be honest. I always liked RA for their strong melodic style, but it's not as much in evidence here as in the past. The jazz-like arrangements just seem like so much meandering, and Patrick O'Gorman's flute improvisations are rather grating after a while.
Jan. 25
The double-entendre apparently still has a place in the advertising world, as reflected in the TV spot for an Internet access company. With just the right amount of sly suggestiveness, the announcer recites a roster of people who "gave it" to one another (i.e., the product -- presumably), while we see brief shots of these persons, who seem to exhibit a subtle acknowledgement of their deed: one burly guy puts his arm on the shoulder of his buddy, who appears to give a wary glance; a doctor who "gave it to all his patients" sits by himself, looking as if he was about to be confronted by Mike Wallace. Can't say it makes me want to buy the product, however.
Jan. 24
Book completed: "Son of the Morning Star," by Evan Connell -- as a narrative, it's kind of frustrating; Connell often scatters biographical and anecdotal information where he could've organized it. But the attention to detail is spot-on. And he explores, or at least hints at, any number of interesting tangents, from the cultural significance of hair in the 19th century to the construction and use of a travois. Oh yeah, Custer was a piece of work.
Jan. 23
First organizational meeting of our soon-to-be-named morris team arising from the ashes of Middlesex and Lemons and Capers. Actually, it was more two hours of socializing and conviviality, followed by about a half-hour or so of a good-spirited yet productive business meeting -- which produced, among other things, some great name possibilities ("Codswallop" and "Red Herring" are my favorites). Think I'll enjoy being 'round these guys.
Jan. 22
In this day and age of helicopters, humvees and SUVs, what is the UN using to transport food and blankets to people stranded in the northern Afghani mountains? Donkeys. Something almost, well, biblical about that.
Jan. 19
A cold week warmed up by a last-minute invitation to attend the Celtics-Raptors game, my first-ever trip to the Fleet Center. Front row, center court. Haven't had this good a seat for a basketball game since covering the Dual County and Southern Worcester County leagues for the Tribune. Everything up close: Antoine Walker's serene stare; Charles Oakley's perpetual scowl; Tracy McGrady's unbelievable vertical leap; Danny Fortson's upper arms�and Patriots' star and multimillionaire-in-waiting Lawyer Milloy sitting a few seats to the right (told him good luck wherever he goes; sure it made his day). The almost frantic attempt to keep short attention spans occupied, however, as well as the overt commercialism (e.g., warm-up jackets for the refs) is another matter.
Jan. 16
Brief mild interlude inspires kids and I to try sledding. Bad news: not enough snow cover for satisfactory runs. Good news: no injuries, just good, exhilarating fatigue.
Jan. 15
All spruced up, we attend the bat mitzvah of a family with whom we've long been friends. Not having a lot of experience with such events (one bar mitzvah, no communions), I find it enjoyable to simply be swept up in the ceremony and ritual, to hear the ancient language and declensions -- especially when they come from the mouths of, er, babes. Afterwards, we eat, drink and be generally merry at the reception, where the missus and I find kindred spirits willing to try ladies chains and hay-for-four to the strains of disco and technopop.
Jan. 14
Friday evening, and I'm substantially fatigued from my soon-to-be-discussed new responsibilities. It snowed yesterday, now it's cold, and I want to lie down in a warm bed about now. �So I get home, and find that my wife -- a paragon of motherhood, and former Girl Scout troop leader -- has spent the last few hours downloading South Park video and audio files. And that the kids have found out about it. And have learned practically all the lyrics to the infamous Terrance and Phillip song. We swear them to absolute secrecy.
Jan. 11
Viewing: "South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut" -- ah, well�lofty analysis just doesn't seem to fit here. Anyway, the musical sequences were quite inspired; the content in between them, however, was somewhat another matter. Still, I believe I see Brian Boitano in quite a new light now.
Jan. 10
Damn Eleanor Roosevelt. LW and I watch a PBS documentary on her life and times, and after it's over we remark on how she likely served as a role model and heroine for both our mothers, which precipitates a slew of reminiscences on families, schools, college experiences, until we realize it's 2 a.m. and I have to get up in about four hours. A highlight of the aforementioned program, incidentally, is her appearance on a Frank Sinatra TV special; no duet with Old Blue-Eyes, thank the gods, but at the end of the clip she was beginning to recite lyrics to another popular song.
Jan. 9
Boston Globe sportswriter Peter May used "Jim Gray" as a verb in his most recent Sunday basketball column, describing a TV announcer's protracted and unsuccessful attempt to get Karl Malone to say something provocative. I Jim Gray, you Jim Gray, he-she-it Jim Grays�
Addendum
Vacation viewings:
*"Election" -- wickedly, wickedly funny and with some terrific performances: Reese Witherspoon makes "perky" seem like a personality disorder; forever-young Matthew Broderick's hard-luck maturity is actually poignant; and Chris Klein's good-natured obliviousness is hilarious.
*"Three Colors: Blue" -- didn't like this one quite as much as "White," but thought Kieslowski was most effective in depicting the ways Juliette Binoche's attempt to cut herself off from her impulses are sabotaged, whether through a family of mice in her apartment, or a fight outside her window.
*"Never Been Kissed" -- the Drew Barrymore Cuteness Factor certainly gives this at least a few points, but I found annoying the writers' insistence on throwing in wrinkles like the surveillance-camera and the ne'er-do-well brother subplots.
*"Dick" -- for God's sake, don't regard this as serious political satire, just put your mind on hold and have fun. OD Dunst and Michelle Williams are fine, and what also helps is unlikely casting, such as Dave Foley as Haldeman and Harry Shearer as G. Gordon Liddy.
*"Schizopolis" -- where to start, where to end? Somewhere between "Putney Swope," "Brazil" and perhaps "Brewster McCloud," yet at the same time far from any of these. From the non-sequitors to the linguistic exercises ("Generic greeting!") to the end-of-the-affair coda ("There was a time when I was like an old rag, with a stain you couldn't get out, and you -- you were like a piece of rotting fruit on a windowsill. And it was great!"), the dialogue -- if that's what it really is -- is a howl.
The D&Q Y2K Xmas
Other than a conspicuous lack of seasonal covering (i.e., snow), this may have been about the best Christmas break ever. Started auspicously enough when I cashed in a long-missing nearly 25-year-old $25 savings bond I'd once received from my grandmother, and found it was worth almost four times that.Christmas Eve was, remarkably, quite calm and very enjoyable (ritual viewing of "A Christmas Story" and reading of "The Night Before Christmas") and The Day was similarly easy-going. Kids gave wonderful presents: a tie adorned with basketballs from YD, and a handsome flannel shirt from OD. Spent a fair amount of time during the break experimenting with our family present, a Yamaha keyboard with a built-in multi-track recorder, enabling me to finally realize my youthful dream of being Rick Wakeman.
The days dissolved into play-dates and visits to ice-skating rinks and malls, straightening up holiday-related and other debris, and generally luxuriating in a slower pace of life. Happily, The Dumb, Stupid Baseball Hat Page came in for a little post-holiday cheer.
New Year's Eve saw us regaling, quietly, with BBQ and pizza and movies (more later), and a never-ending game of Crazy Eights. Y2K-plus-one, meanwhile, saw a post-New Year's phone call from Mom, on the scene in Northern Iraq for Save the Children.
Other developments include an important sea-change at the office (to be dealt with at a later date), and the official merger of my former morris team with what will now be my new one.
