So, every so often I have a few random observations I feel like making, but I don't know if they will be of interest or tie in thematically - obviously, one hopes that it *will* but you never know. I recently saw a preview for a movie that looked fantastic called "Finding Joe," which is a documentary about Joseph Campbell - an exploration of the man via interviews and storytelling; the preview was so good, it was better than most movies. They talked about being the hero of one own's life, and how it can all just come together. Sometimes, you hope that happens when you look at some random events.
Gardening: First, the garden: after a bunch of plants died - they seemed to just dry up while I was on vacation - I decided to put something more hardy in, like succulents. I've never wintered with a succulent, actually, but I think they are hardy. I also cleaned up the compost pile (not really compost, just our giant backyard pile of weeds), and planted some lavender and rosemary there, and we got rid of this rug at the bottom of the outside stairs that was so intertwined with the grass and dirt that it just came up in one giant disgusting lump. It was incredibly unruly, and although it was a bitch to get rid of it, it was worth it. I love when an old, stale corner of the house - even outside - gets cleared out.
De gustibus non est disputandum
That is a Latin phrase I learned in high school (and never forgot), which means "There's no accounting for taste," or, more strictly, "it must not be disputed regarding tastes." It came to mind during a recent experience - it had to do with the difference between literature and fiction, and how that line seems to move from person to person. There is this book - let's call it X - and a friend had raved about it, I would love it, I should read it. (Let me note here that *most* of the time someone says "You would love this book," I don't. It's fine - I've gotten used to it, because de gustibus non est disputandum.)
Anyway, I finally read X, and it was...OK. It was sort of cheesy, fairly but not well-written and WAY too long. It was one of those books where you can tell the person is describing either a movie in their head or a fantasy in their head. I finished it, of course, but was not about to read any of the five or six sequels (all in the 800's or 900's page range, mind you). Later, I was talking to a relative who has good literary taste mentioned he was reading X. "Really?" I said, surprised. It didn't seem like the type of book he would read, and it turned out he had the same situation - friends, insisted, and he figured, ok, why not? What does it cost, right? "So, what do you think?" I asked, and it turned out he had the same reaction I had.
Recently, another relative mentioned X, and how much she loved it - she loved, especially, the writing - not just the story, but the craft of the author's writing, which is the VERY thing I found not impressive. These people are related closely and yet their experiences and opinions were polor opposites. It really hammered home for me the idea that beauty really is in the eye of the beholder. I don't even consider *I* have impeccable taste - I mean, I can't get into Dickens, even thought I know a he's fine writer - and I even love the Victorians!
And Litquake is coming soon - I'm a writer who has missed the last 15 years of it; in fact, I have never gone even once, but this October will be different. I'm ready to try and hang out with all those people - those overly-ironically self-aware (but cynical) lliterary types, and it's all about the hype and hope and hip. I have never been able to handle that stuff. It leaves me cold, the hobnobbing and judgement and networking. Ugh. It's a reason I am not a very popular blogger - I don't know how to nor do I want to self-promote, to try and package myself as if I'm a commodity. You see the essential conflict: any time art is exposed to business, it gets corrupted. So it goes.
Recent Musical Achievements
I like to play new songs on my ukulele, and when I first started playing, it was easy to find new songs; but now, I've exhausted most of the usual suspects, and it gets harder to debut covers. This weekend, I was successful in presenting TWO new songs: a Beatles song (a friend of mine just sent me a copy of their complete chord book), Her Majesty, a little ditty I've always loved but never had the wherewithal to tackle. The Beatles can be easy but they can also be very hard. Their music became increasingly more complex over the seven years they were together. It has great lyrics, which are brought out on ukelele covers:
Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl, but she doesn't have a lot to say
Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl but she changes from day to day
I want to tell her that I love her a lot but I gotta get a bellyful of wine
Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl
Someday I'm going to make her mine, oh yeh,
someday I'm going to make her mine.
I also covered the epic Bob Dylan song Motorpsycho Nightmare, which is really long and has no musical breaks. It's like a marathon, covering this song. It went off well, not just because it's a great song - it's like a no-brainer to cover Dylan, cause even when you don't do it well, the song is still great - but also because it was obviously a feat. It wasn't on the same level as a Three Day Novel, but it was the same idea.
Was I Really In Cairo?
This last weekend, one of the Movie Day Movies was the 1951 classic story of the French Occupation of Syria, Sirocco, starting Humphrey Bogart and a brilliant Lee J. Cobb; it was part of a series on TCM on how Arabs are portrayed in cinema - essentially, always bad. This was no exception - there's an expert who discusses the racism in the films, a professor, and he mentioned how Damascus is shown as a sort of Third World pit, full of sewage and thugs and unreliable vendors. "The real Damascus at that time," the professor said, "was actually quite lovely."
This made me wonder about Damascus - I mean, it's discussed in the BIBLE, and now here it is being talked about in the 1950's. Wait - Damascus is still around? How long has it been around? I looked it up, and apparently it's arguably the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world (older than Jericho, Jerusalem, Athens, Luxor, Delhi and Beirut.) I thought, hey, I want to go to Damascus.
They spoke a little Arabic in the movie, and I could actually pick out some words (ena, which means "I," and mumkin, which means "possible" and can be used to form questions, such as mumkin sandawisht, which means "possible sandwich?" which is how you ask for a sandwich). I was totally amazed that I could understand any of it - pretty cool.
And in the movie, they were trying to get to Cairo - it was Cairo this, and Cairo that - and of course, it made me think of when I was in Cairo. I've been all over - I've been to Paris, Las Vegas, New York, London, Amsterdam, Vienna, Venice, Vancouver, Seattle, LA, Geneva - twice or more, and so I am familiar with urban centers, but Cairo was something else. Sometimes, I still can't believe I have been to Cairo. It seems so wild, so unexpected, so exotic. And it was. I mean, it was weird because whenever you travel somewhere, there's a process and you arrive, so it's never a big shock. It's not the same as when you watch a film or read a book, and the setting changes abruptly. But Cairo was kind of a shock - landing in the middle of the night, driving through the hot and lively lit streets of the city, and seeing everything in Arabic. Uh oh. I was here. I was in the Middle East. I'm still incredulous over it.
And then - all that stuff happened there, and the country was radically changed. And I find myself thinking more often, these days, of the "Middle East" than I did before, and feeling like I have at least the tinest, little shred of an idea of what it's like there, because, really, I had had no clue before. I feel like I must return to Cairo someday. I am desperate to go to Damascus. And I have always wanted to go to Istanbul - or Constantinople.
Gardening: First, the garden: after a bunch of plants died - they seemed to just dry up while I was on vacation - I decided to put something more hardy in, like succulents. I've never wintered with a succulent, actually, but I think they are hardy. I also cleaned up the compost pile (not really compost, just our giant backyard pile of weeds), and planted some lavender and rosemary there, and we got rid of this rug at the bottom of the outside stairs that was so intertwined with the grass and dirt that it just came up in one giant disgusting lump. It was incredibly unruly, and although it was a bitch to get rid of it, it was worth it. I love when an old, stale corner of the house - even outside - gets cleared out.
De gustibus non est disputandum
That is a Latin phrase I learned in high school (and never forgot), which means "There's no accounting for taste," or, more strictly, "it must not be disputed regarding tastes." It came to mind during a recent experience - it had to do with the difference between literature and fiction, and how that line seems to move from person to person. There is this book - let's call it X - and a friend had raved about it, I would love it, I should read it. (Let me note here that *most* of the time someone says "You would love this book," I don't. It's fine - I've gotten used to it, because de gustibus non est disputandum.)
Anyway, I finally read X, and it was...OK. It was sort of cheesy, fairly but not well-written and WAY too long. It was one of those books where you can tell the person is describing either a movie in their head or a fantasy in their head. I finished it, of course, but was not about to read any of the five or six sequels (all in the 800's or 900's page range, mind you). Later, I was talking to a relative who has good literary taste mentioned he was reading X. "Really?" I said, surprised. It didn't seem like the type of book he would read, and it turned out he had the same situation - friends, insisted, and he figured, ok, why not? What does it cost, right? "So, what do you think?" I asked, and it turned out he had the same reaction I had.
Recently, another relative mentioned X, and how much she loved it - she loved, especially, the writing - not just the story, but the craft of the author's writing, which is the VERY thing I found not impressive. These people are related closely and yet their experiences and opinions were polor opposites. It really hammered home for me the idea that beauty really is in the eye of the beholder. I don't even consider *I* have impeccable taste - I mean, I can't get into Dickens, even thought I know a he's fine writer - and I even love the Victorians!
And Litquake is coming soon - I'm a writer who has missed the last 15 years of it; in fact, I have never gone even once, but this October will be different. I'm ready to try and hang out with all those people - those overly-ironically self-aware (but cynical) lliterary types, and it's all about the hype and hope and hip. I have never been able to handle that stuff. It leaves me cold, the hobnobbing and judgement and networking. Ugh. It's a reason I am not a very popular blogger - I don't know how to nor do I want to self-promote, to try and package myself as if I'm a commodity. You see the essential conflict: any time art is exposed to business, it gets corrupted. So it goes.
Recent Musical Achievements
I like to play new songs on my ukulele, and when I first started playing, it was easy to find new songs; but now, I've exhausted most of the usual suspects, and it gets harder to debut covers. This weekend, I was successful in presenting TWO new songs: a Beatles song (a friend of mine just sent me a copy of their complete chord book), Her Majesty, a little ditty I've always loved but never had the wherewithal to tackle. The Beatles can be easy but they can also be very hard. Their music became increasingly more complex over the seven years they were together. It has great lyrics, which are brought out on ukelele covers:
Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl, but she doesn't have a lot to say
Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl but she changes from day to day
I want to tell her that I love her a lot but I gotta get a bellyful of wine
Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl
Someday I'm going to make her mine, oh yeh,
someday I'm going to make her mine.
I also covered the epic Bob Dylan song Motorpsycho Nightmare, which is really long and has no musical breaks. It's like a marathon, covering this song. It went off well, not just because it's a great song - it's like a no-brainer to cover Dylan, cause even when you don't do it well, the song is still great - but also because it was obviously a feat. It wasn't on the same level as a Three Day Novel, but it was the same idea.
Was I Really In Cairo?
This last weekend, one of the Movie Day Movies was the 1951 classic story of the French Occupation of Syria, Sirocco, starting Humphrey Bogart and a brilliant Lee J. Cobb; it was part of a series on TCM on how Arabs are portrayed in cinema - essentially, always bad. This was no exception - there's an expert who discusses the racism in the films, a professor, and he mentioned how Damascus is shown as a sort of Third World pit, full of sewage and thugs and unreliable vendors. "The real Damascus at that time," the professor said, "was actually quite lovely."
This made me wonder about Damascus - I mean, it's discussed in the BIBLE, and now here it is being talked about in the 1950's. Wait - Damascus is still around? How long has it been around? I looked it up, and apparently it's arguably the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world (older than Jericho, Jerusalem, Athens, Luxor, Delhi and Beirut.) I thought, hey, I want to go to Damascus.
They spoke a little Arabic in the movie, and I could actually pick out some words (ena, which means "I," and mumkin, which means "possible" and can be used to form questions, such as mumkin sandawisht, which means "possible sandwich?" which is how you ask for a sandwich). I was totally amazed that I could understand any of it - pretty cool.
And in the movie, they were trying to get to Cairo - it was Cairo this, and Cairo that - and of course, it made me think of when I was in Cairo. I've been all over - I've been to Paris, Las Vegas, New York, London, Amsterdam, Vienna, Venice, Vancouver, Seattle, LA, Geneva - twice or more, and so I am familiar with urban centers, but Cairo was something else. Sometimes, I still can't believe I have been to Cairo. It seems so wild, so unexpected, so exotic. And it was. I mean, it was weird because whenever you travel somewhere, there's a process and you arrive, so it's never a big shock. It's not the same as when you watch a film or read a book, and the setting changes abruptly. But Cairo was kind of a shock - landing in the middle of the night, driving through the hot and lively lit streets of the city, and seeing everything in Arabic. Uh oh. I was here. I was in the Middle East. I'm still incredulous over it.
And then - all that stuff happened there, and the country was radically changed. And I find myself thinking more often, these days, of the "Middle East" than I did before, and feeling like I have at least the tinest, little shred of an idea of what it's like there, because, really, I had had no clue before. I feel like I must return to Cairo someday. I am desperate to go to Damascus. And I have always wanted to go to Istanbul - or Constantinople.
That's all I have to say. No theme arose, it was just music, taste, literature, gardens and the cities of the Arabic world. What's the thread? Oh, they are all nice things to experience in this lifetime. Maybe I should write a song about a gardner who writes a novel set in Cairo. It's time to find a new theme to write about now, in my next novel; I've been thinking about the centaur story for so long, I don't have any new ideas. Well, they will come.
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