Saturday, July 29, 2006
Work Unprogress
Two posts ago I put in the first paragraph of a story I've started. Here's that paragraph and more:
Available Light
He had funny teeth. He was a handsome fellow, but the stern quality of his eyes might have been explained by the worry that his crooked lowerteeth would be seen when he talked. The sternness gave him a look of concentration, however, and this worked in his favor. He was blond, bearded and smoked a pipe.
"Aha," he said as he walked. While sunset, seen from campus, was never spectacular, occasionally a pink streak could be seen between the branches of the trees or above the library. McCaffery's "Aha" was an accompaniment to his realization that it must now be after four-thirty. Ordinarily he stayed in his office between three-forty-five and four-thirty, but the conference with Edwin Wendt had been brief. Afterward, McCaffery went outside, walked past the Art building, into the Student Union, got a pouch of tobacco (rung up by a transplanted Tennesseean whose lilting voice lifted him out of New England) and walked outside again, where he noticed the streak of pink in the darkening sky.
The sky was darkening for Edwin Wendt, he thought. Coincidence would have it that when he'd bought the tobacco, Edwin was just walking away from the counter with a Shasta Cola and a Twinkie. He wasn't sure Edwin had taken note of his presence.
"If I was twenty years younger," said the Tennesseean.
"I'd still be pining for you," said McCaffery. He wondered how anyone could feel anything for Edwin Wendt.
"Well bless your heart," said the Tennessean. She handed him his tobacco.
Mcaffery smiled, put the pouch in the inside pocket of his jacket, nodded his head and left.
As he walked out of the Student Union, he saw Edwin walking toward the dormitories, drinking the Shasta the way a drunk would drain a beer. Ben Lehrman, walking toward McCaffery, nodded at McCaffery the way McCaffery had nodded at the Tennessean, and said, "They've driven you outside?"
"What do you mean?" said McCaffery.
Lehrman, with his right hand, gestured toward a cigarette in his left.
"Oh, my pipe!" McCaffery took the unlit pipe out of his mouth and held it out. "As long as I can still smoke in my office, I'll do it."
Lehrman held his cigarette aloft and said, "Lenore Reston coughs like an asthmatic whenever I pass her desk."
"'No surrender,' I say," said McCaffery. He took the pouch out of his pocket, opened it and placed a big pinch in his pipe. "I'd better practice doing this outside, I guess."
Lehrman took out his lighter.
After inhaling, McCaffery tilted his head in the direction Edwin Wendt had gone. He was no longer in sight. "My student conference left early to indulge himself in Coke and Twinkies."
"It's an apathetic bunch."
"This is not an apathetic kid."
"Speak, McCaffery."
"This was the most fully formed writer I've ever had."
"Who, Wendt?"
"You've got him?"
"Yes, but I only knew you meant him because of the Twinkies."
"You have Wendt?" McCaffery said.
Lehrman seemed to be conjuring a word and said, "Most unprepossessing."
"Maybe he doesn't care about History."
"He doesn't pay attention. But you say he can write?"
"Oh, he's ambitious."
"Him?"
"He."
"Get out of town."
"He told me today that he was proactive enough to test out of Expository in order to qualify for Creative Writing this semester."
"Creative Writing isn't offered to Freshmen?"
"One of the ironies of Cotton Mather College," said McCaffery. "The biggest bullshit course isn't available to those who need it most."
"My bullshit students drop the course after the first quiz."
"Mine stay through grad school," said McCaffery.
Lehrman's cigarette went out. "Damn this sea breeze," he said. He took out his lighter again and relit the cigarette. "You really prefer a pipe to a cancer stick, Bob?"
"It's cancer in a more elegant package," said McCaffery. "It makes me feel like a sea captain."
"Is that why you teach here?"
"It's Judy."
"Where would you rather be?"
"Nova Scotia."
"Judy'd love that."
"Also, they told me this was going to be my baby."
"You've got the enrollment."
"I can shape the Department. We haven't done badly."
Lehrman looked at McCaffery. "They're dumb, aren't they?"
"The students? The Administration?"
"All of them," said Lehrman.
McCaffery looked at his pipe. "It's still lit."
"I think your fellow Wendt has something psychological."
"Didn't you say you thought he was apathetic?"
"Well, in a profound way, which is different. He's got a complete inability to socialize. At the start of class, they're all talking. At the end they're all talking. Wendt just sits and stares."
"That's what writers do."
"You don't notice it?"
"In the Writing class, he battles the attentions of the bohemians."
"Bohemians? On this shit-kicking campus?"
"I've got a lot of girls in Creative Writing. They live to meet a boy who can say 'Apotheosis.'"
"I can't picture him being social in any situation."
"He's perhaps more comfortable in a writing environment."
Lehrman looked at McCaffery kindly. "How much bullshit have you absorbed?"
McCaffery puffed on the pipe. He took it out, put it back in and, holding it in his teeth, said, "He showed up at my office today, sat down cheerfully and when I said, 'Next semester I'd like you to focus on structure,' he said, 'Oh, I'm not taking Creative Writing next year.'"
Lehrman dropped his depleted cigarette under a bush. He took out another and lit it.
"'Nonsense,' I said. "I actually said, 'Nonsense.' That's the most galling thing. He made me speak like Sherlock Holmes."
"Well, with that pipe," said Lehrman.
"I was sure he wanted to write. Not the way one of these beret-wearing depressives wants to write. He was someone who knew he could write and wanted to."
"Well maybe he's just taking a break."
"I said, 'Get down to the Registrar's and sign up for the course before it's too late.' He said he wanted to focus on History."
"History?"
"Yes."
"But he is lost in History."
"I said, 'Is it me?'"
"Oh, no."
"Oh, Yes! He brought me to that, too. I said he might prefer to take Gianinni's course. He said he was not taking Creative Writing again. You the Fitzgerald character who wants 'a well-rounded education?' Well, he used that exact quote. He says he might take Creative Writing again Senior year."
"Do you think he is abandoning writing?"
"Well. Well, I said, 'Are you planning, at least, to write for THE MASTHEAD?' No, he said. 'AMBERGRIS?' Nope."
"Maybe he's afraid of running out of creative juices."
"At nineteen?"
"Okay. Maybe he's dropping out all together."
"No, he says he's focusing on other subjects. He should drop out of the whole school, if he's a real writer."
"What are the rest of them like?"
"Sincere."
"Oh, no."
"You know, when I said he should at least write for THE MASTHEAD, he said, 'A school newspaper is for candy-stripers.' I said, 'Yes.' Then the conversation went Freudian. He said, 'Looking at the newspaper you get a slap in the face.' I said, 'Yes. Yes. It is a slap in the face.' I don't think he knew I meant it personally."
"So, he is banal after all."
"Hmmm."
"It's finally happened."
"What?"
"It's happened."
"What's happened?"
"A student has blamed you for his success."
McCaffery took a silver rectangle from his pocket, slid it open to reveal a recessed circle in the middle, turned his pipe over the circle, tapped it, slid the rectangle closed and put it back in his pocket. "I should write, " he said.
Available Light
He had funny teeth. He was a handsome fellow, but the stern quality of his eyes might have been explained by the worry that his crooked lowerteeth would be seen when he talked. The sternness gave him a look of concentration, however, and this worked in his favor. He was blond, bearded and smoked a pipe.
"Aha," he said as he walked. While sunset, seen from campus, was never spectacular, occasionally a pink streak could be seen between the branches of the trees or above the library. McCaffery's "Aha" was an accompaniment to his realization that it must now be after four-thirty. Ordinarily he stayed in his office between three-forty-five and four-thirty, but the conference with Edwin Wendt had been brief. Afterward, McCaffery went outside, walked past the Art building, into the Student Union, got a pouch of tobacco (rung up by a transplanted Tennesseean whose lilting voice lifted him out of New England) and walked outside again, where he noticed the streak of pink in the darkening sky.
The sky was darkening for Edwin Wendt, he thought. Coincidence would have it that when he'd bought the tobacco, Edwin was just walking away from the counter with a Shasta Cola and a Twinkie. He wasn't sure Edwin had taken note of his presence.
"If I was twenty years younger," said the Tennesseean.
"I'd still be pining for you," said McCaffery. He wondered how anyone could feel anything for Edwin Wendt.
"Well bless your heart," said the Tennessean. She handed him his tobacco.
Mcaffery smiled, put the pouch in the inside pocket of his jacket, nodded his head and left.
As he walked out of the Student Union, he saw Edwin walking toward the dormitories, drinking the Shasta the way a drunk would drain a beer. Ben Lehrman, walking toward McCaffery, nodded at McCaffery the way McCaffery had nodded at the Tennessean, and said, "They've driven you outside?"
"What do you mean?" said McCaffery.
Lehrman, with his right hand, gestured toward a cigarette in his left.
"Oh, my pipe!" McCaffery took the unlit pipe out of his mouth and held it out. "As long as I can still smoke in my office, I'll do it."
Lehrman held his cigarette aloft and said, "Lenore Reston coughs like an asthmatic whenever I pass her desk."
"'No surrender,' I say," said McCaffery. He took the pouch out of his pocket, opened it and placed a big pinch in his pipe. "I'd better practice doing this outside, I guess."
Lehrman took out his lighter.
After inhaling, McCaffery tilted his head in the direction Edwin Wendt had gone. He was no longer in sight. "My student conference left early to indulge himself in Coke and Twinkies."
"It's an apathetic bunch."
"This is not an apathetic kid."
"Speak, McCaffery."
"This was the most fully formed writer I've ever had."
"Who, Wendt?"
"You've got him?"
"Yes, but I only knew you meant him because of the Twinkies."
"You have Wendt?" McCaffery said.
Lehrman seemed to be conjuring a word and said, "Most unprepossessing."
"Maybe he doesn't care about History."
"He doesn't pay attention. But you say he can write?"
"Oh, he's ambitious."
"Him?"
"He."
"Get out of town."
"He told me today that he was proactive enough to test out of Expository in order to qualify for Creative Writing this semester."
"Creative Writing isn't offered to Freshmen?"
"One of the ironies of Cotton Mather College," said McCaffery. "The biggest bullshit course isn't available to those who need it most."
"My bullshit students drop the course after the first quiz."
"Mine stay through grad school," said McCaffery.
Lehrman's cigarette went out. "Damn this sea breeze," he said. He took out his lighter again and relit the cigarette. "You really prefer a pipe to a cancer stick, Bob?"
"It's cancer in a more elegant package," said McCaffery. "It makes me feel like a sea captain."
"Is that why you teach here?"
"It's Judy."
"Where would you rather be?"
"Nova Scotia."
"Judy'd love that."
"Also, they told me this was going to be my baby."
"You've got the enrollment."
"I can shape the Department. We haven't done badly."
Lehrman looked at McCaffery. "They're dumb, aren't they?"
"The students? The Administration?"
"All of them," said Lehrman.
McCaffery looked at his pipe. "It's still lit."
"I think your fellow Wendt has something psychological."
"Didn't you say you thought he was apathetic?"
"Well, in a profound way, which is different. He's got a complete inability to socialize. At the start of class, they're all talking. At the end they're all talking. Wendt just sits and stares."
"That's what writers do."
"You don't notice it?"
"In the Writing class, he battles the attentions of the bohemians."
"Bohemians? On this shit-kicking campus?"
"I've got a lot of girls in Creative Writing. They live to meet a boy who can say 'Apotheosis.'"
"I can't picture him being social in any situation."
"He's perhaps more comfortable in a writing environment."
Lehrman looked at McCaffery kindly. "How much bullshit have you absorbed?"
McCaffery puffed on the pipe. He took it out, put it back in and, holding it in his teeth, said, "He showed up at my office today, sat down cheerfully and when I said, 'Next semester I'd like you to focus on structure,' he said, 'Oh, I'm not taking Creative Writing next year.'"
Lehrman dropped his depleted cigarette under a bush. He took out another and lit it.
"'Nonsense,' I said. "I actually said, 'Nonsense.' That's the most galling thing. He made me speak like Sherlock Holmes."
"Well, with that pipe," said Lehrman.
"I was sure he wanted to write. Not the way one of these beret-wearing depressives wants to write. He was someone who knew he could write and wanted to."
"Well maybe he's just taking a break."
"I said, 'Get down to the Registrar's and sign up for the course before it's too late.' He said he wanted to focus on History."
"History?"
"Yes."
"But he is lost in History."
"I said, 'Is it me?'"
"Oh, no."
"Oh, Yes! He brought me to that, too. I said he might prefer to take Gianinni's course. He said he was not taking Creative Writing again. You the Fitzgerald character who wants 'a well-rounded education?' Well, he used that exact quote. He says he might take Creative Writing again Senior year."
"Do you think he is abandoning writing?"
"Well. Well, I said, 'Are you planning, at least, to write for THE MASTHEAD?' No, he said. 'AMBERGRIS?' Nope."
"Maybe he's afraid of running out of creative juices."
"At nineteen?"
"Okay. Maybe he's dropping out all together."
"No, he says he's focusing on other subjects. He should drop out of the whole school, if he's a real writer."
"What are the rest of them like?"
"Sincere."
"Oh, no."
"You know, when I said he should at least write for THE MASTHEAD, he said, 'A school newspaper is for candy-stripers.' I said, 'Yes.' Then the conversation went Freudian. He said, 'Looking at the newspaper you get a slap in the face.' I said, 'Yes. Yes. It is a slap in the face.' I don't think he knew I meant it personally."
"So, he is banal after all."
"Hmmm."
"It's finally happened."
"What?"
"It's happened."
"What's happened?"
"A student has blamed you for his success."
McCaffery took a silver rectangle from his pocket, slid it open to reveal a recessed circle in the middle, turned his pipe over the circle, tapped it, slid the rectangle closed and put it back in his pocket. "I should write, " he said.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Famous People I Have Met
Patty Hearst (Bookstore appearance.) [And welcome, NSA, to my webpage!]
William F. Buckley (Bookstore appearance. Nobody showed up. He sat in front of three huge stacks of his book.)
George Plimpton (Bookstore appearance.)
Jean Marsh (Rose from UPSTAIRS DOWNSTAIRS; creator of that series. A friend stopped her on street in London. She was in a big hurry. I began talking to, or at, her as soon as she was about to escape. I still feel like The Ugly American for delaying her. I think she might have had to pee.)
Daniel Patrick Moynihan (on the campaign trail in my hometown, circa 1976. I delayed him so he could sign a bumper sticker bearing his name.)
Louis Armstrong (1970. Got his autograph when he made a surprise appearance at a jazz concert at my local high school. He signed an autograph for everybody. I had the autograph for twenty years. Lost it when I moved from one room in the house to another.)
Pete Best. (Got autograph when he was at a Beatles convention. Lost it a week and a half later.)
Paul. Sir...Paul. (Book party, if you please!) (Addressed him as "Sir Paul," even though I am American. October, 2000.)
Phillip Bosco. (I was with a friend who recognized him on the street in Manhattan. Same friend who spotted Jean Marsh in London.)
Malcolm Forbes. (Random siting, Manhattan, 1989. Sent letter later, got reply with signature! I'm a Stalkerazzi, huh?)
And you, my readers. All of you are famous, of course.
William F. Buckley (Bookstore appearance. Nobody showed up. He sat in front of three huge stacks of his book.)
George Plimpton (Bookstore appearance.)
Jean Marsh (Rose from UPSTAIRS DOWNSTAIRS; creator of that series. A friend stopped her on street in London. She was in a big hurry. I began talking to, or at, her as soon as she was about to escape. I still feel like The Ugly American for delaying her. I think she might have had to pee.)
Daniel Patrick Moynihan (on the campaign trail in my hometown, circa 1976. I delayed him so he could sign a bumper sticker bearing his name.)
Louis Armstrong (1970. Got his autograph when he made a surprise appearance at a jazz concert at my local high school. He signed an autograph for everybody. I had the autograph for twenty years. Lost it when I moved from one room in the house to another.)
Pete Best. (Got autograph when he was at a Beatles convention. Lost it a week and a half later.)
Paul. Sir...Paul. (Book party, if you please!) (Addressed him as "Sir Paul," even though I am American. October, 2000.)
Phillip Bosco. (I was with a friend who recognized him on the street in Manhattan. Same friend who spotted Jean Marsh in London.)
Malcolm Forbes. (Random siting, Manhattan, 1989. Sent letter later, got reply with signature! I'm a Stalkerazzi, huh?)
And you, my readers. All of you are famous, of course.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
It's a Start
Last night I managed to write the first paragraph of a story. Today I kept trying to continue the story. I couldn't come up with anything. Anyway, here's the paragraph and, above it, the title of the story:
Available Light
He had funny teeth. He was a handsome fellow, but the stern quality of his eyes might have been explained by the worry that his crooked lower teeth would be seen when he talked. The sternness gave him a look of concentration, however, and this worked in his favor. He was blond, bearded and smoked a pipe.
Available Light
He had funny teeth. He was a handsome fellow, but the stern quality of his eyes might have been explained by the worry that his crooked lower teeth would be seen when he talked. The sternness gave him a look of concentration, however, and this worked in his favor. He was blond, bearded and smoked a pipe.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Buddy Holly and Wings
Run away if you must! I'm posting a review which says nice things about post-Beatles Paul. It's a take on his Wings bandmate Denny Laine's 1976 album HOLLY DAYS. I have swiped my own review from that big online book and CD store named after a river:
[Four Stars. WOULD HAVE BEEN A FIVE IF IT WEREN'T FOR THE DRUM MACHINE]
I have this on its original vinyl release from 1976. The back cover describes it better than I can. It says, in part: "In the highlands of Scotland there's a wood-lined, tin-roofed shack known as Rude Studio. Here Denny Laine and Paul McCartney got together to record some Buddy Holly songs. On the four track recorder Paul laid down the basic tracvks, overdubbing each instrument himself. Denny and Linda added a few licks and all three joined in on the vocals."
That's a quote, my Wingnut compatriots, and I find it accurate.
All I can add is that this is a really likeable album, especially if you know your Buddy Holly. Laine's vocals are styled on Holly's here and it works.
Buddy Holly's songwriting (and that of those who wrote songs Buddy chose to sing) was solid and this album captures their spirit.
I am not surprised the album is not well known, but I am surprised it is as little known as it is.
If you miss Wings, find this, order it and play it. (I found the vinyl entirely by accident in a used record store last week. It has to be the best purchase I've made in about five years.) Paul McCartney's instrumentation bears his signature. A few times the harmonies are unmistakably the three members of Wings. For the most part, the harmonies are fairly subdued, so that most casual listeners hearing this won't say "Isn't that Paul McCartney."
But it IS Buddy Holly's music and Buddy Holly is front-and-center here.
I do think the drum machine effect is unfortunate. There is plenty of actual drumming, but it is almost always accompanied by the unnecessarily mechanical drum machine sound. This was recorded in 1976 and drum machines were very popular, but the charm eludes me.
There are at least two entirely instrumental tracks. I like that. If you liked the guitar of "Crossroads Theme" from VENUS AND MARS, you'll like the sort of playing on HOLLY DAYS.
For a brief moment, a couple of voices are heard sped-up to about speed 78. Ah, well. But it's just for a brief moment. The rest of the album is good, casual, lo-fi roots rock.
It is definitely worth finding.
[Four Stars. WOULD HAVE BEEN A FIVE IF IT WEREN'T FOR THE DRUM MACHINE]
I have this on its original vinyl release from 1976. The back cover describes it better than I can. It says, in part: "In the highlands of Scotland there's a wood-lined, tin-roofed shack known as Rude Studio. Here Denny Laine and Paul McCartney got together to record some Buddy Holly songs. On the four track recorder Paul laid down the basic tracvks, overdubbing each instrument himself. Denny and Linda added a few licks and all three joined in on the vocals."
That's a quote, my Wingnut compatriots, and I find it accurate.
All I can add is that this is a really likeable album, especially if you know your Buddy Holly. Laine's vocals are styled on Holly's here and it works.
Buddy Holly's songwriting (and that of those who wrote songs Buddy chose to sing) was solid and this album captures their spirit.
I am not surprised the album is not well known, but I am surprised it is as little known as it is.
If you miss Wings, find this, order it and play it. (I found the vinyl entirely by accident in a used record store last week. It has to be the best purchase I've made in about five years.) Paul McCartney's instrumentation bears his signature. A few times the harmonies are unmistakably the three members of Wings. For the most part, the harmonies are fairly subdued, so that most casual listeners hearing this won't say "Isn't that Paul McCartney."
But it IS Buddy Holly's music and Buddy Holly is front-and-center here.
I do think the drum machine effect is unfortunate. There is plenty of actual drumming, but it is almost always accompanied by the unnecessarily mechanical drum machine sound. This was recorded in 1976 and drum machines were very popular, but the charm eludes me.
There are at least two entirely instrumental tracks. I like that. If you liked the guitar of "Crossroads Theme" from VENUS AND MARS, you'll like the sort of playing on HOLLY DAYS.
For a brief moment, a couple of voices are heard sped-up to about speed 78. Ah, well. But it's just for a brief moment. The rest of the album is good, casual, lo-fi roots rock.
It is definitely worth finding.
Friday, July 21, 2006
Lines Written Quickly
I am to be at work in 45 minutes. It takes me twenty-five minutes to get there.
So, very briefly, what's on my mind is the fact that, if I were to write down everything I know, suspect or imagine about everybody I've encountered in my life, I'd have an epic. If I published it, I'd have to expect somebody to write everything he or she wants to say about me.
And so this entry is brief.
Until next entry,
Fred
So, very briefly, what's on my mind is the fact that, if I were to write down everything I know, suspect or imagine about everybody I've encountered in my life, I'd have an epic. If I published it, I'd have to expect somebody to write everything he or she wants to say about me.
And so this entry is brief.
Until next entry,
Fred
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Herb Business
On January 4th, I posted on this blog an entry called HERB ALPERT ON ACID. The other day I noticed that a company called Silver Fox, having mistaken my posting for something other than the amorphous tone-poem it was, left the following in the comments field:
Our network has been looking for a Herb business like yours to list in our World Directory & our forum.
Hey, there is no cost and it will only take a few minutes for you to register!
Your Silver Fox Business Building Team helping build your Herb business!
____________________________________________________________________________________
Now, since "Acid" was in my title, when they say "Herb business," do they mean "Herb-as-in-Alpert" or "Herb-as-in-drug-less-powerful-than-acid?" The capitalization of the letter "H" in "Herb" makes me opt for the trumpeter. Now, if YOU want Herb Alpert on acid, get the newly re-released HERB ALPERT'S NINTH. Gone are the high-hat cymbals, in are the pastel tones of relaxed, sophisticated brass, with rose-petal bursts.
How 'bout that, eh?
Our network has been looking for a Herb business like yours to list in our World Directory & our forum.
Hey, there is no cost and it will only take a few minutes for you to register!
Your Silver Fox Business Building Team helping build your Herb business!
____________________________________________________________________________________
Now, since "Acid" was in my title, when they say "Herb business," do they mean "Herb-as-in-Alpert" or "Herb-as-in-drug-less-powerful-than-acid?" The capitalization of the letter "H" in "Herb" makes me opt for the trumpeter. Now, if YOU want Herb Alpert on acid, get the newly re-released HERB ALPERT'S NINTH. Gone are the high-hat cymbals, in are the pastel tones of relaxed, sophisticated brass, with rose-petal bursts.
How 'bout that, eh?
Monday, July 03, 2006
http://imdb.com/user/ur2455157/comments
Hey, Folks,
Click on the link which is the title of this entry and you'll get to read my sometimes felicitous, generally quirky, often clumsy movie reviews.
IMDB says I may "advertize" my reviews. Here's a cut-and-paste from an email I just got from them (a confirmation of the posting of a review.) I've reproduced the link again, in case the one in the title space above resists mouse-clicking:
http://imdb.com/user/ur2455157/comments
"Please do feel free to advertise this link and let your friends know
where
they can find your reviews.
Thanks for supporting IMDb!"
Enjoy or unjoy as necessary,
Fred
Click on the link which is the title of this entry and you'll get to read my sometimes felicitous, generally quirky, often clumsy movie reviews.
IMDB says I may "advertize" my reviews. Here's a cut-and-paste from an email I just got from them (a confirmation of the posting of a review.) I've reproduced the link again, in case the one in the title space above resists mouse-clicking:
http://imdb.com/user/ur2455157/comments
"Please do feel free to advertise this link and let your friends know
where
they can find your reviews.
Thanks for supporting IMDb!"
Enjoy or unjoy as necessary,
Fred
