9/30
There was a distinct shift in the weather yesterday morning, and it's brought
about some new changes. I got a long contract faxed to me for another online
carrier for my column, that was a pleasant surprise. Then I've been "ghost
writing" this other astrology column, posing as something that I'm not.
I may wear cowboy boots from time to time, but those are what I would consider
normal heels. But I'm not so sure that I'm at all comfortable with the pumps
I need to wear for this ghost job. The blue ones match my eyes today, and the
purple ones are sharp, but the red ones really do hurt my feet. I'm doing the
best that I can to hobble around the trailer with these things on. [Mental note:
ask just how in the name of the good lord do women ever walk around in these
things?] I think I need a better agent — I'm not sure that pumps and a
silk skirt are really part of this ghost contract job. As one of my bubba friends
says, "I'm in touch with my feminine side — I'm touching it right
now." I dumped the outfit, switched back to normal shorts and a T, and
slipped down to Angie's for some late lunch. Nothing satisfies more than a plate
full of tacos on Angie's signature tortillas. Then it was a cigar and a reading
at "Coffee Promotes Confidence" Little City Coffee. The weirdest thing,
even my client agreed, was the music. Some sort of strange, 1980's mix of music,
a punk soundtrack and then some Madonna.
9/29
The biggest problem with running more than one e-mail list is that I get confused
about passwords. No, the biggest chore is keeping up with bounced mail. Today,
I'll spend way too much time dealing with bounced mail from the monthly mailer.
The happiest e-mail I got yesterday was a return from a graduate student who
sent out a rerun of joke about "you know you're not in school anymore when...."
Now, it's not like I haven't seen the joke before, one of the hazards of a joke
list, but what struck me is how many of those attributes I try to embody in
my every day life now. When I asked about that, he just suggested that, "you've
maintained your rock and roll lifestyle..."
9/28
I was sitting on the curb at Dallas Love Field, getting ready to catch a plane
home to Austin, and I saw a female walk by with a "Rick Trevino Tour '94"
shirt. I was trying to do some mental arithmetic, a little figuring, I remember
sitting in the Tex-Mex restaurant named for a "Thatched Hut" in Austin,
must've been around 1996 or so, and that star who had been a house band for
while, stopped by to sing his version of "Happy Birthday" to the birthday
girl at the time. And she's a Libra, so it must have been around October of
1996. Since I deal in birthdays, I can sometimes be good at estimating a person's
age. I rarely practice this ability with females as it's a sure way to get on
the "list" pretty quick like. But I did stop in a store to cruise
for some music, and Rhino Records has just released some old Yes discs on CD.
The guy behind the counter was telling me that a new Yes album will be out today.
Great. I first saw Yes in concert probably long before that clerk was even born.
Now do I ever feel old. I'm also now shopping for my "Man Wrap" —
perhaps a nice floral print to match my extensive Hawaiian shirt collection.
9/27
I make a sincere effort to stay on the cutting edge of fashion trends. There's
a new thing out for guys, it looks a lot like a skirt to me, but it's called
a "man wrap." I was discussing the relative merits of a "man
wrap" as a style decision for myself, and I was worried about having to
shave my legs for it, but I had a bold idea, a "man wrap" and boots.
The wrap comes to a little above my ankles, and I could wear one of this with
my boots, and there wouldn't be any kind of need to actually shave my legs.
Besides, this might open new vistas for the Texas version of this new attire.
I'm seriously thinking about this one.
9/26
I knew I forgot something. Happens every time. I didn't remember a belt. But
then, I figure that I haven't had on long pants or shoes since May 1 or 2, so
I'm doing okay, considering that I'm all dressed up. And of course, I brought
my Austin clothing, and — as can be expected — I didn't quite pack
enough "Dallas" attire. It's also gratifying to hear from regular
readers of the column, folks stopping by to meet me for the first time, or,
even a few of the usual, "I saw you about four years ago...." Sure,
it's been a long time since I was in this neck of the woods for nothing but
work. For dinner, by the end of the day, Macaroni Grill was the best we could
manage, and my Gemini dinner companion had the best idea, get about four plates
of food, and settle in while swapping taste sensations. The poor Cancer waiter
wasn't sure of what to make of us, "Uh, one of the girls thinks you look
like Michael Bolton with your hair...."
9/25
Coming into Dallas, after having been away for a while is always a little difficult.
The rude shock has gotten much worse, especially this time, the person I was
traveling with insisted she was hungry, so I made beeline for a sleazy little
hamburger joint in a shady part of town. Friday night, they had volunteer valet
parking. Now that's sort of sets the tone, a cheesy little hamburger place where
the best thing on the menu is the artery clogging cheese fries (covered with
cheese, chives, bacon crumbs, and jalapenoes — and grease, lots of grease),
when a dump like this has a "may I park your car sir?" dude out front.
9/24
I guess the Equinox is a happening time. I went from zero to sixty in no time.
I had a late lunch with a true visiting dignitary, then I helped her find Austin
High School where she was workshopping in the afternoon. No sooner did I get
turned around than I ran into two more friends on the trail, I was coerced into
doing an extra four mile loop in order to get home. Then it's rush right back
out the trailer's door to catch a good version of "Taming of the Shrew"
with the set painter, only to jump on over to catch some of the last of the
"Venus" show which was experimental theater under a big top on the
edge of down town. Streets I know. Pack, don't forget some shoes for the show
this weekend in Dallas.
9/23
"Maudie's Too, Tex-Mex Heaven." So says the sign, and I'm very inclined
to agree. I wandered in at the tail of of the lunch rush, saw a few suits shift
upwards and drift out the door, and I placed my cell phone on the table top.
I was wearing a European NFL shirt, the Scottish Claymores. Yeah, how's that
for a football team? I looked up at the cheerful server, as she greeted me,
and I asked what the most filling thing on the menu was. "Ever try the
'straight plate'? Three beef enchiladas covered with sauce, and topped with
two eggs over easy." Sounded like a winner. And it was. There was the thinnest
smattering of diced white onions underneath the eggs. "Oh, you're in Redneck
Heaven now," suggested my Scottish buddy. Took me a while to get all around
it, but I managed to pack it all away. There's a soporific quality to a meal
like this, and I was dazed by the time I got home. I kept meaning to swing by
Sandy's for frozen custard or, at the very least, Amy's for ice cream, but the
rest of the afternoon disappeared in a fog.
9/22
>How charming you are and I will just adore you. You are the most
>emotionally retarded of men and the safest.
It's not like I haven't heard that before. I grinned. And another note:
>>I'll be on PBS on Sunday night, Sept. 26. Most stations are airing it
then, but check your local listing around 8 or 9pm. It's a Bill Moyers poetry
special called "Fooling with Words."<<
Sometime in the middle of the night, yesterday evening, the temperature dropped
like a rock, I must've gotten up and turned the AC off because it was off when
I woke up yesterday morning, and this trailer was decidedly cold. I started
out, with a full plan on heading towards the East, and doing my usual 6 or 7
mile workout. It didn't turn out that way because by the time I realized I was
going in the wrong direction, I had modified my route, and I just followed where
ever the gorgeous day was going to take me. I headed up the old railway right
of way and discovered a good shortcut to the bookstore — not without being
very close to speeding freight train. I was NOT tempted to jump in front of
it, nor, for that matter, was I tempted to try and hop it to ride it someplace.
I wound up looking through a bunch of old I-Ching books. These are on a shelf
next to the Tao stuff, so I bought (for about the third or fourth time) The
Tao of Pooh. But I didn't make my purchase until I had checked out several
I-Ching books. I was looking up the same hexagram in each book, and I was amazed
at the differences in the translation. While the essence was about power and
dealing with powerful people, I preferred a dated version I read, "This
is a strong powerful maiden — don't marry her." Back to the Tao because
— obviously — the I-Ching isn't telling me something I don't already
know.
9/21
>Scottish because all scottish cuisine is based on a dare! Viva haggis!
Viva haggis? Possibly the most intriguing comment I read all day. Monday wound
up being another scorcher. Here it is, well past the ides of September, and
the temperature is still hovering close to the 100 degree mark. There were some
cool days, but whatshername is about to leave town, so Bubba figures it's a
sign that the local weather will heat up again. I'd like to brag, and suggest
that I went a whole day without wearing a shirt, but I did pull one on, in fact,
long enough to walk into a restaurant to pick up some grub. Elapsed time? About
15 minutes, at the max. Not bad. Heard from one of the e-mail people again,
and it was kind of neat, she'll be passing through town later this week, only,
I've already got a special guest ticket for Taming of the Shrew on one
night. Bubba night, leave for Dallas, not a lot of time for anything else in
there. I was surprised that no one let me know that there was a bad link on
the introduction page — it's fixed now — but I suppose I need to brutally
abuse the web guys for letting that go this week. "The beatings will continue
until moral improves."
9/20
>TalkToKramer: When you grow up and leave the planet please take me with
you.
> I like your stuff, thank you
Nicest thing anyone said to me all morning long. I rather liked it. Then this
one, another Aquarius:
>Got close on this one--not old flame--got to get second opinion from a new
>cardiologist..... Give you an A+ for effort!
There's a joke about why it's great to be a guy, and one of the comments is,
"Phone calls are over in 30 seconds." Now, I've got this cute new
phone, and it will tell me who is calling, and how long the call is. Then, while
I was at the lake, ostensibly working (ain't it great to a dubbed "Fishing
Guide"?), I had to make a quick call to the Neighbor, "Dude, what
are you doing for lunch?" "Chinese — left over from last Thursday
— I think. Hey, grab me a six pack on your way in." Elapsed time,
less than seventeen seconds. Now, I compared that to the last call from a Gemini
girl, and the elapsed time on THAT call was over 17 minutes.
9/19
It started out as a cool and almost crisp fall morning. But it deteriorated
rather rapidly, or it got a lot better, I'm not sure which. I loaded myself
up with a computer, and some tarot cards (French deck — design from the
early part of this century, and for the life of me, I can't remember their name),
and I slowly worked my way along Congress Avenue to Magnolia Cafe for a little
breakfast. "Kramer, here, yeah, sit in my section," said Cliff, "no
pretty girl buying you breakfast, dude, that's too bad. Losing your touch?"
When I got around the flipping open my billfold, Cliff was busy examining my
driver's license, "I like that — 11 - 28, same as me!" (same
Ascendant, same Sun sign, same Moon sign) Then it was off to a busy day at the
bookstore. I paused in front of a record store long enough to flip through their
trash albums, and I found a 1976 copy of Montrose's "Jump On It,"
which, for some reason, had garnered my attention a few weeks back, but I couldn't
remember the symbolism. Or the song title I was looking for. It was a busy,
but other wise unremarkable day doing readings, finished up with a blond Gemini,
"Like my hair? Kathi did it." One of these days, I will learn to answer
the correct answer, not the truthful one. After fluorescent lights and charts
for the better part of an afternoon, I couldn't tell the difference and said
as much. It was a long walk home.
9/18
"You don't call me anymore." To be truthful, I never called her 'Anymore'
at all. I think I used her name, or at least, her sun sign. But I did seek expert
council, or counsel, and I asked if female fails to show up at an appointed
time, and if she doesn't return phone calls, messages, little entreaties of
affection, time and again, does that mean she's possibly avoiding me? "Yeah,
Kramer, she's ditching you," suggested one Scorpio woman. Put it to the
vote? Hold out just in case? I think I'll move along instead. Looks like Friday
was a 100% successful day, too — no shirt, all day long. In fact, if I
wasn't heading up to the bookstore, Saturday might have turned out equally well.
A true measure of success, a day with no shirt and no shoes. [Perhaps, a little
Tejano–Conjunto Musica — the Accordion making beautiful noise —
floating in on the breeze, too, a cigar and herbal tea?]
9/17
I was escorted by a Virgo in a red vehicle with to see the preview for "Othello"
put on by the Austin Shakespeare Festival. "Preview, what's that?"
It's like, well, it's like the first run through. Sort of a dress rehearsal
for the real thing, only it is the real thing, and.... "It's like a dress
rehearsal with an audience?" Right. We've been enjoying some unseasonably
cool and decent weather, days that are near perfect lately. About half way through
the second act, I had a Virgo snuggled up really close. The play? Oh yes, I
liked it very much. Outdoors, with a Sagittarius Quarter Moon hanging in the
sky, Mars floating nearby, it was a quite a sight. Othello himself was very
well played. The rest of it? Let's be nice, it was an energetic performance.
Sure, the theatre in a more traditional setting might be a bit better, but there
was an energy that infused the cast. I think I counted only about ten or eleven
players for the whole show, and yet they did fill the audience. I look forward
to going back watching the cast come together. Sitting on the hillside, late
in the Fourth Act, there was a disturbance when one audience member rudely suggested
that the party sitting (sprawled might be a better choice of words) in front
of us shut up or leave. In a historical context, and one of things about seeing
Shakespeare like this, is that there was always audience participation —
shoot, that's what made it fun. I found the interruption of the complainant
rather upsetting. Hope she's not there the next time I see one of the plays.
"Next time, I'd like to see less stabbing and more comedy — it looked
like the evening news." Free Shakespeare in the park put on by a certainly
energetic band of characters — Bubba says, "check it out," but
take two blankets, one to sit on and one to cover up with — as long as
this cool weather prevails.
9/16
I suppose I should be wary of the Ides of September, so far, I've had a half
dozen Virgo [people] get really cranky with me because I obviously missed something.
It's sad but certainly recurrent theme in my life. I didn't get the memo. I
was not privy to that information. Something, whatever it was that I did [or
didn't do] upset them all terribly. The grand "Secret Virgo Command"
center didn't send me that note. Pursuant to a conversation with my old buddy
the teacher, I got around to reading "Pillars of the Earth." The whole
book long, until close to the end, I was pretty sure it was historical fiction
about a single cathedral in some backwater town during the very beginning of
the English Renaissance, possibly just a little bit before. I was wondering
why my old buddy had recommended it so highly, but I wonder now, looking at
the novel, and thinking about it after I finished, separation of church and
state?
9/15
I dropped the old phone in the mail today — long gone, I guess I should
say good bye. It was an amazing bit of technology, and how it keeps running
headlong at a furious pace. I bought that particular phone because I could hook
it up to a modem — only the modem cable cost more than the phone itself
— and I think I used once, for real, to send in an article I got paid for.
I was in the Houston airport, working off my Newton, and I sent the article
in via the cell – modem – handheld combination. It's not like I did
it a lot times, nor, for that matter, do I like connecting flights through Houston,
but I guess that's another complaint. At what speed is this technology going
to continue to advance. I finally gave up and started carrying a pencil and
a piece of scrap paper to write on, sometimes I get home with all sorts of cryptic
notes scribbled on bits and pieces of miscellaneous paper, those wonderful,
brilliant insights I get, hey I gots to strike when that old Muse is doing its
thang. I just wish I could remember what that line about how springy intestines
were was about, something about a flick of the wrist, and your opponent's guts
wind up strewn all over the place.
9/14
I had lunch with a red headed Capricorn yesterday, the voice of reason in the
midst of a Gemini frenzy, and as we picked out a lunch place, I calmly drawled
a response to one of her questions, "Would I lead you astray?" She
popped my knee. "You need some new lines. You — oh — as long
as you use a line on me, I'll treat you like one of my brothers, I'll karate
chop your throat." I was extra careful through the meal at Curra's because
the last time I was there, I was with a Libra who demanded that I pay attention
to her. "You were flirting with that waitress. Stop it. Flirt with me."
I just figured if that sort of thing happened again, the folks at Curra's would
figure I was some sort of beaten guy. And to think, I was hoping for sushi for
breakfast yesterday, and I wound up with "cerviche de pulpo" which
might be a very attractive substitute. Besides, the leftovers make excellent
catfish stinkbait. Who would guess that catfish like those little tentacles?
9/13
Market penetration — that's the key. I need more market penetration. I
had lunch yesterday with Bubba at the Hula Hut, in the midst of late afternoon
Gemini induced frenzy. Then more Gemini's showed up at the trailer, the bitter
one, the happy one, and the married one. The single voice of reason amongst
the whole bunch was a red headed Capricorn, and she came by on her bicycle —
that's what's nice about being so close to Barton Springs. Thank the odd gods
for small miracles. So from the data that the web guy siphons off the server,
Scorpio is the most popular horoscope. But this weekend, I was surrounded by
Gemini's. All that air and not a drop of water to drink — it's sad state
of affairs. So far, I've only written the closing line to Elvis scopes for next
year, but I did get a fun closing line, and the line apparently tickled the
Capricorn — notoriously hard to please as a sign, so I'll consider half
my task already done. Now, there's just 12 months and 12 signs to go....
9/12
Days have different flavors, and there's some sort of cosmic unity that runs
through it all. Just exactly what? I'm not sure, but there's always an astrology
comparison, or two — Moon's in Libra (air sign), and I hear from not one,
not two, but three different Gemini's [air sign] — all blond, all blue
eyes, what's the odds of that happening? One's in town to see a boyfriend, one's
in town to shake some trees, and one's just dropping me an e-mail. I should
know better than to surf competition late at night because the effort becomes
pretty dispiriting. I was toiling away and took a break to check on some similar
sites. I suppose that having my site and services deconstructed, examined, and
duplicated is a compliment, but I'm still not getting paid for the work that
I put in. I suppose that's the problem with the web these days. I'm half tempted
to do another redesign, but frankly, I'm tired of my work being lifted for free.
Imitation maybe flattering, but flattery doesn't pay the rent on a South Austin
Trailer space.
9/11
"Henceforth, do your messages yourself" (Romeo and Juliet, ii.5).
It wasn't a bad Friday at all. The weather, by the time I hit the trail, was
only about halfway between 90 and 100 which seems comparatively cool for a change.
It was another Virgo birthday night, but it's not like I didn't get some mileage
out of the old girl ("Kramer, I've been too old for you ever since I was
23"). Since she's suddenly single, I bought her some birthday dinner and
some birthday ice cream, a birthday cigar (tubed H. Uppmann — nothing cheap)
and then we joined her roommate and friends at a local pub. But the kicker was,
she sells cell phones (by the sea shore, right try saying that one real fast
three times). And I got my upgrade which means I have this really cool phone
that's digital and cellular and probably does more than I know what to do with
it. It's one of those cute little phones, you know, about the size of a European
box of matches. "Excuse me, but my pocket is ringing..."
9/10
There was a change in the weather yesterday, not the outside weather as it was
close to a 100 degrees right at noon, and I'm sure the old thermometer pushed
it past that at some point, but the feelings of the day were different. I spent
part of the afternoon frantically searching through some of my jewelry to find
the right earrings for last night's outfit — black sandals, black shorts,
black T-shirt, you know, the right earrings can just set an outfit off. A little
work, a little play, and then the main event for the evening, Kinky Friedman
at the Saxon Pub, another one of the live venues in South Austin that I've never
been to before. Now, I just read his most recent novel, Spanking Watson,
and as usual, I was mightily impressed with his story telling, and having never
seen him before, I couldn't pass up a chance to observe on of his performances.
The night before, I noted from his web site that he was doing two book signings,
and I figured he be late in getting to the gig. Which he was. By the time he
stepped on stage, and stepped into his guitar strap, "The Kinkster"
was sucking on a cigar ["I'm not supporting the Cuban economy, I'm burning
their fields"] and a tall Guinness ["Guinness: it's what's kept the
Irish from taking over the world"], and after the first number, he tried
a little trick with his trademark black cowboy hat, and dropped it. His wiry
back hair was matted down with sweat ["It's a Lyle Lovett starter kit"].
It was a good show, through and through, ["We were turned down by k.d.lang
to do this number on the tribute album, the tribute album to me"] And a
rousing chorus of "Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed"
— and he was autographing books in the back of the bar afterwards. "See
that? it was the book crowd, the literary types, not your typical rowdy South
Austin crowd."
9/9
Seems as if the world didn't end last night, at the stroke of midnight, so I'm
not too worried about anything else. And rather than today being the "end
of file" I wonder if it isn't just another beginning. Making it through
today means that a lot of the Why Two Kay stuff might be subject of a suspicious
amount of hyperbole. The special daily is up by now, too. Still looking for
the owner of the panties, but I fear that will prove a fruitless search. I did
get considerable razing at my neighbor's trailer about it all, though. And no
small amount of worry from certain corners. The maintenance guy was a little
worried about my mental condition when I hopped up the roof of the trailer to
fix the recalcitrant AC unit [just needed a good, swift kick] "Don't jump,
man, it ain't worth it — she's not worth it." I figure from that height,
worst I could do was sprain an ankle. No, I wasn't going to jump — the
cat wanted the AC back on, that's all.
9/8
I've got a friend who stays in my trailer when I'm out of town. This usually
works out pretty good for me — I come home to a tidy house, the cat is
well fed and less neurotic, my friend gets a little vacation, and sometimes
she even does a load of laundry. It's a nice gesture, but there was a little
surprise sitting in one of my desk drawers when I got back this time, seems
like something had found its way into the laundry, and this "something"
has caused no end of trouble for me. It was a pair of bikini underwear in a
bright green, orange and purple plaid striping pattern. The note which accompanied
the underwear was wondering just who it was that had been over and left these
behind.... As near as I can tell, these panties must've come out of the dryer
as they certainly belong to some one I don't know. Judging from the color —
and the size — I will admit it might be someone I would like to know, but
they didn't originate their journey at my trailer. I would be interested in
finding the owner and returning the underwear as long it belongs to someone
who is at least 21 years of age, preferably, a little older than that. Although,
I'm beginning to wonder if this pair of underwear would go with one of my outfits....
9/7
My unabated string of bad luck seems to have followed me all weekend long. So
much for road trips and cryptic notes from the highway of life which is looking
a lot more like the "Highway to Hell." I was sitting in an airport
departure lounge yesterday afternoon, and thoroughly distraught female sits
down next to me, bursts into tears, and all I can think is, "Why break
a string of bad luck with anything else?" For the astrological note of
the day, she was a Gemini, and her Pisces boyfriend abandoned her in Las Vegas.
Stranded her with no ticket, no purse, no money. The departure lounge folks
— we all did what we could, but I was glad to get on a plane. Of course,
no string of bad luck should ever get a chance to slow down, and the relentless
pressure was only worse by the time I got home, I spent as much time waiting
on my ride home as I spent on the last airplane flight. Next adventure? I'm
not sure I'm up for any more adventures like this last weekend. The high point
was getting to talk about literature and some of the genre lit.
9/6
Sure, doing book reviews was a cheap shot, but it was brought about because
I got to spend some time with a former literature professor, and it was good
to see the old teacher even though he gave me a gentle chiding about gradual
school and getting into another Master's plan someplace. Then the discursive
subject matter wheeled around literature, and I pretty much lost one point about
how a movie, or similar passive entertainment, can be construed as literature.
The only film that I could think of that really left a lasting imprint, one
with great impact, in the past few year, the only example I could really come
up with was "Pulp Fiction." Of course, I could also cite several books
that I was reading recently, pieces of work which excited me, even to the point
that I sat down and wrote something about them. That's the difference between
reading and watching, passive versus active.
9/5
The Rift by Walter J. Williams [NY, Harper – Prism, 1999] Halfway
through the novel, The Rift, I was so enthralled, I got up and made some
notes. Between the last few books I've read where there are multiple lines for
the plot, huge cast of characters, history, and jumping back and forth, I got
a little tired of novels where this concept was not well–executed. I started
reading Williams' work — buying the expensive hardback versions of each
new novel — because I was hugely impressed with one of his early work,
Hardwired — and many of the subsequent novels. So far, I've never
been let down. I also always considered him a Science Fiction writer, but The
Rift doesn't really fall in that category. In fact, it'd marketed under
the name Walter J. Williams so it wouldn't be cataloged with his other genre
work, under the name Walter Jon Williams. There aren't any space ships, ray
guns, aliens (unless you count some of the characters involved with the KKK)
or the usual trappings of the genre. Only on the barest pretext could it be
consider true "science fiction" because it could happen any day now.
The premise, the basic plot, is about the New Madrid Fault, and there is a wealth
of historical data about the earthquake along that fault in the early 19th Century.
And rather than have a devastating earthquake in California, what would happen
in our current world if this fault line really did let go? Against this backdrop,
the author also tackles racism, the Klan, hayseed preachers, militia groups,
the industrial military complex, and too many of the wonderful aspects about
rural life that seem to escape most novels. To be sure, it's a hefty book, weighing
in at five pounds (dry weight) and close to 800 pages. But it's devoid of any
technical gadgets, and it's got plenty of time and space for character development.
I was particularly impressed with the interior/exterior descriptions and monologue
– dialogue of one adolescent male character. I found the feelings evoked
had that special touch — close observation seemed evident, an effort to
really capture teenage angst. And then there was the literary trick of having
an older black character and younger white character stuck on boat in the middle
of the Mississippi River. Throwing in an allusion to Huck Finn is treacherous
territory ("Huck Finn" is arguably the greatest American novel ever),
but it works into this novel with grace and a wry sense of literary history.
There's also a degree of humor, in the face of some of the disaster. There,
amid the ruins of the Midwest, when all hope is lost, there's always a little
hint of something improbably funny. I purchased the book at a local place, and
the owner of the store pointed out an interesting fact, the book is dedicated
to him because, over a plate of BBQ, he was the first person to talk to the
author about the earthquake which serves as the basis for the book's narrative.
Interesting reading.
9/4
Kinky Friedman's most recent novel is called Spanking Watson [NY, Simon
& Schuster, 1999]. If you're not familiar with his canon of work, either
the novels or the questionable country music career as a singer and songwriter,
then this might not be the best book to pick up. It helps to have a solid grounding
in certain historical, biographical, and musical facts. Kinky Friedman is a
real person. He's performing next week at a local pub, and I intend to see him.
He's also a sick, demented, embittered individual, if you take his work to literally.
Otherwise, he's just funny as all hell. The nominal plot line, which can sometime
stretch a little thin, amount to the protagonist, a character with the same
name as the author, is bored one night so he sets a number of characters into
action on a made up problem. "It's just possible that all of us are fiction
characters in some perverse comedy that never did much box office." (p.
59) His one liners, thoughtful asides, and the general tone of the book reflect
a certain attitude than can combine the best — and worst — of a provincial
Texas attitude. It's even better when this attitude is portrayed against a New
York skyline, which s the setting for the book. The philosophical questions
get deeper, the jokes are up to form, and what's particularly nice is with one
exception, the jokes are not any that I've found floating around on the net.
It's either refreshing or repulsive, depending on how one can laugh at homophobic
jokes, penis jokes, body noises, Jewish jokes, Gentile jokes, and the current
political situation(s). This is his twelfth book, supposedly a mystery. And
the ending, true to form,is a surprise, the clues are obvious, but it's still
got a little twist. The interior running monologue, though, has sharpened over
the years. It's a little more caustic, yet it's also improved. The wit is as
sharp as ever. Besides, any author who make a cat a central character is certainly
worthy of a read. It's not a long book, but it's just right for one evening's
entertainment. It's like a long series of one liners all drawn loosely together
with a little plot, just enough to keep me happy. And to understand the main
character, the one with the same name as the author, it would appear that he
hasn't had a good day since 1974.
9/3
There is one aspect about my business that I surely don't understand. Perhaps
there are many, but there's one which is so evident right now, and it's become
a pressing issue. My schedule is up on the web, it goes out with my monthly
mailer, too. And yet, whenever I try to get out of town, that's when the phone
rings, that's the time someone "really needs" me. Emergency Astrology, like
emergency medical care for the soul. Where were you last week? Last month? I
had time then. I don't have time now. Of course, I always manage to make time,
because, yes, your chart is important. So is the dollar amount. Free advice
is always worth its price. Since one of my visits is an old teacher of mine,
I figure I should have some written material for him by the time I get to my
destination. I should have some book reports ready in a little while —
suggested reading for the fall. I did get a near perfect day in Austin, yesterday,
as I cruised to lunch with Bubba, then had some ice cream, suggesting that one
young lady should marry one of us, either one of us would do. She looked a little
taken aback, but in happy way. That's what's nice about a Gemini Bubba, he can
always take up the slack.
9/2
During a morning "meditation period" which sometimes looks suspiciously
like nap on the couch in the trailer's living room, I got to thinking about
a recent streak of troubles. A high tech parable came to mind, drama drawn from
the actual FGS Files. My "Boswell," a friend, fan and sometimes archivist
used to work at a large corporation. He was relegated to a cubicle and given
a handsome salary. No work because his project was "waiting on funding."
What would any normal healthy red–blooded American child of the South,
a hearty Texas boy and faithful FGS follower do? Surf. Of course, mindless hours
in front of the web browser box leads to boredom, no matter how good the salary
is. I gave it three months, but I underestimated the allure of the dollar signs
— he lasted almost a year. He eventually was let go. The terms of his contract's
canceling, though, was accompanied by a huge amount of documentation. The company's
security knew exactly where he had pointed his web browser, had copies of all
the bad jokes he had forwarded, and even kept a list of all of us he contacted.
Of course, I'm sure that this was interest of company security, seeing as how
it was all on company time. I don't care what the webmaster views with his browser
as long as everything I request is taken care of. But that's the difference.
FGS World HQ is really run by a timid tabby cat. We trust her for all our management
decisions. It's hard to imagine, but fresh fish entrails go a long way in swaying
a decision around here.
9/1
I always enjoy the way life mirrors art. Or the opposite. In the beginning of
Kinky Friedman's most recent novel (Spanking Watson: NY, Simon &
Schuster, 1999), in the opening pages, along with some dated curmudgeon humor,
bad puns, and a Republican cat, the protagonist (I wonder if the main character
isn't really an antagonist?) is waiting for repairmen to show up in order to
fix a household problem. Art reflects life, as I spent a large part of the last
two days, waiting for my handy repair guy to come back with all the parts. "I'll
be back in a hour," he said two days ago. I saw him briefly, but then he
disappeared again. I finally fixed the damn sink myself. It still leaks a little,
but I guess that's what a bucket is for. And the two day time for a twenty minute
job just illustrates the point: the first 90% a job takes 90% of the time, and
the last 10% takes 90% of the time.
I stopped by the coffee warehouse to get a drink, on a late afternoon walk, and I was delayed while I was listened to a couple of poets get up and read their stuff. Three poets, a couple of poems, wonderful stuff. It was serendipitous way to lift my spirits, the spoken word was amazingly good, what little bit I caught. I need to remember that for next Tuesday night.