tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66627917475888010852024-03-05T21:32:30.445-08:00DislocationsWritings, observations and ideas either caused by or meant to induce a minor disruption.Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.comBlogger1018125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-76256287784233940352014-04-01T03:23:00.001-07:002014-04-01T06:08:45.973-07:00Year Five: Reflections<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiqxle0oV75R_Nu2IYXNbgYXBazZmVCoXc5cCpEOk8H9mBkL9gADPweUjC5cECmqwd3AIwkUogiQWQqR8GvQu4XREG9DYoU5D3dFAZu3SEUf7R4ilwHRvWkukn-IsDIz_m7eutrx8sIpBV/s1600/5-year+blog+pix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiqxle0oV75R_Nu2IYXNbgYXBazZmVCoXc5cCpEOk8H9mBkL9gADPweUjC5cECmqwd3AIwkUogiQWQqR8GvQu4XREG9DYoU5D3dFAZu3SEUf7R4ilwHRvWkukn-IsDIz_m7eutrx8sIpBV/s1600/5-year+blog+pix.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Five years a blogger. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">As is tradition, <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/04/year-four-reflections.html" target="_blank">I reflect on the year of blogging on this the anniversary of Dislocations.</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I apologize for the typos, I can’t afford a copy editor. I
also appreciate the kind words, encouragement and compliments I’ve gotten in
person and by email. I’m not sure exactly what service Dislocations actually
provides, but it’s good to receive genuine appreciation. Originality and depth
is something I strive towards and it’s nice to both have that acknowledged and
to know that many appreciate such aspirations. Last year I passed 100,000
vistors or readers or however the blog-stats are interpreted.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">God Bless you all <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This may be the last one, by the way. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">THE FINAL DISLOCATIONS! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I do not want to make such a grand statement – because,
really, who knows how one will feel come any given morning – and it’s not that
any hiatus is being planned – but the fact of the matter is that that each year
I’ve written fewer blogs posts. This feeling has been nagging me, that maybe I’ve
to the end of the blog format. Things I feel like writing about now, ideas that
are coming, do not lend themselves to Dislocations posts. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Maybe blog notions will come again. Maybe I’ll just do
pictures with funny captions, or maybe start another blog with a different
mission than Dislocations. People have said to me, I love your blog about
Jersey City. I thank them, but this blog was never really about our isthmus, it’s
just mainly set in Jersey City. Ultimately, my statement is about the human
condition, our experience of mortality, how we reconcile the need for community
with our limited ability of understanding – we really can know nothing other
than the self. Indirectly though, maybe it is about Jersey City, and maybe I do
not have much else to say, especially about what fascinates me the most,
ordinary life. Noticing anew things we experience every day. It’s those
moments, the ones we hold in common, that I fnd the most revelatory. That keeps
me going, gets me through. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I’m done. Okay, I’m not saying I’m done. Just kinda done. Maybe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Maybe I no longer feel the same Dislocation that inspired me
five years ago to launch this endeavor. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">For more traditional forms of poetry, fiction, and memoir,
go visit my website, <a href="http://timhrklit./">Timhrklit.</a><span id="goog_1952891632"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a><span id="goog_1952891633"></span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Without a doubt, the <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/05/mystery-solved-four-men-on-white-eagle.html" target="_blank">most fateful blog</a> (s) was a pair I
wrote about White Eagle Hall. Turns out, they were so well-received by the
principals have asked me to work for Jersey City Theater Center, the
organization creating a Theater & Arts complex in this neck of Newark
Avenue. It’s very exciting and I’ve become their quasi-chronicler as well as
publicist and general writer. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Basically though, I had been passing the four heads on this
building near-daily for so long I had to find out who they were. The research
was fun and included input from the Association of American Polish Historians,
and the blogs formed the basis of an academic article <a href="http://www.polishamericanstudies.org/pdf/2013-fall-newsletter.pdf" target="_blank">available here</a>. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A great place that serves both great tea and is a great
drink that great tea opened, but <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2014/03/teanj-tea-i.html" target="_blank">this blog was a reason to write a memoir pieceabout why I never drink coffee</a>, thus have devoted my hot (and sometimes iced) caffeinated
beverage life to the leaf. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Always a favorite,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/12/2013-my-favorite-reads.html" target="_blank">myfavorite reads, the best books of 2013</a>, the most subjective reading list ever-committed
to the internet.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A bad fire on Grove Street led to these empty lots and some memorable
ponderings. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/07/meeting-new-boss.html" target="_blank">Jersey City got a new mayor this year</a>, don’t you know. Steve
Fulop, nice guy, fast talker, one of the leading young democratic politicians
who are exemplifying that generation X is now taking the reigns of power. His inauguration
was a city-wide block party, and his man of the people rhetoric struck a chord,
and a pre-GWB-Gate Christie showed why his appeal is wider in person than on TV
or YouTube. Is Fulop Bloomberg or DiBlasio or is it enough for the majority of
the newly arrived that he isn’t Healy? But Fulop already performed a historical
task no other media outlet deemed fit to acknowledge – <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/11/new-mayors-first-menorah.html" target="_blank">Jersey City’s firstJewish Mayor – his family are Holocaust Survivors – lit the city Menorah</a>. In the
1990s, Jersey City became the test case that led to permitting municipal governments
to exhibit holiday decorations. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nobody
else appreciated the multi-layered irony of this moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Murals have become the cornerstone of the art scene in Jersey
City and some special city funding implemented a mural project, here are two
examples, <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/10/aquatic-dreaming.html" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/11/urban-realism-building-windows.html" target="_blank">here</a>, of some of the most compelling. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/11/paint-car.html" target="_blank">Paint the Car</a> was this interactive art event at the regular
interactive art event known as Creative Grove, a sort of artsy flea market that
survives in town despite of its misguided detractors. The point, paint art and graffati on a car. FIGHT CONFORMITY NOW!!!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">One of the greatest record stores in the history of record
stores closed, JR Music, which is by the World Trade Center, downsized last
year and will probably close this year. I happen to go to the old, two-level
location on Record Store Day last year, the <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/04/j-music-record-store-day.html" target="_blank">last Record Store Day of the oldlocation</a>, whoo hoo! JR is a series of stores that sells appliances, electronic
equipment, computers and CDs, but now that series has been consolidated into
one brick and mortar store. I bought a couple of CD players there, recently a
computer monitor. But they too are moving their selection online. Kind of sucks
if your mouse decides to go kaput and you’re on deadline; I remember going
there and finding a dozen different types of mouse to purchase. Now there’s
one. Used to go to the record store, buy some CDs – they had a deep inventory
and were really cheap –I got a Roy Acuff for $4.95! – but now everything is one
location, they phased out the jazz selection. I get the feeling they are
selling off the rest of the stock and that will be day. A way of life gone forever. This blog was not intended to be but turned out as both tribute and obituary.</span></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I love writing about Shakespeare and I caught some really fantastic
summer productions, a really great <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/06/the-inwood-lear-unredeemed-neuroses.html" target="_blank">King Lear</a> up in Inwood, so far up the isle
of Manhatto that my nose bled. A good buddy, Bob Armstrong, played the titular
role of the man who usurped his life. On the Jersey Side, the Hudson
Shakespeare Company presented the rarely performed <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/07/henry-viii-then-now.html" target="_blank">Henry VIII</a> – not the Bard’s
best history, but this production made me realize how it is a significant
footnote to the Henriad and its two Richard bookends. The same group later presented
a remarkable interpretation of <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/08/macbeth-witches-brew.html" target="_blank">Macbeth</a> and in October, presented Titus Andronicus
in a cemetery production. I love Titus, and while I quibble with the
black-comic interpretation, this was a very satisfying <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/10/graveyard-titus-lite-dark.html" target="_blank">Titus</a>. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My music obituaries are part-memoir. Musical tastes – what
makes up our own personal soundtrack and how that soundtrack changes as we
follow our journey through life – is an area of interest for me. Why we listen being
as important as what we listen to is an idea I keep coming back to even. <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/05/ray-manzerak-our-forever-19-organ.html" target="_blank">RayManzerak</a> and <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/10/lou-reed-rules.html" target="_blank">Lou Reed</a> provoked a reverie and <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2014/01/pete-seeger-lives.html" target="_blank">Pete Seeger’s</a> passing invoked a
memory of my interviewing this friendly great man when I was in College, and I
was writing it up, I had insight into his momentary bizarre behavior, something
about Phil Ochs. </span></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">He may not have died this year, but the Cohen Brothers
released that film based on his life and his being in the news sparked <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/12/i-question-dave-van-ronk.html" target="_blank">a memoryof Dave Von Ronk</a>. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Local singer songwriter <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/06/fragility-strength.html" target="_blank">Kelly Saint Patrick</a> performed a
splendid set at Groove on Grove, probably the best show of that summer series. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">At the Exchange Place Starbucks, I witnessed <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/05/starbucks-lovers-katherine-angel.html" target="_blank">a guy proposingto a gal</a>. It was sweet and romantic and she said yes. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dislocations revived my interest in photography as a hobby.
I take pictures and think of funny or interesting at least, captions. <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/05/clear-reflection.html" target="_blank">A puddleforms in this lot after every rain</a>. When the light is right, the puddle
reflects our world back to us. This lot was paved over a few months later. The
grass is gone, but the puddle still forms and the reflection return. </span></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Another down time there by the dock, got a <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/08/flounder.html" target="_blank">good shot of aguy catching a flounder.</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The place to be come mid-August is Sixth Street for The
Feast. This year I “<a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-feast-2013-random-glimpses.html" target="_blank">covered</a>” some of the processions and other events as well
as the evening bacchanals. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Winter. We just got through a doozy. I happen to be in the
New Jersey Room at the main branch of our public library on a day of a real bad
snow storm and a great shot of Van Vorst Park. Then I walked through the
unblemished snow of the park, wondering about the <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2014/02/van-vorst-in-snow-while-snowing.html" target="_blank">illusion of infinite, icywhiteness</a>. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2014/02/tachair-bookshoppes-first-annual-play.html" target="_blank">Tachair Book Shoppe</a> held its first annual theater festival,
some really compelling performance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dare
I say surprisingly fantastic. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Local artist, Kayt Hester, works in tape and celebrated the
7-year-return of the <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/08/kayt-hester-summer-magicada.html" target="_blank">Cicada</a> at a special show. A few months later, <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2014/02/tape-transparency-translucency.html" target="_blank">she had agallery show in NYC</a>, but this space had large glass walls that Kayt had some
fun with, messing with our perception of what is 3-D. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Living in Jersey City, warm-weather festivals are a way of
life. You see family and friends and neighbors and have some fun and eat food
you only eat once a year. The <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/05/35th-annual-santa-cruzan-and-flores-de.html" target="_blank">Santa Cruzan</a> festival, a Filipino party, at the
end of May, kicks off the season. The 2014 edition – the 35<sup>th</sup> – was
really fun. Jersey City has one of the largest populations of Filipino
Americans in the country. What a blessing. What a fine bunch of folks. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I’m a film-buff. A cineaste. <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/08/10-obscure-classic-era-westerns.html" target="_blank">I’ve been seriously studyingthe western</a> – by which I mean, I’ve<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>seen
a ton of them and watch many several times. The genre’s best decade is the
1950s, and here’s a list of some more obscure Westerns that are noteworthy. If
you haven’t seen The Searchers or Seven Men From Now, watch those agreed upon
classics first and then you’ll be ready to appreciate the greatness of the
american film-making these 10 films achieve. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here’s <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2014/01/hudson-dispatch-clippings-archive.html" target="_blank">another piece of news</a>, about newspapers, you will
only find out about on Dislocations. The Jersey Journal moved their offices to Secaucus,
and bequeathed more than a dozen metal filing cabinets of a meticulously kept clip
file to the Jersey Room at the Main Branch of the Jersey City Library. You want
to see the history of Hudson County, get a feel of what was important in the
daily life, thus get an authentic peak into an area, spend some time with these
unique files. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/11/stephanie-riggi.html" target="_blank">Stephanie Riggi’s</a> work I’ve seen around but I never had the
pleasure of meeting this artist until last year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her illustrations are vivid and twisted, and
she possesses one of the brightest pallets in town </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/06/abstract-devices.html" target="_blank">Luca Casulito</a> is a real go-getter in Jersey City, involved
with the arts and her own business. But she also happened upon this process of
creating this somewhat bizarre, but very moody and provocative abstract pieces,
art objects. She’s always interesting to talk to, but talking about her art is
a rarity. There’s a freshness and originally in her abstractions worth noting.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/06/313-gallery-post-hattery.html" target="_blank">313 Gallery</a> is a permanent gallery, meaning they are not
a bar and have regular hours – albeit only on weekends – and that is rare and
perhaps a first. Also it’s a really interesting space, whose history you can
only read about here, and this show featured Bunny Pearlman, whose diverse
array included water colors and found art. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/06/eve-by-eva.html" target="_blank">Eva</a> – this a German pop artist – had a wonderful show at the
now defunct, gone but not forgotten, Fish with Braids gallery. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/09/blog-post.html" target="_blank">Art Activates</a> is a mural project for alleys. This was fun to
write. I not only wanted to report on this unique, urban beautification project
as well as the really fantastic art that has been erected on these rarely seen
surfaces, but I tried to convey the experience of seeing this art unfold as you
stroll through the alley.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/06/hall-of-saints.html" target="_blank">Here’s some wonderful religious statuary I saw in Clifton</a>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/09/tobacco-free-four-years.html" target="_blank">Some thoughts about missing cigarettes</a>. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/10/happy-st-jude-feast-day.html" target="_blank">Saint Jude Thaddeus Pray For us.</a> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Thanks Everybody. See Ya on down the line, </span></span></div>
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<o:p></o:p> </div>
Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-89096282326895056592014-03-05T08:06:00.000-08:002014-03-06T08:03:07.484-08:00Teanj (& Tea & I)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgs1wOP4xnfYTv8mCsKzLaoG4tYTrCL2KT35j85ru_gnxVUjZ2MZKR0N2WST-jlk3DKwmGuwC7UAyTwJmXV2lY6y3bhLTnNcZCqY_c4bUnyqBzeF4jBgjcn7VIT77-4OPtTjk3kH3z_HRL/s1600/tea_nj_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgs1wOP4xnfYTv8mCsKzLaoG4tYTrCL2KT35j85ru_gnxVUjZ2MZKR0N2WST-jlk3DKwmGuwC7UAyTwJmXV2lY6y3bhLTnNcZCqY_c4bUnyqBzeF4jBgjcn7VIT77-4OPtTjk3kH3z_HRL/s1600/tea_nj_1.jpg" height="230" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Teanj has been opened a month. I’ve been going there at least five days a week.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I rarely write so directly about local businesses. Dislocations is not a commercial blog, it is more interested in ideas, observations and art than what you can buy in where most posts are set, Jersey City. I’m not into making recommendations. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">But I am making a rare exception here. I love tea. I know tea. I drink tea. Teanj is a place worth writing about. In fact, I’ve been thinking of writing about my love affair with tea drinking for a while now, and the opening of Teanj served as catalyst to pour forth on ideas that have been steeping for a while now (yes, I know, smirk or wince). </span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Teanj sells tea as good, and in many cases, better, than any place in New York.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I am well qualified to judge. I’m a total tea head. On a weekly basis, I go to those New York establishments to get the loose-leaf tea I drink from dawn to dusk. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Now that tea purchase can be made here on the Jersey side.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Tea NJ is a warm and inviting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can get coffee there too, and the food –it doubles as a lunch joint, with healthy sandwiches and salads – is really good and affordable. Two Vegan friends of mine unbeknownst to each other swear by the black bean burger and another vegan I do not know</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">came in when I was there and was getting a beverage but was praising the very same dish.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Teanj was founded about two years ago in Union City.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The owner had been visiting downtown Jersey City for a while and when this spot on Newark Avenue opened, he seized the opportunity to access the local vegan hipster set. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">William Toledo, the owner, runs the place with his son of the same name. Conner and Jen are also on the wait staff. They are all engaging conversationalists. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The atmosphere is comfy and inviting. Punk rock from multiple eras at a muted volume fills the space with an amiable and subdued energy. The chairs and tables are wood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A large square of ceramic tiles cover the slats of table tops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Teanj has a <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>veranda feel, like you’ve discovered some hole in the wall café on the outskirts of a post colonial village.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Tasteful knick-knacks – selected by William’s wife – give Teanj an air of personal hospitality, but also echo an amiable obsession with tea drinking and tea accruements. A plant grows from a huge tea cup, dainty tea sets – pot and cups are on shelves. Hand-made statuettes of an angel, a water nymph strums a lute, a scare-crow plays a fife. Carved toy trucks and buses are in the wooden case where the sugar and stirrers are kept. The ornaments would not be out of place in the children’s playroom of a large estate, or a breakfast nook where the family was served breakfast. But the revolution is over and our oppressors have fled. Now we drink our tea in their abandoned parlors. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The space actually is a former barbershop – perhaps that accounts for the tangible neighborliness that seems instantaneously noticeable upon entering – and the barber reopened on the same block.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One sign that is unmistakably Jersey City –art – available for sale – is on parts of the walls. Every other business here is a part-time gallery. Teanj has been opened a month, and the self-curated mini-exhibit just experienced its first rotation. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">On the wall of the hall in the back that leads to the kitchen and rest room are some family pictures, drawings by William’s nine year old daughter. This further enhances the homey feel, emphasizing the family atmosphere that greets you yet they seem seamlessly interwoven with the other objects creating an ambiance of nonjudgmental comfort</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Tiny details catch the eye. Clever and amusing, along with the tea encourages contemplation. A gentle and soft oasis; and however brief, Teanj makes worries fade and hectic Newark Avenue a memory.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">A dorm-room refrigerator size glass case of cakes and other sweets is near the counter, on with displays of vegan cakes and cupcakes and granola bars. A steamer system is on the caddy corner wall behind the counter, on the wall directly behind the counter is the library of teas – about 40 and growing– with numbers and you look at a menu and pick a number – e.g. Almond Cookie # 7 – the counter ordering process is fun. The cans instill the impression of being in a friend’s pantry. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">A rumor is circulating that Teanj is owned by the musician, Moby, the electronica DJ of whom I know next to nothing. One time, while enjoying a cuppa at Teanj, this woman, walking her dog, stepped up from the sidewalk, opened the door and stuck her head in, asking “are you owned by Moby?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Several years ago, Moby founded Teany, a tea shop with vegan food, located in the lower east side. William, an IT manager at a Secaucus company, would hang out there with his wife and eventually worked part time there. A few years later he was inspired to leave the corporate world and open up Teanj in Union City – the name wasn’t licensed; Moby lost the shop to his now ex-wife in their divorce agreement. She eventually sold the lower east side shop and Teany is under new ownership. Teanj is not an extension or new location of a chain, but Moby’s shop bred the conceptual impetus.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Teanj offers dozens of flavors, the majority custom-blended by William. Herbal and non-caffeinated tea are rare beverages for me. Black tea– that is definitely my thing. I love black tea. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Two other downtown establishments – Basic Café on Erie and the Warehouse Café on Bay – have great ambience, reasonable prices, wonderful food and a quality, respectable cup of tea. But selection is limited to two or three flavors of black tea. Star Bucks offers the same number of options. Like Star Bucks, Basic Café and Warehouse Café makes a sincere effort and offer an atmosphere conducive to solitude or conversation, but their tea takes a back seat to their coffee. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Teanj, like newcomers David’s Tea and Argo Tea offers original blends of the leaf combined with other flavors. Teavina does the same thing, except there’s no place for seating at that establishment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Teanj is the least expensive of those competitors, offers as good – in some cases slightly better and I say slightly because the tea product offered is high quality from the other providers – a tea. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I both hang out there to sip tea and buy their blends –mainly their Vanilla and Chocolate chai and their roasted Matte – to keep at home for daily consumption . An almond flavored infused tea – Almond Cookie –is rich, a desert-like flavor, a perfect afternoon blend. A Ceylon with dried lime is an innovation I have not seen elsewhere, as is a chai with lemon grass and coconut, a more delicate balance but genuinely thirst quenching.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I know my tea.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I had my first and last cup of coffee at five years old</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I’ve been a committed tea drinker ever since.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">My parents and family are serious coffee drinkers. Hot coffee was always either available or being made in our home. The brewing process was a percolator, which would hiss and clatter. An electrical contraption, a metal pitcher plugged into an outlet on the kitchen counter, a clear plastic knob on top of the lid where spurts of coffee would spit up and flow back down into the pot. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Inside was this metal cylindrical filter device connected to a long stem, which held the coffee. I remember mostly cans of Maxwell House. Nobody ground their own coffee back then. A tiny bag for kitchen scraps was kept in its small stand by the sink; alongside peels from onions and carrots and other vegetables was always a lump of soggy coffee grounds.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">My father got up early to catch the train to Wall Street and he would prepare the coffee the night before, ready to be plugged in, minutes after waking but before taking the shower. He got up before us kids, my mother drove him to the train station and then got us out of bed and off to school. Any coffee she didn’t’ drink, she put in a glass with ice and the glass in the refrigerator so Dad could have ice coffee when he got home. My mother worked as a sectary at our parochial grammar school and she would drink coffee at home before she went to pick up my father at the Oradell train station. A fresh pot would percolate during dinner, after which coffee was always served. Holidays there was always this long drawn out lull between main course and desert as we waited for the percolator to work its magic. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">That machine fascinated me as a child, it would shake and make noise, a simple machine, no on/off switch, you turned it on by plugging it in, when the coffee was ready, you unplugged it. At some point, my parents switched to the dripping philosophy of a Mr. Coffee-like device, but not until I was in college I think. I remember most that tin metal pot with the clear knob on top where mini-geysers of coffee periodically erupted as it clicked and murmured. The coffee aroma thickened in the kitchen and spread throughout the house.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I was fascinated by the percolator, an R2D2 unit that seemed from another era even during my analog era Wonder Bread years. Once plugged in, invisible fumes of coffee filled the air, but the beverages inside were forbidden to children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My teenager older siblings were allowed coffee, which they drank in the morning and after dinner, but not I. The smell of coffee permeated life in our house, from dawn to after dusk, the source of that lush aroma – which I still love – was my childhood tree of knowledge of whose fruit could be indulged in by everyone but me (and my littler sister).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I kept nagging my father, let me try it, let me drink some coffee. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Now, Kimball’s Coffee (Kimball was my father’s first name) was renowned by the family as being thick as mud with a flavor akin to brimstone. It was the kind of coffee they drank in the Marine Corps, he would say. The aunts on holidays insisted on making the coffee to accompany holiday pies and cake. Even among coffee drinkers, Kimball’s Coffee was an acquired taste few acquired. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Finally he gave into my nagging, made me a cup with milk and sugar. It was awful. I can still remember gagging, involuntary spewing it from my mouth. I then vomited (or least as I remember). The revulsion was total, racing through my entire body. My father laughed at my reaction. It was the last cup of coffee I ever had. Even when I tried something coffee-flavored, like coffee ice cream, that sense memory surges back. Ironically, I make a great cup of coffee – during the live-in relationships, since I usually woke up first, I made the coffee – but I have never been able to overcome my reaction to Kimball’s Coffee. Coffee was ruined for me forever. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Instead, it was tea for me. In high school, I remember earl gray and Lipton. Early Grey was the only tea other than Orange Pekoe (Lipton, Red Rose, Tetley, etc.) that was sold, soon maybe Darjeeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a tea pot during college, and I would brew pots and pots of tea while writing papers and studying for exams. When I went to England I was fascinated they actually served tea without a bag. Before then, I never even conceived how that could be possible.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">It would be decades before loose leaf brewing would become the staple of my life it now is.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">By the late 90s, the world of tea started changing. Tea began a universe-wide upgrade. Before then, there was Lipton, Tetley and Red Rose and the basic orange pekoe. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><strong><u>PAUSE</u></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">You want to read about why varieties of different teas exist or the hokum about how the tannic acid enhances your tantric Tao, go to a more insipid blog. I have little patience for tea mythos. I do not really like green or herbal teas, I love caffeine and the main purpose of tea is as caffeine delivery system. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Herbal teas began to proliferate in the 1970s and 1980s, with the company Celestial Seasonings. Health Food Stores cornered that market, but as the forces of capitalism always have it, supermarkets expanded their selections to compete against independent stores. For black tea, there was Bigelow and Twinning, with their Constant Comment, Early Grey, Darjeeling’s –these were around when I was a kid and became more prominent in the subsequent decades. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">But it really wasn’t until the 1990s when you started seeing English Breakfast with its hardy flavor and instantly noticable higher caffeine level. With my suasage and egg on a roll at the bodega before work I could now get an English breakfast tea. More brands began to appear. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">That’s the funny thing about being a tea drinker. Tea was limited to a Lipton or Lipton copycat brand for years. Waiters would ignore my request for tea instead of coffee, or bring me coffee than give off attitude because I was different. Sometimes the water was tepid not hot. Mediocre tea was the rule. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">We no longer live in that Tea-verse. Unlike so many things –like music or movies! – tea has gotten better as the 20<sup>th</sup> century ended and the 21<sup>st</sup> century dawned.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">First Starbucks came. I loved – and love –<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Starbucks. Soon after they began to appear around these parts, 1995 or so – the one at Pavonia Newport was the first in Jersey City – it was announced they acquired Teazo, the first tea brand that pointed to a world of tea flavor well beyond Twinning.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Star Bucks was where I had my first Chai Latte – my first introduction to the land of chai, that spicy mix of Assam tea leaves, cinnamon, nutmeg and spices with steamed milk. I never had steamed milk before. I would always be served some limp Tetley while my companions gleefully quaffed their cappuccinos. I was obsessed with the chai latte for a while, overdosing on them to such an extent that I took a break for years. Teanj makes a great latte – they use dried ingredients, not a syrup, and they dry them into a powder themselves. I recommend the Vanilla Chai latte. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">But the tea bags of chai or Awake, a high-quality English Breakfast tea, served at Starbucks would give a me reason to meet friends there or read, enjoying their unique atmosphere that combines rustic coziness –echoing Seattle, the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>northwest port city<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>where it was founded – and impersonal on the go service efficiency of a corporate restaurant chain. The premium brand market expanded as did the price points.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Then, sometime towards the end of the first or beginning years of the second decade of the 21<sup>st</sup> century the tea boom bomb was detonated. Bush II might have ruined most aspects of America, Tbut ea was the exception. New brands and flavors abounded. Chocolate tea appeared. Then I discovered loose tea, to serve at home. Somebody had given me a coffee of the month gift for Christmas from Zabars, and I called them up, and using a white lie to strengthen my request, explained my doctor forbids me to drink coffee can you change this to tea. They were very nice, sent me a new bag of loose tea and a new bag every month. English Breakfast or a decaffeinated herbal they asked. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">English Breakfast of course – they and a very limited selection of flavors then – I wonder of that has changed. I went to the Zabars location and bought a tea scoop, which measures out a typical per serving portion and a tea ball, where I could put the leaves into for steeping. I haven’t gone back to store-bought bags since.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But as the Coffee now Tea of the month program ended – and it took more than a month to go through the entire pound of loose leaf tea I was sent – I discovered Tea & Sympathy, this<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>emporium of British food stuffs in Greenwich village. Tea & Sympathy is a British Store and adjacent British restaurant, which has great tea by the pot, served in the overly fussy British style of clever pots and dainty cups, but you have to order the high cholesterol bad food, like Bangers & Mash or Bangers & Baked Beans (bangers are serious, incredibly delish and artery hardening sausage). I once had their custard cake, a pound cake stuck in a bowl of custard like a dying mastodon in a tar pit. I immediately went home to lay down and sleep off the diabetic shock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The store though, besides these selection of digestives –which are cookies or crackers or some British delicacies – and Cadbury chocolates unavailable elsewhere in the states. Tea & Sympathy is a paradise for anglophiles and a way for ex-pat Brits to indulge their munchies and fight off homesickness. But they also had great loose leaf – a golden tea I pick up once in a while, still – and quality black and chias. You can also get a cuppa to go, there’s a park nearby and when the weather is nice and I am in the neighborhood and have some time, Tea & Sympathy fits the bill. Even though I have now bought my loose leaf home stash elsewhere for a good three years at least, I still go to this tory outpost for to get the best tea balls in the tea-verse. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I use bags in the travel mug – sachets is a popular, $10 word for them – but for the home drinking, like the mug I am working on now as I type – it’s the tea ball, a kind of miniature tin colander attached to a thin chain, so you can lift it out of the mug. At Tea & Sympathy – and I do not know of another store that offers these made in England steeping devices – the tea balls have a small ceramic ornament – a tulip or rose, I’ve seen a red London phone booth and a friend who lives nearby gave me a ball with a holiday-themed,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ceramic holly leaf. The ornament is a counter-balance to the ball filled with tea, dangles over the lip of the mug, enabling lifting out ball and making it easier to move the ball up and down, as one does a tea bag that has a string attached. I am positive this does nothing to advance steeping, but this mindless gesture enhances contemplation. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Sometimes you need to let the mind wander. Tea encourages reflection and contemplation and this slight hand movement of dipping the ball or bag is often part of that experience. Why tea balls are still made without the counter-balance ornament baffles me, the fact the concept has not been widely accepted by other tea ball manufacturers is criminal. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the counter-balance, the chain falls into the tea, then you have to go fishing with a spoon. Focusing on the tea and mug momentarily shatters any chance at reverie. Tea should be more about the tea drinker than the tea. Tea & Sympathy is a fun store, the brits very nice so at least I’m glad I have an excuse to visit and tarry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I found other places in New York that sold loose-leaf tea. They sold coffee too. Nothing that made me want to become a regular, no way to taste the teas and were basically limited in their offerings. You couldn’t sit down and linger over a cup. Also, the shops were off my beaten paths. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Argo Tea came into town around 2011 or so. It’s a Star Bucks for Tea and they sell loose tea. The tea is excellent and their black tea is a morning staple for me – it is called Nelegri and grown in Africa – going to their Union Square location is just about a weekly occurrence for me – I am in that neighborhood very often – I can always find a seat. The staff is usually friendly with some notable exceptions. For the loose tea, you self-serve, like the bulk sales of dates or nuts at a health food store. You fill up these paper bags, but then you bring the bags to the cashier and they turn on the scale. They keep the tip jar on the scale and remove the tip jar. Anyone with any experience with scales knows how delicate the mechanisms are, even the most digitized models and every other week there is a problem with getting the right weight or price – there is a system of codes and the cashier has to enter the codes into the register. The turnover of employees is high at Argo, the scale training is not a priority. The system is tragically inefficient, sometimes it is accurate, other times they round it up. I always feel I a little ripped off. Argo has an entire wall of these clear, cylindrical loose leaf teas – inviting all to self-serve and then when you get to the cash register, nobody knows how to use the scale, the manager is called over, the system of codes is explained– it is probably easier to launch a missile attack than it is to get<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>1.5 ounces of hazelnut chai at Argo.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">But they have a loyalty card, you get free cups the more you spend and the tea is pretty superb. The ambiance is similar to Star Bucks, I keep going back. They steep the teas before they are served. I love the black tea tea-paccino with two percent milk and a shot of vanilla flavor, but the inanity of some 20 year old kid saying it will be $13 for my loose leaf tea when I know it’s about four dollars since I buy it every week and the manager, who now knows me, has to cancel the order, re-weigh the tea then re-enter the secret ARGO tea codes gets really annoying. I’ve been at the register 20 minutes some times talking some friendly but ineptly trained front line worker through the complex tea weighing process, not exactly the optimum prelude to drinking of a cup of tea. I love the tea and enjoy the place, but this part of the Argo concept seriously needs re-evaluation. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">David’s Tea is down on Bleeker Street. The atmosphere is like an aggressively friendly medical marijuana dispensary. It is cleaner than Argo, bordering on antiseptic. Enthusiasm overflows from the staff, who show you the teas – the tears are kept in large canisters, which they bring out for you to smell. The CFO was once at the Bleeker location and he and I got into a tea chat – as this blog indicates, when prompted I can rattle on about tea – he said Argo is in the restaurant business, David’s Tea is in the tea business and the Bleeker Street location is the rare one where there is a place to sit and drink the tea. The lights are bright, but it is a little sterile and the tea is treated a little too much like a quasi-pharmaceutical. They give you no reason to linger. The staff, many of them are struggling actors and performers, are extreme extroverts. Their intensely bright cheerfulness takes some getting used to. But I love going there and the have some great teas. I they have some chocolate yerba mattes that are unique and some chai teas worth noting. I will often have a cup of their citron oolong – I never make oolong at home, it is an afternoon tea I only drink out – and they have a gurana chai, which I mix with other chais, that will push you from zero to sixty, with a nice peaty accent that can be nice note to the spicy symphony chai exudes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Teavina opened a location in Jersey City. The tea is quality, Morning Matte was given to me as a gift, long before Teavina came to the Newport Mall, and that got me to include a matte in my morning repertoire. I had never been in one before the Newport shop opened. The atmosphere is high-priced, luxury store – a Harry & David’s – and it is way over the top in that regard. Their canisters are large and instead of opening them and holding them up to you sniff, they wave the lid over the canister pushing the aroma towards you. Teavina is the most pretentious tea store in the tea-verse. They sell the teas in two ounces, not one, allotments, but the prices are for one ounce on the cans and they constantly push their canisters, so whatever is on the canister is double at the register. I’m sorry, I’m not going to buy $50 dollars worth of one tea just to have a metal contained with your company’s logo in my kitchen. Teavina sales practices is needlessly confusing, a bait and switch. If you care how much you spend for tea Teaavina is not the place to shop. It’s for really not for people who like tea but for people who like buying luxury items but cannot afford a new Porsche. It is really not for the serious – i.e., obsessive like me – tea drinker. You can buy cups of tea here, and they make a big deal of using a pure rock sugar – and they make a big deal of steep time and the temperature of the water – boiling hot is not good enough– what pretentious nonsense. But apparently Jersey City health laws prohibit serving milk, so they put in creamora. A cup of tea can cost $4.99 there and you can’t even get it with milk.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Last time I was there, they were out of the teas that I wanted, I got a cup of tea that was terrible and they were out of the sugar and the creamora. Go to the Starbucks, they own us now, I was told. It was just an escalator ride away, but I tried this new tea but it had a fruity flavor, which I did not know by the name and I don’t like fruity teas. A waste of money and time. I’m not saying I’ll never go back, but I haven’t since.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Enter Teanj in 2014, not just a small but noteworthy improvement over the current phase of the tea-verse, but competitively priced and with a tea that is equal to others, superior to most. Did I mention, it’s about a five minute walk from the apartment. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">That’s the other thing I cannot quite believe. Not only is the dark ages of tea over – uninspired flavors and mass-produced brands – but now the best tea place in the known teaverse is right in my neighborhood. </span></div>
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</span>Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-80038785717940069452014-02-10T05:35:00.001-08:002014-02-10T13:34:38.458-08:00Tachair Bookshoppe's First Annual Play Festival <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">There’s off Broadway and off-off Broadway and maybe additional offs or another qualifier all together are needed<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to help define what happened on Newark Avenue this weekend.</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Amidst the organized clutter that is </span><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2012/07/tachair-bookshoppe_11.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Tachair Bookeshoppe</span></a><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">, a local gathering place and purveyor of used and volumes was turned into an intimate performance space, presenting a credible weekend of short theater pieces, including play excerpts, one-act plays, monologues and an immersive story reading with stand-up comedy in between<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Tachair is hosting more events poetry readings, </span><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2012/10/tachair-bookshoppe-remembers-111-first_21.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">lectures</span></a><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">, and author signings – you know, the typical bookstore type open to the public affairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As this niche grows, the store has been modified to better present public events. A small-platform has been set up along part of the wall and with the lounging tables cleared away, a near-black-box-sized audience can be accommodated. The First Annual Play Festival showcased mainly local playwrights and performers, in retrospect a logical evolution, given that theater and plays are a growing segment of our arts community. Tachair is a Jersey City-grown cultural nook committed to catering to its neighborhood and city. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I went to both nights. They were well-attended events, all the seats were filled, about 50 folks. There are plenty of repurposed spaces and black-box theaters that accommodate that size capacity. Intimate theater is its own experience and that uniqueness is intrinsic to its charm. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The literary backdrop of the bookstore only added to the intellectual validity of the proceedings. Bookstores – especially those brave enough to preserve in our current era – are monuments to the printed word, thus by definition encourage theater, well at least in the mind. Novels and short stories and even much non-fiction informs our imaginations of different places and people. They enable us to dream, or at least dream better. What better environment for theater than one already so adept at disposing of disbelief? Indeed, what might have been anticipated as a distraction, instead enhanced. You were immediately drawn into the each of the pieces featured in this anthology, existing for a short while as the artificial world explored issues relevant to all our lives.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">The Play Festival featured mainly local playwrights and actors, the back-to-back nights of theater was hosted by </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://richkiamco.com/" target="_blank">Rich Kiamco</a>, an established comedian whose credits include Howard Stern appearances hosted both nights, warming up the crowd. Love was the main theme of the plays presented on the opening evening, this connective tissue played into Kiamco’s strengths, which is relationship humor. He also has the very local reputation of being one of the first (or is that among the first) gay couples to be married in the Jersey City Hall when marriage equality became Garden State Law. He was half of a couple to be among those to mark this breakthrough in freedom by being married at midnight by the mayor.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Setting the tone on this first night where the reality of love and the hope both love inspires collide and co-exist, Kiamco, who is of Filipino descent, talked about coming out at 14 to his very catholic and conservative parents then fast forwarding to the present day where his parents and relatives were unsure of the wedding presents to send or whose last name he would be using. In-between, he engaged the audience with his warmth, which was agreeably sarcastic. He proved always ready with a wise-crack and the audience was enthusiastically responsive. He asked how long the couples in the room had been together and how they met, making comic material of a couple, together 30 some odd years, who actually met through the Village Voice Personal Ads section. He started off with asking who had been together pre-Facebook, being confronted with a couple who began in the Desperately Seeking Susan era was comedy gold. Kiamco’s comedy universalizes the subjective – immigrant’s son rebelling against conformity or a couple going against the odds of personal ad dating resulting in a sustainable romance – into relatable experiences. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I apologize for not being able to get the names of the non-author actors. No disrespect was intended, I write this in free time and tracking down all the name proved too time consuming. Feel free to email me or better yet, put their names in the comment section. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The present reality of individual couples chilling love to be more than just pleasant was the at the core of </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">Three Bites by Summer Dawn Hortillosa, the third act of a three act play – <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the play is the story of a couple told a years apart, each act set over a meal. The Tachair act was the third and final slice of the lives of these two people. The couple are clearly falling out of love, bicker and snipe, perplexed that the blackened catfish they ordered is “burnt”. The woman is poet writing treacle platitudes about love for a greeting card company and her husband of three years seethes over her apparent hypocrisy of imaging these praises to romance where the reality he feels is that their relationship lacks romance. They blame each other for the disparity. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">There’s much clever banter, such as “Hindsight is 50/50.” Fate may not be determined at meals, but we’ve all had meals where it seems the past and the present are somehow contained in unsatisfying entrées. We’ve all been in that place where we blame the one we thought we love for the facts of our life we are unable to change.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Three Bites showed a relationship at a point where everything that was is now the opposite of what was once hoped, where once shared dreams – the greeting card lines the woman scribbles in a note book – are now disconnected from the reality. The tension and sorrow boiled beneath a Seinfeld-like surface of a restaurant scenario, what to eat, whether to eat what you are served and interacting with a waitress who can infuriate the couple only by the fact her southern accent indicates how oblivious she is to their plight.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br /> The scenario in Do-Not-Call List by Laryssa Wirstiuk, explores the conflict between human connection and our digital enabled relationships. Digital technology increases both the number and efficiency of relationships, but at the same time further distances us from the human connections actually at the core of romantic love. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Instead of directly breaking up with a boyfriend she met online and whose communication seems entirely conducted through an internet dating service, she is canceling her membership. This initiating plot-point is based on a conceit, that one is still able to go to an office in person when interacting with service providers in this digital era we all find ourselves enduring and the play actually makes some comedy over the confection, with the company representative constantly reminding her they prefer to handle these personal issues online. An implication of the play is that the man at the desk is actually the online love interest of the woman, although this bait and switch idea was not developed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The play effective satirizes the frustration everyone experiences when dealing with billing or technical support where the protocols strictly adhered to are totally unrelated to what the customer wants. The woman is reluctant to reveal her reasons for canceling the service, but when it is implied that her boyfriend has communications with other women on the services, becomes adamant about seeing those communications, which of course violates company protocol. Some very funny slapstick occurs with the woman trying to see the screen of the laptop<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and the corporate petty bureaucrat hiding the screen. Technology offers an illusion that it can obliterate the heartbreak and anxiety of romantic involvement. This feisty sketch depicted how our humanity proves otherwise. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">House of Doors by Yvonne Hernandez introduced the monologue portion of the evening. Hernandez becomes – the makeover and characterization so complete that acting is an insufficient word – a homeless woman being interviewed by a college student working on a paper. Why she is homeless is not explicated – this is not a public service announcement abut the devastation of mental illness or a political diatribe about an unjust economy and merciless system. This woman has fallen through the cracks and the umbrage she feels about being pigeonholed as a stereotyped – as someone less than human – is honest. The core of this characterization comes from the title – she lives in a makeshift shelter where discarded large doors make up the walls – and one day she returns home from panhandling to find it burned down, killing the woman she lives with. The woman is convincing her interviewer that she has a past – she’s a daughter, a mother, a sister, used to read Charles Dickens – that she is literate and a “somebody” – just like her, but the real lesson is not that her ability to love is not just part of her history, but her present. This monologue enraptured the audience, a story of how a life survives through severe depredation, and but how survival consists of the essential attribute of our humanity – the ability to “love and be loved.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The monologue Senses by Summer Hortillosa kept soaring from and descending back to a reality of a millennial couple – told by a the woman (Summer) – on the verge of falling in love or perhaps admitting the love they feel is mutual and authentic. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It is the moment of a kiss in public, with fingers interlocking, time freezing and love. The kind of kiss that makes the two feel they are now at the center of the universes. The woman fantasizes about this perfect potential of impending couple-hood, a world where they both become wildly successful, earning dual life time achievement Grammy Awards but then must still find love even she admits to their less than perfect jobs and more realistically sized bank accounts <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and all the other obstacles our contemporary world throws at today’s 20-something’s. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Do they kiss? Well, you may have to find out for yourself. This was a high-energy performance. The momentum kept mounting, the imagination at work and the rapid and constant succession of ideas and images was breathtaking, yet never artificially manic. Every detail of import to a young woman caught between her optimistic outlook and the harshness of reality is expressed with a break-neck, free-associative fervor. You start by eavesdropping on a romantic incident and then are suddenly sprinting through the inner caffeinated subconscious where love is defined by an individual’s hopes and dreams, which of course are far from unique to the individual or her generation.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yvonne Hernandez returned to the Tachair stage to close opening night with another character study of a woman survivor. Fifty Ways begins as an extended riff on a song she “remembers growing up,” the Paul Simon classic ode to dumping the other in a relationship. This song was at one time was a number hit, dominated top 40 and FM radio to such an degree it comes close to era-defining. It was probably Simon’s biggest post Simon-&Garfunkel hit and has one of those catchy hooks that time only makes cloying. Many songs you can’t get out of your head, but this Simon ditty is one of those you wish you could. Even Simon fans admit this fun song soon gets grating and annoying.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The woman searches the lyrics, hop on a bus, etc., for guidance in leaving a relationship. The pop music offers only useless advice because she only leaves “10 stitches and two restraining orders later.” The comic careens into a powerful though more tragic truth. The reveal of domestic abuse is not a shock – we now understand what were clues to the squalid reality this woman struggled to escaped from. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Simon’s novelty song is cavalier about matters of the heart, a love ‘em and leave ‘em anthem. Her childhood dream of idealized, even empowering love is compromised by the reality of suddenly finding herself in an abusive relationship where leaving your lover is not some preference in the pursuit of greener pastures of pleasures but a matter of life and death. This monologue was sly and thoughtful, hits you right in the gut with dramatic twist that only after the blow the audience realizes<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the true story was hiding in plain sight <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>all along. She invoked a collective memory of a pop song then reminds that reality isn’t just far away from the pop music sentiments, but often the opposite of those sentiments. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="font-size: x-large;">Second Night<o:p></o:p></span></u></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Kiamco returned to his role as MC and warm-up act, repeating some of the same growing up Filipino jokes but adding parking jokes, working the hyper-local angle into his act. Looking out, he saw that it was mainly a hometown audience and bemoaned a problem he has working where he lives, “you all already know my sh-t,” but he had some fun with a couple who had been together for a long time, meeting in a bar when they were both drunk. His audience interaction put the people at ease, made them comfortable with seeing provocative theater in a peculiar setting of a local bookstore. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Illogical Defiance by Tricia Milnamow was first up, a love-triangle dramedy that veered into melodrama – I love melodrama, a term that for some has gained unwarranted negative connotations. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The floor is littered with paper, what could be pictures. The couple is seated and we eavesdrop as a minor squabble between a man and woman begins and we all know what is said may seem inconsequential in its content now, but will undoubtedly lead to a live changing event. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The woman is complaining they need to move to a bigger space, which means the man must make more money by taking extra shifts so they can afford to move. The guy, an aspiring photographer, doesn’t see the need to move because their current abode is large enough to contain what he considers essential. Her needs and what she needs he feels justified in dismissing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">These complaints are obviously just deceptively petty tips of an emotional iceberg. She is conflicted by love for him and the nagging sense she can do better and perhaps the guilt of her wanting more than he is capable of providing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Then his best friend knocks at the door, his girlfriend, apparently from the upper-class, has thrown him out of their apartment and he needs a couch to crash on. The men seem to have a past and perhaps present involvement with each other’s girl and the crasher can now rekindle his romance with his best friend’s girl – “I’m his best friend, but you can do better than him.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The three here are concealing information from two of the parties and it is not at this point clear who knows what. I wanted to be there when they find out what they don’t know, but this was just excerpt.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">While it worked as a skit, or an enactment of a minimalist short story, what was presented was the first act of a longer play. The acting had a mumble-core quality, but the self-ironic overtone did not obscure the human truths at the core of the tale. These adults are facing the lowered expectations of fading youth. There’s tough choices ahead and the woman knows the decision she makes will hurt one of these two men, even if her heart is broken first. But like I said, I love melodrama, especially of the kitchen-sink, dirty realism variety. For the time being I was fine with filling in their future (there will be emotional pain, there will be love).<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong><em>Playwright & Illogical Defiance cast.</em></strong> <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mykel Dicus apologized for not having a drummer or the sound and lighting and other theatrical accoutrements for his one-man, multi-character show – Mykel's Kashmir Nirvana-Unplugged <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-- which is about his time in a Hells Kitchen Railroad Apartment in what seems like the 80s into the 90s – sometime in the still recent past when Hells Kitchen was still Hells Kitchen (not Clinton) and when at the time he survived a horrible beating by the hands of one of those room mates. The violence is not depicted, just the frustration of a court system where the perpetrator receives an inexplicably minor sentence. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The gears shift in this accelerated stream of consciousness yarn-spinning – he is waiting on the money from a room mate to pay the landlord and this room mate is an African American diva from the south who is ordering take out Chinese food, who gets into a altercation with the Asian worker brushing off her complaints about the food she is given. Dicus portrays both the Asian and the African American while shifting back to himself, the main tenant in need of room mate rent money to play the cigarette smoking landlord (he used an electronic cigarette as a prop, thus not violating the no-smoking policy at Tachair, as well as state law). The performance was raucous, although I felt passing discomfort about the ethnic depictions – these people were not exactly compassionate character, making avoiding stereotyping a challenge for an actor playing an ethnicity not his own. But, he convened us these were genuine New York experiences. A modern day Damon Runyon, the characters were believable and manifesting themselves with meth-like acceleration.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Conspiracy of the Cocked Hats, Washington Irving may not qualify as a play, but the reading by Trish Szymanski was a performance to behold – hand gestures, raised voice and frothing. I’m not a Washington Irving fan, thought to be the first American to make his living by writing, but maybe horrible grammar school teachers are to blame. I do not remember reading this piece, a colonial-era satire. The tale is an imagined diatribe by a Dutchmen enraged about the unstoppable “Yankee” encroachment on the isle of Manhatto<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and finds the only solace in the Dutch survival on the Jersey Side. The culture of the original Dutch settlers remain strongest in Jersey City, the still recognizable locations Irving referenced delighted the audience. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Szymanski’s introduction, explaining the background of Irving, reminding us of the Dutch roots of our area, framed the performance. She invoked believable outrage, adding a fresh comic layer to the wheezy prose of this bygone era scribe by infusing a Jersey Pride attitude to the rant against inevitable change. Funniest stuff I heard all month and it’s almost 200 years old! <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A reprisal by Yvonne Hernandez of House of Doors and Fifty Ways concluded the two day festival of short plays. I asked Carol Valeau why she had this repeat, and she replied she liked the work and thought it was worth seeing twice. I have to agree, I liked both the second time, but House of Doors especially. I found I wasn’t as bothered by the lack of political or personal explanation as to why the individual was in the state she was in during the second performance. Instead, I was more impressed how Hernandez made undeniable visible someone who we as individuals and as a society ignore as invisible. She went deeper into this character’s inner struggle to retain her dignity. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Events are on the rise at Tachair and
while this one had the modifier, “first annual,” the theater has invaded the
bookstore and may become a more constant presence here.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I
don’t want to wait a whole year before we bring plays here again,” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone in attendance seemed to agree. This
theater was as valid as it was unique. What a funny and moving pair of
evenings.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Tachair-Art-Books-Conversation/188951437821731" target="_blank">Tachair Bookshoppe Facebook</a></span></span></span></span></div>
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Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-70038779186226061732014-02-07T09:52:00.001-08:002014-02-07T16:29:27.790-08:00Tape, Transparency & Translucency<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfjRja1X5Xas1E0LkUj4BqJlFeM8_3kFzcyFcM-ccAuKY9RZEzkFDibI9KXaYECiKh2dRpXPeQlaajK0oaZUESDm2eMvwsJ5DYWe1fMhrhHoQfuxTSCq5dc9B4UXJ2vrdU7bxK2qjNGWGS/s1600/kayt-spring-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfjRja1X5Xas1E0LkUj4BqJlFeM8_3kFzcyFcM-ccAuKY9RZEzkFDibI9KXaYECiKh2dRpXPeQlaajK0oaZUESDm2eMvwsJ5DYWe1fMhrhHoQfuxTSCq5dc9B4UXJ2vrdU7bxK2qjNGWGS/s1600/kayt-spring-1.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Impending Spring is a new show by <a href="http://www.kaythester.com/" target="_blank">Kayt Hester</a> in a new space, the Wix Lounge.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I’m not one hundred percent sure about the space is exactly, except that it was spacious, airy and uncluttered and located over there by Chelsea Way, <a href="http://www.wixlounge.com/" target="_blank">Wix Lounge</a> </span><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">(235 W 23rd St, 8th Floor) .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The Wix lounge, which by all accounts may be open to the public and free to use, a kind of Starbucks without the coffee and is hosted by the Wix, an internet-services company.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Essentially the I didn’t get all the details, about the space. in The opening featured wine and oysters and seemed well attended.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The way Kayt turned the space into a gallery show was that she was using <a href="http://www.wix.com/" target="_blank">Wix</a> (a web-service provider that also hosts the Wix Lounge space) for her <a href="http://www.kaythester.com/" target="_blank">snazzy new website</a> and while solving a technical issue with tech-support and her work got noticed and the powers that be decided a Hester exhibit would be a compelling fit for the art gallery potential of the lounge, a kind of an open source office (the concept apparently was first conceived in California).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">I shouldn’t give into a snarky tone, It is a beautiful space, enhanced the art display, and was well-lit and comfortable to spend time in. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Impending Spring is the title of the exhibit, an expression of mid-winter hope. Hester often draws inspiration from the seasonal changes <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(<a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/08/kayt-hester-summer-magicada.html" target="_blank">her recentJersey City show celebrated Summer</a>) of the natural world. She doesn’t like the cold and snow and ice, preferring the warmer times of year, thus the title. She can’t wait for Spring even though wait we all must.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">While the walls feature some classic Hester depictions – masking tape on canvas – what makes this show unique are images exclusive to the Wix Lounge show that decorate wall to ceiling windows enclosing the inner-board room located mid-lounge, a white-collar terrarium. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2010/03/illusion-of-illusion.html" target="_blank">Not the first time working for Hester making most of glass as the background</a>. Both the properties of the innate transparency of glass and how the glass is<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>positioned in terms of available light are utilized in the work. In fact, it’s wrong to consider it a background, a mere canvas. The glass itself was as much of part of the Hester medium as the masking tape. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Images of a caribou (this may or may not have something to do with the post-punk<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>band, The Pixies), stark telephone poles, connecting cables, a woman’s pensive gaze, a bunny, an owl whose claws clutch an umbrella (I find umbrellas objects of beauty, says Hester). <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Always a marvel how she can express so much tape meticulously cut into tiny pieces , but aside from that adhesive material, the equally amazing aspect is how she expressed so much with so little, a dash, a roundness, a slash and an image is realize complete with suggested movement and feeling. The awareness of what is not said seems at the root of her image making.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">I love the caribou’s open jaw, a call of the wild or how the owl seems to rise in flight, wings spread – the umbrella some amusing accidental clash between nature and civilization – spring comes no matter how advanced our technology or populated our cities.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">When standing within the glass-enclosed board room and looking out, the images are like auroras, They become shadows , but not casted on the wall by light, but existing between the light and the wall.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">By balancing<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>positive and negative space, that is, black tape eliminating portions of what is transparent to creating something new, Hester has conjured an illusion of translucency. The result is a kind of 3-D – or maybe 4-D – montage of images making viewers not just see what appears to be a projection, but actually feel like they are inside the projection, part of it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">We live in an era of art where exhibitions occur in spaces that were not typically galleries. Interiors are being repurposed so rampantly that now almost anywhere can serve as a showcase. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Visual Art utilizes shadows, light and space to convey ideas and emotions. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Impending Spring is not just art in a new space, but Hester makes that space part of the art. It both contains and becomes her vision.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">To experience the illusion of translucency, , when visiting Impending Spring, go inside the glass room and look out.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQB6XhGJXdxgLkGQ9vivHJfDaCem-TIMU4i-_YOVb4f3dXtEaKGjyA5sWysJ2b6b0zHTA73Vd983D1abshXkAjfrcHJc7tI6WMBuMtyxkk-E2_KtgNs15WItWANdaBlFl1FQm1pIBM4_tE/s1600/kay_spring-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQB6XhGJXdxgLkGQ9vivHJfDaCem-TIMU4i-_YOVb4f3dXtEaKGjyA5sWysJ2b6b0zHTA73Vd983D1abshXkAjfrcHJc7tI6WMBuMtyxkk-E2_KtgNs15WItWANdaBlFl1FQm1pIBM4_tE/s1600/kay_spring-8.jpg" height="320" width="228" /></a> </o:p></span></div>
Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-4090049902981271192014-02-04T05:23:00.000-08:002014-02-04T05:36:49.801-08:00Van Vorst in Snow while Snowing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>The view of Van Vorst Park from the New Jersey Room at the Main Branch of the public library. A wet heavy snow is falling. <o:p></o:p></em></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Thought the contrast of the view below from above with the view above from below might cause some perception reflection. Really though, snow is all you need for reality to be reconsidered. Stark, yet magical. There’s different types of snow and different times of the year causes different types. Today’s flakes were big and thick. The snow clumped on branches.<o:p></o:p></em></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Memory convinces us there’s life underneath all this frigid white. The green will return. The insects and squirrels, the chipmunks and birds. Now though only a few with their dogs represent visible breathing life. <o:p></o:p></em></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Christmas is long over. We no longer fantasize about infant child’s bringing peace or reindeers pulling sleighs in the sky or men made of snow with eyes of coal and the ability to dance. Polar Bears aren’t drinking Coca Cola,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>they’re hunting and under that parka you look mighty damn tasty.<o:p></o:p></em></span></span></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Winter is not celebrated now, just endured. The reality is stunning and beautiful. The transformation of our immediate world is as all-embracing as it is temporary.</span></span></em><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>The park almost vacant, the snow fresh and thickening, unplowed, unshoveled, unblemished. American flag, limp and clinging to its pole, faded and soaked colors in the white tells how overwhelming weather can be.<o:p></o:p></em></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em></em></span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em><span style="font-size: large;">Gradually your realize the forms under the clumps of snow, the gazebo, the branches and trunks of trees, the fountain, the benches, the trash pail, the wrought iron fence, what you see caused by the physical use of space and the visible lines of metal of wood. They’re like marks on a sketch pad. Lines and dashes that do not create objects, only suggest what they might, hint at how the actual space. This snow makes this park tarry in the moment where we are not sure if reality is becoming abstract or the abstract more real.</span></em></span><br />
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Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-49260783363471783102014-02-02T04:32:00.001-08:002014-02-02T05:55:26.394-08:00Carmen Rosa’s Super Bowl Cake<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><strong><em>While gentrification ebbs but now mostly flows in Jersey
City, Carmen Rosa’s Bakery remains, an old-school bakery. What works can stay
and let’s strengthen those things that remain. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have very limited cake or pastry needs.
Carmen doesn’t do bread or other types of baked goods. But one time I was going
to a Shiva for a friend’s mom and I got these jelly-filled pastries everyone
went wild for, turns out jelly-filled pastries is considered a traditional Jewish
desert. I was both the only gentile and the only one from New Jersey at the
service. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bringing praised sweetness to
ease grief felt <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>really good. But just as
I am behind the times when it comes to bakery trends, I really do not follow
football. The game bores me and seems to encourage arrogance and prefabricated
machismo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used to follow baseball, but
instead I’m a Mets fan. As everyone knows, the Super Bowl is in Secaucus and
the teams are staying in Jersey City, down by the waterfront. ESPN and sports segments
on other news outlets are replete this week with bits filmed in the Hyatt
meeting rooms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess because the teams
playing aren’t local, you can easily avoid and ignore the Super Bowl fever. The
same is true when the Giants are in the big game, if you don’t go to the bars
you only have to deal with occasional small talk. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am pretty sure it’s the same for the Jets,
but I need to check the fossil record. You can catch the halftime show on You
Tube anyway<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-- it’s the 10<sup>th</sup>
anniversary of the famed wardrobe malfunction –<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>why bother with the whole game. Unless there’s cake of course. Look at
this work of art. The silver football, a slightly deflated<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>actual football spray painted on a pedestal –
I wonder how many they have in the back or if there’s only one – it looks
ultra-custom made – and does it have to be returned if it is goes with the cake
to the party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This cake design can
double for high school football team champions – guess I have to check the
Jersey Journal for the local standings to track that market. Notice the two
plates on the side, cupcakes for each team, decorated by goal posts. One will
be for celebration, the other to ease the pain. Every year the Super Bowl marks
our calendar and is always distant. Football fans who follow the game fervently
now must find other activities until August, when the pre-season begins. I just
saw the fantastic film, Big Fan, which reveals the inner life in ways that make
you sympathetic to what often seems as simple douche baggery. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a great movie. For the more casual fan
and everybody else, it’s a TV event and a reason to have a party – and maybe
that party might include cake. Of course, billions and billions of dollars are
made, the biggest single sporting event in the world and the most lucrative orgy of corporate sponsorship of the year. Even when it is in
the same state for the first time in history, the Superbowl can still feel just as distant for those innoculated against the are you ready for some football fever.
Oh sure, a handful of people are making money in New York/New Jersey – recent studies
show that the actual tax payers are loosing out, more being spent for police
and sanitation than will be generated in tax revenue – but for everybody else,
it’s the same as any other year – big screen TV, </em></strong></span><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2010/02/bagman-pays-off.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><strong><em>Super bowl pools</em></strong></span></a><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong><em>. Or maybe not.
Never saw this beautiful cake display before in the window of Carmen Rosa’s. I
used to say that sports brings out the worse in fans and the best in athletes.
That’s probably a little harsh and over stated. People love the games, love
their teams. In this window this cake has a lot of imagination and a lot of
heart.<o:p></o:p></em></strong></span></span><br />
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</em></strong></span> Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-73779688263398200432014-02-01T04:34:00.000-08:002014-02-09T06:00:20.002-08:00Pete Seeger Lives<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">When I was in college, I interviewed Pete Seeger. He was a genuinely nice man, tolerant of an inexperienced upstart. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was one of the very first times EVER I asked somebody questions, wrote down what they say, put quotes together in an article and had it published in the school paper (I had mostly wrote reviews and poems). <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Pete Seeger was coming to play at the school – they had just built a new arts center – and the interview was part of a review of his concert. He seemed old then, older than my parents, even though they were the same age. You think everyone your parents age are the same and it was a revelation to find out that members of the generation protested the war, supported environmental movements too. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">We talked a good while. I asked him about song writers and public affairs. I remember most him being just so warm and friendly. I must have told him I had seen him in concert. Ronald Reagan had entered office and I do remember one joke, what he thought of the new president – “he’s a good cowboy actor.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I was a punk-er by then, but being a Dylan freak I was knowledgeable about folk music, etc. I had some good questions. I remember I had to get permission for the interview, and could not tape it. The concert was a good show – the school was very left-leaning, the majority of the faculty had been in the movement – and they loved singing along to those old folk songs. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I worked all night on that thing, the process was new to me and did not come easy. Also, it was on a typewriter, manual Smith Corona, onion skin paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My philosophy professor and a student-advisor said to me after he read the article in the paper –– “hey Herrick, maybe you actually can write.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">A few years earlier – when I was 15 – me and buddies <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2009/06/dan-laura.html" target="_blank">Danny</a> and <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2010/02/tony-visits-his-roots.html" target="_blank">Tony</a> – saw a Tribute to Leadbelly concert, with Seeger and Arlo Guthrie – also Sweet Honey in the Rock and Sonny Terry and Brownie McGee. How we ever heard about this concert or got tickets is lost to the mysteries of time. We loved the show, I remember liking it a lot but what I remember most is that Danny’s mother drove us, went out to dinner, then picked us up. In college, this had become a favorite teenage memory. The concert was released on CD a few years ago, but I never picked it up. I preferred the memory.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">My buddy Danny has a story about meeting Arlo Guthrie in the early 90s and how he was astounded he had gone to the Leadbelly Tribute. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been a folk music fan since I was a kid. It has to do with being a Bod Dylan freak, which happened like at 13. See, that’s the evolution. Within two years of getting really into – in the parlance of the times – you’re off to the big city to see Pete Seeger sing songs that even then were at least a half-century old. Seeger pre-dated Dylan by about 30 years, although was also a contemporary a solo-artist – he was signed to Columbia also – and if you think of some of the other contemporaries, Seeger outlasted them and was still relevant 15 years or so when my musical tastes were in formation. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Me and the guys did not ask our mom to drive us to see Tom Paxton or the Kingston Trio, not to mention the Highwaymen. We probably had little to no idea who they were anyway. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Some artist linger past their time and some do not and Pete Seeger is somebody whose music lingered because of its authenticity. His recordings are really not that good, they certainly disdain any kind of polish. The studio was not his forte and his live recordings are more documentations of folk music as opposed to a preservation of a performance. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Seeger connects us to how songs were sung before recorded music. That is, together. His father was a academic folk musicologist, and Seeger had not just an library-sized memory for songs, if you listen to his interviews (there’s a swell one available for free at archive.org with the great Studs Terkel), he studied the evolution of these songs – a recent old song I’ve discovered – the Golden Vanity, a mournful ditty about a sailor who sabotages a ship, goes back to Elizabethan age, according to Seeger. He encourages us to sing along – I remember my philosophy rhapsodizing about how he loves singing along in groups with Pete, a main focus of the concert he performed and I can still recall – but he also engages us with the history of the songs. He was a scholar, but never in an ivory tower and made the scholarship – the backstory of a song – listen to Guantanamera, one of the few distinctively famous recordings of his long career –part of the experience. A.P. Carter collected songs from hither and yon, but he made them all into Carter Family songs and while Seeger was inspired by the Carter Family too, his ethnographic tendencies acknowledged lineages more than A.P. ever cared to, opening up a collective history to all the listeners. In contrast, the Carter Family seems to fabricate some Southern agrarian ideal that may be deeply involved with a grand mythology, yet is weirdly ahistorical. It’s a past without memory. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The context Seeger provides enhanced the song, often distracting from his musical gifts. He had a warm tenor, robust in his youth but as it became frayed and withered, it gained more gravitas without loosing warmth (a quality that eludes Dylan, for example). He was instantly familiar. He sounded like the neighbor you always wave hello to. Eternally optimistic, but convincing and credible. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Totally under-rated banjo player too, as good a picker as any but he wasn’t into showing off. His folk didn’t have a bluegrass flash. He was good as Ralph Stanley or Earl Scruggs, his contemporaries and peers. Musically, critics never gave him his due, but that started to change with reissues and box sets and of course the Seeger Sessions, where Bruce explored the music contained in Seeger’s song. I have both the studio and the 2-CD Dublin Live set. Bruce really performs a kind of exegeses on the music. Seeger sessions is not well regarded by Bruce fanatics – there’s no E-Street or Bruce songs and the lack of starkness that made his first foray into folk music – the Nebraska masterpiece – but it is one of his most rousing records. He has having so much. More importantly, he got me listening to Seeger again. I have a civil rights era Seeger recording of We Shall Overcome, and it is Pete with a crowd infusing a hymn with emotion and an unmistakable insistence on justice. With his Seeger Sessions large jug band, Springsteen opens the musicality of that song – what Seeger could do with a crowd and his sole tenor and 12-string guitar strumming, Bruce needs strings and horns. Bruce’s gifts as an arranger are under-recognized, and this arrangement showcases those powers at their height. We think of this as a simple song, but Bruce shows how much complexity there is that makes a song sound simple. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bruce moved on from the Seeger Sessions, but as we heard on Wrecking Ball, the influence of Peter Seeger has never left this latter-phase of his art. </span></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pete showed us that music was not just about technique or perfect notes, it was the sound of our collective humanity. His recordings go back to the 1940s, but he was taught by people who did not learn how to play instruments or use their vocal skills by records. Songs were passed down, from generation to generation,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>from field to porch. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The musician is just a vessel, creating the means we share our humanity. Dancing at a rave, or joining in a chorus when the band does the hit you loved in high school for their encore – is that really so far removed from singing We Shall Overcome as the cops with dogs and night sticks block the Birmingham Bridge – or expel kids from Zuccotti Park? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two weeks ago, I downloaded newly discovered Almanac Singers songs, his pre-Weaver band with Woody Guthrie. The album is State of Arkansas. I don’t really like The Weavers, but loved what I had of the Almanac Singers. The Weavers sound too commercial, over-produced and syrupy. The authenticity of Seeger’s solo work is absent. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Some of the songs were repeats I have on other Smithsonian Folkways collection, they didn’t make a lot of recordings this New Deal era ultra-lefties. The story on them is that they were pro-union and pro-workers, but also isolationist in the pre-Pearl Harbor United States – a total anomaly, because the isolationists were almost all 0—all except for the Almanac Singers – Republicans, anti-Roosevelt folks and committed anti-Semites/pro-Nazis. When World War II happened, the Almanac Singers changed their tune and supported the war. As they became popular, their isolationist past came out and could not find places to gig and broke up. Same thing would happen with The Weavers, who had actual number one hits, but because of Pete’s wobbly past, were blacklisted. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">State of Arkansas is really a revealing folk album, shedding light on how even at this embryonic stage, topical songs were interwoven with folklore discoveries. Woody Guthrie and Cisco Houston (we desperately need a revival of Cisco Houston, a near-forgotten genesis of a folk singer) were in the band and their repertoire includes some deep folk songs, for instance – Blow The Man Down – yes, the sea chantey I think I remember first in in Popeye cartoons. A revealing recording, they are singing with a serious intent, that whoever in that band first found this song first found it in its orginal authentic setting. Twenty some odd years later, when college kids at Newport were collecting folkways Sea Chantey collections, these songs were not being sang by sailors on the seven seas. When the Almanac laid down that track – which is very strange and its goofiness only makes it stranger.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">In the past decade and a half, one of musical revelations is that country music is folk music (duh.) I love Roy Acuff, the Louvin Brothers, the Carter Family – all the stuff that George Jones, Johnny Cash and even Hank Williams learned. A lot of the songs were on records by the Grateful Dead, the Byrds, even Dylan but done in what were unmistakably folkie arrangements, to my uneducated and inexperienced ears. Hell, they were mainly acoustic instruments. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">But the songs also sounded like the Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger songs I got into soon after being stuck with terminal Dylan-Freak-itis at 13. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">But listening to that old timey stuff, barely political at all – unlike acoustic blues of the same<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>era, like Robert Johnson or Blind Lemmon Jefferson or even good ole Leadbelly – who seem to at least imply that the hard times is due in part to society. Woody and Seeger, radical leftist platitudes. But they are set to the same melodies and chords. It’s wild. Union Train is the Wabash Cannonball. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">In one of their anti-war ditties, well anti-draft – is C for – the song is a note for note rip off of T for Texas, by Jimmy Rogers. What weirdness, on so many levels. Hearing antiwar song from the World War II era is shocking. Seeger was so far left he didn’t like FDR? Now, that’s radical, but the naiveté both appalls and appeals. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">But the other level is how does such a blatant rip-off happen. Were they’re royalties involved. Was it a rip off or a kind of parody? Did they cop the melody knowing it would spark a recognition in the audience, be a crowd pleaser or were thing so dispersed back then, radio so segmented and sporadic, that they could pretend it was theirs? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">As tides changed, they became anti-Hitler (This Guitar Fights Fascists was written on Pete’s guitar, or was it Woody’s?) and there’s a great breakdown Rally Round Hitler’s Grave, not a deep song at all, just threats about boiling Hitler in oil kind of thing. It really rocks Great Seeger Banjo licks, fast as Earl Scruggs. This is up-tempo Appalachia and Seeger has an authentic claim to Appalachia, except the northern part of the range. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Too bad, Seeger never played with the Hillbillies, a duet album with Ralph Stanley. The old weird America, the Invisible Republic. Seeger was as much a part of that world as <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2009/04/roy-acuff-greatest-hits.html" target="_blank">Roy Acuff</a> or the Stanley Brothers or the Elmore Brothers or the <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2012/05/satan-is-real-by-charlie-louvin.html" target="_blank">Louvins</a>. They were all doing the same melodies, all playing acoustic instruments, yet there was no over cross-pollination. Regional differences, politics, the secular verses sacred or just that the music business was so segmented then. By the time of the 1960s, the folk movement came along and that mountain music was relegated to the New Lost City Rambler re-creations and protest seemed to dominate what people thought of as this acoustic music of the people and it wasn’t until the 1970s with Will The Circle Be Unbroken<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>by the Nitty Gritty Dirt band did the rediscovery of that pre-honky tonk country music. Seeger wasn’t invited to jam with them either. As a listener, the music relates more than the musicians or the record companies would let it. Maybe if A.P. recorded Union Maid the right to work movement that holds down southern wages could be squelched.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">A guy can dream can’t he? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Seeger is a hero whether you agree with his politics or not. He was always for the working man Die hard leftist and environmentalist, supporting civil rights, worker rights and our right to clean air and water long before those movements were popular and when doing so landed you in jail or blacklisted, which it did for Seeger many times. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">A friend of mine pointed out that if it wasn’t for his Clearwater activities, the Hudson River would still be unflushed toilet bowl. People can swim in it now, eat its fish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is thanks to Seeger and his banjo. His wife of like 70 years died in July, but he greeted canoers during an anti-fracking demonstration on the Hudson, playing his banjo on the shore. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">What an amazing link to the past, playing for dustbowl refuges, union strikers, civil rights demonstrations, anti-war and Occupy Wall Street. I can't think of a another example of dedication to idealism and utter absence of cynicism combined with the longevity commitment. He did it when it was cool, when it was not cool. In the news or ignored by all but a handful, Pete and his banjo were found. He’s a hero. A true American hero.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times;">And because he was New York –based, he was often in the news, part of our own firmament for as long my memory goes back. His death is strange. Not unexpected, he was 94 but it’s not like another celebrity of advanced years, when you hear he died you are not prompted to say, I thought he was already dead. We knew Pete was alive and with us and our side. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">It’s like hearing a mountain or a river is dead. How can that be? But the mountains and the rivers, they’re not gone and neither is Pete Seeger or the songs or the human truths only music adequately expresses. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I found out something new about Pete Seeger and <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2011/01/phil-ochs-there-but-for-fortune.html" target="_blank">Phil Ochs</a>
that jarred another memory about my encounter with him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">What sparked this insight into the recollection was this
article about Farm Aid this year, the last public appearance by Seeger.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2014/01/29/opinion/pete-seegers-last-night-on-stage.html" target="_blank">Here’s a link</a></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">But here’s a
snapshot. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Neil Young, one
of the show’s longtime headliners, had stopped in to pay his respects, and the
conversation soon turned to the night in 1976 when Phil Ochs hanged himself… Ochs,
a good friend and fellow folk singer, was in trouble. He’d been depressed and
drinking for a long time, and he reached out to Pete… “Phil really wanted to
talk,” Mr. Young recalled. Pete had to choose between staying in the city
another night or getting home. He chose the train. “Pete remembered shaking
hands with him, and when he said goodbye to him for the last time,” Mr. Young
said. “He regretted not talking to him.” For 37 years, the decision to leave
that night ate at Pete. “ ‘I wish I’d done something more to stop that
from happening,’ ” Mr. Young recalled him saying shortly before he took the
stage.</em> <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The way my long ago interview with Pete ended was sort of
odd, he just stopped talking and his manager, Harold Leventhal (I know because
he is interviewed in No Direction Home and he was a memorable man, when I saw
him in the documentary I instantly recognized him). <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The questions were going good but he just sort started mumbling
and shut down. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I remember asking him about Phil Ochs, not about the suicide
or anything like that. I recall asking him about newer song writers and
mentioned Phil Ochs – Pete Seeger had a semi-hit, one of his last somewhat
commercial cuts with Draft Dodger Rag. Seeger wasn’t known for interpreting new
songs and even that one was 15 years ago. By the 80s, Seeger wasn’t putting out
records much anymore. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I swear this is true. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">What I remember is him just getting quiet, ending the
interview. I was asking him questions before he went on stage, hanging out. I
had to get permission and stuff. It was a big deal. The article was the
interview and the concert. I have done tens of thousands of interviews since
then, but like I said, this was my first, and so it is still sort of vivid and
it’s been a favorite story. I’ve told it many times through the decades, a
short anecdote. In retrospect, I just assumed he was just sick of answering
questions and wanted to end the interview. Celebrities, I’ve read, will just
shut you out when they don’t want to talk anymore. I assumed that’s probably
what happened. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">It was very odd though and now I think I have the
explanation. This was about five years since Ochs hung himself by a belt from
the door of his sister’s bathroom, an apartment in Queens. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Could just mentioning Ochs have shut him down? The manager
was all over me, not in a mean way, but was sudden. It was not like I asked an
obnoxious question – shoot, I was too nervous to be proactive or
confrontational – and I had been talking him to for a good while, he gave me
good stuff. But I did ask him a question with Phil Ochs in that question and he
did stop talking, the rapport abruptly ending, and the manager, who was in the
same room and listening I am sure to me and Seeger – he was the star and center of
attention after all. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I’ve always been a little bewildered about that moment. I
have also read a few Phil Ochs biographies, the New York times piece that
appeared after his death was the first time that piece of news was released to
the public. It was not in the Phil Ochs film, for which Seeger was interviewed.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I know that must sound a little bit out there, but I am telling
you this happened. I am sure that’s why the manager cut me off, he probably
knew this history – I think he managed Ochs for a while too, he published Sing
Out I believe. He was a luminary in that circle, although I had no idea of that
either. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Anyway, I read that thing about Ochs after I posted a FB
post on the day Pete died from which I have expanded here. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I feel weird about it, I swear it’s true though. I didn’t
mean to offend him and I know I didn’t, it was just inadvertent. He’s talking to
some college kid who accidently sparks a regret. He was still friendly and
polite and warm but the way that interview ended was perculiar. The
gregariousness disappeared. </span></span></div>
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Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-48118173578740746882014-01-25T06:13:00.001-08:002014-01-25T06:13:16.686-08:00Hudson Dispatch Clippings Archive<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">When Jersey City’s Journal Square lost its Journal, the New Jersey Room at the Jersey City Library, main branch acquired a new archive of old news. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Jersey Journal recently moved to Secaucus, New Jersey, because why should newspaper offices actually be located in the nerve center of the city reporters cover when they can reside in an office park constructed in the swamplands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Prior to the move, the paper donated a vast archive – 18 metal filing cabinets, about five feet tall, 18 drawers in each – of newspaper clippings from the Hudson Dispatch, a long defunct newspaper, </span><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2012/06/fdr-in-jersey-city-blogging-about-1972.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">although sometimes still referenced by Dislocations.<o:p></o:p></span></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This archive is not just a comprehensive collection of life in Hudson County as seen through the journalistic lens of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a daily newspaper, it is also a tribute to reportage, newsprint and paper. This archive is not just a vast resource of historical records, but a memorial to a way history used to be recorded. The archive is a memorial to the history of newspaper clips. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the drawers are min-manila folders, with sealed sides, essentially index card-sized pouches. They are arranged alphabetically by subject. Each story has been cut out and the subject is carefully circled or outlined in red pencil. There’s got to be millions, certainly hundreds of thousands of stories here – I estimated well over a thousand clips in each drawer (there are two rows of manila folders stuffed with clips in each drawer).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Opening the drawers, the acrid mustiness of yellowing newspaper wafts into your nostrils, slightly stinging your eyes, making them feel itchy. You are immediately aware that by peeking into the past, you actually are in what is left of that past.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The subject lines are carefully typed – by typewriter – on the upper edge of the mini-manila folders. Some folders had a single clipping, must had several, efficiently folded to fit into the small pocket. The preciseness of the how the thin paper was shaped by the scissor, the circling or underlining of the subject, the origami-like attention paid to the folding are breathing examples of meticulousness. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Little is known about this archive, just that it was in Jersey Journal offices and was not going with the move to the meadowlands. The Jersey City public library system saved it from being destroyed, these clips lost forever,.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the pre-internet, pre computer days, maintaining a clip file was standard operating procedure. A reporter gets assigned a story, he or she first sees what has been written about the subject previously. Stories eventually get indexed in a directory, which are used as a guide for micro-film (or micro-fiche!) archives but for a busy newspaper room, a clipping library was more efficient. By the way, there were and still are, clipping services but back in the day (I’m old enough to have been at the tail end of this era) there were clipping services, subscribing to all sorts of publications and they had clients who needed to be alerted if their names were mentioned in the news no matter how small the circulation or exclusive the readership. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Of course, in this internet era of Lexus/Nexus and google, such archives are as obsolete as the thin paper they are preserving. And while this Hudson Dispatch archive is comprehensive, it is also chronologically narrow and why it was previously owned by the Jersey Journal is also sort of a mystery too. There are no clippings or files from the Jersey Journal or Star Ledger or other papers in the archive. The Dispatch was founded in 1874 and lasted 117 years, it was purchased by the Jersey Journal around 1990 and the “jay jay” folded its one time competitor in 1991. The archives only spans 1970 to 1990, ending with the sale to the journal. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Why only Dispatch clippings? What happened to the clippings prior to 1970? Was an archive kept and destroyed or was there a arbitrary “anno” year or start for this historical record. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My hypothesis is that in 1970 or so, for whatever reason – probably the beginning of a new regime at the Hudson Dispatch <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>– a clipping archive was created. The meticulous duty of clipping, sorting, organizing, creating a folder with a typed out subject and the underlining of the subject in that story was done by some underling, the editor’s secretary – when editors had such things – or some peon or that era’s version of a college intern. The archive was maintained from this arbitrary “year anno” to the Hudson Dispatch sale to the Jersey Journal and the archive ends with the demise of the “Dispatch.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The archives was part of the acquisition of one newspaper by another, and its usefulness diminished with each passing year. The subjects of the clipping gradually becoming more and more historical than topical references. I imagine the bulky steel cabinets gathering dust, but no one had the heart to dispose of the contents. Maybe some researchers found them useful. A reporter stuck on some facts or background decides to take a shot and goes through the old Hudson Dispatch archive and discovers an epiphany-inducing fact that opens up a great news story. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I just randomly picked through the drawers, mainly for Dislocations pictures. A 1985 story about “Mom & Pop” stores facing market changes, now 30 years later, where are those Hudson County shops, mostly gone, a few reimagined. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stepping back into history, yet so much of that history is the same stuff, now a different era. Our daily lives may change in detail, but only a few details. The clip files show how news is really not that new. Take a gander for yourself and see how they make you feel. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What a trove of history, and the fact that it will be preserved – the actual paper, the ultimate hard if slowly decaying copy – is a testament to the New Jersey Room’s commitment to Hudson County history, no matter how painstaking the task required by the staff or how incidental the material may seem to the cynical and ignorant. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But good lord, what a task – the cataloging of the contents of the Hudson Dispatch files – every min-folder will have to be inspected, every clip unfolded and read, at least scanned, and recorded. I admire the diligence required, and I both pity and envy those doing this work, which is essentially, a present-day archivist archiving the archival work of an archivist of the pasts.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nostalgia for the 70s and 80s remains a permanent part of today’s popular culture, ironically this love of the past seems strongest among the Gen Yers who were either not born or still in infancy back then. Now there’s portal directly to how Hudson County actually lived that era.</span></span> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-460786708177985762014-01-23T05:08:00.000-08:002014-01-23T05:13:15.683-08:00Snow Storm Call From 14th & 5th<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I never noticed this pay phone before, it looks sleek and new. It looks like a pay phone booth in the Jetsons or some other imagined future that was imagined before the advent of the current mobile communication world in which snow now falls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">14th & 5th, I’m here just about every week yet today during the beginning stages of a blizzard. This never struck my eye but that doesn’t mean it is or is not new and the telephone insignia and classic ma-bell logo are likely not retro details but signs this is a refurbished booth. Booth? Do you see any newspaper reporters changing into blue and red underwear? This be a phone Kiosk, baby. That’s what we are calling them now that everyone has a cellphone and nobody has to worry if they have a dime to drop when a personal emergency arises other than a thickening snow storm. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But the phone call is secondary, it’s the stupid ad on the side of the booth-like remnants of the kiosk where the real money is.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Titan. Why the hell is this kiosk promoting the largest moon in our solar system? It has nothing to do with the stupid ad on the side – promoting that worthwhile social activity – online gambling, now legal in New Jersey. And how do they do it? By highlighting the fact you do not have to go to Atlantic City – in “Jersey” – you know, because it’s just as much fun to sit in your cramped apartment as it is to go to a casino – and promotes this idea by using the term “nuts “ – you know, because refines to testicles are just so hilarious that they should be encouraged in any public space. Way to stay classy, New York City!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I digress. Turns out this Titan is not the home-world of Saturn Girl at all, but a company and a few years ago the Isle of Manhatto during the reign of the oligarch in chief, Bloomberg, awarded the pay phone franchise in the Big Apple, outbidding Verizon, who is now focused on ways to increase<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>your phone, cable and internet bills. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Some news gleaned by googling:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A couple of years ago Titan acquired “1,900 payphones at 1,300 phone kiosk locations in New York City from Verizon. This latest transaction will triple the Company’s inventory of New York Phone Kiosk media to over 5,000 advertising faces. This purchase follows a prior acquisition of 652 payphones at 462 Phone Kiosks locations from Verizon in 2009 and will complete the sale of Verizon’s entire New York City Phone Kiosk advertising inventory to Titan. With this acquisition, Titan will own the largest inventory of advertising Phone Kiosks in the five boroughs.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“The phone kiosks generate $62 million in advertising revenue annually -- and last year the city got $13.7 million of the take, triple what it pulled in from calls.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Apparently the contract is good through October 2014. Titan is already promoting another innovation, digital touch screens inside refurbished booths, oh shoot, I mean Kiosk. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/editor/static_files/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRTesRuF_BUmTW87A8R69PeZX5OmdSpjqAPer-jqs9YEC_qIT4wzW071Yx8e7EfUla2gbsziH5qfhcouzx5r_nHd19vWoJm7OaImPAhFCp3Ik0GQUKbbNv5AnO_9-FxPVTEt-1gDA0_U2t/s1600/14th+street+pay+phone+-+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRTesRuF_BUmTW87A8R69PeZX5OmdSpjqAPer-jqs9YEC_qIT4wzW071Yx8e7EfUla2gbsziH5qfhcouzx5r_nHd19vWoJm7OaImPAhFCp3Ik0GQUKbbNv5AnO_9-FxPVTEt-1gDA0_U2t/s1600/14th+street+pay+phone+-+1.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The exteriors of course can still display ads that use retro Jersey jokes to and coarse humor that prey on gambling addicts by negatively impacting the tourist industry of a neighboring state, but the interior will be a touch screen that will automatically call 311 or hail a cab, you know, the very reasons why you bought that Big Apple App for your iPhone. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I found all that out though later, a few days later, when I decided to write up this latest installment of the Dislocations Pay Phone series. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was bravely trudging through falling snow when I noticed the pay phone and thought about those calls of yore… hoping I get back to the suburbs early enough to pick up the kids or will I have to hear it from the wife. They have it so secure and happy with the lawn and the cable TV that I pay for and that driveway I pay fore that I will have to shovel before morning. I envy the freedom of my secretary with the rose tattoo on her wrist, her willingness to stay late because she only has to take a subway home to Williamsburg, where she’ll heat up soup her mother made, and the way she asked me if I have ever been to Williamsburg, her eyes shining hazel, those ruby red lips always moist and how her body reminds me of the body my wife used to have but instead of calling her I call the wife and tell her I’m heading to Hoboken right now and exaggerate how bad the snow is in the city and the way she tells me to be careful makes me forget about the secretary for a while at least. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, the day dream swiftly passed and I noticed through the sheets of snow a pit and construction over that pit and remembered a story last week of a water main breaking and it knocked out electricity and water and even land phone service for like a ten block radius and Con-Ed had to make this pit to repair the damage and the repairs are still going on. The utility services were soon restored, but fixing that subterranean infrastructure takes more time. The construction workers out in the snow, doing their jobs, delaying the inevitable collapse of our decaying infrastructure. By maintaining what makes possible the quality of life for everyone within the vicinity of 14th and 5th these workers have homes to go to with food on their tables.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">14th & 5th pay phone, harkens back and ahead. The
advertising space is more valuable than the function. Why let pedestrians going
about their lives when you can however sublimely sell them something they don’t
need – stay in your apartment and give your money to a casino without the free
drinks, exciting atmosphere or campy lounge acts – what this city of commerce
needs<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>are more messages of
commerce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Phone booths, oh, I mean,
kiosks are mini-billboards and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in case
of emergency, you can also make a call. Snow fall thickens, schools and
business were closing early. Everyone here was busy getting somewhere else as
quickly as they could, except for the blue collar workers who endured the
inclement severity to repair what was in the pit that makes civilization
possible. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Who notices Titan now but I, now you. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-76394111864670741642014-01-12T14:06:00.000-08:002014-01-12T14:09:03.882-08:00Gray’s Papaya<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Empty letters on the façade above taped over windows. Sad, forlorn outlines reminding us something that we knew well is gone forever <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Used to be such a lively place, always lots of customers, take out or scarfing down some hot dogs with beverage. A place to pause for nourishment while in this city on the go. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Gray Papaya had great hot dogs. For the longest of time they sold two for 99 cents. You could eat lunch for two bucks through the 1990s. The hot dogs were loved for the garlic overtones. I liked them, I never really ate there but only because eating hot dogs is not a high priority. I’m more of a pizza slice guy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But those who loved them really loved Gray’s. A friend tells me when her friend from Philadelphia visits, she insisted on Gray’s for one lunch. Another friend mentioned her days as a club kid, stopping at Gray’s after a long night of partying before getting on the PATH. I remember taking classes and walking a fellow student, she always stopped there to get her hot dogs before heading home. My sister told me of eating Gray’s before this event she went to – she needed something cheap and fast and while they may not have been the healthiest food item, they were great hot dogs. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">All just memories now and the hollow frames where bight yellow letters that once tempted your taste buds into straying from your diet now remind us of not just a country that used to be, but how the wealthy class is transforming our surroundings to suit their purpose, and making the life we knew go away.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Gray’s Papaya on 8<sup>th</sup> street closed without notice to the public. The social media outcry alerted me and while I was far from a regular, the news was another incremental heartbreak about what is happening to Greenwich village. Gentrification is an insufficient term to describe the accelerated transformation from an historic bohemian and working class enclave to a glossy and shallow massive college campus and student quad for the next generation of the privileged class.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Last year, <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-killing-of-neighborhood-bookstore.html" target="_blank">I recorded the passing of the beloved Barnes& Noble, right across the street.</a> The soon to be out of work employees told me that a lot of these buildings were owned by a single landlord who had recently denied, the family sold them to NYU who is jacking up rents because they have a vision of what the 21<sup>st</sup> century village should look like, which I guess is to resemble as close as possible a food court in a the most upscale Shopping Mall in Dubai. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Facebook scuttlebutt confirmed the scenario described to me during the final days of 8<sup>th</sup> street B&N. Gray’s Papaya rent was raised a whopping $20,000, forcing this outlet of the local franchise to close. It’s not that Gray’s Papaya was not a successful business. A valuable service – affordable food – was provided to a community – about a dozen people were employed and a profit was made – by both the owners of the enterprise and the owners of the property and lease.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But here’s the rub. The goal of the stage of capitalism we happen to be living is that profits must be maximized. It is not enough to just make a profit; and in fact, what is a reasonable profit is no longer specifiable. Greed is the objective. How else to justify an increase that doubles and triples a rent. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Even that explanation falls short of fully telling us why the 8<sup>th</sup> street Gray was terminated. A sign says some kind of Bubble Tea (as a die-hard tea drinker (I never drink coffee) bubble tea is an acquired taste I’ve yet to acquire) emporiums is promised, although it is unclear that if this will include Gray’s and the adjacent now closed hat store (a great store that sold affordable headwear, closed around the same time as B&N and still shuttered) or if Gray will become what I can only gather from internet scuttlebutt to be some hideously sounding beverage place called : Liquidteria (does that sound awful or what!)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I find it dubious that these food & BEVERAGE chains, who sound as if they have a trendy and international sheen, will be drastically more profitable than Gray’s. Gray’s had a steady customer based – the place seemed always packed and lively – and was probably the cheapest lunch for a three block radius (there are inexplicably no pizzerias close to this corner, but even getting slices may be slightly more costly than the Gray hot dog special, they certainly are not less expensive). Of course, this is a prime corner, residents, workers, tourists, NYU and New School students and of course those who ride the PATH and consider this neighborhood another environ in our lives. It’s busy, so almost any establishment has a shot generating revenue just because of the potential revenue from the vast numbers of people passing by here any day. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Those same numbers were there for Gray’s. Will the enticement of Bubble Tea so significantly outweigh the proven demand for Gray’s that Bubble Tea generated revenue will cover the jacked up rent, provide a “reasonable” profit to the owners of the franchise, and employee the same number of people (that and their wages are of course, an ignored metric!)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I’m… to under-state my opinion… doubtful. If normal business practices and concerns still prevailed, the gamble of getting the jacked up rent from similar (F&B) businesses verses the infeasible rent increase that forced a proven and well established business to close seems like an unwise choice. There is no sort of rent control for commercial businesses; once the lease is up, property owners can do as they see fit. Residential laws are different, mitigating sudden displacements of populations from an area they call home. This contrast results in the urban experiencing of finding yourself living in the same home yet everything you used to know and love being here one year and gone the next.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Gray’s didn’t get killed because it was an outmoded business and “Liquidteria” isn’t moving here because it is some kind of superior business model. The degree of profitability is not the issue at all. Like the closing of B&N (a year later, the building is still fallow) the entire block – actually more than the block – is being transformed into some NYU vision of the village as a massive college campus. It does not take an unjustified leap of imagination to conclude the ultimate financier of this urban planning are the excessive college loans students require to pay for their education, a digression I’ll avoid. Gray’s – a business believed by students but not part of this vision – is only the latest causality. The leases and agreements with the business going into the space will not be made public, and there’s no recourse addressing how justifiable the rent increase was. It’s not like the corner of 8<sup>th</sup> street & 6<sup>th</sup> Avenue is up to plebiscite. One F&B business is the same as the next to a city’s Planning Board.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">8<sup>th</sup> street used to be so lively. Now, many storefronts are dark. Besides the cap store, there was the Silver Age Comic Book shop and 8<sup>th</sup> Street records, which had a great bootleg selection and other funky shoe stores and clothing boutiques. All gone. The replacements have yet to arrive. I noticed this last year and I purposely walked the street again for this blog and those same storefronts are still dark. An entire year – and obviously more – of no business being conducted, no jobs being created. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">All these businesses were profitable, met their lease agreements but when that lease was up for renewal, the increase was purposely too high for those existing businesses to afford. How can owners of property sustain what by all appearances seem to be years of revenue loss.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Because the profitability of Gray’s and the jobs it created and the service provided to the community are inconsequential to the NYU goal of global change. Higher education, especially in the private realm, now that is a money making racquet. No oversight to value delivered or limit to prices charged, students take out six figure loans, augmenting the wealthy spawn enrolled; adjuncts, who teach most classes, get coolie wages while presidents and deans make high six figures. (nearby Cooper’s Union is charging tuition for the first time in its 100+ year existence). The bigger picture is inconceivable to us mere mortals bemoaning the loss of a venerable and landmark hot dog stand. It’s not just abut the corner, or even about 8<sup>th</sup> street and what it will become) it is about the entire swath of the isle of Manhatto from 14<sup>th</sup> to Houston. Individual businesses and jobs, the fabric of what non-students, non-faculty members and other non-college employees once thought helped define the quality of their lives has been or soon will be eliminated. The business of higher education now dominates what once was a working class haven and bohemian refuge. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It sucks. It was not inevitable. It can still be changed, but there’s no counter plan and next to no hope. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Two economic news items ended 2013 and greeted 2014. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1)<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span>The Stock Market had its best year in like 17 years or something, a year resembling not just a pre-recession financial crisis year, but a 1990’s boom year. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2)<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span>Unemployment did not go down in any significant way and the jobs created pay about half as much as they did in the 1990s. 2013 ended with 20 people looking for every job created.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">How can those two economic trends exist? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Easy. Companies can have increased sales but are under no obligation to create jobs in the United States. Corporations receive no tax breaks or other incentives for job creation. It’s not news that manufacturing is done overseas because workers are paid slave wages and working conditions are unsafe. It’s also not news that the tax laws and other economic policies favor the investor class, who now can pool larger resources to create a chain of F&B dispensaries the stock holders make dividends, a manger of several stores can work his or her ass off for the bottom rung of a middle class salary and everyone else makes minimum wage. Even franchises where there is an onsite owner/manager is an outmoded business model. If you’re an independent business owner, who took a risk on a neighborhood and became one of the stabilizing influences that midwifed the transition from urban decay to urban renewal, you get slapped in the face with an impossible to meet rent hike. If the corporation comes up with a F&B business conducive to the entire transformation of a city into a campus, there’s no risk for the chain’s investors or the investors guiding the ruination then reinvention of 8<sup>th</sup> street. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This isn’t capitalism any more. The forces of supply and demand are not work. An empowered investor class intent on increasing investment derived revenue is not some function of an invisible hand. Those who have won will win again and those losing will not just lose more, but grow in number. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The nation’s economic wealth is not longer measured by job growth. In fact, lack of job growth enhances the stock market. Companies cut pay roll to become more profitable and those left work harder, use more technology and when it comes to the hard work of actually making something, that’s all done in other countries. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Those responsible, those making those decisions, they never ate at Gray’s.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Well, you don’t read Dislocations for economic lessons but this was an exception. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Remember Grapes of Wrath, when they push Muley off the land and he asks who is doing it, and he’s the Shawnee Land & Cattle Company, but and it is not a who, but a company, but the company is owned by the Bank in Tulsa, and that manager is just taking orders from banks “back east,” and Muley wants to know who to convince him to keep his land, “who to shoot.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The man giving him the conviction notice, says “I don’t know who to shoot, if I did, I ‘d tell ya.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Later, the cats – the large tractors – come by and plow the little shack away but he threatens the driver, who he knows, with shooting him and asks how can you do this against your own and he replies, “$3.00 a day,” telling Muley that everybody is their own look out and if you shoot me they’ll hang you for sure and there will be somebody here tomorrow to finalize the eviction, to remove a way of life, to ensure the profitability of the investment. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">That early scene in both the novel and film came to mind as I took pictures of the renovation inside of Gray’s Papaya. The sink still working, the clock still telling the time, but everything else a dismantled mess, a crumpled sign still promising Tabs – you could run a Tab at Gray’s<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This corner is as much a part of the life of many Jersey City folks as many corners in our own city. Gray’s is within our orbit, we share in the loss.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Cities change all the time. One person’s shock is another’s gradual process. I hate the idea of being a cranky old man croaking about how life was so much better back in my day.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What is happening now though – and Gray’s Paypa no longer being on 8<sup>th</sup> street is the latest example of this – is upheaval. Our society’s priorities are now entirely to make rich people richer. Income inequality is being raised, the new Mayor of New York is a progressive, President Obama seems to fight the good fight but all to willing to settle for incremental victories.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The change that is needed is comprehensive. The New Deal got us out of the Great Depression by creating the Middle Class, but it was more than just a series of complex economic policies. The New Deal happened by a change in attitude about the role of government in structuring the economy, a role that beginning with Ronald Reagan and finalized by George W. Bush has so unraveled that any solution now seems unattainable. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">We can no longer buy affordable delicious hot dogs and there’s nobody to shoot.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-37853545247186673032014-01-10T18:59:00.002-08:002014-01-11T02:09:20.529-08:00Moment of Demolition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">What a satisfying job it is must be to demolish a building. That’s what came to mind immediately. There’s a child-like gee in witnessing controlled destruction, a feeling I can only imagine is magnified in the person operating the machine. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The machine is called an excavator, a kind of back hoe, said the workers. Nice guys, take all the pictures you want. Had to stay a safe distance of course. The machine was brand new. It was doing the job.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Operating the excavator is probably difficult, safety first and all, but it must be fun and satisfying to move the controls and destroy. Destruction as a job of work; must be a rewarding feeling at the end of the day to have transformed an edifice into debris.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">The former building was nothing special, a one story structure, made of cinder-block. Probably here on Christopher Columbus when the street was known as Railroad Avenue.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was adjacent to a new Laundromat, a kind of super Laundromat more suited to a strip mall than our gentrifying inner-city. The Laundromat remained untouched, it was only the other building that had to go. The Laundromat was not always a Laundromat. Perhaps the two buildings once housed a single enterprise, there was still a garage door attached to Laundromat building, a link made of metal pieces that men separated from each other with a blow torch before the excavator did some more surgical destruction. Total detachment from the Laundromat structure resulted. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dust clouds began to billow as the claws ripped into the exteriors, crushing and wrecking, turning what once was something into fresh wreckage. I can feel the particles on the edges of my mouth, which I cover with my scarf. I can watch destruction for hours. I’m fascinated, by the action, the force, the inevitability. The activity is so deliberate. Jagged pieces of building tumbling in spurts, falling haphazardly to the ground with a ragged thud. The claw crunches metal against old concrete. The reality being created is physical. This building was created, there was an architect design, pipes and walls and wiring. Livings were made. Somebody had an idea, it came to life. Painted, repainted. Years pass and now all those years, what do they mean, what is this life or was his life, now a pile of rubble, ready to be carted away. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But then another deal, another life, another investment and demolishment before that new idea become reality. Somebody bought a knockdown. Destruction precedes construction, just as sure as the turning of the earth.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The next day, entirely gone. A full afternoon of demolishing in the cold air of January. A freezing drizzle fell all day. Now just rubble, field of broken blocks and an old wood. What once was no longer is, what once was useful now waste. The excavator still at work, now picking up the remnants. Disposal follows destruction.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What they are going to build I ask. You know the answer. Condos. Right next to a Laundromat. New memories for other lives to create. I don’t remember what was here. I just remember watching the destruction, controlled disaster is one of the most enjoyable stages of the endless cycle of city life. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-80666199615782853162014-01-04T09:33:00.002-08:002014-01-04T09:34:02.606-08:00Dunkin Donuts Pay Phone<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Damn cell phone… no reception then the battery craps out… dunkin donuts, coffee, maybe a boston crème</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I don’t remember a time when there was no Dunkin Donuts but it was never like now, with them everywhere. Not complaining. Coffee drinkers love their java. This one is on the edges of Downtown,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grand Street. The lack of police enforcement of residential speed limits makes Grand Street a lawless highway, cross at your own risk. This Dunkin is on the edges of a strip mall anchored by Pathmark. This is now the last pay phone at the strip mall, where I documented one that is now gone. In fact, I believe this is the rare NEW pay phone. I have walked by here often and always have my eye out for pay phones for Dislocations long-running pay phone blog series. <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2012/09/pathmark-pay-phone.html" target="_blank">The pay phone I blogged about two years ago has been removed.</a> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Probably this phone was put here for the emergency convenience of their customers. Maybe it was installed because Pathmark removed their last remaining unit. Pathmark used to be open 24/7, now it is not. Dunkin Donuts is perpetual and eternal. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What do you want from the store? Snow storm tomorrow, haven’t you seen the news? Pathmark. I’m right here. What do need?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Okay<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Coffee. I thought we had coffee<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Oh. Dunkin coffee. A cup.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">All right, I’ll stop back here after the store. Chocolate Coconut too. Got it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqTOw8ZlGbWBwpucIMsNy6dowu2IQtkeDaLKIt15Ogm1hBdBi8YPJXo6WqSOiAiHnTQN3u4FqADp6DVN7J894v6Tko581YZU3M3MqKCA5l-IsiTVpALoiCBatnRdV51G8BpvlO8ffaLptJ/s1600/pay+phone+dunk+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqTOw8ZlGbWBwpucIMsNy6dowu2IQtkeDaLKIt15Ogm1hBdBi8YPJXo6WqSOiAiHnTQN3u4FqADp6DVN7J894v6Tko581YZU3M3MqKCA5l-IsiTVpALoiCBatnRdV51G8BpvlO8ffaLptJ/s320/pay+phone+dunk+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">This Dunk is like a Dunkin superstore, you know, like the kind you find on the highway (gee, no wonder drivers and law enforcement alike ignore the legal Grand Street speed limit and pedestrians risk their life if they wish to head south). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has a drive through, which was moving fast this afternoon. Coffee to go for our on the go society. I’m sure there’s an app so they can have your order ready upon arrival. But sometimes the plans go awry, order breaks down, and you need a pay phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least it’s a call the NSA is not monitoring.</span></span> </div>
Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-29299806672634033582014-01-03T18:32:00.000-08:002014-01-03T19:10:06.301-08:00Fallen Crossing <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzADcjO12XAOGLZIDBvg-2JNkh0fl0TF4hhr91DoqOcsBpxMfT9n36IM76KZSq0-v8OKQZxKchifQzlWUFeciPmzc2RJ4gcDKkdmd0lz3YYt5XbMqzRlp6MQ4CSkuZwOZgrg_WIbNXIqAu/s1600/fallen+sign+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzADcjO12XAOGLZIDBvg-2JNkh0fl0TF4hhr91DoqOcsBpxMfT9n36IM76KZSq0-v8OKQZxKchifQzlWUFeciPmzc2RJ4gcDKkdmd0lz3YYt5XbMqzRlp6MQ4CSkuZwOZgrg_WIbNXIqAu/s320/fallen+sign+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">The third day of the year (and the 8<sup>th</sup> day of Christmas, but no maids a milking in sight),<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a snow storm hit. I was walking around during the peak just after dawn, saw this weird orange light on the far corner. It was weird, inexplicable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Later that day, the storm passed, snow ended, I realized the source of the glow.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was coming from a different direction to the same intersection, visibility improved. The crossing signal post had been knocked down, but the wires were intact. The signal still functions, warns us to stop, beckons us to walk, just now at ground level. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">After this snowfall, temperatures plummeted. Breathing chilled your nostril interiors. We kept our gaze low as we trudged horizontally across the frozen slush of Newark Avenue. </span></div>
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Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-32805108636392584962013-12-31T05:16:00.000-08:002013-12-31T05:16:08.334-08:00Emptiness Lot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpPeOvpTywKfs1pP6yoE3pDjbxUK-wDHDfL_ua48CkgmKf8YNRGGWIVZjVm2hadERHBcr2uSpu-w5vcrCfAs1SoQ-7uttbyUNeaNpjCNMlKUaiwYYiqo4j5hmStj90rxujS97qvwpsBccr/s1600/lot-last-post-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpPeOvpTywKfs1pP6yoE3pDjbxUK-wDHDfL_ua48CkgmKf8YNRGGWIVZjVm2hadERHBcr2uSpu-w5vcrCfAs1SoQ-7uttbyUNeaNpjCNMlKUaiwYYiqo4j5hmStj90rxujS97qvwpsBccr/s320/lot-last-post-1.jpg" width="319" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/11/4-alarm-grove-street-fire.html" target="_blank">We all remember the Grove Street fire</a>. It was only a month ago. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">How long will that memory last and what will that memory eventually become?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The fire was under investigation said the newspapers then, but still no answers yet or even informed speculation as to the fire’s cause. No lives were lost, the causalities were minor. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tomorrow came then came again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The buildings were <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>wood framed structures, more than a hundred years old. Papers did say the low hanging electric wires might have caused some delay in fire fighters battling the flames, but were unlikely a factor in terms of outcome. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNlEyF9NlzISpV6V-ZIbRYaCHBdSoEBEfy8gCQA2Pig_uxE82QkTa0nxDsFjg7wrsyofGtCtJSXRGMutHwfzizT5jaGrX439pYWD0oS_Xcg83uaec_bpnbO9rdJx7koeyCJkHkxq74ZuT/s1600/lot-last-post-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNlEyF9NlzISpV6V-ZIbRYaCHBdSoEBEfy8gCQA2Pig_uxE82QkTa0nxDsFjg7wrsyofGtCtJSXRGMutHwfzizT5jaGrX439pYWD0oS_Xcg83uaec_bpnbO9rdJx7koeyCJkHkxq74ZuT/s320/lot-last-post-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">What was here now gone. That’s the fact and the truth.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Now we have emptiness, but for a while, we had rubble. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The fire happened the day before Thanksgiving. The fire took out two buildings. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Rubble remained for weeks. Yuletide decorations went up, Advent came, we ran our holiday errands as we went about our lives, and the shards and remnants became the background to which we grew accustomed. Rubble reminding us but what did it remind us of – the buildings, the homes, the pizza parlor, the nail salon or the fire that turned places into debris? </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The city is the background to our lives. The scenery bringing comfort, symbolizing stability, showing us place. The city is the setting that verifies our individual existence. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">There will be a new building here, how can there not be? Jersey City is the in-demand town, a development hot bed. A new background. (probably condos) will eventually rise to fill our eye sight and our subconscious.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">But now our background is emptiness... just a lot of … dirt waiting construction like prehistoric protoplasm waiting evolution so it can crawl from <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the sea.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder how long it’s been since emptiness last defined this lot.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">If the buildings that burned were a hundred years old, they probably replaced other structures, Grove being a major thoroughfare since the founding of Jersey City. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">How old is the dirt? Was it trucked in to make this foundation or is it Jersey City soil that has been here since the ice age melted away?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Will we remember the dirt or the rubble when new buildings are constructed here? Will we then or do we even now remember <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the buildings that were here before, for so long, that we took them for granted as our everlasting background. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But even ever will not last for ever. I can’t remember what the businesses were that were here before the nail salon and pizza parlor, even though those now gone occupants were barely a decade old. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Maybe it’s not what was destroyed nor the aftermath of that destruction that we will remember. Maybe we remember only the fire. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">All fires are not inevitable, but once started the next moment can not be prevented. The next moment begins a new inevitability where the final result, empty lot, waiting dirt, cannot be escaped or denied.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times;">Now, seeing this empty lot makes one feel like an amnesia victim struggling to make sense of incomplete memories.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Past images vague … is that where I had that great calzone or the friendly mani-pedi? Before they were gone, you were certain but now there’s a new doubt. That place you are thinking of may have been on another block. What was here and what you used to do that you only could do here is suddenly fuzzy because the identifiable landmarks have been transformed into emptiness and your memory is confused between the before and the fire and the present emptiness that the fire created out of that now distant before. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Change is the constant in all our lives. City dwellers daily play a mental game of what used to be here. Store fronts stay but the businesses they host often switch every few<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>years and everyone lives here long enough to<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>eventually and constantly wonder what used to be here. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Some memories are blurry, others stay vivid and form anecdotes you tell all the time and if you have considerate friends they won’t say they’ve heard that one before. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Black ash forms a shadow on the bricks of an adjacent building. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A film of soot that looks like a crescent and cloud, a tattoo left by what was here that was turned into smoke to rise and disappear. The stain is black as ink. If you did not know what was here, this remnant of ash tells you nothing. It only implies the tragic cause of the emptiness.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The emptiness of the lot is a cavity gaping in our minds, unconnected <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to the past or the future, an interruption of our reverie as we pass the once recognizable background of our day-to-day. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The emptiness is the inescapable void of the present. Something that should be here is no longer because of tragedy and like the present we move on to the next moment, we move faster than our memories. We confront the void but keep it brief. We avoid not fear but if we tarry in the emptiness we might see how much of our self it resembles. When we walk this stretch of Grove Street, our pace unconsciously quickens.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The past is not fully remembered, the future not yet envisioned. The emptiness is new, but it is all we have now and feels strangely familiar,a flash of déjà vu, a fate we are compelled to postpone</span>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-32177150190329257252013-12-30T04:44:00.000-08:002013-12-30T04:44:06.840-08:002013: My Favorite Reads<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2012/12/2012-my-favorite-reads_30.html" target="_blank">My annual list of favorite books.</a> <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This year, I realized the main reason I continue to read books.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Pleasure.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Why does one read. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Well, why does one read anything that is not work related. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Pleasure.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Reading is a compulsion and a habit. It refills the well, inspires new phrases and ideas, hopefully better sentences and if not better, at least new. You need to keep fresh. Gaining knowledge is a plus, and I much prefer knowledge to information. Information is a necessity, and nothing delivers information of both the useless and useful variety, better than the internet. Most effective invention since the Swiss army knife. Knowledge is not the same as information. Knowledge is more lasting, a step closer to wisdom, and who doesn’t want that?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Intellectual means one who loves ideas. You can’t sustain love for ideas without expanding your capacity for knowledge. Reading seems essential to this expansion. Don’t we all live the life of the mind? The answer is yes, except fewer and fewer know they do.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been studying literature, philosophy and history all my life, and each year, you read books and your mind is renewed. The reality is every book you read means you re-read every book you’ve ever read. It’s another way of better understanding your self, and the world – where they mesh and where they part. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But really, all that’s lip-service. The best reason to read?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Pleasure.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I enjoy reading. There’s a few activities I may enjoy more than reading, but I can’t think of any I enjoy as much.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">That’s why I read books. That’s why I continue to seek out new books to read. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Pleasure. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now, why more and more people seem not to share this pleasure, I never understood. None of the implications of this trend for society are positive. The idea that people are no longer comfortable with solitude should be alarming communities large and small, but it is not. Who needs to understand the self, when through excessive media, that self can be nullified, thus no longer a concern.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I digress. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This year I took a lot of books out of the Jersey City Library. I’m short on funds, so book purchases is a victim of my personal budgetary shortfalls. Jersey City has a great library, and the inter-library loan system is free. But even better than frugality is that you take out library books you get to bring them back. They don’t loiter on shelves begging to be dusted. Unlike my ever-expanding internal universe, my apartment space is limited. I cannot fit another book case in my present home. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I love libraries. I like looking through the shelves, the rows of titles, the linear logic of the dewy decimal system. I love the vast knowledge stored there, the friendly, mildly bored librarians who briefly share your enthusiasm as they aid in its pursuit, temporary sherpers to whom all mountains are surmountable. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I wandered. I was curious . I was bored with the books I wanted to read, I had tapped out most of the strains. I opened myself up, finishing oeuvres or getting close to completion of several writers. I’ve always tried to follow a dictum by Harold Bloom, to read only to justify an ideology is not to truly read at all (that’s a paraphrase). <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The library is also good for reading new books, books you read reviews of and/or are mentioned in articles in the New York Review of Books or New York Times. You get to keep up with the decay of the corpse of American Literature, an activity that is fun, enriching yet often sad and disappointing. Generation X writers’ lack of gravitas gets acutely annoying. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This list is about 20-25 percent, less than a third of all the books I read in 2013. Many that I finished and didn’t hate are not on the list. I <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>generally tend to finish books, I don’t have the 50 page rule some friends have. If they don’t like it by then they drop it and pick up something else. I’m compulsive, I tend to complete (Finnegan’s Wake being a rare exception, still haven’t gone beyond page two of that sucker). <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mark it, Dude, on to the next one. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Maybe it was worth reading but not worth recommendation. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are only books I can make a case for recommendation.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My most important re-read was a committed wading through Raymond Carver short stories. Carver has been a constant for 30 years. I keep Whitman and the King James on the night stand, and Carver more often than not makes that stack a trio and I often find myself gleaning paragraphs and sentences, not the complete tale. But I went through the Library of America edition, to do as honest as possible comparison between the early stories, which were edited by Gordon Lish, and un-edited versions that are included in this edition for the first time. Tess Gallagher, Carver’s widow, and some reviewers, most notably Steven King, praise the un-edited versions. I don’t like them. I’ve been a Carver devotee since the 80s, so maybe the original versions are so deeply entrenched that I am unable to abide challenging these monuments in prose. Lish and Carver had was seems to be an intense relationship, and a falling out. The early stories do have that minimalist edge and that edge is soften in the latter works. He transcended that inaccurate term. But those unedited version also lack the Carver voice, they are closer to the Cathedral stories. I think Lish helped Carver find that voice. I am not opposed to the unedited versions, but I am unable to make a case for re-reading them again. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But Carver is Carver. Carver is necessary. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But he understood it was over, and he felt able to let her go. He was sure their life together had happened in the way he said it had. But it was something that had passed. And that passing – though it has seemed impossible and he’d fought against it – would become part of him now too, as surely as anything he’d left behind. (FEVER)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">That’s why we re-read Carver. Reading Carver sharpens your skills, but re-reading him, solace can be achieved, as well as insight into the hiding in plain sight corners of the humain. If I was going for a PHD, perhaps my thesis would be, Carver: The Hidden Philosopher. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Chicago Poems<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">by<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Carl Sandburg<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I usually re-read more than I did this year. Carver was the only fiction I returned to. Poetry was another… uhhh… story.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I started writing poems again. <span id="goog_157694606"></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/">They just started coming to me, one of which was published here.<span id="goog_157694607"></span></a> I went on a poetry reading binge. Whitman, but also William Carlos Williams, Anne Sexton, Sharon Olds, Allen Ginsberg, T.S. Elliot, Wallace Stevens, Hart Crane, dusted off a lot of books. Went to the library, reading poetry, for inspiration and encouragement, seeking out new work. Quite frankly, the last good new poet I read was Lisa Emerson and her book Late Wife, which I also sped through this year. Poems were coming to me. For a short while, reading poetry intensively and almost exclusively, fueled the fire. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I discovered a poet whose name I knew but I can honesty say I never read, not in school or on my own. He somehow has been dropped out of the discussion. Carl Sandburg. I read the selected poems, then went back to this slim 1916 volume, Chicago Poems. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I know he wrote a multi-volume biography of Abraham Lincoln and that Bob Dylan on a road trip in 1963 or so stopped at his house and gave him a copy of Times They Are A Changin, but that’s about it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I loved his wry phrasing, his focus on working people, his obsessive search for the poetic in ordinary lives. He acutely observes this Midwest metropolis as it bustles in the early 20<sup>th</sup> century, the industrial revolution raging, capitalism becoming the system we would live with. The collection is not as dated as one might anticipate. He reminds me of a cross between Williams and Whitman, although he was obviously a contemporary of the Paterson poet. His exuberance is not as unbounded as ole Walt, and we get the urban cynicism that would soon mark American culture, it’s nice to see in this embryonic stage. His optimism never overcomes his realism, yet it’s present. It’s purely American, wonderfully so. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This poem, the poet implores cartoonist to hang a strap with him on a 7:00 am train, noticing the vast expanse between newspaper art and the reality of their lives.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">From Halsted Street Car<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Find for your pencils<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A way to mark your memory<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Of tired empty faces.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">After their nights sleep,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the most dawn<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And cool daybreak<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Faces<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tired of wishes<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Empty of dreams.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I love of the use of tired and empty, how he explains the image.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Maybe all literature does this, but poetry does it best and that being reminding us humanity is a constant, that people in a city a century ago are experiencing the same things you experience. Chicago Poems transcend not just Chicago, but the city experience too. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">For those paying attention, this is a better book than its most direct protégée, several decades later, Chicago City on the Make by Nelson Algren, and I love Algren. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Of a Fire on the Moon<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>by <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Norman Mailer<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Norman Mailer needs a better literary executor. His work was issued by several publishers and as a result, some of it has gone out of print, like this riveting non-fiction book about the Apollo mission to the moon. The Right Stuff by Tom Wolfe, who is a hack ( I tried one of his recent novels, the one about college kids, an insult to intelligence) is a lame book and the movie is not much better. Mailer’s covering of similar material is so superior, he interweaves the history of rocketry in the U.S., which includes ex-Nazis, with the actual science and how it evolved into the Apollo missions, to the men in the mission, from the Apollo one accident to the moon landing to the subsequent missions. He actually explains how the lunar module worked and how it came to the be the means by which the lunar surface could be reached.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not that interested the space program. Most of it happened during my childhood, and back then I was fascinated, but what else did I need to know? This book taught me otherwise, there are loads of stuff to know and for the first time ever I felt sad our manned space program is over. Mailer’s profiles of the Neil Armstrong and crew are knowing and rich in empathy. They were of the same generation as Mailer, the same men who he fought alongside with in the Pacific Theater of WWII. Mailer always had a foot firmly in the excesses of the mid-20<sup>th</sup> century counter culture, but as Abbie Hoffman pointed out, he was an establishment writer. Mailer’s esteem for these American White Angle Saxon Protestants is genuine. I cannot think of any other portrayal of Apollo astronauts that even comes close.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Aside from the historical documentation, Of a Fire on The Moon is really about man’s relationship to technology. Why do we need to create and improve technology and how this achievement affects our soul. It occurs to me that film probably has done a better job with this theme, but that’s a visual medium and with that are inherent limitations. Only writing can really dissect all the nuances between man and our machines, especially when wielded through the gnarly intellectualism and fearless outlandishness that is ole Norman. He could be his own worst enemy during his hey day, when this forgotten book was written, but here he is at his best behavior, honest, sincere, smart. Apparently the book started as a Life Magazine assignment, and he sticks to the honest work, his novelist’s perspective only enhancing his journalist professionalism. Thankfully, he ignores his sexual and sexist philosophies and that impulse to antagonize feminists of the era. He simply gets the job done. The book is uncanny because Mailer is so reigned in, resulting in superb writing. This is the rare treat, Norman capturing a moment of his era without his or that era’s baggage. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It occurs to me that we could use a book like this now to examine our relationship to our new technologies, but that prism lacks the clarity of astronauts. The space program may have affected us all, but the first hand experiences of the astronauts and engineers crystalize that impact, or at least Mailer was able to use them to universalize the experience and make that experience relatable. Computer and mobile technologies, they may be too massively produced, but also too individualistic l to find a handful of people to exemplify how our technology is both changing and fulfilling the human beast.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But maybe the type of technology is superfluous. Of A Fire on the Moon tends to convince me of that it’s technology itself not the specific type or era that is changing the human condition.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">ore importantly, Norman Mailer needs to be better published and discussed. He is a major American Writer of any century, but the availability of the work is inconsistent and what seems to be remembered are his outrageous celebrity and not his actual writing. Like Armies of the Night, Fire on the Moon poses an argument that his best work may have been the non-fiction. We may not need to decide this, but we owe it to World Literature to ponder the proposition. Mailer was a writer for the ages. No Mailer should be out of print. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Canada <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">by <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Richard Ford<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My opinion of Richard Ford is contrary. I think Sportswriter and Independence Day are not very good, yet his early, noir-ish novel, The Ultimate Good Luck and A Piece of My Heart: Rock Springs, a short story collection, and the long stories in Men With Women, I also admire. I might even consider them masterpieces, if I’m in a good mood and had a beer or two. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I haven’t followed his work of late, but a friend kept recommending his new novel, Canada. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">An incredibly written book. What happens when your parents, to escape impending destitution, decide to rob a bank. Dell and his sister Berne, young teens escape to Canada, and try to make sense of their lives. Canada has a memoir-structure, and you read it find out why Dell sounds so sane and why his sister does not. You read it not to find out what happens – hint, do not rob banks if you are not already criminals – but why what happens happened. Ford is at the top his game here, it’s his best work, his first undeniable masterpiece. The story has a noir feel, but its flashback structure has this extraordinary looping back to a moment where life change. The twins break up, Dell stays in the North Country, while Berne returns to America where she experiences the 1960s and Dell relays her experiences by the letters she sends him. The book is written in first person, and Ford achieves a misty distance between the story and the context in which the story is taking place, as if his own life is as far away from the facts of history, society and his parent’s tragic-inducing transgressions. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The novel starts in the 1950s, but the truth is we still live in times where the rich are getting richer and the rest of us are living lives teetering on the brink of desperation. The narrator is all to aware that while in retrospect it might seem things could have been different, the fact was at the moment there was no other course of action. There is no waiting for another choice to reveal itself. The narrator’s deep empathy for his parents is moving, even when his equally deep resentment is apparent. No one chooses their circumstances, yet we do the best we can. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Really haunting tour-de-force by one of the best prose stylists of his generation. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jesus of Nazareth: From The Baptism to the Transfiguration<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jesus of Nazareth: Holy Week<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jesus of Nazareth: The Infancy Narratives<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">by<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Pope Benedict XVI<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A priest I know who also happens to be a professor of theology alluded to one of the volumes of the Jesus of Nazareth Trilogy by Pope Benedict XVI. They also got very respectable reviews. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I happen to love his <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/benedict_xvi/encyclicals/documents/hf_ben-xvi_enc_20051225_deus-caritas-est_en.html" target="_blank">DEUS CARITAS EST</a>, his first encyclical released in 2005, aka “God Is Love.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I keep telling people that this encyclical s is as heavy a statement about love as a Bob Dylan record. Oh, it has that archaic language of official Church documents, an acquired taste that I’ve acquired but does not make for smooth sailing. But if you can get over that, as well as any preconceptions you have about the source, it is a compelling, provocative read. It seriously engages ideas about love, exploring where romantic love, erotic love, spiritual love and compassion meet. It’s the only encyclical I whole heartedly recommend and it’s because of what it says about Love, or more astutely, the ideas about love that you ponder after reading. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Benedict always fascinated me as a pope. I always felt he got a bad rap. Such a striking contrast with the warm and paternal John Paul II. Benedict was always called conservative, even before he was pope, yet all the homophobic statements and other conservative (for lack of a better term) sentiments attribute to him, where Vatican observers saying it about him. They were saying what he was thinking. There’s a dearth of direct quotes from Pope Benedict supporting the short-hand criticism of conservative. Actual statements by him reflecting these thoughts – or the assertion he wanted a smaller, more orthodox pure church, for example – were made on his behalf by “Vatican observers.” It was second hand, a quote by somebody supposedly paraphrasing the pope. It didn’t help that Benedict lacked charisma, was uncomfortable in front the camera. The fact though is that he is one of the leading Catholic theologians of our time, perhaps of the last half-millennia. He’s a Christian intellectual, essentially an academic, unsuitable for the sound bite, and his real interest was theology, studying and explaining scripture, not in terms of reaching a specific policy, but explicating the world. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">These are works of exegeses, that is, commentary on scripture and he engages not just scripture but other works of exegeses. For academic writing, which is usually written for an inner cabal of academics who basically write only for each other, it is immensely readable. It is the rare work that sustains academic muster yet is obviously for general readers as well. Both exegeses nerds and neophytes (I am somewhere in-between) will find these books engaging. He focuses on the gospels, the ministry, death and birth of Jesus. Aside from his references to other books of scriptural commentary, the core of this book examines the gospel’s relationship with the Torah, the law of the Moses, as well as other Old Testament books. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The main thesis is that Jesus fulfilled the law of Moses by being the human face of God. The human face reminds us that we are all made in the image and likeness of God. Believers and non-believers know all this, and what I liked about this book most was not the recitation of what we already know. To make his case as he unpacks the life of Jesus documented in the Synoptic Gospels and John, Benedict keeps going back to the Old Testament, daring you to keep up with this rapid referencing. It’s intellectual Ping-Pong, from old to new testament and back again, to a selection of other works of exegeses, then to his own interpretation of all these sources. The fun is not so much about your faith, but keeping up with this original, highly intelligent and well-read mind. He keeps you at the edge of your intellectual seat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the Infancy narratives, the shortest of the three, he also engages an issue that has been bandied about in academic and atheistic circles for years, the Virgin birth. Turns out virgin births were common in myths of the time, in Egypt, Persia and elsewhere. Benedict points a clear difference between these myths and the gospels. The myths always have an impregnation of a god-figure with a mortal woman, the Christ story features an omnipresent power over matter itself, a miracle only possible if you happen to be the creator of matter. What impressed me about the argument was how Benedict seriously engaged these ancient myths. He did not dismiss them as tale of ignorant and backward cultures. He gives them the respect of a devoted scholar, then expounds on where the differences are, and those differences are significant. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Christianity: The First 3000 Years by </span><span class="st1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">Diarmaid MacCulloch</span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">, whose scholarship on the ancient world from which Christianity emerged is unsurpassed, as well have other books on the era I am familiar with, discuss the other virgin birth narratives in the vicinity of Bethlehem in detail. But I have yet to see anyone examine the actual mythology with the depth of the German Pontiff. Yes, of course, he’s going to be pro-Nativity Story, but I have yet to see this level of analysis by anyone who dismisses the Jesus Nativity story because of virgin births stories existed elsewhere in in the ancient world. If you know of one, email me, I’d love to read it. Give Benedict credit for his intellectual honesty, he is both knowledgeable and fair towards these ancient myths and the cultures that believed them. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was so taken with these books, which I read in succession and was enraptured by, that I read through two collections of his other writings, mainly homilies as well as some biographies. For more than a week, I couldn’t get enough Benedict. His other writings are pretty dry, but not the conservative demagogue the media might have us believe. One of his most conservative positions is about how only traditional music be played, and it turns out his brother, also a priest, is a major choral master in Germany. Anyway, his other writing may not have justified allegations against him, but they simply were not as inspired or as strongly written. The Jesus of Nazareth Trilogy reads like sharp literary criticism as much as it does compelling theology. The prose bristles with energy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Reporters are lazy, audiences have short attention spans and basically everybody has made up their mind about the Catholic Church already. Benedict being a real ivory tower theologian was an impediment to coverage. He unknowingly invited caricature. To be fair, the scandals and controversies surrounding the church were better and more important stories than theological treatises that enhanced current doctrine and charted a new understanding of scripture. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My Benedict immersion was confusing too. There wasn’t just distance between his public person and the writer of the God is Love encyclical and the trilogy, these two men seemed like polar opposites. I wanted to find out why, which I didn’t really find out, but it was worth pondering even inconclusively,. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Jesus of Nazareth Trilogy was such a rewarding read that reading the other writings and biographies, enhanced the reading experience. My last Benedict book was a collection of homilies one night, then woke up the news that he was going to be the first pope in 800 years or so to retire. More than a month of Pope news followed, and then we got Pope Francis, who is camera-friendly, ultra-liberal and unlike Benedict, charming. Now the pope news is a constant stream. Pope Francis’s statements on the economy and the poor are so right on. But all his statements echo the compassion Benedict reveals in his exegesis. God is love. Jesus is the human face of God. The extroverted Francis owes much to the introverted Benedict, which he has stated many times and if you read B-XVI’s trilogy, you see why. Benedict provides a scriptural and supernatural justification for Francis’s liberalism.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>The Trinity </strong></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>by</strong></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Saint Augustine</strong></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, you would think I would have gotten enough religious writing with the Benedict immersion, and I eventually did. I read several books by Elaine Pagel and Garry Wills, which are quick reading but I don’t feel like recommending them. I remain fascinated by religion, especially Christianity, and my reading constantly dips into this river. Wills has some new book out and in an interview said it was favorite book was The Trinity by Saint Augustine. I’ve read lots of Augustine in my time, both in under-grad philosophy classes and on my own post-college. He was influenced by Plato, who he calls a “noble pagan,” and Aristotle, and his writing is reminiscent of that ancient Greek style. I get cravings for that intellectual absorption in reading that only ancient philosophy delivers. I know Augustine isn’t technically antiquity, but it’s the least modern thing I read this year. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, the Wills mention piqued my curiosity and I read selection of The Trinity in an Augustine volume of selected writing sand decided I really ought to commit sufficient time and effort. You want to focus your mind, you want to argue against the attention deficit disordered world we find ourselves in, check into some Augustine. He’s a tough read to start but once you are in the groove, the going is steady and the benefits multiply.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">When I was in grammar school, the nuns said the trinity was a mystery and left it at that. With insight and clever argument, he unpacks that mystery. The initial conundrum is how can something be at the same time three essences and one essences. He compares God to love, and how love is a prime example of the three in one and one three concept. With love, there is the lover, the one loved, and love. This premise was so simple it astounded me. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Having shown that three essences can be separate yet the same, he then applies the concept to understanding God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">The Trinity that God is, The Father is, as it were, the memory of all three, and the Son is the understanding of all three, and the Holy Spirit is the love of all three, just as though the Father does not understand nor love For Himself, but that the Son understands for Him, and the Holy Spirit loves for Him, but that He Himself only remembers for Himself and for Them.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Well, like I said you have to get into the grove first. The idea that The Trinity means that God is the memory of God, Jesus is the Understanding of God and The Holy Spirit is the love of God both validated and nullified the mere mystery the nuns were contending. I’m simplifying a book that was anything but. The archaic, circular writing and the density of his concepts make this a challenging but also rewarding read. The ideas of a man who died in the 5<sup>th</sup> century may have influenced the Christian theology and western philosophy for the last millennium and a half, but the actual writing to still be so compelling and provocative, that is a marvel. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Trinity satiated my theological – or religious nonfiction – cravings for the rest of the year. Something can be readable yet not easy to read – the argument, while well-constructed, is so intricate that you have to devour this book in long stretches to sustain comprehension of each thread. There’s more theology and more Saint Augustine (I much prefer his writing to Saint Thomas Aquinas) in my future, but that future can also be postponed for now. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Empire of the Summer Moon</span></span></span></b><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Quanah Parker and the Rise and Fall of the Comanche, the Most Powerful Indian Tribe in American History</span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">by </span></span></span></b><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">S.C. Gwynne<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Empire of the Summer Moon is a brilliant history of the Comanche and one of the best history books I’ve read in years. Native American history, especially of the pre-manifest destiny eras, can be tricky. The lack of a written history can make it hard to distinguish between fact and here-say, but The Comanche history actually begins with in the late 1600s, with the proliferation of the horse by the Spanish, and the tribe seems to have coalesced around the animal, made up of remnants of Shoshone and Pueblo tribes. Gwynne draws on Spanish and Mexican sources, giving us a truly unique view of Native American life prior to American expansionism. Gwynne paints a portrait of the Comanche as a rag tag group that rose to become the most powerful plains Indian tribe, mainly through their unparalleled command of the horse and their commitment to vicious battle, with a key tactic being stampeding enemy horses and raping their women. They also had a circular form of attack – you see this in many westerns – these circles could be as wide as 50 miles and they could mount an attack with little notice form as far as 500 miles away. There was also no central form of government. The Comanche were made up of different bands, making peace was difficult because you could make peace with one band, but still have to fight the other bands. The descriptions of Comanche culture was fascinating, often lurid and sensational, always welcome treats in history books. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Spanish and Mexican fought the Comanche to appeasement; they did not have a manifest destiny policy and unlike the United States, tended to honor treaties with Indians. Northern Mexico, Texas and much of the South West were the territory of the Comanche, and they became the dominate tribe. White, Mexican, Indian – when fighting the Comanche, women and children were enslaved, after being brutalized and sexually abused and sometimes tortured for sport and to inspire fear. Men who weren’t killed were tortured before being killed. The brutality is mind-blowing yet effective. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But then came the Americans, who of course after the Mexican American War annexed Texas, New Mexico, Oklahoma, and other areas that the Comanche lived in and hunted on. War was a constant on this new frontier, but mainly skirmishes until after the American Civil war when all out war between a primitive stone-age culture and the early industrial era Americans. Gwynne is excellent in point out the differences between the Spanish and Mexican attitudes toward the Comanche and the Americans, the latter were white supremacists and after the Civil War, the U.S. military was a well-organized, world-class war machine, intent on improving their tactics against the native American enemy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The core of the Comanche history is the story of Cynthia Parker, taken by a Comanche raid in 1836 at age nine, but recaptured in 1860 by Texas Rangers. She became a cause celbre, but never fully adapted to White culture again. The rest of her and the Comanche story is of her son, Quanah who remained with the Comanche, becoming a great chief, bringing them through both war and peace with the United States. The author argues the Comanche fared better than other tribes, mainly due to the actions of Quanah parker, a marvelous 19<sup>th</sup> century figure, dressing like a white man, yet keeping Comanche customs alive. What is heart breaking was the death of the buffalo, and the almost complete annihilation of the herds, the basis of both the culture and sustenance for The Comanche. I got teary-eyed when Quanah goes hunting just before the 20<sup>th</sup> century and cannot find a single buffalo alive.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here’s a memorable paragraph I copied about Cynthia Anne. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“The event that destroyed her life was not the raid at Parkers Fort in 1836, but her miraculous and much-celebrated rescue at Mule Creek in 1860. The latter killed her husband, separated her forever from her beloved sons, and deposited her in a culture where she was more a true captive than she had ever been with the Comanche. In the moments before Ross’s Raid, she had been quite as primitive as any other plains Indian; packing thousands of pounds of buffalo meat onto mules, covered from head to toe in blood and grease, literally immersed in this elemental world that never quite left the Stone Age – a world of ceaseless toil, hunger, constant war, and early death. But also of pure magic, of beaver ceremonies and eagle dances, of spirits that inhabited springs, trees, rocks, turtles and crows; a place where people danced all night and sang bear medicine songs, where wolf medicine made a person invulnerable to bullets, dream visions dictated tribal policy and ghosts were alive in the wind.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Petting Zoo <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">By<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim Carroll <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In her forward to her good friend and former lover’s first and only novel, The Petting Zoo, she mentions his mysticism. Smith has called Jim Carroll the best poet of his generation. I mainly know his records, especially Catholic Boy, unquestionably the last great NY Punk album and probably my favorite record of my favorite year in college – one my buddies we called Dean-o Drain-o, his name was Dean and became tagged by the moniker from the guy sniffing who died sniffing Drano in People Who Died – and Basketball Diaries, his memoir, which everybody read back in the day when Catholic Boy topped the college record charts; about 20 years later it was turned into a not half-bad film, an early Leonardo DiCaprio vehicle. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I had put off reading this novel. It had gotten terrible reviews and it wasn’t like I was still playing Catholic Boy much anymore. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Petting Zoo is a weird, barely structured novel that I never expected to like as much as I did; in fact, I didn’t think I would like it as much as I did as I was actually reading the book, there is little structure and while much of it is brilliant as is the novel, overall, there are weak paragraphs throughout, sometimes causing the eyes to roll. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgoHEdTHTagEoagvlhjZoiXtyFSahT7eq4mwwyhq_Fd6V3sgsJDqziDSXC3wXd5ylip3z1M0_jGkIB4mdOAqYmEdNZYWbtcce3Ts-IDNYSCpVCzvVefxN0yS6YFEro0G36kjZl6OseBrdU/s1600/petting+zoo_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgoHEdTHTagEoagvlhjZoiXtyFSahT7eq4mwwyhq_Fd6V3sgsJDqziDSXC3wXd5ylip3z1M0_jGkIB4mdOAqYmEdNZYWbtcce3Ts-IDNYSCpVCzvVefxN0yS6YFEro0G36kjZl6OseBrdU/s320/petting+zoo_2.jpg" width="215" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It’s impossible to read this work of fiction without thinking of Carroll’s own life, a NY Irish Catholic kid, declared to be a poet prodigy by Jack Kerouac while he was still a teenager, he was an underground poet who had a bit of fame with an excellent punk record – fellow poet and sometime lover Smith convinced him to make music – and by the end of the 80s became a comparative recluse, although he often showed up t N.Y. literary events, both a hermit but also gadfly keeping alive a rapidly receding bohemian history… Jim Carroll, former punk poet and rocker, junkie and street hustler – Basketball Diaries was a landmark book, without witch we wouldn’t have had the memoir movement that started in 90s, of Prozac Nation, Liar’s Club or Running With Scissors – deeply personal and dysfunctional episodic sagas where bold and honest transgressions are revealed. I am often unsure of the value of this genre, and often the honesty is augmented – why let the truth get in the way of a good story or bigger truth – but when the writing is working, you can’t put the damn thing down. Rites of passage – the need to confess them and the need to hear that confession – may indeed be universal. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But maybe memoir proved to have limits as a format for Carroll to adequately express his feelings about his life – his fame and loss of that fame, his confused sexuality, his complex, west meets east spirituality. The story here is pretty slim, much of the Petting Zoo, particularly the last third, consists of mainly monologues or extended dialogs – which are more like monologues because one character does most of the talking. Crucial moments occur, all competently occur and I was compelled to keep reading, but I never expected anything to happen really, and I got my wish. The setting is the 80s – there is nothing to indicate that, no references to Reagan or New Wave, but there are no cell phones or mentions of the Internet, so we assume the 80s mainly because the main character grew up in the 50s and 60s and is vaguely in his late 30s or early 40s when the main action of the novel takes place. While there is an art scene of sorts – the main character, Billy Wolfram, is a rising young artist – the 80s art scene as depicted seems no different than any other art scenes – art dealers, parties – at any other time in history. This lack of specify just enhances the weirdness – the reason I loved this novel and kept reading its weirdness, whether intended or not – the novel seems to take place during the Mondale administration. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Billy Wolfram was a troubled street kid; he lived with his divorced Irish Catholic mother in the Inwood section of Manhattan, had a gift for painting, was discovered by a kindly father figure wealthy art patron, sky rocketed to fame, but remain committed to his art even through the death of his mother and later the art patron. His best friend, Denny, is a rock star – although best friend seems just a contrivance – Denny is the alter ego of Billy, a Narcissus and Goldman relationship of the earthy and the intellect, with Billy being the virgin living a solitary existence in his studio until an instigating incident persuades him to go into a period of deeper reclusion, followed by a personal crisis, leading to what seems to be an extended vision quest that ends with a the ultimate revelation, death. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Leaving an art opening while obsessing on a rival, a painter by the name of Velasquez, Billy has a break down in Central Park, near The Petting Zoo, where he first encounters his spirit-guide, a raven, which like in Poe is also a harbinger of ill intent. Through miscommunication, and the eccentricity of the protagonist for never carrying identification, Billy is taken into custody by the police spends three days in a psychiatric hospital. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Unlike many NY writers, poets and punk rockers, Jim Carroll didn’t grow up in the suburbs or some outer borough. He was a working class Manhattan brat, although by the time Carroll was an adult that NYC working Irish Catholic middle class population had all but disappeared. Billy has some adventures, such as finding milky quarts in upper Manhattan rock formations, learning how to paint at the Cloisters, and going on hilarious, ill-fated sex for hire scam with a hustler friend, the Cable (named for the length of his male member) where the gay trick has the two teens dress like German boy scouts. The most devastating flashback, critical for determining Billy’s asexuality, occurs when his sainted, long suffering mother, discovers Billy masturbating the day John F. Kennedy was assassinated. She opens the bathroom door to tell her son news on this where you when you heard moment. I guess you either dig the weirdness or you do not. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Apparently, Billy stays a virgin through the 60s and 70s, although Denny regales him with his sexual exploits. We don’t hear these tales, we just hear that Billy has heard them. Billy has a loyal assistant, Marta (who is from Ecuador), we find out is in love with him and when they finally make love, in a very moving scene, he accuses her, implausibly and without provocation, of sleeping with Denny, which destroys any possibility of love twixt the two.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Oh yeah, the Raven. There’s a raven that acts as a spirit guide through this Manhattan vision quest. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">After Billy is released from the hospital, he has vivid dream encounter with the Raven, who tells him of the Raven through history – Noah first released a Raven, not a dove, when the 40 days of rain ceased. The Raven seems to embody the eastern argument against duality – good and evil – the black bird is not the evil rival of the good white dove, but a beyond good and evil vision of the poet. Carroll is die-hard if not practicing Catholic, but has always been blending Eastern with the Western – and here he adds a heaping portion of Native American mysticism. This eclectic theology was a predilection of the Beats, who discovered Carroll, who remained their chosen stepson. The Petting Zoo also shows some serious study of Gnosticism. The raven becomes the excuse for Carroll to poetically rattle on about his complex, multi-cultural and learned view of spirituality. He is a well-read guy. It is informed, splendid hokum. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Billy expounds on the nature of art and reality throughout this novel, at times it seems like Socrates is having a bro-mance with Rimbaud. But he doesn’t just explain, he delves deep. Like the earnest philosophy major doing bongs in the dorm, his intellectual pursuit has a refreshing relentlessness. As Billy dissects the question, does art haves a purpose for the public good, he progresses to ponder the idea of a public good in and of itself, ultimately wondering about the nature of goodness, if it can exist, etc. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At times The Petting Zoo story seems besides the point, or just a framework for philosophical debates, allegory and symbolism. Discovering the nature of reality and the essence of the human condition are the real intents here. The current state of American literary criticism eschews these sort of explorations as overly intellectual or too apolitical and perhaps why this crazy novel was so under-appreciated when it was published. The Petting Zoo is too deep for our times, and like true Punk Rock ethos, destroys the division between the objective and the subjective. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is also a love story. Marta, Billy’s assistant, love each other and she comes to Billy, saving from him another mental break down, which transpires at a his final big art opening and is a result of his internal dialog with the Raven that concludes with trying to understand goodness. Billy is a superstar artist, but also a 40 year-old-virgin. He reminded me of Ignatius O’Reilly. The love between these two ends tragically, but also intertwines romantic love as a philosophical query with the rest of the what is the nature of reality internal journey Billy explores on his dark nights of the soul. There’s elements of Borges in this novel, which the critics missed thus were too willing to dismiss it as structureless. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Marta: “That’s what love is about, sharing in each other’s triumphs and comforting each other in misery… with absolute trust and confidence. There is always the prospect of sadness and risk, but that’s the price of love’s splendors. I always imagined that you of all people, with your work so reliant on instinct, would agree with me.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Spoiler Alert! (Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker’s Father)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The novel ends with Billy, alone with the Rave, dying the nightmare death of only a real New Yorker. In the winter, you either freeze or fry in NY. Those steam heat, noisy radiators, can crank it up to Death Valley temperatures and there’s many apartments, especially in those pre-war and immediate post-war buildings, the only way to regulate the temperature is by opening and closing the window. The boiler in the building where he lives boiler overheats during a snow storm and everyone but Billy evacuates <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“The old blackbird paused a moment, then raised its voice. “Billy, listen to me! Do you know the only virtue that each of these diverse and gifted individuals had in common? They all possessed the courage to meet this life of adversity without ever giving in to despair. They would reach the very edge of that abyss, but never succumb to it.”” <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“It’s time your eyes remain shut, Billy Wolfram. Now is the time, so get on with it. Take that Single Step and fly.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Now that his vigil was over, the raven rose from the floor and through the window, disappearing north into the whiteout night of the great blizzard. Soon another bird soared down from the huge port authority building. It was a dove, gliding directly beside the long black wings, barely visible in the pale, frigid air.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A strange novel, but poetic and profound with elegiac passages that achieve a rare elegance. Billy is searching for that ineffable truth, a purity that cannot be The Petting Zoo doesn’t work like a regular novel, a work of fiction where the story and characters take you some place else; there’s not much of a story, some characters seem undeveloped. The Petting Zoo is a philosophical polemic, similar to Zen & The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance or Looking Backward by Edward Bellamy, but see, Carroll is a poet and the purpose of his allegory is not political, or even to teach us a lesson about life. He wants to use words to express emotions and insights that resist verbal expression. It’s not that he achieves this objective, but that he has the ambition to attempt it and how close he gets. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An imperfect novel that I couldn’t stop reading, that stuck in my head for days. It made me think about Jim Carroll, which I haven’t done in years, and made me want to read his other work, especially his poetry. I loved his records – I actually bought all three of them – but I never read him in depth. Now I feel like I should. The Petting Zoo seems as much a personnel commentary on his own work and life as a way to use that life as a prism for understanding life itself. His fictional account of an artist’s rise and fall is an unforgettable meditation on not just an artist, but why art is needed. This book is kind of Season in Hell by Arthur Rimbaud meets the Masterpiece by Emile Zola, but a decade might have to pass before it is recognized for the masterpiece it is. Remember, you read that in Dislocations first. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Quo Vidas <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">By<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Henryk Sienkiewicz<o:p></o:p></span></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">So, <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/05/mystery-solved-four-men-on-white-eagle.html" target="_blank">I wrote this blog post about the four heads</a> on the façade of White Eagle Hall, one of whom was the Nobel prize winner, Henryk Sienkiewicz. I had never heard of him before, so I read With Fire and Sword, the first of a trilogy based on Polish history. It was an enjoyable war story, reminded me of Russian literature – Tolstoy is the obvious influence – but I was under-whelmed. Magda, who was born and raised in Poland and a Sienkiewicz aficionado, recommend <i><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero</span></i>, so I decided to give it a shot. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I’m more inclined towards Ancient Roman history than the battles in the Eastern Europe of the Middle Ages. What a rollicking fun read. The story takes place during the age of Nero, the beginning of the persecution of Christians. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">This was as good an historical fiction based in antiquity as Julian by Gore Vidal, I Claudius by Robert Graves or Salammbo by Gustave Flaubert, which I know was ancient Greece, but who cares. Olden times. </span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Besides Nero, two other famous celebrities of the era show up – Saint Peter and Saint Paul, the former’s upside down crucifixion concludes the novel. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">While ole Henryk takes the side of the Christian, he has a deep and lingering appreciation of the ancient pagans, as well as the philosophical belief system of honor and morality Rome stole from Hellenic culture. At center is a love story between Vinicius and Lygia, the latter a Christian, the former a young Roman general. Lygia is the ancient name for Poland, and it is apparent Henryk is intent on making a point that this most Catholic of all nations has a direct link to the founding of Christianity.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The novel was published in 1898, and when Poland wasn’t being occupied by Germany, a Lutheran nation, it was being conquered by Russian, a Russian Orthodox nation, and Sienkiewicz seems to have a political agenda in underscoring this allegiance to Rome. The novel has an allegorical air about it, and it seems that the Polish readership receives an additional layer of meaning addressing political themes of the time. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">There’s a terrific 1951 Film that I was able to see (both novel, in an edition from the 1950s, and film, are available through the Jersey City library system). The novel is better. Vinicius returns from battle, and Lygia, a ward of a retired general, captures his eyes, but turns out she is Christian. She loves him, but will not give up her faith and cannot reconcile her faith with his military brutality. Nero sets fire to Rome, from a mere desire to see the glorious destruction of a city on fire. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roman Jews convince Nero to blame the Christians – in the film, there are no Jews – for the fire. Now, this plot point did have a sour hint of anti-Semitism, and I have no idea of the historical accuracy. Although it seems rather dubious – Nero didn’t need any help from Jews for his reign of terror –the growing conflicts between Jews and Jewish Christians, also the tensions between both groups and the new group of gentile Christians, who by being Christians were also adopting the old testament, not only have a historical basis but have been a new area of interest for many contemporary scholars of the era. The novel presents a full mosaic of ancient life, and it would be unfair to criticize solely on this plot point.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All these groups were under the dictatorship of the emperor, and the rigid Roman class system, and were competing to attain lesser levels of persecution. Vincius’s sense of Roman honor leads him to rescue some Christians, face then escape death with Lygia in the Arena, and eventually leads to the downfall of Nero, and along the way, along with his love, he converts to Christianity<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Petronius, the author of Satyricon, on which the Fellini film is based, and the 12 Casers, a book I loved in College, has a cameo role as the uncle and mentor of Vinicius, and part of Nero’s inner circle. While not a Christian, he does not see them as an enemy of Rome, and out of his adherence to Hellenic ideas of justice, cannot abide them being falsely accused. One of the most memorable scenes is when he and his adoring slave, Eunice, commit suicide instead of becoming victims of Nero’s reign of terror, a goodbye to the “old Rome.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A credible depiction of antiquity as it may have been experienced, wrapped up in a thrilling story of love and adventure . Sienkiewicz’s sympathies are unabashedly Christian, and his portrayals of the clandestine nature of the early church contain a genuinely captivating momentum – Quo Vidas is real page turner – yet the mystery and magic of the ancient world obviously enthrall this writer. His Catholicism is only slightly more powerful than his envy of paganism. It is that tension – that is both in the writing and in the writer – that makes this novel a masterpiece of the ancient history fiction genre. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Searchers: The Making of American Legend <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">by<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Glenn Frankel<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">If anyone was prime for this book it is me, I love the Searchers, read the novel by Alan Lemay, have read John Ford studies and biographies – the major one is Searching for John Ford by James McBride – and also read the Empire of the Summer Moon only a few months before this book. I’m the target audience for this book and it did not disappoint. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Searchers: The Making of American Legend is a bifurcated, a hat wearing hat. Actually, make that trifurcated, hat on a hat on a hat. Frankel studies the historical incident, the writing of the novel by Lemay, and then the glorious film by The Searchers (I watched that film at least three times last year, I love it), He does well on all counts.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The first half is about Texas, the Comanche and the 1836 kidnapping by the Comanche of Cynthia Ann Parker, who was raised as a Comanche but then rescued twenty four years later – her son, Quanah Parker was the Comanche chief who transitioned the tribe from war to peace at the end of the 19<sup>th</sup> century. He covers similar ground as Empire of the Summer Moon, but he has a different agenda and seems to have utilized some different source material, according to the extensive foot notes. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Parker abduction and rescue were the basis of the Alan Lemay novel the Searchers, and the film by John Ford. The second half of the book details the novel, novel-to-film, and the masterpiece movie. The two parts don’t quite fit together, the three incarnations make an imperfect triptych. Yet I couldn’t put this book down. The writer seems to have an “agon” with the other Comanche book, which was published two years prior. He often remarks in the prose and footnotes that this and that detail is the first time in point. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">One can’t help but wonder if he knew about the scholar – who like him also was a journalist – nosing around the same territory? A minor distraction to a great read, but that distraction just fed into my mania for The Searchers. A major theme of this book’s was how sex between races enraged 19<sup>th</sup> century American whites and that rage lingered well into the 20<sup>th</sup> century. Ethan Edwards in the film finally overcomes his anger about miscegenation between Native Americans and Caucasians – “let’s go home Debbie” – in the novel he never overcomes that hatred and dies tragically. More attention should have been paid to Lemay, and this key difference in how the story was told in the two mediums. But that’s more quibble than complaint. The chapter on John Wayne was real fun, opening up the film from the point of view of a celebrity and movie star desperate to prove himself a real actor – he named his youngest son, Ethan, after this role.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Searchers is a great movie and even if the first half of this book reads like an excessive footnote to that film, this is a must read if you want to fully contemplate why one of the greatest films ever made is so great. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Burn This<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">by<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Lanford Wilson<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Years and years ago, a friend of mine told me, after he saw a production of Burn This with John Malkovich, that I reminded him this character, who is from New Jersey and comes to New York after his brother dies, and bristles against his circle of friends, artist types, gays and dancers. I used to rail to no avail against plenteousness, which in New York was rampant, I forget why. Anyway, this comment was always in the back of my mind and I remembered the title of this play, but whenever I felt like I have nothing I want to read and/or have an urge to read plays, this title would come to mind, but I was never able to find it in a book store and the notion soon passed from my head. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The notion inexplicably returned when I was on a Jersey City Library Main Branch wander. There was Burn This, among the rather abundant selection of drama. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I had no real knowledge of Lanford Wilson, other then having heard the name (I also read the Hot L Baltimore, which I didn’t like as much). <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Burn This is immensely readably – I did not identify with the character Pale, who made my friend think of me, or maybe I did. There’s some conflict between New Jersey attitude and New York attitude and being fiction, New Jersey wins. Regardless, what I like the most was the convincing scenario -- but I was reminded of Raymond Carver – they are essentially contemporaries. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What was carver-esque – a distinct idiom whose distinction, unlike say Mamet – was not at all obvious, the plot turned on minor incidents of ordinary life – here a roommate dies, his working class brother grieves with his artsy, intellectual, bohemian friends and has an affair with the female room mate – and the class divisions are subtle – a post-60s, post-class war world where politics have little use but economics rule. Ana has two boyfriends, Burton a rich kid writer and Pale, the brother and Larry the other room mate actually brings Pale and Ana together and resents Burton. Burn this refers to the note he gives Pale, imploring him to reunite – see, the play begins with Robert’s death by accident, the dance partner of Ana – serious, hard working artists – and Ana goes to the funeral – out in Jersey, they had no idea the deceased was gay and had never seen any of his dances – this disturbs Ana the most, because she knew how talented he was and how hard he worked – Robert gives Pale a ticket to the dance she has been working on, originally for Robert, but now inspired by him – and by Pale going to the dance, order is restored, the two accept they love each other. Gritty, really snappy writing and suddenly when you think it is all edge and modern and now, Wilson makes us realize what we always knew, love is all there is. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Larry: You know, it’s unlikely anyone did your family the favor of arranging Robbie’s accident.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Pale: I don’t wanta talk about it, okay?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Larry: This would be the situation where the little boy says, “I hate Daddy and I want him to die,” and two days later Daddy goes off to the hospital and doesn’t come home again. And the little boy thinks it’s his fault. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Pale: Yeah? That mighta been the night the angels decided to listen to the little boy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Larry: I don’t think so.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Pale: That’s the way Catholics think; we’re fucked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Larry : It sounds very unlikely.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Pale: Yeah, one side of my brain knows that – the other side drinks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>– Lanford Wilson<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Days, maybe even weeks after reading Burn This, it occurred me to that this whole scenario was probably an allegory about the AIDS crisis. The play is really about dealing with survivors guilt, and that acceptance is linked with the need to abandoned homophobia because the of the sexual orientation whose death sets in motion the confrontation with the complexity of grief.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ruined<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">by <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Lynn Nottage<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ruined by Lynn Nottage was as riveting a read as I ever had. The surprise is that this not something I am inclined towards. While, yes I will read just about anything, especially plays, giving the first few pages a chance to grab me, but this play was about the Congo, contemporary Africa, not exactly a niche I’ve felt like pursuing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sort of just picked this up at the library, a new play, only a few years old, won a bunch of 2010 awards. The setting is a bar and brothel, run by mother, where is a kind of no man’s land where rebel fighters and government soldiers come to drink and get laid. Christian deals in the black-market, and while both he and Mama have a gruff external persona as a survival mechanism in this bleak world where morality and compassion can seem like luxuries one cannot afford, in the end they both cling to these values because to surrender your humanity is the same as suicide. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Title: Ruined – refers to a woman’s private parts after she has been gang raped – all the violence and degradation against woman happens off stage, but the implications horrify – and these are the girls who can only work as waitress. Maudlin? Sensationalistic? Not in the least – we confront true horrors, we can a complete and I can only assume accurate and honest portrayal of this ugly piece of post-colonial Africa – and yet we wind up feeling hope in the power of our own humanity. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mama: Do I look like I need protection?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Christian: No, but you look like you need someone to make love to you.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mama Do I now?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Christian: Yes. How long has it been, Mama, since you allowed a man to touch you? A man like me, who isn’t looking through you for a way home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">(Mama laughs at him.)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mama: Enough. God. You’re getting pathetic.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Christian: Maybe. But damn it against my better judgment… I love you.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mama: (With contempt): Love. What is the point in all this shit? Love is too fragile sentiment for out here. Think about what happens to the things we “love.” It isn’t worth it. “Love.” It is a poisonous word. It will change us. It will cost us more than it returns. Don’t you think? It’ll be an unnecessary burden for people like us. And it’ll eventually strangle us!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Christian: Do you hear what you are saying?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mama: It’s the Truth. Deal with it!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>— Lynn Nottage<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Fences <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">by <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">August Wilson<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, I realized I didn’t really know the difference between Lanford and August Wilson, although I knew August as being the leading African-American playwright or our time. I hadn’t read any of his plays. Thus I embarked on a binge.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Drama reading binges are not new to me, even contemporary ones – I love Neil LaBute, read nearly everything by Sam Shepard, etc. Heretofore August escaped me. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Fences is his best, in my humble opinion. Wilson has a unique way of universalizing the African American experience. Here, the main character Troy, is a middle aged man who had a hard scrabble life and a successful stint in the negro baseball leagues, but is now a garbage man with the municipality and building a fence that is continually interrupted by his drinking, cheating on his wife and rants about self reliance and overcoming the odds. One son is a musician, another a teenager with a potential football career which he thwarts out sheer pride. In the final scene, the son is not going to go his father’s funeral. His mother replies<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Whatever was between you and your daddy… the time has come to put it aside. Just take it and set it over there on the shelf and forget about it. Disrespecting your daddy ain’t gonna make you a man, Cory. You got to find a way to make to come to that on your own. Not going to your daddy’s funeral ain’t gonna make you man.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Or as she later says,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Your daddy wanted you to be everything he wasn’t…. and at the same time he tried to make you into everything he was. I don’t know if he was right or wrong… but I do know he meant to do more good than he meant to do harm. – August Wilson. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Aside for the socio-political issues of Black America Wilson is concerned with, at the core is the challenge of forgiveness. At some point in our live we have to reconcile with our parents and forgiving them means accepting their flaws. I had an over-bearing father and we were at odds through most of my teen years and yet I think we reconciled by the time he passed. It wasn’t easy, just necessary and this play made me reflect on that and damn if I didn’t have real tears in my eyes as I read through the last act. Notice the clever subtle twist in the above quote “ he meant to do more good than harm” – the key word is meant – he meant to do harm as well. Accepting that complex truth about this man – who is building a fence yet as a home run hitter, is always swinging for the fence – is also part of the reconciliation that is the human condition. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Oh, and a running theme is the song Old Blue, a moldy old folk song about a dog, Cisco Houston has a great version. I love the song. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Radio Golf <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">by<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">August Wilson<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">One of the better of the August Wilson cycle that I read this year, almost as good as fences. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A man is running for a local office, but will he will be coopted. At the same time, his real estate company will take Old Joe, a character right out of a Robert Johnson song, is painting a house the real estate company plans to tear down. A soulful play about the challenge of not selling your soul in this cruel world. Simple story, streamlined, no flamboyance, motivating and uplifting. Within this fable doing the right thing when faced with Capitalism’s irrevocable force to steal from the poor and give to the rich, are some real choice glimpses of how we all face mortality. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">That was yesterday. Today’s Today. Tomorrow’s been following me for a long time. Everywhere I go it follows me. It ain’t caught me yet. Today’s faster than tomorrow. – August Wilson<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">That was like a perfect day. A perfect day is the saddest day. You know why? Cause it has to come to end. I’ve had many perfect days. I thought they were going to last forever. But they come to an end. The only problem is you never know if you’re going to have another one. – August Wilson.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Clive Davis: The Soundtrack of My Life<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">by <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Clive Davis<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What a dreadful slog. Blandly written and prone to stating the obvious – from his work in Rolling Stone I always suspected Anthony De Curtis – the Ghost Writer here – was dull-witted, but man oh man, nothing prepared me for this steaming dunghill of tedium. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Why include it here? I’m not recommending it, really, but even boring writing can entertain. I don’t know whether to hate Davis for records by Barry Manilow and The Outlaws that still make me cringe with nausea or to love Davis for records by Patti Smith and Lou Reed that still fill me with awe. He gave the Grateful Dead a second life, even though their Arista releases while having their moments, are less then awe inspiring. So, here’s a guy who has been involved music from the age of John Hammond to the age of American Idol, and like Zelig he seems like a shallow cypher. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Why not? He’s an entertainment lawyer and there are no juicy bits – few moments that are even very interesting – and nothing will offend anyone. This has to be the most vetted book I’ve ever read. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yet, a guy who knew both Janis Joplin and Whitney Houston is fascinating just for that fact even if nothing about him is personally interesting. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Academy Award gives me pause when considering what film to watch , or as a measure to an actor’s talent – the Pulitzer and Nobel and American Book Award can be a factor in evaluating a book selection. They are minor points but nonetheless notable. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I spend more time listening to music than movie watching or reading – to be fair, I often have music on very low when I read – I never have ever given a Grammy award a second thought, even when Dylan wins one. This book is all about the Grammy. The Grammy is the ultimate validation – aside from going platinum – and Clive Davis’s Grammy party the event of the year. What alternative universe of music does he live in – this is the soundtrack of his wealth, which I guess is his life – he comes as a nice, shallow guy and probably the nice part is probably self serving.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Parts that were interesting: as in-house counsel for Columbia Records, he took John Birch Society Blues off of Freewheelin (forgivable, since I love Corrina Corrina) but then says he made up for it by releasing George Jackson as single – although he neglects to mention that Columbia did no marketing or promotion for Dylan’s ode to a slain Black Panther and his near-forgotten Dylan classic slipped through the tracks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">He is quite proud that he convinced Simon & Garfunkel to release the soundtrack to The Graduate – which featured songs on previous S&G records – it sold zillions, the film was a huge hit – Simon’s argument was that it would dilute sales for a new album they were working on, Davis said they could piggy back on the film’s success and what do you know, Davis was right. Of course, I wonder if Simon might have worried they were raping the group’s fans by selling them the same song twice. Milking fans for every penny was an aspiration, not a worry, for Davis and his blindness to this part of greed provides unintended humor. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Davis doesn’t care about the fans, or why music might actually matter, but he has an ear and is responsible for much of my record collection. While always pushing for a hit – and hey I like pop hits too – he always gets out of the way of the artist. His interaction with Patti Smith is quite touching and he apologizes to Lou Reed for the Arista records not selling more (I am sure he knew Lou was extremely ill, so there is some genuine poignancy to the Lou chapter). The Arista Lou Reed never produced a Walk on The Wild Side hit, but I loved those records. Street Hassle, The Bells and Blue Mask (which Davis never mentions) are really under-appreciated. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have a feeling that any insiders look will be this tedious to anyone outside an industry. When it comes to lawyers and contracts and sales, is the music industry any different than piping or casual wear or widgets? He doesn’t get to know anybody all that close because, well, he’s a lawyer. Why would you want to get that close to your lawyer, they charge by the hour.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The big reveal in the book is Davis’s bisexuality, which is as tedious as his spat with Kelly Clarkson. I mean, who cares and there’s no salacious details. He gets to this reveal – the only really personal information aside from his insistence that he was fired from Columbia for being wrongly accused of having the company fund his son’s Bah Mitzvah then writing it off as a business expense (I found the denial unconvincing) at the end, but by this time he is talking about American Idol. My eyes were bleeding. But I had the made the commitment and had to finish. Imagining Clive having sex with anyone of any gender is as distasteful as it gets, but I could not turn away. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I’m not recommending this book, but it was so bad, so bloody insipid about something I care about deeply – music – I had to include it my annual list. His life is dull, the soundtrack never is and we share much of that soundtrack. How does someone so bland be instrumental in something so culturally significant? Maybe he didn’t reveal the whole truth, or maybe, no matter how significant and important to our lives, Clive handled the paperwork and that is not interesting. I am guessing the memoir by the lawyer of Shakespeare’s publisher would be just as dull. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I think one incident indicates why this book repels even as its subject entices. Davis and a bunch of music industry lawyers spend the day before Woodstock at the Catskills – this borscht belt Shangri-La was still around in 1969, but on its last legs. The resorts were decaying and would be closed up within five years. Davis is Jewish and so were his companions and there was nostalgia for them, eating the corn beef sandwiches and remembering their summer vacations here as kids. Davis is a good decade older than the Woodstock generation. But the traffic, the crowds, the near-disaster keep these men away from the biggest music event of the year, where stars like Joplin and Santana would make history. Woodstock was for the fans. It was about how music was about more than making fortunes. Why experience it that when you can stay in the Catskills and talk business. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">There was something appalling and yet appealing about that scene. I’m not recommending this read as a read, but only as a dull-witted footnote to music history. It’s not equal parts hate and like <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>– it’s more hate than like – but the fact that it is both is rare enough to mention. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Fear Itself <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The New Deal and the Origins of Our Time<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">by <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ira Katznelson<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Fear Itself is a history of The New Deal, with an innovative underlying thesis that the New Deal ran from the FDR to Eisenhower. The historian has little interest in economics, my favorite aspect of the Roosevelt administration. His focus is on politics, mainly on the passage of legislation and his conclusion is that the polarized and paranoid nation we have today is due to The New Deal. I did not love this book, and at times it was a near unbearable slog( the writing is uneven) , but the core of book is compelling. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Katznelson gives much attention to the unholy alliance within the Democratic party of the 1930s, where liberal democrats aligned with Jim Crow southern democrats to pass the major parts of New Legislation, such as the National Recovery Act. The Southern Dems priority was keeping the white supremacy power structure intact, so any legislation that had even a whiff of giving African Americans more democratic participation, was squelched or modified. For instance, domestic workers were exempt from the new social security system because in the south most of those workers were black and it would have meant their white employers would have to pay them more, same was true with farm workers. When World War II started, and we had more soldiers, who should determine the absentee ballot eligibility. If it was some national entity, then black soldiers from the south could bypass the pole tax and actually vote. The union movement wanted to enfranchise blacks, which was one reason unionism, rampant in this era and loyal New Deal supporters, made few inroads below the Mason & Dixon line. In the 40s, to further circumvent union-driven segregation, Southern Democrats started to align themselves with the pro-business republicans, the birth of a nexus point that would evolve into the Republican Southern Strategy and the current Tea Party. These sections of the book were utterly compelling; a handful of chapters that are some of the best writings about Jim Crow in the early 20<sup>th</sup> century that I’ve ever read. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The overall thesis is that the New Deal was flawed because of these allegiances I found unconvincing. The philosophy and ethics of the New Deal, with its commitment to economic justice, were the very things that would bring down Jim Crow and insufficient acknowledgement of that development was given. Other times, this well-research and well-footnoted (100+ pages of footnotes) tome has some inconsistent scholarship. One groaner was a throw-away explanation of Republican gains of a mid-term election in the 40s as being due to “voters growing tired of new deal policies” – within detailed accounts of the passage of those details, there was no justification why were they tired? Did they want the economic depression back? With such sparse explorations of the impact or success of the actual New Deal policies – and they were successful – the sudden laziness of scholarship annoyed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Nonetheless, whether inadvertent or not, Roosevelt’s New Deal did strengthen at least in the 30s, Jim Crow. Was it only Roosevelt – from this book we would not know – the fact is that racism was accepted by many as status quo – black face was a popular form of entertainment. It would take another three decades for Jim Crow laws to be completely dismantled, and we are still feeling the repercussions of both Jim Crow and the sluggishness the United States dismantled our system of Apartheid. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This book explores an uncomfortable truth. In order to get the New Deal passed, Roosevelt needed the support of the former confederates and thus did little (he let Eleanor do her thing). Yet, Roosevelt was re-elected with the support of Northern blacks. It’s a complicated period with no reassuring answers. If racism wasn’t the status quo, and the separation of races both by law and custom, might be one reason that there was not a people’s revolt after the Great Depression. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The historian was also excellent on two other points. Republicans may not have been as overt racists as the Dixiecrats, but they never supported civil rights legislation, such as the anti-lynching laws that would come up and fail every few years (one finally passed in the early years of the 21<sup>st</sup> century). The other point has to do with the title, Fear and that fear after World War I was rampant and with good reason, the world was in collapse. In Europe, fascism was seen as the answer and liberal democracies were on the decline, and there were pro-fascists in the U.S. We easily could have slipped into The Plot Against America scenario, if it wasn’t for FDR and while the historian may is prone to constantly disparaging FDR, he does expertly depict the global milieu from which America’s New Deal emerged, while a swirl of uglier alternatives were adopted in Europe, making WWII seem ever more fated.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But then, he points out that the South was more anti-Nazi than the North in the late 30s, while at the same time the Nazi’s were studying Jim Crow laws and Hitler was making pro-southern statements and overtures to Southern Politicians. The historian reveals this irony, then just lets it drop. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Why did the America First movement occur in NYC and not in states were white supremacy was law? Either the historian or his editor lacked the imagination to explore the fullness of many of the ideas in the book, while other ideas lack sufficient intellectual inquiry, i.e., the disregard for economic fact and theory. Fear Itself is not an introduction to the New Deal, it’s an itinerant mediation on some of the less explored aspects of that era. This book was in the end a frustrating read, the parts are better than the whole and those parts that are better were some of the most thought-provoking chapters of the year. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Betrothed <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">by <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Alessandro Manzoni<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Read any good 19<sup>th</sup> century Italian novels lately? I did, The Betrothed by Alessandro Manzoni, is a fun, love story of Renzo and Lucia in 17<sup>th</sup> Century Milan. A historical novel although there seems to be issues of class and the relationship between Catholic Church and State that of much concern in 19<sup>th</sup> century Italy that it has to be a topical commentary for that era. They fall in love, but a Don for mysterious reasons, wants Lucia and by the intercession of a good priest with a mysterious past, Father Cristofero, decides for their own safety they must flee, Lucia to a convent and Renzo to a monastery. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Renzo, who is well-meaning, clever but also somewhat hapless, gets lost, stumbles into an uprising by peasants demanding bread – there are several bread riots – until towards the middle to the end of the 718 page novel, battles with German and French soldiers, as well as with thugs from the Dons – basically warlords – who bicker and fight each other. By the end, bubonic plague has arrived. Lucia and Renzo and Fr. Cristerfero all unite at a Lazaretto, a kind of quarantine for suffers of the plague. A real page turner and wonderfully told, epic tale. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">At times a bit of a slog, when the plague hits, the prose really grips. A scene where Renzo witnesses a woman dressing her dead baby then bribing one of he collectors of the dead to make sure the infant corpse is carefully placed in a mass grave is quite memorable. As is the common plea, “for the sake of your dead ones,” which people used when begging for help during the turmoil of the plague, very haunting stuff. It is also surprising how aware they are of public health and spreading germs, but I guess by the 1600s Europe was better able to address outbreaks of plague. Catholic theology as well as the role of cardinals and priest and their power plays with the aristocracy and the peasantry are important themes. The sake of your dead ones implies the effect we can have those loved ones living now in the invisible world. Lucia, when she is finally found by Renzo in the lazaretto , has made an oath to the Madonna and cannot be married, and Fr. Cristerfero has to analyze the theological arguments concerning oaths to see if these two lovers can be together. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This novel was mentioned in an interview with the new Pope Francis, it happens to be his favorite novel, a night table book for him. I had not heard of it, although I am pretty well-read in the 19<sup>th</sup> century novel, when it comes to America, England, France and Russia. The Betrothed deserves not just to be considered among the best of that lot – what a century of names said Henry Miller – but it had a lot of contemporary elements – it sees like a protean example of Magic Realism, the wandering through the Southern Italy country side was surreal, as comic as Cervantes, then some violent tragedy occurs with deep philosophical underpinnings, you realize you are reading something deeper than when what it seems. Also, there are plot twists that and subtle satire that seemed very modern to me. At times, like most 19<sup>th</sup> novel, it was a slog, but the investment paid off. Really enjoyable read, any other recommendations P.F.? <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Light of the World <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">by <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">James Lee Burke<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This Dave Robicheaux novel came out during the summer with barely a blip, a sole paragraph in the New York Times Book Review that I had missed and it was not until autumn when a friend said, did you read the new James Lee Burke. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">He comes out with a novel every summer just about, but the Robicheaux every other year. A Robicheaux within one year of the last one, unheard of and almost as unheard of is the marketing moratorium. His books are often on the best sellers list, billboard ads on the subway, promos in book stores. Maybe that is all in the past now.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The rare Robicheaux excursion outside the confines of Louisiana, the story takes pace in Montana, the setting for one maybe two other Robicheaux, I forget. Burke is part of the line of hard boiled writing so good most critics consider it literature. The line starts with Dashiell Hammet and was followed by Raymond Chandler – who else is open for debate. I think Burke’s Robicheaux belongs there too. His characters are strong and believable, the dialog crackles and the descriptions are often sublime. In fact, the key ingredient bolstering the contention that the Robicheaux writing ascends into literature is the lyrical prose replicating the humid, dream -like bayou where our errant knights avenge acts of cruelty. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here though, liberated from Louisiana, he eschews those extended passages and the result is a pulpier, quicker paced read. Burke has unleashed his inner Mickey Spillane. A neon energy pulsates in this writing. The grand old master seems to have gotten a shot of B-12 and Adrenaline. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The plot is utterly recycled – with some important differences – a psycho believed dead but with a past history with the series characters may or may not be responsible for a series of gruesome murder and a red herring of a character who may or may not be a bad guy. Okay, so the latter turns out to be a good guy and the former has a personal connections with a rich, debauched and corrupt family, this time connected to oil. The climactic scene is a hostage situation, a race against time to save the victim. Sound familiar? Like I said, the plot is recycled. Burke retells what is the basic scenario for most editions of the Robicheaux series. The formula works. Maybe why we read them. This one in particular though, the aforementioned climatic scene may be familiar, but it still boasts some of the best suspenseful and gripping writing of Burke’s career. It’s his most sustained sequence of nightmarish tension. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I might also argue that this is actually the second of a sub-series. It’s not really Robicheaux novel. He and his sidekick Clete Purcell are in their 60s – actually since they were in Vietnam pre-Tet, more like their 70s, but it seems an implied conceit that the haven’t aged as much as the calendar indicates. Now, Clete does his usual thing of having an affair with a fallen, troubled woman who will break his heart and is involved with the case. She’s the estranged wife of the oil baron’s son whose father is friends with the psycho, a plot point variation long term Robicheax will recognize. But, otherwise Clete and to a much greater extent, Dave are little more than bystanders. Dave is the narrator of course, but he has now become omnipresent, not only writing complete scenes with dialog that he is not present to witness, but now has apparently telepathic abilities, relaying character’s thoughts and stream of conscious in italics sentences. If I was a scold, I would criticize these confections but I find the Dave and the gang always entertaining that I ignore disbelief. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What did I mean by sub-series? Well, it’s the same thing that I meant by important differences. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Clete and Dave are not at the center of this story, their daughters are. Alafair Robicheaux, introduced in Heaven’s Prisoners, we’ve grow up to be a novelist and lawyer, just like the real Alafair Lee Burke (which is really annoying). Clete’s daughter, Gretchen Horowitz, introduced in the previous novel, was sexually abused as a child and worked as a hit-man for the mob, Gretchen and Alafair hit it off and are best friends and also able to solve crimes, carrying on a copacetic team similar to Rex Stout’s Nero Wolf, where Wolfe does the deducing and Archie the footwork, but here it is about who does most of the dirty work, which would be Gretchen. Burke recycles not just the plot, but dialog. The conversations the two hold echo previous exchanges twixt their two dads. But here the psycho is from Alafair’s past, not Dave’s and two girls do most, but not all, of the action. I anticipate that the girls will become more and more the main story and Dave a narrator and I also suspect that Clete will die soon, which would make a great novel.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Given that though, there’s James Lee Burke. The writer is moving into a deeply sub-textural, even meta-fiction mode. This novel references several previous Robicheaux’s, almost like Zola did with Doctor Pascal. Also, he seems very aware with the writing process, with asides about Alafair’s novel and her work habits and a very bit where uni-ball pens become a plot point worthy of comment by characters. On a layer beneath that, as the bi-stereotype of Gen Y/X women that all men hope are true, Gretchen and Alafair have the mutual hots, advancing towards second base. They will either consummate or make the moral decision not to risk their friendship by a consummation, but this will have to resolved next novel. Interesting twist in the ongoing saga, of course, but the real subtext point is that they can act on those feelings, something they’re dads cannot. There’s on the ongoing bromance between Clete and Dave. One of the evil characters make an insulting homosexual innuendo about the two to their face, and then a chapter later their two off spring start French kissing and expressing physical desire for each other. Burke is raising his own stakes, the writing is consistently strong and even more energetic than usual, but by creating characters who enact the subtext always apparent in this series, he is also revealing, intentionally or not, layers of his own subconscious. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This novel takes place a few months after the previous novel, and that one occurred immediately after the one before that. Prior, all the Robicheax may have been sequential, but they didn’t overlap as much as these last three, and now that overlap is occurring within the realities the novels depict but the psychological undercurrents of the story and the relationship between the writer, his persona and the story that he is writing. Both overtly and covertly, the Robicheaux books are becoming much more of a sequential series – are these models for a cable television show? The author has hinted from time to time in interviews he is working on adapting the characters to cable. The two films made from these series are overlooked high-quality neo noirs, but they honestly don’t do the books justice. Tread carefully Jim. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How far away the ultimate-Robicheaux conclusion may be only Burke knows. This may have not been the best Robicheaux – he probably already wrote that one years ago – but I’ve never been more eager to read the next one. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Because I love Shane, I copied this when I was mid-book: <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Did you see Shane?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“With Alan Ladd and Jean Arthur and Van Heflin.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Guthrie wrote the screenplay. It’s supposed to be the best western ever made. Except it’s not a western, it’s a Judeo-Greek tragedy. Shane doesn’t have a list or first name. He’s just Shane. He comes out of nowhere and never explains his origins. In the last scene, he disappears into a chain of mountains you can hardly see. Brandon de Wilde played the little boy who runs afar him and keeps shouting Shane’s name because he know the Messiah has gone away. Nobody ever forgets that scene. I wake up thinking about it in the middle of he night.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Where did you learn this?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“At the movie theater. You know why the cattle barons in the film hate Shane? It’s because he doesn’t want or need what they have.” – James Lee Burke, Light of the World<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Leopard <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">by <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Guseppe di Lampedusa</span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Leopard by Guseppe di Lampedusa, one of the most poetic, sweetly melancholic novels I’ve ever read, This is novel I probably loved the most this year. It’s a real famous modern Italian novel, was made into a renowned film with Burt Lancaster and Alan Delion, that I have not seen and a few years ago, the lit-world was astir with a revival of the novel, initiated by a new translation and the discovery to lost chapters, so a more complete work, more true to the authors revision was restored. This is the version I read and loved and could not put down or dismiss from my thoughts. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The novel is about a way of life that was ending, the royalty of Italy, the coming of a representative form of government. The story follows the Don Fabrozzi, prince of Sicily, the head of the royal Salina family, who is a lusty adulterer, but also a good husband. He is an aristocrat, deep reader, loves libraries but is also as Sicilian as the peasants. The Redshirts have invaded, they’re Garibaldi’s army, and his nephew is fighting them. The world is changing, nothing can be done, the story follows this small royal family to their summer estate, and eventually a marriage between his nephew and the beautiful Angelica, who the prince secretly loves but who is the daughter of a Don Sedaris, who fought with Garibaldi and now has risen in station. Fabrozzi daughter loves her cousin, so there’s another unrequited love story interwoven, deepening the melancholy. The Prince likes the Don, that’s the funny thing, he loves being Sicilian and loves his fellow Sicilians, paternalistic to some extent but also genuine fellowship. He knows the way of life of the Leopard, his coat of arms, is ending and Italy is becoming one country, ruled mainly by Northern Italians who have formed allegiances with Austria. There is nothing he can do about the forces of history, and being an intellectual and a compassionate catholic, he doesn’t necessarily disagree with these changes. He’s stoic, and a interested in love, his family, and Sicily and Sicilians, who also love beauty. He also loves dogs, and on his death bed, before he has a vision of a beautiful woman, who is death but also heaven, he has visions of all his beloved pets. There’s a coda, set in 1910, when his heirs, who we knew from the earlier passages – the novel begins in 1860 – are now old, selling off belongings and moving out a villa – they have to dispose of all the stuffed pets, apparently royalty hired taxidermist to persevere their dead pets. Wild. In four years, the novel notes as it concludes, World War I would break out and cousins would again fight cousin, the final act of European Royalty and absolute Monarchy’s coming to an end. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is the author’s only book – a useful appendix explains the history of the time, the political and military action all seem to happen off stage – he was the last in the royal lineage, and was writing about his great grand father and the villas and palaces and other landmarks of the book were destroyed by allied bombing World War II. But we have this pensive novel, amazingly funny in parts – like “marriage, one year of fire, 30 years of ashes” and the dusty land of Sicily, where the prince may live a life of privilege, but he is still as Sicilian as any of the peasant, now rising in station due to the unification of Italy under Garibaldi. He is also a melancholic dreamer prone to excessive contemplation. The Leopard makes being Sicilian universal. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“He look around for a place where he could sit down quietly, far from men, lovers and brothers, all right in their way, but always tiresome. He soon found it: the library, small, silent, lit and empty. He sat down, then got up to drink some water which he found on a side table. “Only water is really good,” he thought, like a true Sicilian, and did not dry the drops on his lips. -- The Leopard by Guseppe di Lampedusa<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">All That Is <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">by <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">James Salter<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">James Salter is old. Born in 1928, he’s the only American writer who was publishing in the 1950s still at it. I think that is true. Never a prolific writer, he’s also the penultimate writer’s writer. The only people I know who know his work are other writers, and none too many of them either. Deep reading is not encouraged by colleges and universities and as a result, writers born after 1970 tend to be a dreadfully ill-read lot. Salter has some war novels and memoirs about his service that I found forgettable, but I dearly love the novels A Sport and a Pastime and Light Years, and the two short story collections, Dusk & Other Stories and First Light, the latter, which was published in 2005, is close to being the equal of Jesus’s Son and is the best collection of short stories published so far this century, in my humble opinion.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">All That Is is a follow-up of sorts of to First Light, covering much of the same romantic territory, basically the love-lives of the generation that preceded the baby boomer and counter culture. His paragraphs have an unmatched precision and poetry, the elegance of the writing is so purely subtle, you just glide along without realizing how much of the world of the human condition is being revealed until you reluctantly stop reading. Salter writers about romantic love, of what goes on between men and women, and of how Eros deepens love, makes us glad to be human but also reminds us of our own mortality and of how are failings fall short of the hope physical pleasure seems to promise.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“She lay beside him for a few minutes, the first minutes, as a swimmer lies in the sun. He could see her nakedness, almost all of it, in the near dark. They made love simply. Straightforwardly – she saw the ceiling, he the sheets. There was no sound but the float of traffic distant and below. There was not even that. The silence was everywhere and he came like a drinking horse. He lay for a long time on top of her, dreaming, exhausted. She had not made love for more than a year, and she lay dreaming too, and then asleep.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">They woke to the fresh light of the world…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The story is about Philip Bowman, who grew up in Summit New Jersey and escaped death in a fierce WWII navy battle, goes into pulsing, a small literary publishing house specializing in literary novels (the kind Salter writes). The novel ends in the 80s, but the history and headlines are kept at a distance, and the story is about his feelings, who he loves and who he makes love to and how that all pans out it. The story doesn’t end as much as fade away. Bowman is likeable, a good man who lacks greatness; and he has a moment of transgression when he gets back at an ex-lover whose moral justice is ambiguous at best. The novel is just a story, not plot-oriented at all. Moments unfold, yet are so deeply observed, one realize a story of a life is all the story one needs. It reminded me of a Laurie Cowlin novel. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">‘He’d been married once, wholeheartedly, and had been mistaken. He had fallen wildly in love with a woman in London, and it had somehow faded away. As f by fate one night in the most romantic encounter of his life he met a woman and been betrayed. He believed in love – all this life he had – but now it was likely to be too late. Perhaps they could go on a they were forever, like the lives in art.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Warm and melancholy, it’s an elegy for a world that seems passed – the esteem for romantic love and an erotic expressions of true intimacy, as well as for a book publishing, where people had literary passions and everyone read and cared about books and ideas. But it really it’s just about life – All That Is – and like life you are sorry when it ends yet feel celebratory about it when it does.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sarrasine<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A
Passion in the Desert<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">by
Honre de Balzac<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The last book I finished in 2013 turned out to be
such a delight that I had to include it in the list. Hesperus Books is a
British publishing house specializing in rare and over-looked work by major
European writers. This thin volume by Balzac features two short stories about love
that is unusual and unconventional, yet love nonetheless. The stories are
translated for the first time into English, and even in French were only
published as magazine pieces during the master’s lifetime. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sarrasine explores territory similar to Mr. B’s
(that’s what Bob Dylan calls him in Chronicles) Seraphtia. The titular character
is a young and gifted Italian sculptor, who falls in love with, as least by appearances,
is a young woman, and sculpts an acclaimed statute. The woman is beloved opera
singer, and the artist gets sucked into her decadent environs of wealth and privilege.
Turns out she is secretly a he, which turns the artist’s world upside down,
especially since the transgendered individual – apparently a castrato – is some
kind of slave to a corrupt cardinal. But everyone soon prefers the statue over
the person. The castrato is a projection of the ideal woman, his statue is an
ideal projection of that woman. As the artist proclaims, enraged when he finds
out he has been tricked by the cross-dresser into making the sculpture. “To
love and be loved are from now on words devoid of any meaning for me, as they
are for you. I shall constantly think of that imaginary woman when I see a real
woman.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Inter-species love is the subject of the fable-like
A Passion in the Desert. A man and a panther fall in love in the desert, or at
least it appears so. The panther for inexplicable reason decides not to attack
the man and for a few nights, she accepts the petting and fondling by a human
being without eating him (she eats his horse instead). Balzac convinces you
that man and cat can playfully frolic together. The descriptions are both
sensual and amusing. Love ends tragically, Balzac is French after all, but
eventually the man and the panther must remember their true selves. The
important thing is not that love ended, but that love transcended species and
while it lasted it was wonderful. If you know a cat lover, they will appreciate
this allegory. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, love between man and she-panther is subjective,
what’s the objective love in this relationship?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“They finished as all great passions finish, with a misunderstanding.
Each side believes the other one has committed some kind of betrayal One does
not explain out of pride, and the other becomes confused out of stubbornness.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-8005386370261723192013-12-23T12:00:00.000-08:002013-12-30T15:15:16.246-08:00Carolina’s Christmas Window<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZVeDZK6gR2QO2Q0oqGz91kKtk-Lf2rES-5wDyvP0WnE4AbU_wOQncPasqVC8sZ5H5tKFT0qH_mmwY7BDYsOlNOLzTj-k6evhS8WBH1VpHxT6NrHT7u1ayYUL3eigL8up1f9PMlskL6rzH/s1600/caroline-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZVeDZK6gR2QO2Q0oqGz91kKtk-Lf2rES-5wDyvP0WnE4AbU_wOQncPasqVC8sZ5H5tKFT0qH_mmwY7BDYsOlNOLzTj-k6evhS8WBH1VpHxT6NrHT7u1ayYUL3eigL8up1f9PMlskL6rzH/s320/caroline-1.jpg" width="304" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Penguin. Snow drifts. Christmas Tree. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luis, the resident artist at Carolina’s Laundry, painted holiday scenes on the window the freakishly balmy <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Saturday <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>before Christmas. He painted the 9-11 memorial mural that was there for years and the sign hanging inside, there for 20 years, since the opening of the establishment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Carolina’s been closed for more than 18 months. There was a fire in the 4-story building. The Laundromat takes up the ground floor, the other sections are residential units. They are still unoccupied, the residents remain displaced. That’s where the fire started and was mostly contained; Carolina’s was relatively unscathed. None of the equipment was damaged. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Merna, one of the sunniest folks in the neighborhood, also owns and operates the bodega on Newark & Varick, a block away. She’ll improve anyone’s day just by saying hi (her preferred greeting is how ya doin). She named the Laundromat after her daughter, who just finished college but was still doing shifts at both family businesses. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Family business are the lifeblood of a neighborhood. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Residents here are lucky to have this one back, fresh holiday imagery decorating the corner.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-23928194035747553622013-12-20T05:49:00.001-08:002013-12-20T11:41:02.792-08:00Big Bubbles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Cold, but not freezing and lacking wind, makes for a better big bubble. I was reminded of that joke, circa 2008 or so when the Housing Bubble burst, I think it was The Onion, “Americans Demand New Bubble to Invest In.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I saw this guy in Union Square Park making these big bubbles, the blogger part of my brain flashed: let the metaphors begin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">An intriguing level of ingenuity went into making big bubbles. The solution he dips the two wands in is a secret, from the tip of the wands two long strands of string dangle, their ends tied to together. There’s an artistry in how he swoops his arms so the solution catches sufficient air so a bubble is formed, then he moves the sticks so the strings close this imperfect, amorphous sphere. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Then the blob floats. It only lasts a few seconds, less than a minute. For that moment, you see the invisible. It’s like living in a comic book. People passing through Union Square Park see the bubble, stop, smile while they watch. There’s brief joy, even wonder, as we anticipate the inevitable burst, the fate of all bubbles. And we hope, can it last a second longer? There's nothing shorter than the life of bubble, but is there anything shorter than life? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I tried to get the shot of that bust. It was always sudden, nanoseconds, no warning. Once broken, the shards were reminiscent of salvia. One moment glob, next moment gob. You have to use your imagination a little to see the actual burst. It made a silent pop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For another moment, pieces of he shattered bubble lingered. Then everyone ponders, was the bubble really ever here at all? <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love how the bubbles float, distort, a rainbow shimmers in this ultra-ephemeral surface. Then gone. Bubbles epitomize the temporary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The performance art potential of giant bubbles seemed apartment. Then the bubble<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>burst and we went on with our lives. The bubble-masters wands were already in the bucket, ready for the next blob. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br />Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-66319114497574369422013-12-15T07:51:00.001-08:002013-12-15T07:51:29.348-08:00I Question Dave Van Ronk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I haven’t seen the new Cohen Brothers Inside Llewyn Davis
yet, but I will. The film is based on Dave Van Ronk, whose music I didn’t
follow but as a lover of folk music and all things Bob Dylan, I have always
been aware of him. I seem to recall seeing Van Ronk in concert, it was in
Central Park, where during my youth they used to have miller or schaffer or dr
pepper musical festivals where tickets were only a couple of bucks and it was a
great way to spend summer night. I think he opened up for David Bromberg or Leon
Redbone. I think he was also at the Fast Folk outdoor festival on the pier in
the 1980s. Checking out any type of folk music in NYC you were bound to see Van
Ronk and it was always like, Dave Van Ronk, I know the name. I never felt
compelled to buy any of his music. His records were not exactly available at
the Harmony Hut, Sam Goody’s or Discomat or other surburan music resources
supporting emerging personal soundtrack. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Anyway, with Van Ronk fever all the rage, I found this bit
of journal of a Dave Van Ronk evening, which I’ve revised slightly here. It was
originally a Dylan newsgroup posting, written after Van Ronk died of Colon
Cancer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">About two years ago, I went to this thing at the New School
of Social Research in New York, it was Dave Van Ronk with this writer,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> whose identity i cannot recall, but was not</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Elijah Wald, who went on
to write the biography, the Mayor of MacDougal street (I thought it was, but after emailing him he corrected me; although he did say that Dave did tell him that he did do this clas). </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Van Ronk did not look healthy, uncomfortable in a classroom
setting, with maybe 100 people. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Anyway, the panel discussion – it wasn’t a panel, it was
just was Wald and Van Ronk, and I think it’s because other panel members were
no-shows – was about that Anthology of American Folk, Harry Smith music thing,
and Dave Van Ronk was saying how it technically was out of print for a while,
but boot leg copies and what not had always been passed around, and they did
stuff like played Penny’s Farm then Maggie’s Farm and there was a lot of
glowing stuff about Dylan.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Van Ronk told this one Dylan story that took place during
the 80s, when they were sitting around his apartment talking about the old
songs and Dylan was saying how there’s no more tradition, that folksingers or
singer song writers didn’t play the old songs before writing new ones any more
and Van Ronk told him that’s because of you, Bob. And, soon after, Bob game out
with Good as I’ve been to you and later, World Gone Wrong. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I also asked this question. It was about when I was growing
up, while I liked folk music it was always political to me. It was the 60s folk
boom records, like Pete Seeger and Joan Baez and Phil Ochs and Bob of course.
It wasn’t until much later, there were these real weird songs of real people,
that were evident on the Folk Anthology. I can’t remember how I phrased,
although people told me it was an intelligent question and basically, why did
the protest thing totally over-shadow folk music. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">So the writer goes, that’s a very good question, Dave…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">It was funny. Dave cleared his throat. He said the first
divisions were between secular and religious music, and that back in the 20s
and such, that the anthology songs were being sung, but so were union songs.
There wasn’t the division, and the fact was, that between Woody Guthrie and the
Weavers, it was the protest songs that were selling. By the 1960s folk boom
revival, the protest songs predominated, dovetailing with the social upheavals
of the time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">He also told a funny story I will never forget about meeting
Mississippi John Hurt. Finger picking was the big thing and there was this
anthology song that all the finger pickers, including Van Ronk, learned to pick
from. So, when he met the bluesman, he was pretty old and so Van Ronk figured
that his fingers were just slowed down which was why when he played the song it
wasn’t quite the same. So after talking a bit, the bluesman says how everybody
is picking too fast, loosing the subtlety of finger picking, and Dave says they
were learning from this one cut so Mississippi laughed and says, they sped up
the cut to fit into the wax, I think it might have been on a 78 originally,
changed the key and everything. Anyway, so folkies were learning to pick from
an artificial version of finger picking. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">It was a funny anecdote. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The following sounds fragmentary, but Dave Van Ronk had a
last record, appeared on Prairie Home Companion, right before he died he was
getting some attention, the Mayor bio I believe was posthumously published. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Gee, wasn’t there just a benefit concert, I think maybe
Garth Hudson might have showed up, to pay for Dave’s medical care? Cancer can
linger and linger and then take you real quick. Death don’t have no mercy
indeed.<o:p></o:p></em></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Hard to conceive of a new York folk scene without Dave Van
Ronk, who stayed around long, longer after it was gone. There was a real
integrity to the guy. Anyway, I will always remember asking him that question.
He was saving folk music from itself way back when and then in the 90s too and
I have to wonder, anybody around who can still save it.</em> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Anyway, I remember not liking his last record that got at
least NPR and folk music circle attention, it was jazz standards or something.
In addition to the Dylan connection, Van Ronk is directly responsible for Hot
Tuna and Leon Redbone. I should pick up the new C.D.. Also, I realize I do have
some Van Ronk. It’s a collection of Sea Faring Shanties, he sings Haul Along
the Bowline. Folk music is also folklore, and just like union songs, sea faring
songs fueled the tradition.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">By reviving a tradition, Dave Van Ronk not only became part
of the tradition, he is now a new access point to that tradition. History is
never past. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Dave Van Ronk with Bob Dylan backstage at the Ph</span><a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2011/01/phil-ochs-there-but-for-fortune.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">il Ochs</span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"> Friends of Chile benefit in 1974. I always loved this picture, they both look so soused. I had a friend whose sister brought him to this show. I am still jealous. It was a benefit for Salvador Allende, who was soon assassinated. Ochs wanted the live record to revive his career, but the performers were so inebriated the tapes were deemed unusable. This concert was an attempt at reviving the folk music revival of the early 60s, and was a brief political cause celeb – one of the first, post-Vietnam, Post-Civil Rights – supporting a freely elected socialist. Tragedy all around, and when the next year Dylan attempted a more successful revival of the folk music revival, The Rolling Thunder Review, Ochs and Van Ronk were not invited on that train. </span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<br />Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-12562455108455495622013-11-30T03:58:00.000-08:002013-12-01T13:49:42.150-08:004-Alarm Grove Street Fire<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">No one needs a reminder of how fleeting life can be, of how security and what you know are illusions, or at least temporary. Your reality and expectations can disappear without notice, less than a second. What you know is gone. Life was one way for you, now it’s another. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We don’t need a reminder that any plan making is potentially futile. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We get that reminder anyway. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jersey City was a gelid mess on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Residual cold rain and sleet from a Nor’easter that we mostly avoided made for <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>damp and chilly afternoon. A four alarm fire broke out. I got there about two hours, missed the blaze but the smoke was thick, the acrid stench still on the clothes hours after I got home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Four Alarm fire, Grove Street. Streets were closed off, you could only get so close. Fire trucks were parked on Newark, which runs perpendicular, and a ladder stretched to the roofs, fire fighters climbed the rungs across the street to the backs of the buildings, the sides not facing Grove. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">On Grove,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the hoses were going full-force. Everyone was still serious. Water was everywhere. Hoses were hooked to the fire hydrant, over-flow was streaming from the pumps on the truck, mixing with the cold rain and icy splinters of sleet. The smoke hovered around us like a wad of cotton, commuters walking home slipped their scarves over their mouths. You could taste the smoke.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Three days ago… pizza was being eaten, nails were being manicured… 22 people had homes and beds to sleep in… today, two buildings now rubble… the work went on all Thanksgiving night, Black Friday morning… police just standing guard… “we don’t want people messing with the rubble, it’s dangerous… they come looking for pipes, metal parts, they’re professional scavengers.
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, some firemen and police got some overtime. About eight in the morning, the Boun Appetito awning is on the sidewalk, the Tender Shoots produce bodega proprietors tell me they were working all night putting out the fire. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Come back to town after visiting with Mom for Turkey Day around Six, they’re working still. Big spotlights s on full incandesce, so bright you could read, the Buon Appetito building is entirely knocked down, the cherry picker gizmo was maneuvered between the drooping phone and electrical cables draped between the poles, the few spectators were saying they have to knockdown that building too. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I noticed the shelves were empty in J Nails, the nail salon; the first place I ever had a pedicure, a very rare indulgence, really nice folks, clean, in between customers the owners, Korean, would read their bibles. Their workers were all young women, some Korean but mainly from Central America, they made me feel comfortable. They were sweet. Thick accents, poor English skills, communication was an amusing chore. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Buon Appetito made above average pizza, it was an above average place. I loved their calamari and they would do grilled asparagus and zucchini and a broccoli rabe with sausage. Clean, good food, real friendly staff. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a great place. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">These neighborhood joints, you discover them, go frequently for a while and for no real reason beyond whim and circumstance, the frequency fades. Yet, these were good businesses, they were down-home and affordable, like the old neighborhood this part of Jersey City used to be, and yet were not out of place in the new, more exclusive neighborhood emerging, in spite of any resistance. You think of them fondly and when you had a chance to again partake of their business, it was a pleasure. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The day after Thanksgiving – Black Friday, maybe you’ve heard – both buildings reduced to rubble. The businesses in the adjacent buildings were closed, in the apartments above the businesses the lights were off. The effects of this local catastrophe may still be determined. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It’s shocking to see, the pile of charred rubble. The view from the back of the buildings, more wreckage. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The actual fire was extinguished in an hour to two, under control in about four, but was enough time for the flame to make these old buildings unstable and uninhabitable. You sense the abrupt loss, the aftermath of destruction. The disaster contained, one moves on. When the disaster is in your neighborhood, that feeling of loss is more tangible and constant. It tarries. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You get a daily taste of anguish, and you know that for at least 22 others, it’s more than a taste. We’ll think of this now every time we pass this hole on the 300 block of Grove Street. The rubble will be carted away, new buildings erected, a process that will take more than a year for sure. We will have the memories of what was here and of the day what was here was suddenly gone. Remember the Thanksgiving of 2013?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUfrZj4PvrgPtJFTiZz9XWdCO2gCGuDz5m_aZ1F_4b-9w4KnrJhhGf5DC-Ro9K58NFEvoqbDKN2DXDZfqX-UXdVncC4OtHipoVYBW5FjP5HFCSpzrC5rUfoGDW_Kfp8AXk1PDDbj9v-gFb/s1600/fire-post-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUfrZj4PvrgPtJFTiZz9XWdCO2gCGuDz5m_aZ1F_4b-9w4KnrJhhGf5DC-Ro9K58NFEvoqbDKN2DXDZfqX-UXdVncC4OtHipoVYBW5FjP5HFCSpzrC5rUfoGDW_Kfp8AXk1PDDbj9v-gFb/s320/fire-post-3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">No lives were lost, just businesses and homes and possessions. Hundreds of others experiencing lesser digress of inconvenience, from the firemen and demolition workers who had to spend Thanksgiving on the job to the more minor detours people who walk this stretch of Grove Street now must take.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life is shared in a city. Something like this happens, were all affected even though we are all affected differently. You pray for your neighbors affected more severely.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times;">You read about a tragedy somewhere else, you
have some empathy. But when it’s where you live, that empathy is more
inescapable. You just want to help if you can, you’re compelled to express
support or comfort. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">These 22 people were being helped by the Red Cross. Without warning, without explanation, Thanksgiving plans erased and they were immediately turned into refugees. By mid-day Black Friday Facebook newsfeeds had announcements of fundraisers for the victims of the Grove Street fire. Living in a city, it is not as eBay and often not even possible to escape the feeling of loss, or the reactions to that loss, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Small businesses are lifelines. They give city dwellers quality of life, the ordinary respites of our day-to-day. A manicure, a slice of pizza with sausage and suddenly the moment you are in turns perfect even if just for that moment. But that can be enough, that can be all that is needed to endure certain days.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">That potential of a perfect moment has been burned away. Not forever, just for now. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Those owners and workers in these business, those who lived in the apartments above those businesses, seeing this same rubble we all are gawking at, we can only taste the anguish they have, help if we can, let them know they’re not alone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVtG_nyJ0_NWywQRBH_03x2ISsJsLB2aNZ97I2L_UJSplLxGEaNfkY_APhX-KgTPQGtRlL8U-FdjSG3JGU7whE26hhh7zXzh1uh3Q_WCQPO3cXdZI0Po8YL-bJ_CeeCY1QqaH2neRHiiuC/s1600/fire-jl-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVtG_nyJ0_NWywQRBH_03x2ISsJsLB2aNZ97I2L_UJSplLxGEaNfkY_APhX-KgTPQGtRlL8U-FdjSG3JGU7whE26hhh7zXzh1uh3Q_WCQPO3cXdZI0Po8YL-bJ_CeeCY1QqaH2neRHiiuC/s320/fire-jl-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT8BoVsIJm0erUBQ5zRXHD87fdk9Vte8pJBXCUkuss7gQNyHv8kcJBbfE61jSl4FukBkqtpzAtA3fRhCUJKKX58_EWTesGzEorEl_OpbvX2-hb4UcmzdkfK4AX1a6LNQ7vC76Pru27Yjj4/s1600/fire-xxx.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT8BoVsIJm0erUBQ5zRXHD87fdk9Vte8pJBXCUkuss7gQNyHv8kcJBbfE61jSl4FukBkqtpzAtA3fRhCUJKKX58_EWTesGzEorEl_OpbvX2-hb4UcmzdkfK4AX1a6LNQ7vC76Pru27Yjj4/s320/fire-xxx.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Friday night a paper handbill was taped to a parking meter in front of the once buildings now massive pile of debris. Customers were alerted that J Nails will be in a new location soon. They were being directed to<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> a Facebook I could not find</span>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Somebody showed up for the mani-pedi appointment, probably get them everybody Friday and they saw this. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We don’t need these reminders. But we get them anyway. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.buonappetitojerseycity.com/" target="_blank">Buon Appetito Website</a><o:p> </o:p></span></span></div>
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<br />Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-44865690198278699232013-11-25T12:43:00.003-08:002013-11-25T12:43:59.209-08:00Urban Realism Building Windows<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha8WVc77nqjKwiczU2cbsG5R6peegpRqiRPk4ojg3bfaPUUDgNxE80Y5ZEnojxP3_LI9BjZeqpLNGgNLLkWwd5mJGrikzfzO03efn-l-ZZ80ZI4D7mT4DwUy-XhxhwOKBLP7j8R1HyTwUp/s1600/blair-urban-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha8WVc77nqjKwiczU2cbsG5R6peegpRqiRPk4ojg3bfaPUUDgNxE80Y5ZEnojxP3_LI9BjZeqpLNGgNLLkWwd5mJGrikzfzO03efn-l-ZZ80ZI4D7mT4DwUy-XhxhwOKBLP7j8R1HyTwUp/s320/blair-urban-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://jcartist.org/blairurban" target="_blank">Blair Urban</a> participated in the <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2013/09/blog-post.html" target="_blank">Art Activates Alley MuralProject</a> blogged about here. <a href="http://www.blairurban.com/" target="_blank">Her website is here.</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">She painted this water/sky/earth/city mural on Newark Avenue. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnsQFlxbXxq0fki5af-kfjaTyrn9clviFA1dFw9o9vR4QNCjb1typb0RGkLo-L-LCg-HRN3h9WuIqNLa6KJPF41sedXDIZ3n1KK7iBkVyjgwnDK3OPplxlv6wAwD9zY-OW761YpuFK6ZFU/s1600/blair-urban-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnsQFlxbXxq0fki5af-kfjaTyrn9clviFA1dFw9o9vR4QNCjb1typb0RGkLo-L-LCg-HRN3h9WuIqNLa6KJPF41sedXDIZ3n1KK7iBkVyjgwnDK3OPplxlv6wAwD9zY-OW761YpuFK6ZFU/s320/blair-urban-2.jpg" width="234" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMSdWkn9bIlcViy7EIAwkGn4HAq9MGFjE01r1Dzf-DlE7qS-ryBxMNKoC4fihfWtFIIPQMkz_yOvMVlqP88Kmok-mJb-eFtTDlWpK1jFhKXz6GuxJgYiI9XISP8HaRc4sGMHtQbd4IiVHW/s1600/blair-urban-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMSdWkn9bIlcViy7EIAwkGn4HAq9MGFjE01r1Dzf-DlE7qS-ryBxMNKoC4fihfWtFIIPQMkz_yOvMVlqP88Kmok-mJb-eFtTDlWpK1jFhKXz6GuxJgYiI9XISP8HaRc4sGMHtQbd4IiVHW/s320/blair-urban-3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Seeing bodies of water always induces a kind of dreamy tranquility. All rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is not filled says Ecclesiastes, a line I never tire of quoting. Murals recently popped up on buildings throughout Jersey City, a city-sponsored project that I am still catching up with and that brought together bare building exteriors with artists and making available municipal cherry-picker vehicles so artists could reach the heights necessary to make their vision a reality. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizDSFH203msIM5KmdFfbNMEtt_LuaMYpCjG2-suOkBd-8gc8dXXu5SUipRbBrESCWUyLupLdzm1DBal6jzdh04espGx79mhRv4FAczjWhPQRm4QwQkuLoi7nP8wQt6E4202BiBT567QwFu/s1600/blair-urban-4pg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizDSFH203msIM5KmdFfbNMEtt_LuaMYpCjG2-suOkBd-8gc8dXXu5SUipRbBrESCWUyLupLdzm1DBal6jzdh04espGx79mhRv4FAczjWhPQRm4QwQkuLoi7nP8wQt6E4202BiBT567QwFu/s320/blair-urban-4pg.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7OSI8BLAC5-swqxNmtg0Rg3p9KFxOrGfJ97b0l775OeoffTRv2sKVu4uN0F6-58YluOAKhqDJoqDBwKytBwS2pKe88-qVGVhiNloXAAwAXe4czYZ7W2CB8mjFVoa8sNK6quhBr258jltL/s1600/blair-urban-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7OSI8BLAC5-swqxNmtg0Rg3p9KFxOrGfJ97b0l775OeoffTRv2sKVu4uN0F6-58YluOAKhqDJoqDBwKytBwS2pKe88-qVGVhiNloXAAwAXe4czYZ7W2CB8mjFVoa8sNK6quhBr258jltL/s320/blair-urban-5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">This vast uncanny, deceptively realistic mural is on the western side of an edifice on the northern side of Newark Avenue. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Water dominates the image, that substances that covers most of our planet and from where our protoplasm-souls crawled out to evolve into our now urban-souls passing by this mural that demands to be noticed as go to work or love during what we call linear time. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidmq6By0QLTLvZWPwqOOUuTQA5JGcnN9MzpC80K88HMLnVC5Y_MxYKrubv4T8oGh9aEfjwM-ZdFEuaOepa0-8wSiHAHwNEQ6zS11N_ILgV7oK78J1dxOTv7l1HwMLYXdcm7WGN9nfJVqzS/s1600/blair-urban-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidmq6By0QLTLvZWPwqOOUuTQA5JGcnN9MzpC80K88HMLnVC5Y_MxYKrubv4T8oGh9aEfjwM-ZdFEuaOepa0-8wSiHAHwNEQ6zS11N_ILgV7oK78J1dxOTv7l1HwMLYXdcm7WGN9nfJVqzS/s320/blair-urban-6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjV3TSudjcS9k3gSFqjqQSA58qQ6VwzLouCaBnIT64fvez3P97eR77322CixfqXMBv6kE1l1lY_HDQWLuP_Gtb4rENVX8IBljXBenvqXZ7anQ8oiG44agHwIU3cngvLiUblFvtMA0b-66X/s1600/blair-urban-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The water is forefront, yet is essentially blank, a simple suggestion yet lots of room for our minds to freely roam, lots of a sort of nothingness as the obvious focal point, which is clever in and of itself but then nothing about this mural is obvious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not just water but also the equally blank sky that occupies its center-point, a seemingly lack of detail compels our attention, just like looking at real water and seeing the empty sky as your field of view expands seeking the horizon. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">That horizon though is a city, the geometric skyline of rectangles, a far away life we assume is more exciting than ours. The foreground is lonely but just as crucial in the framing of the central liquid/sky emptiness – a thicket of tall marsh grass, gently swaying in an invisible breeze. In one corner (often a car is parked here, dammit!) are faintly visible railroad tracks. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">In the upper corner is a branch, reddish-pink leaves – we’re in forever autumn and where we are sitting we see the city but also another similar shore to the one we where we now sit, stark and rustic and definitely not urban like our horizon that divides the greenish, overcast sky from the bluish water. What a subtle yet astonishing artistic choice – the sky has a hue of a water, the water the hue of sky, each reflecting the other. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Then you realize, this setting pictured on the wall is a place in Jersey City, the fading tracks are those abandoned Central Jersey Line, unused for more than half a century, those vestiges of our nation’s glorious railroad past, you see along outlying inland areas of Liberty State Park, where closes to Hudson bay there are stretches of grassy shores, from which <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the view contains both Manhattan and Bayonne, the other rocky inlet. This mural depicts the view of we looking out from our Jersey City Isthmus. What is seen tells us as much about who is doing the seeing as it does about the physical visage that is viewed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Then we get to the windows, the actual real windows of life as we know it on this building that now and before this painting was a building doing what a building always does, housing occupants for whatever reason its occupants require this housing. The object is as indifferent to the art as the art is to what it depicts and the feelings, thoughts and notions that depiction invokes in those who see it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here, the artist uses these windows as part of her expression. She doesn’t avoid them or ignore them, she seems to paint around them but in such a way that the windows become surrealistic entities within this watery pastoral of sky and shoreline and distant city. They recall Salvador Dali as they give us an interior doubt that protests against our acceptance of an unqualified faith in the ultimate truth of an exterior reality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The windows have a functional purpose for the building, but the artist incorporates this medium in her message. They are transmuted from functional to the aesthetic, they now seem designed into the whole of the visual. It’s as if the windows only exist because of this painting. The windows new reality is for us to ponder our own assumptions of what is real. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Windows show us things we would never otherwise see, but those places are where we happen not to be. Whether we hope to go there or whether seeing the distance makes us happier with where we are has nothing to do with the window, and ultimately more to do with us – and the unknown future that is part of our burden or mortality – than the there in the distance. Windows show us where we are not while also reminding us we are where we are. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The Windows<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>float in the sky, are incorporated in the city skyline and as part of a distance imaginary heavens above a city of buildings. The windows allow us to dream away the loneliness of the tall grass and tree and abandoned railroad tracks. </span></div>
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Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-72723141483116934982013-11-25T12:39:00.002-08:002013-11-25T14:44:36.487-08:00Paint the Car<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJtst4Iq2rrMJLEm1GGhOiYcapcS6226yQ3r5HrcQgUhmBrIGnG_LvqTn0e1Ef6HRqFUfWTGk65se8VaQKGRhuO0qN6vadRyow6Ufahx4AsTrt7JMJBCga-WCIuFTFf0FWmQvGTxsITFwQ/s1600/paint-the-ca24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJtst4Iq2rrMJLEm1GGhOiYcapcS6226yQ3r5HrcQgUhmBrIGnG_LvqTn0e1Ef6HRqFUfWTGk65se8VaQKGRhuO0qN6vadRyow6Ufahx4AsTrt7JMJBCga-WCIuFTFf0FWmQvGTxsITFwQ/s320/paint-the-ca24.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">The story, according to Ray Schwartz and his wife, Beth, is that the car drives like a dream but after a couple of accidents, one involving a NJ Transit bus, it was dented and bland. They offered it to Uta Brauser,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>founder and proprietress of the oft-beleaguered </span><a href="http://creativegrove.org/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Creative Grove</span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"> as an art project. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Throughout the year, Uta has taken refrigerators and used them as canvasses, inviting people to paint whatever, sort of taking graffiti and street art, and the general inclination of visual spontaneity into a public space. Ray & Ben decided why not do something similar to the family vehicle. It doesn’t look that great to begin with, they said, why not turn the beat up automobile into art instead? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">So, on the last Creative Grove before the Christmas Sales season is in full swing, the public art project of Paint the Car was held.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijqac8Oef1CMbHjCOPRtihORbbnznArjUplOb9E28cmR7tbA73Dj0FlvFgn6aE8ZQitFx3uPZha8uydWgwnDRpbCF-i-rmfS3efrH1astaIdGt5mXfQDuADWlsBTDYbsuv5XJP5bcgvtZC/s1600/paint-the-car7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijqac8Oef1CMbHjCOPRtihORbbnznArjUplOb9E28cmR7tbA73Dj0FlvFgn6aE8ZQitFx3uPZha8uydWgwnDRpbCF-i-rmfS3efrH1astaIdGt5mXfQDuADWlsBTDYbsuv5XJP5bcgvtZC/s320/paint-the-car7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8KI7Aku2H_iD3i3G-4G0GWvcKZ9qPttNdfnv4Yx_1ho7IBaDFiEZbXFk532bWile7drVm3_dn3VLTILt7juTjmcsGYCy_J1fzmtDf7Rj_2WUCBtLJF2tBHCUrcCtwEhfQrNsdx6xrpZst/s1600/paint-the-ca-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8KI7Aku2H_iD3i3G-4G0GWvcKZ9qPttNdfnv4Yx_1ho7IBaDFiEZbXFk532bWile7drVm3_dn3VLTILt7juTjmcsGYCy_J1fzmtDf7Rj_2WUCBtLJF2tBHCUrcCtwEhfQrNsdx6xrpZst/s320/paint-the-ca-24.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYtPuzB0YVGsy4axMTS7UG5HrIidh1ZnGlM-Lbzx6YnkZL3Al6b1RaANc9FLdtEtLYR9xqayp7-GppT5hiqptW9pVngUkiKAhMbijW0i1Ftkan8wbIbhAXhFYNT1YG8L37acOCjLIkAQYO/s1600/paint-the-ca-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYtPuzB0YVGsy4axMTS7UG5HrIidh1ZnGlM-Lbzx6YnkZL3Al6b1RaANc9FLdtEtLYR9xqayp7-GppT5hiqptW9pVngUkiKAhMbijW0i1Ftkan8wbIbhAXhFYNT1YG8L37acOCjLIkAQYO/s320/paint-the-ca-23.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Xc_HMW7ZGDJ58h_OEt1qNYEd6fTLfMTRO70jm7OTZ0Nu7A-YFagA6Ghw4QYE54z390AXlXXq6HpcNX6NSpbC4vScYzKP6fah6VLF0cNR4J3fJ8jKFWIZrPbkKpfcEFNdAynAFFUUPwBS/s1600/paint-the-ca-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Xc_HMW7ZGDJ58h_OEt1qNYEd6fTLfMTRO70jm7OTZ0Nu7A-YFagA6Ghw4QYE54z390AXlXXq6HpcNX6NSpbC4vScYzKP6fah6VLF0cNR4J3fJ8jKFWIZrPbkKpfcEFNdAynAFFUUPwBS/s320/paint-the-ca-22.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Interactive Art? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Highly. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Performance Art? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Partially. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I was reminded of those contests where people take turns destroying a car, hammering it with a sledge hammer, or they win prizes, often the car, when people<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>keep their hands on a car and whoever can keep it on for the longest is the winner. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">This was about endurance, it was just about passing inspiration. I went early in the event, saw the first squiggly line effacing the freshly washed paint job. Came about back an hour later. More artists were working. Everyone was strangely solemn, not in a overly serious or sad way; but they didn’t want to just create meaningless lines. There was a focus and intention by each person who picked up a brush. <span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The project was open to everyone, but it seemed most of the folks not only had some talent, but wanted to apply a worthwhile image, no matter how simple or fleeting. A visual idea had formed in their minds and they wanted to express that idea as accurately as possible given the spontaneous nature of the event and the imperfect canvas of an automobile. The process of paint expressing barely deliberated thought was fascinating to watch. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Art argues against conformity. What is more conformist than a solid color car, so bound by design and traffic laws, Paint the Car was a fun art event, but maybe it spoke to an inner desire many of us share. Why must all cars look the same mono-color? Why can’t a car be as unique as its driver? </span></div>
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<a href="http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/keep-creative-grove-spinning" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Creative Grove needs funds to continue. Click here todonate.</span></a><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-36417747202691212732013-11-23T06:55:00.000-08:002013-11-23T07:10:01.998-08:00Lost Soul<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7mKF1RLuLk6k6ECXKM6Zzi8IZ4hGe4GRquYdvN10Rp7yhfqxdVX9F1-cGkYkZ3A1GvLaaoYQXtQXQbuYXfPWb93tRa687AAZs2BJBSstDdUnQA5XdVgoNUIca9Hz3sQh0YpdTM3m9Bnf_/s1600/soul+food+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7mKF1RLuLk6k6ECXKM6Zzi8IZ4hGe4GRquYdvN10Rp7yhfqxdVX9F1-cGkYkZ3A1GvLaaoYQXtQXQbuYXfPWb93tRa687AAZs2BJBSstDdUnQA5XdVgoNUIca9Hz3sQh0YpdTM3m9Bnf_/s320/soul+food+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<o:p></o:p> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Taqueria coming soon was on the hand written sign taped to the
window behind the gate. Pretty soon we’ll have as many Mexican food joints as pizzerias.
I guess Mexican food is the comfort food of choice for the hipster crowd. I’m
really starting to hate that word and all its connotations. Hipster. It’s
currently synonymous with Gen Y, the post-Gen X gen whose childhoods coincided
with the Reagan administration. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Seems to me the 80s saw the first massive wave of Mexican restaurants.
Twas the decade when Benny Burrito’s was born. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">They began popping up all over, then I noticed in the 90s,
Mexican food declined in popularity, or maybe I had lost my taste for it. I had
a few trips to California by the early 90s for business and ate at the Mexican
food joints and truly, it’s a whole different strata out west. Here in the
east, we just couldn’t compete. That was my simplistic opinion. But when all is
said and done, I’m not that into Mexican Food, east or west. More of a fad than
a mainstay for me, now only a very occasional indulgence.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">However, as this new generation takes over the world is the
comfort take out food of their childhoods accompanying their sluggish world
dominance?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jersey City has lost its noveau southern food eatery. Jersey City has lost its Soul... flavors. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What is the difference between Soul Cooking and Southern Cooking
I once asked a woman chef, who happened to be black and from the south, and she
replied, it depends on who is doing the cooking. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Soul Flavors did a very
credible version of this regional cuisine, I ate there a few times. I liked their
black eye peas. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soul/Southern food
had a real revival in the late 90s and 00s. Artisanal, farm to table, and
locavore foodie trends all helped push this style back onto our tables. Look at
all those pull-pork and rib vendors now ubiquitous at all the outdoor events up
here in this Union stronghold. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Has the Mexican food resurgence gained so much momentum that
the soul/southern food resurgence is now in retreat?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Who the hell knows. Food is firmly part of pop culture but I’m
not quite sure what the trends within that segment say about overall culture. I’m
not a foodie, nor do I watch the food network.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This post is not really about food trends, even in Jersey City. It’s
about the whims and idiosyncrasies of the hyper-local restaurant business. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Jersey City was christened the Gold Coast somewhere in those
optimistic go-go days of the 90s. Restaurant row was what they were calling the
blocks around the Grove Street Path. Indeed, new places are opening all the
time. But now as this area begins to mature, in order for the new ones to open, old restaurants now must close. It’s a tough
business – discerning consumer tastes, consistently providing quality product
that meets those tastes, and hoping those tastes do change so drastically that
demand for your product does not decline so that your business can no longer be
sustained. </span></div>
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<a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2009/08/ox-row-incident.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Trying to guess what will take in Jersey City can be tough.</span></a><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">There’s other factors too, acts of landlord, acts of nature,
your own personal life. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The turnover in
the restaurant business in Jersey City is starting to resemble parts of New
York, which is just another way of saying it is growing. A few seem to have
become established contemporary landmarks, others close and are fallow until
somebody else rolls the dice bringing their idea into physical space. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the case of Soul Flavors,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sandy finally claimed another victim a year later. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span></o:p> </div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><strong> </strong></span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>From the Soul Flavors Website:<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>OCTOBER 27<sup>th</sup> 2013<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><strong>
</strong></span><br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><strong> </strong></span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong><em>After over 6 years of trading in Jersey City, it is with
great sadness that on October 27th we've had to announce the closure of Soul
Flavors. When Super-Storm Sandy hit last year, we lost all our food in the
kitchen with the power outage, along with the whole of our inventory stored in
the basement refrigerators and freezers and store cupboards due to the
flooding. Although we have tried very hard for the last 11 months to get back
on our feet, unfortunately we have not managed to do so. Although Soul Flavors
restaurant is closed we will be continuing with our catering business .
Thanksgiving is around the corner and we wanted JC to know that we are taking
orders now and can be reached at INFO@SOULFLAVORS.COM. Thank you so very much
for being our loyal patrons, we have appreciated your business and could not
have come this far without you all. Would you please post this and forward to
your database. Thanks so much for all your help now and in the past.<o:p></o:p></em></strong></span></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><strong> </strong></span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><strong>
</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Best regards, <o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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</strong></span><br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><strong> </strong></span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><strong>
</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Wayne B Lyons <o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>President Soul Flavors Inc. <o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Mobile 917 416-4854 <o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>web: www.soulflavors.com <o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-7017757097718067012013-11-19T05:09:00.000-08:002013-11-19T13:50:13.069-08:00New Mayor’s First Menorah<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzpPDxFXD30xLDy9OaJUSeBYUsdUUsWL0BavrZ_0m5R3vhxmndRnja7hUvAOheEeUqUZovDFTzIzGNArBaJ9lyh5NtR3lDGwGuBanVHZxaXRDmjgn_ogN17-royyuFic1343eDa_gZqYd0/s1600/downtown-tree-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzpPDxFXD30xLDy9OaJUSeBYUsdUUsWL0BavrZ_0m5R3vhxmndRnja7hUvAOheEeUqUZovDFTzIzGNArBaJ9lyh5NtR3lDGwGuBanVHZxaXRDmjgn_ogN17-royyuFic1343eDa_gZqYd0/s320/downtown-tree-5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jersey City’s first Jewish mayor lit his first municipal Menorah as mayor, kicking off the holiday season. Thanksgiving is more than a week away, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the fates have conspired to push Hanukah to mid-November and after a chilly couple of days where winter wear including thick coats and woolen accessories were necessary, the weather changed to a sudden Indian Sumer. The plastic snowflakes may be up on the poles, but nobody was in the holiday mood. They were happy to be here anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">There was a countdown and the switch was flipped and the lights of the Menorah and on the Christmas Tree went on simultaneously. Maybe not Rockefeller Center, but the glow was ours and that counts for something. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I asked the mayor how it felt to be Jersey City’s first Jewish Mayor lighting his first Menorah. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“It’s great,” he replied, utterly nonplussed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">That’s it?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">He sort of shrugged and mentioned that his family were holocaust survivors. I recalled he cited a Talmud parable during his inauguration speech. The Jersey City mayor is always accessible and a good-natured man. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The event was fun. There was a nice-sized crowd, lots of kids. Rabbi Debra Hachen from Temple Beth El, who wore a yarmulke (ultra-reformed) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>gave a brief invocation, noting how strange and great that she was representing Jersey City’s religious community and thus was a rabbi wishing everybody their first merry Christmas of the year. A very Jersey City moment, our diversity and tolerance often results in idiosyncratic mash-ups that seem normal only to us.</span></span></div>
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</span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was a dual menorah and tree lighting, even though the latter is really a week-after Thanksgiving rather than a week-before event. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Why hold two separate events and risk outcry? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">There were cookies, an unusually brief playing of Christmas music that nobody sang along to. Everyone felt merry, but it was more just hanging out at the weekly green market merry than yuletide joy. The mayor mentioned there will be other holiday activities, something with Santa. Another old timer like myself remarked the well-worn refrain of how this sort of thing would never have happened years and years ago and how many more kids there are now. The thing about kids is they put everybody at their best behavior. Well, maybe not the best, but there’s less cussing or hostility when children are around. There’s more politeness. Guess that is at least a little bit of the old holiday spirit. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But no outcry and ironically, much outcry once accompanied Jersey City’s menorah. Our Menorah led to a case that was one of the first war on Christmas battlefields and is the reason why a city-sponsored Menorah and holiday decorations in general are not viewed by our justice system as a violation of <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the separation of Church and State.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Anybody remember ACLU v. Schundler, 168 F.3d 92 (CA3: 1999)?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In 1995, the ACLU filed suit against our then Mayor Brett Schundler objecting to a holiday display at city hall of a Menorah, alongside a Christmas Tree and a manager-scene. Initially, a court of appeals ruled in favor of the ACLU, because the display violated the establishment of religion clause in the constitution by appearing to “advance, endorse, or disapprove.” Schundler appealed the ruling and erected a now legendary sign on the City Hall lawn: “<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Through this display and others throughout the year, the City of Jersey City is pleased to celebrate the diverse cultural and ethnic heritages of its peoples.” </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The city then expanded the display beyond Tree, Menorah and Nativity Scene. Schundler added Santa Claus, Frosty the Snowman, a sleigh and Kwanza symbols, motivating the ACLU to file for contempt of court. What an in your face counter-offensive move by ole Brett.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">There was much interesting and sometimes intense discussion about these issues in the late 1990s and Jersey City had one of its occasional 15 minutes of fame. Some of the discussions form the basis of the annual war on Christmas blather, this years incarnation led by a new book by Sarah Palin, the right wing’s media-whore-in-chief. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">How much of a religious symbol is a Christmas Tree? Why cannot a Menorah also be part of what is now also a secular celebration? Hey, if a Menorah, why not a crèche? Why not Kwanza?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It seemed like a never ending chain – well, it ended with Kwanza actually – there was back an forth in the courts and in the public sphere, a wide wielding debate was held at City Hall between the mayor and the ACLU. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Federal District Court of New Jersey ruled in favor of the ACLU, but refused to rule on the contempt motion and the challenge was finally decided by the Court of Appeals For The Third Circuit. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In a ruling written by future Supreme Court member Samuel Alito: <span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"None of these displays conveyed a message of government endorsement of Christianity, Judaism, or of religion in general but instead sent a message of pluralism and freedom to choose one's own beliefs."<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Instead of following a court order to remove “religious” symbols from the city hall lawn, Schundler added more symbols. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What would be the alternative, how can you remove the Menorah and let the Christmas tree stand? I do not see how the court could have ruled against the Menorah without also banning the rest of our Christmas decorations. </span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">By insisting that encouraging cheer, goodwill, and holiday rememberance is a proper function of city government, Schundler saved public displays of Christmas decorations. The ACLU wanted to be a Grinch, but the ruling showed that Christmas is bigger than religion. It no longer belongs exclusively to one religion.</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Another outcome is that the Menorah has become accepted as much a symbol of the Christmas Holiday as the crèche, candy canes, angels and elves. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And, a Menorah can be lit by the first Jewish Mayor with little acknowledgement of the significance. Instead kids ate cookies and the JCTV filmed the mayor and the downtown improvement honchos as they recycled platitudes about how great these events are for the city. The event was basically a photo-op – the official TV one man cameras and other members of the press out-douched themselves in terms of rudeness and shoving people out of the way to get their bland photo-op shot. The only one caring about the kids were their parents, there was no question and answer session so to speak, just boosterism for the camera. There was nothing more to the event. Guess you have to go to YouTube if you’re interested. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">No one was ready for the holiday season. Who can feel the holiday Spirit when you still haven’t finished your Halloween candy? Alas… those<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in need of joy and goodwill will have to wait or look elsewhere than private/public partnerships. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have no idea what the official City Hall Holiday display will be this year. No worries about if this event had any religious endorsement. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love the fact our token member of the clergy is a woman rabbi wearing what most conservative Jewish sects consider to be an exclusively patriarchal symbol. This Menorah lighting <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>was all abut promoting local business. Appropriate and worth applauding. The Grove Street Pavilion didn’t even exist during the Schundler regime, and yet Schundler is why a Menorah can be funded by the city and bring people together and encourage shared happiness. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">As the crowd dispersed, the Mayor and his parents posed for a picture in front of the Menorah. Maybe history’s best achievement is when the social collective can take it for granted because the ultimate meaning of history is personal. </span></span></span> </div>
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Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-8532008613559657342013-11-18T18:32:00.000-08:002013-11-18T18:32:02.833-08:00New Heights<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/DistilleryGalleryandArtspace" target="_blank">The Distillery</a> is a “Gallery and Arts Space” in Jersey City in a section known as The Heights.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Presenting the Heights was the title of this group show, the somewhat flimsy connective tissue being these are all artists who live in a certain neighborhood. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Welcome to our own little corner of America seems to be main point. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The theme may have been lacking in depth, which not exactly rare as an organizational principal for an art show in Jersey City. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The Jersey City creative art scene may be maturing out of adolescence but its exhibition art scene is often womb-bound in terms of innovative presentation. But I don’t want to be a scold or just replay an old riff familiar to some long term readers. In fairness, the introductory and self-congratulatory nature of this group show was justified and while I am interested most in the viewing of art, organizers and artist need to focus on the selling of art. These two objectives are not mutually exclusive of course and commerce does not necessary dilute the experience of art. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Art Shows of any kind are rare in this neck of our woods, apparently new zoning laws now make the Heights more gallery and art space friendly. Due to rising rents and other factors, artists have migrated out of Downtown Jersey City to other hoods, like the Heights, and this show was a statement of a new identity for a growing coalition of artists, either distinguishing them from other Jersey City artists or at least broadening the definition and perception of what the arts are in town. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I can understand the sentiment. The confluence of the different strains of urban renewal trends as well as the random nature inherent in fate and change have conspired so that Downtown dominates the Jersey City arts spotlight. I tend to think of Jersey City as much a state of mind as it is an actual physical place, thus these arbitrary segments of cartography I tend to ignore. The reality of course contradicts my attitude. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">What I worry and get annoyed about is this. Jersey City is a small town – on a very small M-Class planet in the delta quadrant – made smaller by Facebook – and it’s not that now dividing it into arbitrary Bedstys and Red Hooks only further shrinks the already small town – although that is an issue –it’s just that this provincial attitude means more art and art exhibits are not about using art to explore the human condition, but prone to endless self reflection and empty promotion. Why should art play the Real Estate development game? <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">What undermines the art strengthens the marketing, some may think. I guess I care more about art that happens to be in Jersey City than art whose sole reason to exist is that is in Jersey City. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Shouldn’t it be about the art, not about where the artist lives?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Both aspects are of interest and value, but sometimes the Jersey City art scene can seem like an endless high school pep rally and the thematic mission of this show implied that the Junior High now wants a separate bandwagon. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">That said, the space is amazing and the art compelling. The turnout was robust – few Downtown art shows get these kind of attendance, especially at a non-city sanctioned event. A J.C. Fridays opening rarely garners such a plentiful response. The crowd seemed to include new faces in addition to the usual art scene suspects, either the scene continues to grow or the J.C. Heights location attracts a new cadre of adherents. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Kids were scampering throughout the event, and the two curators – Gabriel R. Pacheco and Kristin J. DeAngelis – explained the gallery is also an art school, the kids were students and presents other events, such as readings of original plays on some weekday evenings presented by the <a href="http://speranzatheatrecompany.com/" target="_blank">Speranza Theatre Company</a>.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> The community feel was abundant and infectious, perhaps I am too cortical about the purpose of the theme. Also, art shows and awareness of the artists here is indeed newly emerged, heralding that the Heights as the organizing principal of the event is a reasonable even virtuous decision. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times;">The Distillery is a former mechanic’s garage, spacious and airy, wide walls and tall ceiling, optimum for an art gallery. While far from a raw space, you still have the industrial feel, achieving a balance between the urban garage past and contemporary art space present. The walls are vast squares of white broken up by embedded column-like protrusions of brick. The track lighting is notably superb. Jersey City may be evolving from home of artists to arts destination, but there is a dearth of professional galleries. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times;">Bars, restaurants and city hall have become make shift exhibition spaces, which is of course fun and funky, but these spaces are threatening to define Jersey City art exhibitions and their lighting is deplorable. Most lighting in most Jersey City art exhibition spaces simply SUCK! Seems more often than not, the lighting available in these spaces detracts rather than enhances the art on display. The Distillery’s lighting was deliberate and professional, an illumination quality found in Soho or Chelsea galleries. The light here let you both see and feel the art. I wanted to spend time with it and even found myself whishing the opening wasn’t so crowded. The turnout tended to dissuade lingering and reflection. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">On the back wall was a video installation, projected images in a film flashed by. Three large wooden sculptures were situated throughout the gallery and accentuated the flow of visitors and <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>formation of small groups, encouraging small talk and general schmoozing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">One sculpture looked like a rustic recreation of a cassette tape, really clever idea making an object from the more immediate past look like something from a rural era of a more distant incarnation, when we churned our own butter and had to talk on kerosene powered cellphones.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I wasn’t too sure of the Obama sketches on wall paper, although the commentary on the polarized nation seemed evident. One wall paper had two different crowns, indicating that he is some kind of monarchist I suppose but the reality is, he’s been a reluctant and uncertain King (he’s more Richard II than Richard III), frustrating many supporters with what seems to be a lack of courage to his convictions. But monarch? Or was that the purpose, the contrast, the human line heavy, etching-like sketch and the royal image backdrop, is this an argument that sets them apart or is this juxtaposition meant to reveal similarities?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another pattern had a vertical row of the caduceus and a vertical row of the coiled rattle snake from the Don’t Tread On Me flag of the American Revolution. Was this some kind of commentary on the affordable care act controversies, which some say directly birthed the Tea Party (aided by plenty of Koch Brothers funding), who have been known to use the don’t tread on me serpent as a defining image. I dug the ambiguity of these pieces and also the echo of the image of our President, whose street art visage was so well known so early on in his first White House run that his image has become part of our visual lexicon, either transcending current events or as a reminder that we can never transcend our present day politics. The art expressed an ambivalence and my reaction was ambivalent and that ambivalence, in spite of the uneasy aftertaste, was interesting to contemplate. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Jill Kroproski is a potter, and showing clay masks that echoed Greek theater and aboriginal cultures. She said the masks were actually just an extension of her pottery and ceramic work.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZYLnRZ_d3qLG8XF_qErL6lpTpq7gtPppIdeq8cIT-4lpsfSCMrnoDKkmh5D1ff4YTMjHLL93eb5ILMw3dYQ3_A4RvnHsDtg2hF_DvZzzhnzqV2vrq6wpp6zIWwp1SZLpmLgF4-W4MJLF9/s1600/heights+-+1-s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZYLnRZ_d3qLG8XF_qErL6lpTpq7gtPppIdeq8cIT-4lpsfSCMrnoDKkmh5D1ff4YTMjHLL93eb5ILMw3dYQ3_A4RvnHsDtg2hF_DvZzzhnzqV2vrq6wpp6zIWwp1SZLpmLgF4-W4MJLF9/s320/heights+-+1-s.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="http://bojanacoklyat.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Bojana Coklyat<o:p></o:p></a> – </span></span></span></span></span></span>Moody combination of stark, un-</span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">enameled colors – an Asian symbol, script that could be repeated texts on a screen or the desperate, isolated scrawl on a prison wall, the outline of a woman, realized by simple lines yet erotic, empowering, overcoming a sorrow all her own. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span> <span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Photographer John Crittenden
with one of his larger prints. The shadow imprint cannot completely obscure the field of flowers bursting with color. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I got an a jitney bus, was home
in about 10 minutes. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">No one knows everything about
Jersey City. No one knows everything about the arts in Jersey City. The
Distillery is something else to know, but more importantly, something worth
knowing. Maybe the trite-sounding Presenting the Heights theme is inevitable
for a debut gallery show, but it was apparent The Distillery is not bound by the
geographical limitations of either map or mind. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"><strong><u>Artists featured at this show</u></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>• John Crittenden<br />
• Daniel Guzman<br />
• Christine Johanns<br />
• Beth Whitney<br />
• Sarah Johns<br />
• Sarah Veloso<br />
• Michael McNally<br />
• Bojana Coklyat<br />
• Olga Guerra<br />
• Jerry Khan<br />
• Ann LePore<br />
• Edward Jose<br />
• Jill Koproski<br />
• Phillip A. Robinson, Jr.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></span> </div>
Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662791747588801085.post-86426674830540549682013-11-18T12:30:00.001-08:002013-11-18T15:41:15.283-08:00Stephanie Riggi<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnt2s030UeGITvvFaGPhazA13nWHRntq4Q03jBdUBxcnFe3SMJHGwMDuJ-xreCFoslYF2vo1igQ6DRpdOi8CsoopQAImuG-ETZakdSti5i6EZCCg8bjCrEkC3wBc8Qr4_tyCUUr9jl7ro/s1600/steph-rig-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnt2s030UeGITvvFaGPhazA13nWHRntq4Q03jBdUBxcnFe3SMJHGwMDuJ-xreCFoslYF2vo1igQ6DRpdOi8CsoopQAImuG-ETZakdSti5i6EZCCg8bjCrEkC3wBc8Qr4_tyCUUr9jl7ro/s320/steph-rig-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://sriggi.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Stephanie Riggi</span></a><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> made a rare appearance at </span><a href="http://creativegrove.org/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Creative Grove</span></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">, a chance to meet the artist and snag some affordable prints of her ultra-radiant illustrations. The prints featured her stock-in-trade depictions of pop culture icons, ranging from John Lennon to John Waters alongside some of her idiosyncratic dreamscapes. She’s a local celebrity of sorts, her art seems everywhere. She’s a favorite feature among the curator set. I have seen and admired it at a few shows, such as Night Gallery exhibit at the Fish with Braids Gallery. <a href="http://timothyherrick.blogspot.com/2012/10/artists-showing-at-fish-with-braids.html" target="_blank">But I’ve been a fan from afar</a>, I’ve never met her until I recognized the art this slightly chilly Autumn evening.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Her pallet is colorful and beyond-bright, nearly neon but while most artists who dwell in Day-Glo glorify artifice, Riga discovers humanity. She has an obsession with John Waters and especially Devine, the famously obese cross-dressing actor, recreating what seems to be famous images. I love the way you see the Warhol image obsession, yet the folds of fat on his chin and jowls remind you of the lonely, misunderstood blue collar boy Waters turned into an icon.</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg961y3_hyo_-IGypzsiL8RrX6R86W6D0sGkPjnGi0m7zuopLdJ2Y9KaYNhCoOOZwzTPZa_qe13w66WC3bRq6oq7ETFZ12QHITX1BtK1exsK3BbEBVXyqpvlVBRJpmFMBptG2Q0gOLcNQN1/s1600/steph-rig-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg961y3_hyo_-IGypzsiL8RrX6R86W6D0sGkPjnGi0m7zuopLdJ2Y9KaYNhCoOOZwzTPZa_qe13w66WC3bRq6oq7ETFZ12QHITX1BtK1exsK3BbEBVXyqpvlVBRJpmFMBptG2Q0gOLcNQN1/s320/steph-rig-6.jpg" width="320" /></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhibVDWs3DeVsrGx_JbW_7huveIk6pGPzTyslrs0LkjJ2vpPkuU6szf67_8QUzNE9la-a_BtK9-eiKPPrBAt55K5bm3HEQVacCrt1KLJnFCvK9oE-lroWAjTLiY_ipDb3gx89BPqP8yP7S3/s1600/steph-rig-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhibVDWs3DeVsrGx_JbW_7huveIk6pGPzTyslrs0LkjJ2vpPkuU6szf67_8QUzNE9la-a_BtK9-eiKPPrBAt55K5bm3HEQVacCrt1KLJnFCvK9oE-lroWAjTLiY_ipDb3gx89BPqP8yP7S3/s320/steph-rig-3.jpg" width="285" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I was most taken with her anthropomorphic felines, bawdy and erotic, burlesque Mae West types, with pronounced, Rubenesque buttocks, an R. Crumb naturalism to be sure, but also the bright colors seem closer to mainstream animation imagery. I loved this one where the sexy cats are on stage, some sort of imagined NC-17 stage burlesque show, risqué but getting out of hand while in the crowd are human beings – human males at least – and other human size felines and you see shock, awe and arousal mounting in the audience. The painting depicts the moment before inter-species sexual bedlam broke out. Should we call the vice squad now or should we have some fun first? <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The original of this painting Stephanie insists will never be for sale. It is part of her permanent collection. In fact, many of the prints she was selling are copies of originals no longer available. They’re exclusive and are. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYzCIqy4tNFmN6Gb179_fcFQDdWKP8-vp2zKUy1lWTlUdv5vKpzqBVInHOk-et5gzd0Z2j0Su_6tpV8Z5X7ttS4m2_XmPLxOsUaiQNR3dOBYqSb0aD8LbHyHTJAPLjpibNaNVwdxeI7oBH/s1600/steph-rig-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYzCIqy4tNFmN6Gb179_fcFQDdWKP8-vp2zKUy1lWTlUdv5vKpzqBVInHOk-et5gzd0Z2j0Su_6tpV8Z5X7ttS4m2_XmPLxOsUaiQNR3dOBYqSb0aD8LbHyHTJAPLjpibNaNVwdxeI7oBH/s320/steph-rig-5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span> </div>
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Stephanie applies a unique illustrative ability, rare outside the realm of commercial graphics, to a acrylic and oil painting. A colorful canvas guided by a more colorful imagination, always ready to surprise. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg961y3_hyo_-IGypzsiL8RrX6R86W6D0sGkPjnGi0m7zuopLdJ2Y9KaYNhCoOOZwzTPZa_qe13w66WC3bRq6oq7ETFZ12QHITX1BtK1exsK3BbEBVXyqpvlVBRJpmFMBptG2Q0gOLcNQN1/s1600/steph-rig-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj13e9w27TRVkBDN8jqf3N35wK4Qzg0s8eF2fGUULP4MTuIv-72lG3JK_OandzYIT95kw1WJ-RbPiH4OSxCRWVfN8xiU-yxuJ9Y7srUeKcD3bjJ5lKosQud5WmRdCQNrpurrEWMPY8gL7u9/s1600/steph-rig-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj13e9w27TRVkBDN8jqf3N35wK4Qzg0s8eF2fGUULP4MTuIv-72lG3JK_OandzYIT95kw1WJ-RbPiH4OSxCRWVfN8xiU-yxuJ9Y7srUeKcD3bjJ5lKosQud5WmRdCQNrpurrEWMPY8gL7u9/s320/steph-rig-7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Mr. Tim Hrkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13485390021618369831noreply@blogger.com0