Lost in GroVont : a blog

Umbrellas are needed today.

It's a rainy day here in Jackson Hole. A perfect day to read a good book. And I finished reading the first Umbrella Academy book, Apocalypse Suite.

As the title suggests, The Umbrella Academy are fighting to prevent the apocalypse. Sound familiar? Sounds like the plot of most comics, science fiction, Whedonverse, etc. stories, but there's a reason why it is so popular. We long to see good overcoming evil, and Gerard Way and Gabriel Bá do justice with first installment of The Umbrella Academy. (Let go of Way's rockstar status, and look at him as a kid who's been reading comic books forever.)

The next installment of The Umbrella Academy is Dallas with the first issue releasing in late November.

The good with the bad yet somewhat adorable

I finished reading The Kite Runner today. Khaled Hosseini's story starts with Amir's childhood in Afghanistan before the Taliban destroyed his homeland and chronicles his family's escape to San Francisco. The real heartbreak occurs when Amir faces his demons (literally through a far-fetched coincidence)  when he goes back to Afghanistan as an adult to discover surprising truths and right his and his father's mistakes. Despite many grim scenes, the book ends on a hopeful note and is riveting throughout its nearly 400 pages.

Unfortunately, the book is being made into a movie. The filmmaker's decided other areas are more picturesque than the Fremont where Amir and his father live after moving to the US as scenes were filmed seemingly everywhere in the East Bay except Fremont.

From good to bad...I saw Because I Said So this afternoon. Mandy Moore is adorable but that's about all this movie had in the positive column. Lauren Graham was underused as were all the supporting cast (except Tom Everett Scott who was annoying as one of Moore's suiters). I wonder if there were originally subplots with the supporting cast. Most of these actors we watch weekly deliver on their own television shows, but in this movie, you barely even noticed them. I think Piper Perabo's ass got more screen time than she did.

Skip Because I Said So and see Catch and Release if you need to see a chickflick this weekend.

The Physics Of Meaning

A recent obsession with violins and cellos has led me to the music of The Physics Of Meaning.

After adding the band as a friend on MySpace, I got a message from Daniel Hart telling me that he spent some of his childhood in Emporia, Kansas, which was the nearest college town to where I went to high school.

Emporia is home to a meat packing plant and the 18+ bars my friends and I would  visit my senior year of high school. Daniel wrote a song about the town, "small towns and invisible people", which you can download from their website. I'm amazed that anyone could write such  a beautiful song about a place that smells like meat.

You can also listen to three other songs from the self-titled album on their website and MySpace page. I highly recommend "Manhattan is an island" which combines a multi-layered drum machine beat with a string arrangement that is unlike anything I've heard recently.

The amount of reading I've been doing lately has greatly increased in relation to the decrease in my working hours. I'm sure it also has something to do with the fact that I've been reading mass market paperbacks. Such easy reading of cookie-cutter tales by mediocre writers. (Alas, I aspire to be a mediocre writer with straight to paperback novels but nevermind that.)

After finishing Crichton's State of Fear, I craved more science in my fiction. A new television show I've enjoyed this year, Bones, is based on the novels written by an actual forensic anthropologist, Kathy Reichs, so I picked up Grave Secrets at a used bookstore. In the television show, the title character, Bones, works with a team of quirky smarties and an FBI agent to solve crimes based on what little remains of the corpse--usually just bones. The books are less restricted in that the central characters travel all over the world identifying human remains; however, the characters remain two-dimensional on the page. Even the stereotypical nerds on the tv show are presented with more depth than their counterparts in the books. Although I cringe at Reichs' writing every other page, the forensic mysteries are interesting, and I will probably work my way through the books quickly especially with the frequent rain keeping me inside for most of the day.

If the question has no answer is it a question?

One of the few (few) things I miss about the Midwest is thunder and lightning. After this weekend in San Francisco, I think I'll be able to go another year without witnessing a storm as strong as the one I'm currently watching outside my windows. If my lightning math is still good, the strikes are more than 5 miles away with distance increasing rapidly.

A great way to spend a stormy weekend is reading. After the initial lull of the first fifty pages, Micheal Crichton's State of Fear has hooked me in. It's all about global warming. Global warming can be intriguing and suspenseful! I'm a little surprised.

In local music news, Finest Dearest is a San Francisco band who just happens to be playing down the street from me at the Elbo Room tomorrow night. Pretty keyboard tinkling and cello make the sound a little dreary (great for the current weather) but Finest Dearest are indie pop reminiscent of That Dog or a female fronted K Records band. Visit their MySpace page for two tracks from the Pacemaker EP and two demo songs. I highly recommend "Idaho".

The saddest book you've ever read

Please don't judge the quality of Just A Modern Rock Story by the long period of time it took me to read it.

I wanted to read the book because I love Dear Catastrophe Waitress and I love to read. I knew very little about Belle & Sebastian before picking up Paul Whitelaw's biography of the band up to 2004. Now I know too much?

"I didn't want to be singing about school when I was thirty," [Isobel] says waspishly. She thought it was curios that Stuart [Murdoch] should write so much about school? "I though it was a bit disturbing, yeah." To be fair, it's not more disturbing than Isobel actually dressing as a schoolgirl.

A quote from Isobel Campbell followed by a backlash from Whitelaw was a common trend throughout the book.

There is undoubtedly something slightly voyeuristic, almost obsessive, about Stuart's fascination with characters like this, but he writes about them so beautifully, and with such genuine empathy, he succeeds where other writers might sound exploitative.

Whitelaw comes across as a devoted, long-time fan of Belle & Sebastian. However, other than his apparent dislike of Isobel, his writing is honest when an album (Fold Your Hands Child, Walk Like A Peasant) fails to live up to the band's potential.

The book also includes an invaluable resource for Belle & Sebastian fans with an appendix of all official releases, covers, etc. and liner notes.

Off to meet the principal

Being from the central part of the country, spending Thanksgiving on the beach seems surreal. However, Thursday morning I found myself on the beach near San Luis Obispo where I was staying with friends of friends and consuming large quantities of food. Aside from post-tofurkey sickness, it was a fun holiday. We played many rounds of Cranium[1] proving many times that girls rule and boys drool before falling asleep in the wee hours of the morning.

On the Friday drive back to the city, we listened to NPR's This American Life which featured readings of blogs written by soldiers in Iraq. It was interesting and chilling. I recommend checking out Rebel Coyote's LiveJournal for a well-written and honest account. For a more blunt view, you can read Colby Buzzell's book, My War: Killing Time In Iraq, which was derived from his blog entries.

Last Sunday, I read 10:01 by Lance Olsen. It is a rare occasion that I read a book in one sitting[2]. Other than the fact that book is only 187 pages, the only reason I kept reading it was because I was waiting for something to happen. Eventually something happens, but it reads more like a character study and lacks a cohesive plot. Set in the Mall Of America, the book describes the consumer culture from various view points (cynical, exuberant, indifferent) giving you a sense of who goes to malls and why. The story is probably meant to be a statement but the ending wraps so abruptly, I didn't grasp the meaning of the climax right away.

Musically, I'm a little obsessed with Say Hi To Your Mom. There are nine songs available on the band website for your consumption followed by a reasonably priced shop from which to purchase swag.

[1] Scroll down to the "online Cranium!" link and you too can find out what the fun is all about!

[2] I still haven't finished Just A Modern Rock Story, and I stopped carrying around One Hundred Years of Solitude. Yeah, I know I need to read more too.

Does it make you want to read?

USATODAY.com - Is 'Lost' a literal enigma?.

Literary references have been sprinkled throughout the mysteries of Lost: In an episode last season, the character Sawyer was reading Watership Down by Richard Adams, the story of rabbits searching for a safe place in a threatening world. At another point, he read Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time, about time travel.

Are people going to turn away from the television and pick up a book? The people who write Lost fanfic and play the recurring numbers in the lottery might read the book of the week in order to dissect the mysterious plot, but will the general Lost audience be moved to pick up The Third Policeman from the library tomorrow? I doubt it.

In other news, the NHL season started today. Two years ago, I became a Calgary Flames fan when I stumbled upon the playoff games on television. After the strike, I hadn't really thought about hockey until today. (It helps that I read a lot of Canadian music blogs.)

The Flames play the Minnesota Wild tomorrow.

For those of you who live in your Friends page instead of a news aggregator, this blog has a LiveJournal feed. Add the other Lost In GroVont to your friends list.

Probably uses the metric system

It's Friday and I'm not doing anything. Two jobs makes for a long work week so I appreciate having the night off.

Next week will be busy. The New Pornographers on Tuesday at Bimbo's 365. The Fiery Furnaces on Friday at my new favorite SF venue, Cafe du Nord. Plus the usual sixty hours of work.

This week's highlights are few and far between.

The SFist rants about the BART/MUNI commuters on escalators. I'm always rushing around the city for no reason other than the need to move, so I loathe the bottleneck at the Powell street escalators. Unable to determine the volume of my voice over "Time Running" coursing through my ears, I will first whisper "Excuse me."  A second later, I will repeat the phrase with a bit of urgency and louder. Occasionally, I will raise my voice without concern for volume. Please stand to the right and walk on the left. Please don't make me shout at you.

Advertising along Valencia has become more amusing. The billboard above Zeitgeist for Nicolas Cage's new movie, Lord of War, now features the current President's face. And I'm tired of seeing Elijah Wood every other block on posters for two different movies. (In less than a day, his face is usually adorned with a mustache and devil horns.) In junior high, I had a crush on Elijah Wood. (Did you see Paradise?) But I find his post-hobbit movie roles annoying.

If you haven't already, please take a listen to DeVotchKa. I heard their set on one of KEXP's live podcasts and immediately fell for their sound. Segue appropriate comment: DeVotchKa's song, "How it Ends," plays throughout the trailer for the new Elijah Wood movie Everything Is Illuminated based on the book I have yet to read.

I'm hitting Hotel Utah tomorrow for the Thee More Shallows show.

Advice from one dead president.

At few weeks ago, I hit another Monday night reading at ACWLP. Chuck Klosterman was in town on August 22nd to read a section from the recently released Killing Yourself To Live: 85% of a true story.

I expected him to be arrogant and narcissistic, but he was funny and narcissistic. I can deal with that.

I finished reading the book earlier this week.

Killing Yourself To Live started out as an "epic" article for Spin magazine about the geographical locations where rock-n-roll personas died. The book is really about Chuck. On the long road trip from NYC to Seattle, Chuck becomes self-reflective and interweaves his past and present with the people and places he encounters along the way.

The end of the book is disappointing only because it leaves us without closure on Chuck's relationship. (If I had read the book before attending the reading, I would have been able to inquire about the outcome.) It is, however, a reminder that life doesn't come with closure built in to the program. Sometimes it just ends. Thankfully, the book ends with an in-depth Index allowing me to easily find my favorite little anecdote to quote for you:

Thomas Jefferson is history's coolest president because of the advice he gave Meriwether Lewis and William Clark before they explored the northwest Territory in 1804. One of the many things that Jefferson warned Lewis and Clark about was mastodons. "You dudes need to watch out for potential mastodon herds," he told them (I'm paraphrasing). "If you see any mastodons, make sure you tell me about them, because I need to know."

My second favorite part was his in-depth analysis of Radiohead's Kid A. (Kid A is without a doubt my favorite album--ever.) Chuck describes Kid A as the soundtrack to the events of 9/11 even though the album was released almost a year prior. Spooky? Or coincidental? I'll go with the latter. If not Radiohead, some other music writer would have declared a different album by another band as a portent of the tragedy.

Since he actually compares his book to Elizabeth Wurtzel's books, I feel okay in agreeing with him.

I'm currently finishing up Chuck's earlier pop-culture book: Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs.

 

"submerged in a pool with scuba gear on"

It's nearly becoming a trend for me to go to weekly readings at ACWLP. On Monday, we (Lisa and I) went to hear Beth Lisick read from her recently released autobiography Everybody into the Pool. I've read some of Lisick's short stories (not impressed), but I heard her name tossed around enough in the San Francisco lit scene that I was willing to give her another shot. (Remember: It's free! And books! And, what else is there to do on Monday night?)

Thankfully, not as packed as the Hornby reading, we were able to get a seat in the back.

She read from Chapter 10: Circling The Wagons. "I am visiting New York City, and it is the season of the Peasant Look. I walk the streets of my brother Chris's SoHo neighborhood, trying not to get smothered by a billowing sleeve or garroted by a stray leather choker..."

It's funny.

Really.

Married with a kid and a station wagon, Lisick is energetic and self-effacing. When, during the as always bland Q & A, she was asked about some of the oddities of her life (Drag king babysitter! Her husband's mother's girlfriend!), she calmly responded as I would have: "We live in San Francisco." I expect a reaction like that from my mother not a women in the front row of what I would call a "queer lit event" in downtown San Francisco only a couple of weeks after Pride.

I bought the book. I'm reading it. From the introduction:

A few months ago, I was at my parents' house having dinner, and my mom was talking about someone she recently met. "I felt just awful for him," she said, dipping her knife into the I Can't Believe It's Not Butter. "He's the first person I've ever met in my life who was actually emotionally scarred by his childhood." I tried really hard not to laugh, but did anyway because I can be a jerk sometimes. "What's so funny?" she said, looking around the table at everybody, slightly bewildered. There was no reaction from my dad who, still in Phase I of the South Beach Diet, was busy searching underneath his skinless chicken breast for a carb. When my mom saw how older brother Chris fake-coughed and grinned into his lap, she knew something was up.

It's never to late to publish the final draft.

On 20 June, I had to work late. Not too late. Six o'clock late. And having walked past A Clean Well-Lighted Place for Books several times (daily. twice daily.) I noted the Nick Hornby reading scheduled for seven that night and thought "Hm, I can easily stop by on my way home." Over a hundred other people decided to stop by too.

A Clean Well-Lighted Place for Books is clean, well-lighted, and contains many books, but it's not ideal for a reading. (It also doesn't have any nooks and crannies to burrow into with that book you want to read but don't have the money to buy when someone is refusing to return the library's only copy...) The best bookstores, though, aren't designed for readings; they're designed to hold the maximum number of books. (Dog Eared Books, on Valencia. City Lights, in North Beach.) But in general, ACWLP is a nice independent bookstore on my path between work and home.

I arrived shortly after six and the couple dozen seats were already taken. The city's summer days had reached a peak that week, so I was bit sweaty and the crowded, standing room only area only fueled my discomfort. I browsed some interesting new paperbacks while I waited, but nothing held my attention long enough to spur a purchase.

The talk around me of course was books books books. Having only read Hornby's High Fidelity and some of his lighter non-fiction articles, I had no idea what the book he was promoting entailed until he started reading.

Fortunately, book lovers like to have things start on time. (After being reminded for the third time that the reading was going to be recorded for a radio show and that all cell phones needed to be turned completely off. Thank you.)

He began by reading excerpts from A Long Way Down. A morbid tale of four lost souls who meet right before their own planned demise. Hornby pops into the head of each protagonist giving us a humorous look into what each of them is thinking (and at the reading funny voices). It was enough to spark my interest. A Long Way Down has landed on my list of books to read.

Powell's has a great interview with Nick Hornby that will give you a better idea of the contents of the reading.

The Q & A at the end is always dismal. It's always aspiring writers asking about the writing process. And the writers always respond with "I don't have a process." Hornby responded with something like: I smoke and drink coffee and sit in my flat and write a few words and then check e-mail. Except he's a writer and from England so add many more syllables and a British accent to that.

He did mention the band Magic Numbers as his favorite band of the moment (well, that moment several days ago).

Compose yourself and listen to the text.

I picked up a copy of The Believer's music issue today. Finally. My logic in purchasing it has to do with the path I take through the city that leads me by A Clean Well-Lighted Place For Books. They didn't have it in stock until today (or yesterday). (I'm pretending like I don't live three blocks from McSweeney's or anything.)


Owen Pallett on Jim Guthrie's cover of The Constantines' "Nighttime/Anytime (it's alright)" = Fucking Brilliant

"One of the fourteen reasons Canadian music has been crushing domestic rock output these past years is the hardworking camaraderie of its musicians."

The Constantines are on Jim Guthrie's label Three Gut Records in Canada (and Subpop in the States). Pallett, Guthrie, and The Constantines are all Canadians. And I probably haven't said much about Jim Guthrie but I should. He's good. An older, less-whiny Bright Eyes sound, and he's not Conor Oberst (thankfully).

"Meanwhile, our American friends cannot even be counted on to open a bag of Cheetos."**


**Quotes taken straight from Matthew Derby's article. [Product endorsement is not mine. I prefer Cool Ranch Doritos.]

Wolf Parade covers a Frog Eyes song. It's a quieter sound for Wolf Parade but a brilliant song none the less. (I'll have to find the original.)

Click on the Sights & Sounds link at the Three Gut Records website for mp3s from Jim and The Constantines. Subpop has even more Constantines songs.

Owen Pallett's Final Fantasy website still has a cover of Joanna Newsom's "Peach Plum Pear" up for download. Relevent info since The Decemberists cover her "Bridges & Ballrooms" on the Believer cd. (Yeah, it all relates as opposed to being my meaningless rambling.)

"looking over Melville's shoulder as he wrote Moby Dick"

In Vowell's Assassination Vacation she references the Grandfather Paradox during the retelling of her visit to Dr. Samuel Mudd's home and museum in Maryland. The Mudd house is where John Wilkes Booth went after the assassination of Lincoln; and where Dr. Mudd cared for the injured Booth.

At the museum gift shop, she purchased a copy of Dr. Samuel A. Mudd Family Home Cooking from Dr. Mudd's great-great-granddaughter. And she pondered traveling back in time to kill her great-great-grandfather a "racist, pro-slavery teenage terrorist" who was with Quantrill when he raided Lawrence, Kansas in 1863 killing over 182 people; and wondered what the cashier, a "descendant of racist, slave-owning, convicted assassination accomplice" thinks of the Grandfather Paradox.

The Grandfather Paradox being the idea that one travels back in time and meets and kills an ancestor therefore erasing himself from the future and thus is one of the greatest arguments against the possibility of time travel. (Or one of the greatest arguments against the possibility of time travel is the exact nature of time and it's uninterruptable continuance. But that's just my thoughts.)

Besides the Lawrence reference, I love this passage for the intersection of science & physics with literature & history. This is why I love science metaphors in poetry and fiction.