Jul

29

JAPs.

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When I was twelve, my family abruptly moved from San Ramon, California to South Orange, New Jersey. Leaving behind what were at the time a number of rather close friends, I resolved to keep in touch, with ultimately disappointing results. One way in which touch was kept was via the dominant communication device of the day: the touchtone telephone.

I recalled the other day a particular telephone call with a childhood friend, Matt Kolda. I had recently learned a new-to-me term at my Jewish-heavy middle school: JAP. Jewish American Princess. The California school I had attended was decidedly lacking in Jews. And although I knew Mr. Kolda had recently moved to a new school, I suspected the ethnic makeup was not radically different. And so I had good reason to expect I learned the term “JAP” before Mr. Kolda.

Showing off my superior knowledge backfired, however, for reasons that may already be apparent. See “JAP” sounds exactly like “Jap” over the telephone. And so when I absurdly asked, “do you have any JAPs in your new school? Because my new school is lousy with them,” he heard “do you have any Japs in your new school?” Japs, as a somewhat derogatory term for people of Japanese descent. Predictably, he got offended. And I had to explain, no, no, I’m not asking about Japanese-Americans…I’m asking about spoiled Ashkenazim…and inexplicably comparing them to lice…oops…I seem to have saved myself from one mildly offensive statement by diverting into a fairly deep river of offense. Ugh.

Lesson learned: be careful in how you go about sharing new words and concepts.

Jul

28

Whitney’s ghost?

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Apparently I missed the news that Whitney Houston died, then was reincarnated into an oddly round Chinese youth.

Jul

27

Amanda Palmer, Radiohead, and the almighty uke.

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When I heard from former Dresden Doll Amanda Palmer’s fiance that she had released an EP–in an already-sold-out limited edition vinyl and a pay-what-you-can download–featuring her “magical ukelele” and a series of Radiohead covers, my interest was, needless to say, piqued. Does the album live up to expectations? Yes, in that Ms. Palmer is a fabulous vocalist, capable of imparting just the right amount of incoherent emotion into Thom Yorke’s lyrics. And the uke playing is quality. But I was disappointed to hear piano in some of the arrangements. Making this only my second favorite ukelele-and-vocals-centered cover album of all time.

Jul

25

One leg shorter than the other.

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Watching Bringing Up Baby for the third or fourth time, I was caught off guard by a joke Katherine Hepburn tells when she breaks one heel about growing up on the side of a mountain.

Years ago, I saw a guy who had one leg shorter than the other. I don’t know what his actual story was, but one of the cleverer other children explained he must have grown up inbred on the side of a mountain. Ah, the youthful, crude understanding of genetics. See, the clever boy thought if a family lived on the side of a mountain, it might be helpful to have one leg shorter than the other, to aid in traversing the side of the mountain. Natural selection, and Bob’s your uncle. Only of course this doesn’t make a lick of sense. Even if evolution worked that fast, having one leg shorter than the other wouldn’t really be a desirable trait. Because not only do mountain dwellers have to go clockwise around the mountain, they also have to go up and down, and, more importantly, counterclockwise. But to my sugar-addled ten-year-old-first-learning-about-Darwin mind, this explanation made sense.

What surprised me is that this was a common enough misperception to have made it fodder for a mainstream movie gag. Any thoughts on why this might be? Given that, after only a cursory thought on the topic, it’s incoherence shines through?

Jul

23

Leon’s getting larger.

Filed Under Personal | 1 Comment

Apparently, a few nights ago when I was lying in bed, I started laughing uncontrollably at the thought of applying an Airplane quote to my greasy asshole. I gather “the plane is getting closer” signified the growing turmoil in my abdomen. And “Leon’s getting larger” represented the extent to which my balloon knot had dilated. I don’t recall much of this, having been more or less asleep at the time, but my wife assures me it was made all the more terrifying by the accompanying odors.

Jul

14

Now I really need to get around to reading Infinite Jest.

Filed Under Print Media | 2 Comments

I write like
David Foster Wallace

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Jul

3

Lucinda Williams.

Filed Under Music | 3 Comments

Last time The Swell Season came to Western Washington, I missed out. Determined not to repeat, I bought tickets to this year’s No Depression Festival at Marymoor Park, where Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová are closing. But I grew interested in another act at the festival with whom I only had a passing familiarity: Lucinda Williams.

After sampling some of her work through the YouTube and checking out a couple of discs from the local library, I’m impressed by how familiar she sounds. Surprised, really. I’ve never really understood country and western music, what with its predictably irritating song structure and forcibly accented vocals. But somehow Lucinda transcends that for me. Part of the attraction is that she seems to have a similar jaunty fatalism as some of my other favorite female singers. Regina Spektor. Jenny Lewis. Norah Jones. But part of it is she’s got the same sort of assured “I’m a rock star, even though I’m not a rock star” attitude that is exhibited by the likes of John Darnielle or Eleanor Friedberger. Also, although I don’t usually go for bleach blondes, she’s sort of hot…especially when that whiskey-soaked groan is factored in. Looking forward to seeing her next month.

Jun

13

Universal AuthorTracker.

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To keep track of what I’ve read and what I want to read, I use All Consuming and Goodreads. Both services work moderately well at making suggestions on what to read, with All Consuming focused on strangers’ suggestions, and Goodreads focused on friends’ suggestions. But neither, for some reason, has a service along the lines of HarperCollins’ AuthorTracker.

I would love to be able, after I’ve told Goodreads that I found, say, Black Butterfly, The Financial Lives of Poets, Shades of Grey, Never Let Me Go, Catching Fire, and Chronic City to be pretty fucking good, to be able to tell Goodreads that I’d like to be notified as soon as Mark Gatiss, Jess Walter, Jasper Fforde, Kazuo Ishiguro, Suzanne Collins, and Jonathan Lethem publish subsequent works. Doesn’t this seem like a no-brainer?

Jun

13

Bruschetta.

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Not being an Italian speaker by any stretch of the imagination, I had to look up to make sure I’m not mad in believing that “bruschetta” is pronounced “brus-ketta.” Apparently I’m not mad.

Which makes a recent Not Always Right entry particularly amusing. For the uninitiated, Not Always Right has world-weary retailers, waiters, and call center operatives dealing with frustratingly annoying and particularly stupid or obtuse customers. As in, mantra notwithstanding, the customer is Not Always Right. And usually, they’re relatively amusing diversions.

But this particular entry has a waiter delivering “bru-SHET-ta” chicken pasta, being chastised by his customer that she ordered the “bra-SKET-ta” pasta, the waiter redelivering the same dish and referring it to the same patron but this time calling it “bra-SKET-ta” pasta, and the waiter submitting the story to Not Always Right as a way of laughing at the customer for her stupidity behind her back. A neat twist on a familiar conceit? Or a mistake on the part of the publishers?

Jun

13

Sunburn.

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Living West of the Cascades, with its nearly omnipresent comforting cloud cover, I’m highly conscious of the effects of that big yellow fireball that sometimes appears in an otherwise blue sky. On the rare occasions when Madame Sol and her Hot Fusion Orchestra insist upon being heard, I’m slathering the SPF 45 on my pasty white skin.

Only, being a lazy creature at heart, I often only apply to the body parts that have been burned in the past. Neck backs, arms, and face. The past experience, however, has little to do with the burn-ability of the skin on those body parts, and has everything to do with blocking. That is, given the activity with which I am engaged, where is the sun going to be pointing? With hiking and driving being the most common engagements, the answers: neck backs, arms, and face.

Guess what happens when the recreation takes the form of kayaking in the Sound? Say hello to red legs.


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