Daze&Quirks

July 26

I've been included in a Web site gallery of alt.religion.kibology regulars. Someone suggested I was perhaps an inappropriate exemplar of ARKishness because I'm "way too normal-looking." Ahem.

July 25

Recent musical acquisition: "Fire of Freedom," by Black 47 -- listening to a Black 47 album is a lot like getting waylaid in an Irish pub, and getting a full dose of bawdy humor, pathos, rage, self-pity, self-deprecation and fevered historical lectures, until one stumbles off into the night, ears ringing. Metaphors aside, "Rockin' the Bronx" and "Funky Ceili" are good, not-so-clean fun, while the "Livin' in America" motif and title cut show these guys do have some sophistication to go with the spit.

July 22

Surreal beginning: A resounding thunderstorm rolls us out of bed before dawn, so after the rain stops I escort the kids to a sun-up walk in the park, where we encounter cute bunnies, a canary, a solitary duck in a temporary, rain-produced pond, and a pair of dog-walkers whose ranks included three corgis.
Later, I chaperone OD and her fellow camp alumnus through Harvard Square, browsing through stores of obscenely-priced merchandise as well as visiting our other, more familiar consumer-friendly locales. What I got: a couple of used CDs, which will be dealt with here in several days time. What I didn't get: a small box containing nothing but severed Farrah Fawcett doll heads, for $16.

July 21

Reunited, albeit somewhat dubiously, with the Taurus. Nothing like cars to bring out your raging-paranoid tendencies. Pulling up in the driveway and then finding a puddle of coolant underneath the car certainly didn't help; quick trip back to the service station resulted in new radiator. Trying to convince the service manager to at least acknowledge the possibility that the odd scratches and dings on the body might, just possibly, might be the result of his employees' carelessness was hardly gratifying, either. But in any case we're off the rental-car books.

July 20

Blasted scientists, developing a laser that is literally "faster than the speed of light." So there's one more metaphor that's now about as useful as a vacuum tube-testing machine.

July 19

When fashion is more than a matter of taste:
*In Swaziland, schoolgirls will no longer wear miniskirts, Reuters says, a measure expected to reduce the likelihood of sexual relationships with teachers, and the possibility of spreading HIV-AIDS. The girls are "widely blamed for enticing teachers with their short skirts," the report says.
*Iran, meanwhile, has decided to ease the Islamic dress code for elementary-age schoolgirls, according to Reuters. Instead of traditional black, students can wear "bright, happy colors" such as light blue, beige, pink, light green and yellow. The education ministry explains that this will "brighten the mood and raise hope among students."

July 18

Book completed: "M is for Malice," by Sue Grafton -- my intro to Grafton, and the Kinsey Millhone series. That Millhone is a well-conceived character -- street-smart, empathetic lady private eye -- certainly helps carry the story. But the actual revelation of the killer's identity, and secret, seems to come awfully fast relative to the rest of the plot.

July 16

Appeared with Seamus Connolly and cohorts at a local outdoor concert, which somehow managed to go all the way to the end with extremely ominous-looking clouds overhead. Performed "The Barleygrain for Me" and "The Gael's Farewell", the latter of which began awkwardly due to tuning problems (yeah, yeah, that's what they all say). But all good fun, nonetheless.

July 15

Viewing: "Now and Then" -- all the depth of an ice cream soda, but as a family movie it's worthwhile. Girls have tended to get short shrift as far as coming-of-age nostalgia set pieces, so why not? Besides, the quartet of young actresses is very appealing.

July 14

An evening outing to the Children's Museum with YD and friend. Love the place, always will, but there's only so many times you can visit in a relatively short space of time before it gets old. Spent most of my time in the Japanese Life exhibit and the 1950s Flashback House, the latter of which features a TV of the period showing commercials from the era -- including the one in which Betty Furness can't open the refrigerator and the camera has to zoom in to a close-up of her face while someone runs in and fixes the door.
*The "playroom" shelf includes a 45 RPM record titled "Space Gun Jimmy." In the cover illustration, little Jimmy is all dudded up for interstellar combat as he strides across the surface of some planet somewhere (we can tell it's not Earth because way off in the distance is something that looks like Saturn) with his trusty zapper. Instead of anything resembling a space-suit, he's wearing a little propeller beanie, and a boarding school-boy outfit -- tie, blazer and shorts. Poor kid. If I had to wear that ensemble, even in the 1950s, I guess I'd wish I was millions of miles away in space, too.
*Also on the playroom shelf is a little book and activity kit on atomic energy. The book's main page proclaims "Facts About Atomic Energy Are Still Secret." I wonder if a typical kid in that era, with all the Cold War espionage paranoia around, might see those words and ask, rhetorically: "Then why are they writing about it in a children's book?" Of course -- it's the last place evil Commie agents would think to look!
*Speaking of atomic-related stuff, one display case in the Japanese exhibit featured prominently a pair of Astro Boy tights -- not tights like Astro Boy might wear, mind you, but with lots of illustrations of Astro Boy in action. There was also a small Astro Boy tote bag emblazoned with:
I AM ROBOT AND PROUD!

July 13

Bless OD's little heart, I've taught her well in the art of hat-scavenging. En route home from a baby-sitting job, she wound up adding what I believe is her third such contribution to The Dumb, Stupid Baseball Hat Page. If she gets a few more, I may have to come up with a certificate honoring her service.

July 12

A quite delightful visit with old friend and former Dark Eyed Sheep band mate, spent mostly at the nearby park watching our kids frolic. But we did get in a brief fling on mandolin and bodhran, at least. If I closed my eyes just right, I was actually able to go back about 16 years or so.

July 11

Recent musical acquitisions:
Paul Brady, "Welcome Here Kind Stranger" and Noel Hill and Tony Linnane -- I'm tempted to treat these as a joint acquisition, in that they're both in the '70s Irish revival genre, and contain material that entered the canon of pub sessions and ceilidhs far and wide -- e.g, Brady's "Banks of Pontchartrain" and the duo's "Lady Ann Montgomery/Cooley's Reel" set. But on their own terms, they're just damn good stuff to listen to. This is Brady at his best, as far as I'm concerned, especially with "Jackson and Jane" and "I'm A Youth Inclined to Ramble." Hill and Linnane were/are an otherworldly combo at times, and Hill's solo rendition of the "Johnny Cope" hornpipe belongs in the annals of concertina-playing.

July 10

Book completed: "The Poisonwood Bible," by Barbara Kingsolver -- mesmerizing, gripping well-researched historical fiction in pre- and post-revolutionary Congo. Kingsolver picked a tremendously clever literary device: using the "journals" of four young girls like filters for depicting events, experiences and sensations. But the journals themselves often make for fascinating psychoportraiture, notably Adah's, and her inventive, eerie wordplays. The latter part of the book is less compelling, mainly because some of the characters -- Rachel in particular, Leah to some degree -- tread dangerously close to caricature. Still, the final product is more than worthwhile.

July 8-9

Joyous return of older daughter from camp. The journey out to pick her up reminded me that we do have to get out this way (i.e., the Berkshires) more often. Once there, we were witness to a never-ending series of hugs among new-found friends, as well as a farewell luncheon with all the noise and spirit of some below-the-salt medieval banquet. Most importantly, though, our young lady seemed elated, invigorated and pleased to have so many new entries for her Instant Messenger list.

July 7

Young man visiting a friend in North Adams, Mass. takes exception to fellow mowing elderly neighbor's lawn at 9 a.m. on July 4, and fires off a couple of shots from an air rifle, slightly wounding the unfortunate grass-cutter. Victim shows admirable restraint in describing action as "a pretty rude thing to do." Almost enough to make me wish our push mower still worked.

July 6

Recent viewings:
*"Event Horizon" -- Let's see: I detected ingredients from "Alien," "Lifeforce," "Stargate" and a few "Star Trek" episodes, to name a few. And, sorry, I just can't accept Sam Neill as Embodiment of Pure Evil.
*"200 Cigarettes" -- Happily, this seldom aspires to be anything other than what it is: a latter-day bedroom farce, sans bedroom (at least 'til the end). Also shows that Martha Plimpton really should do more comedies. But someone needed to tell Paul Rudd that, early-80s authenticity-wise, the sideburns are at least seven years too soon.

Independence Day Weekend

Odd. Back to work for two days (one and 3/4, I suppose, given that Friday is an early release), and then on to a four-day weekend -- which will, of course, lead to a two-and-three-quarter day work week. So, a chance to have a far more relaxing time off than the previous attempt. This we did. In fact, most of the time was split between useful puttering or exquisite loafing. Highlight was, of course, the Fourth, and our friends' traditional dinner party.
Meanwhile, we adjust to being a one-child household for the nonce, while collect calls from the camp pay-phone certainly help us remember that this is indeed a temporary situation. YD, rather than taking the opportunity to lobby for hosting numerous play dates and sleep-overs, seems to revel in the quiet and appears content to read and play on her own -- and, as fancy suits her, to seek us out for company and amusement.
We also indulge in a couple of viewings:
*"Bastard Out of Carolina" -- kudos to Anjelica Huston for bringing this off, and retaining the book's intensity and ambivalent, ambiguous resolution. The acting is superb, especially Jena Malone and Jennifer Jason Leigh (who portrays damaged females like few else), but even the smaller parts like Pat Hingle -- whose character is eerily reminscint of Ace Stamper in "Splendor In the Grass." Authentic and well-employed soundtrack, too.
*"Androcles and the Lion" -- is it blasphemy to consider Alan Young's blissed-out version of Christian martyrdom as somewhat annoying, especially when compared to Jean Simmons and, especially, Robert Newton? Perhaps I'm just too used to seeing him with a horse and Connie Hines.

Leftovers

*Things you learn about your spouse during long car rides: Early in grade school, my beloved described herself thus for a class project: "I have blonde hair, blue eyes, and I'm very, very strong."
*Thanks to Me Mum, there's a new addition to The Dumb, Stupid Baseball Hat Page: A support organization for the Quabbin Reservoir, one of the more fascinating, yet somewhat obscure stories in Massachusetts history -- four towns literally wiped off the map to make room for a water resource.
*Book completed: "Lying with the Enemy," by Tim Binding -- sometimes, the capsulated premise on the book jacket is enough to sell you: a murder mystery set in Nazi-occupied Guernsey. There are familiar touches, like the earnest, honorable commandante contrasted with his lacivious, decadent officers, and the ending has somewhat of an Alistair MacLean quality to it. But the complex social-historical undercurrents to the story are compelling, as is the ironic twist these give to the resolution.

Viva(section) Vacation

The events of June 22-28 would seem to defy the habitual chronological format followed here, so let's try it this way:
Auto flagellation, pt. 1 Just past West Springfield on the Mass Pike's Jean-Paul Sarte section (i.e., "No Exit"), en route to mum's house, and our four-days-on-the-road Taurus blows a gasket (literally). But two kindly, if rough-looking gentlemen lend us their cellphone to call that godsend to stranded motorists everywhere, Triple A, and we are towed to the exact same garage where the Soob ended up nearly six years ago, when LW and the girls broke down while journeying to Albany. We hear the mechanic's pronouncement of the dead engine, arrange to send the remains back home, collect a rental mini-van (at sympathy-induced generous rates) and continue on.
Among fragrant pastures Old homestead is tranquil: OD shows off her Web-authoring skills to her adoring Nan, and a campfire induces increasingly silly verses to "You Can't Get to Heaven." Interspersed is an afternoon at Old Songs, ending far too early, but not before we take in sets by Les Barker and the determinedly crazed Barachois.
Auto flagellation, pt. 2 A serene ride home, during which we drop off OD at her two-week-long summer camp in the Berkshires, then hop on a bus at Springfield, ends with discovery that the constabulary have towed our old Soob -- which had been destined for donation to the Special Olympics -- despite the entreaties of our neighbors. Dealing with the less-than-forthright and morally ambiguous tow-garage czar causes frustration, forcing us to turn over keys and paper and bring an ignominious end to our years with the ole family car.
Aftermath Barely 36 hours after arriving at camp, OD calls to inform us that she's sustained a nifty ankle injury, although she intends to grit teeth and stay the course. The Taurus, it appears, will be lost to us for most of the summer, but at least will return with a rebuilt engine, for which we will bear no cost. In its place, we will have a medium-sized luxury rental car (cost reimbursed) that would appear to mark us as, at the very least, ostentatious.
I plan to try this again in a month, and the results better be different. Far different.

June 21

Paradigm rent asunder: Coming home from work, I happen across young girl manning home-made lemonade stand. I put in my order, and she explains that they just ran out and that her partner is inside preparing the next batch. Then she fishes out a state-of-the-art, hand-held two-way radio and buzzes said colleague, asking for a progress report.
Couldn't wait for the resupply, but I did at least leave 'em a quarter.

June 20

Recent musical acquisitions:
*"The Gathering," by Kathryn Tickell -- her obvious talent on Northumbrian pipes and fiddle aside, it's a joy to see how Tickell has developed in selection and arrangement of material, from originals to traditional, as well as her accompanists, notably guitarist Ian Carr. The pipes-harmonica duet on "Real Blue Reels" is a definite highlight, as is Carr's work on the second track.
*"There Was a Maid," by Dolores Keane and Reel Union -- seems more like two artists sharing one album (i.e., vocal numbers mixed with tunes), but when one of them is Keane, you don't quibble. An excellent watermark from her early years.

June 19

A dizzyingly full day which begins with dear wife being dropped off at train station at 6:45 a.m. so as to fulfill her civic obligation (i.e., jury duty). OD and YD accompany me to work, where they have all manner of fun redecorating my office and listening to music tapes. In the afternoon, I run to complete paperwork so as to put new-old car legally and formally on the road, which we then do. But for about an hour, the girls and I spend time at a special school for multiply handicapped children, where we visit YD's friend and his classmates during their music class. It's a rather humbling experience to see music as a tool, not just an indulgence, to open up the world for kids who appear trapped within themselves, yet can touch the heart of others (like YD).

Weekend of anticipation

*With collective deep breath, we pull the proverbial trigger on the car deal, making us owners of a '95 Ford Taurus wagon. Unfortunately, the only place we're able to drive it is straight into our driveway, there to wait for completion of the requisite paperwork and presentation of plates. So we endure a few days more of driving our poor Soob, half expecting immolation or breakdown. But the to-do list at least doesn't seem as imposing as it did a couple of weeks ago.
*Wilting early-summer Saturday gives way to cool, refreshing Sunday, and I head off for a nice little evening session at the Gaelic Roots festival. There, sitting next to one another, is A) a woman playing an Appalachian dulcimer and B) a young lady with same name as LW. Somebody somewhere is playing with probability odds.
*Viewing: "Snow Falling On Cedars" -- fine job of conveying the book's atmosphere of memory, regret and redemption, as well as its final premise (both reassuring and unsettling at the same time) that tragedy can result from quirky acts of nature as well as the brutal acts of man. But cinematically, the constant flashbacks are an absolute drag on the film's pacing.

June 16

Recent musical acquisitions:
*"Kulanjan," by Taj Mahal and Toumani Diabate -- A perfect example of how combining two distantly related musical forms (American blues and West African traditional) serves to enhance and augment the other. Highlights: "Georgie Buck" and the title track.
*"Folk Music from Northern and Eastern Music," by Nisava -- can't fault the musicianship or choice of material, but it's hard to shake the feeling that you're listening to two groups on two separate albums. A little attempt, however ambitious, at integrating the Balkan/Klezmer stuff with the Scandinavian material would've been nice. Whatever shortcomings there may be, however, are more or less dispelled by the gorgeous "Janka Devojka" at the end, featuring guest vocalists Savina.

June 15

Books completed:
*"Nude Men," by Amanda Filipachi -- I ultimately found this book to be annoying by the end. Filipachi has any number of ideas and themes to work with -- the tragic girl-woman/virgin-whore figure; the nature of performance; even the dysfunctional son-mother relationship -- but plays with them like a little kid with a short attention span.
*"The Quality of Mercy: Cambodia, Holocaust and Modern Conscience," by William Shawcross -- very sobering and troubling recounting of international aid effort to Cambodia in late 1970s and early '80s. Shawcross does not spare anyone, of any political stripe, in analyzing how political considerations can, unwittingly or otherwise, work against humanitarian efforts. Which does not mean, he emphasizes, that we shouldn't try them.

June 14

*So, we are completely finished with elementary school. YD's graduation ceremony was endless, but not without its charms; one classmate read a platitude-less memoir of a kindergarten science project that sounded a perfect note. For now, we're simply grateful to be done with the school year, period. Later on, I suspect we (especially YD) will be reflective, maybe even wistful about these past eight years.
*Caught a cab back to the office after the ceremony, piloted by a young man who offered a graphic account of the childish, scatalogical practical jokes that are apparently a staple of his workplace. Don't know how, in the space of a few minutes, he was able to assess whether or not I'd be offended (which I wasn't, for the most part) by such anecdotes. There's a psychological study in there, somewhere, I guess.

June 12

I'm not much of a bird-watcher. But I am pleased by the continuing presence of a cardinal in our midst, who regularly perches, and sings, on the tree outside our kitchen window. Also, twice in the past several days I have witnessed in the skies above our neighborhood chase scenes involving crows and a lone peregrine falcon.

Notes from a four-day vacation

*A highly enjoyable Thursday morning segues into a fairly productive day, as we set about resolving auto and banking concerns. The evening sees OD in her spring choral concert, which features good choice of material and arrangements -- and the revelation that only one of the whole ensemble is male. Other highlights of the event include a two-minute rendition of "Bohemian Rhapsody" by the school orchestra and an ambitious multi-media dance production on the Underground Railroad.
*Friday is Color Day at the elementary school, with fifth-graders suddenly thrust into roles as combination pitchmen/authority figures, guiding the very young through various games and activities. I am blessed with the task of helping out at two stations involving water games, one of which is operated by YD and two of her friends, the other by three hale and hearty lads -- needless to say, there was much soaking. I'll miss it all, assuming I don't decide to make it my annual community service activity.
*Saturday begins with the first flickering of hope that our car situation will be remedied soon, as LW and I are introduced to a gentleman wishing to get shod of a Ford wagon. The morning becomes something of a scene from one of those pseudo real-time, talking-head indie films about unlikely people thrown together: The genial gentleman in question turns out to be a Romanian Jew with a college-age daughter (attending an alma mater of ours). Will all this bonding produce a transaction? We'll see.
*Saturday also turns into quite the steambath by afternoon, but the evening sees lovely breezes from the north, and LW and I sit out on the balcony with OD while she plugs away at the last dregs of homework for the school year.
*Sunday is generally, benignly nondescript, preparing for the last days of school. That evening, I learn the NBA Finals are being broadcast this year in Gaelic. Scots? Irish? Would love to learn the phrase approximating "slam dunk."

June 5

Our mechanic has spoken. Le automobile c'est morte. Or should be soon.

June 3-4

Kids and their sleepover guests pull an all-nighter, which means LW and I get minimal sleep as well, but thankfully no personal or property damage is sustained. Later, after spending the afternoon playing with a friend, YD finds out the consequences of sleep deprivation -- crawls into her bed around 5, and does not come out until somewhere around 9:30 the next day. Should be fine for college. Generally restful weekend, with no morris or out-of-state travel, but a metaphorical dark cloud forms overhead when we discover the station wagon has a rather serious gas leak.
During this period, I take in a viewing of "Mafia!," which is the typical Jim Abrahams silly-stupid-guffawfest (the "Lord of the Dance" scene would've been worth the rental price, if we'd paid any). I also complete "While I Was Gone," by Sue Miller -- the familiar, but enjoyable trademarks are there: notably the detailed, almost discomfiting internal monologues and character studies; the Boston-Massachusetts-New England settings; and educated, sophisticated middle-aged WASPs suddenly wrenched from the minutiae of their examined lives. Miller doesn't overplay the murder-mystery angle of the story too much (just as well, since you can spot the revelation coming several chapters away), but there's something flat about the climax, even though ambiguous outcomes are another of her hallmarks.

June 2

NY Times reports that a team of physicists have been researching the age-old problem of candy wrappers that make noise when opened in hushed opera houses and movie theaters. They found that the sound is emitted "as a series of pulses or clicks," so opening a wrapper slowly only increases the interval between clicks, while not decreasing the loudness. OK, now can these guys get back to figuring out how to bend time and space?

June 1

Viewing: "Boogie Nights" -- actually, this is the movie NBC's "The '70s" mini-series wanted to be. The transition between decades, and cultural mores and eras, is depicted not with thunderous proclamations and exegesis, but through smaller, more personalized events (a New Year's Eve murder/suicide, for instance, or a custody hearing under the gaze of a portrait of Ronald Reagan). When Burt Reynolds walks through his home near the end, greeting his dysfunctional but devoted surrogate family, you almost expect to hear "Good night, John boy."

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