Close Encounters and Autumnal Vicissitudes...
Weather-Shieldings,
(Sorry – I’m teaching Beowulf right now and it’s difficult to get it out of my head.)
Last night, went to my favorite movie theater (Penn Cinema, Lititz) for the latest installment in their “Monday Night Movies” series. I’ve written before about this outstanding theater, which features state-of-the-art screens, Digital 3D, and impressive amenities. And construction is nearly complete on a new IMAX theater next door to the main building, slated to open in time for the Harry Potter release on Nov. 19th.
Watching Close Encounters on the big screen reminded me of a time when the movies were about humanity as much as they were about spectacle. The movie was utterly riveting and genuinely breathtaking, but did not contain one explosion, car chase, or murder. And yet, given the lack of those elements, it wasn’t tame or simplistic or cloying, like so much Disney fare. On the contrary, it made powerful statements about who we are, how we want others to see us, and about the power of wonder to cut through even the most entrenched cynicism, the most thickset rationality.
Anywho, last night’s feature was 1977’s
Close Encounters of the Third Kind
The night began with Penn Ketchum (the theater’s owner and namesake) coming out and firing trivia questions at the crowd. The film itself was awe-inspiring: a gorgeous print of a wonderful movie. Richard Dreyfuss’ performance was legendary—nuanced and manic, but never ham-fisted. He won the Academy Award that year for Best Actor, but not for this film; he won for his role in The Goodbye Girl.
The experience reminded me of seeing Poltergeist in the early 80s and being terrified by the scene of the mother trying desperately to get out of a pit dug to accommodate an in-ground pool, clawing at the mud in the pouring rain and sliding again and again back into a nightmarish clutch of skeletons. No one cut off his own foot, there were no meat cleavers to the chest, and no one was disemboweled—and yet it remains one of the most frightening moviegoing experiences of my life. (The creepy clown in that kid's room didn't help matters, either. Yeesh.)
Here’s a full-season list of the Monday Night Movies series. I highly recommend taking the short trip down 222 for one (or more) of these features. (Email me for easy directions.)
9/13 Gone With the Wind
9/20 Close Encounters of the Third Kind
9/27 Kelly’s Heroes
10/4 Titanic
10/11 Jailhouse Rock
10/18 From Here to Eternity
10/25 The Goonies
11/1 The Shining
11/8 Caddyshack
11/15 The Big Lebowski
11/22 Planes, Trains & Automobiles
11/29 True Grit
12/6 Home Alone
12/13 National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation
So enough about me. How’s the weather?
Weather narrative: The next couple of weeks will feature highs in the 90s and highs that will barely make it into the 60s; that’s what I call a season of vicissitudes. The next few days will be increasingly humid and rather hot, with highs at or near 90 throughout the rest of the week. Watch for isolated thunderstorms on Wednesday afternoon.
The weekend is looking somewhat volatile, weather-wise. Saturday looks like the better of the two days, with the just the chance of some passing showers; Sunday may have more widespread showers. Highs both days will be in the mid 70s, considerably lower than the previous several days.
Next week, after a rainy Monday, we settle in for some weather typical of early autumn: highs in the upper 60s. By the end of next week, highs will struggle to get into the 60s at all.
The following weekend (the first weekend of October) is looking beautiful.
Beyond the forecast: By mid-October, we’ll see highs only in the low to mid 50s and lows dipping into the 30s…
Monsoon's Weather Forecast and Hassel-chat
My good people,
Before I get to the weather, allow me to indulge in a bit of brief Hoff-related chitchat. In point of fact, David Hasselhoff is poised to make a powerful statement about his versatility, his star quality, his ichweissnicht (je ne sais quoi, auf Deutsch) in the coming months.
Just under two weeks ago, The Hoff was “roasted” memorably, if crudely, on Comedy Central.
Beginning in September, he will compete on the upcoming season of “Dancing with the Stars.” (Big ups to Mo and Nicole for scooping even me on this story!) This is a show I’ve never watched, save when Ozomatli performed live on one of the episodes. But rumored participants in this season’s competition, aside from Mikhail Baryshnik-hoff, include Audrina from “The Hills,” The Situation from “Jersey Shore,” Bristol Palin, Octomom, Brandy, and Michael Bolton. (Is it “Dancing with the Stars” or “Dancing with the Has-Beens and Never-Wases”? I mean, aside from The David, of course.) Not to mix metaphors, but that’s what I call an irresistible train wreck of biblical proportions.
And finally, his A&E reality show, elegantly titled “The Hasselhoffs,” premieres in December.
My “live blogging” during the Hoff Roast was a success, so I was thinking of bringing it back for DWTS and/or the A&E show. Thoughts?
Alright, enough of that. It’s time for…
the weather:
Weather narrative: Here at the end of summer (at least for those of us in the education field), the weather has been rather nice: highs in the 70s to low 80s with low humidity. Friday and Saturday should also be quite pleasant, as temperatures will be only moderately above normal and humidity will remain low.
The final heat wave of the summer will begin Sunday, the first of five straight days with high temperatures 90 or above. A relatively low dewpoint and light north and northwest breezes should make things much more tolerable than during other heat waves this summer, when heat indices soared above 100 for days at a time. But still, damned hot.
Things start to moderate toward next weekend, and conditions will be about normal for this time of year.
In terms of tropical storms, Hurricane Danielle is strengthening, but will deal only a glancing blow to Bermuda before heading back out to sea. I’m more interested in Earl, which is currently a tropical storm but looks as though it will intensify into at least a category 3 hurricane. Some models are suggesting that Earl could make landfall along the eastern seaboard, perhaps in our area, around 9/5. Stay tuned for updates.
A return of the heat and humidity will be an unwelcome visitor around the middle of the following week (9/7 and 9/8), but I think that will be short-lived.
Future weather: As we head toward the end of that week (9/9 and 9/10), the humidity will break with some strong thunderstorms and conditions will be drastically cooler. Highs will be in the 70s and lows in the lower 50s.
Winter sneak-peek: There has been a good bit of talk already that we’re going to have a harsh winter. Just today I was talking with Amy about the quantity and girth of acorns on many lawns right about now. As it turns out, extreme heat and humidity during a summer can beget larger and more plentiful acorns, which in turn can be a harbinger of a severe winter. That’s Farmer’s Almanac stuff, there, but there could be some truth in it.
I will, of course, release a comprehensive winter forecast sometime in November. But my preliminary investigation has yielded some sense of what I think we’re in for: late November and December are colder than normal; January thaws; February is frigid; winter temperatures last into March and even early April, with wild fluctuations in between. In terms of wintry precipitation, I don’t see a repeat of the “snowmageddon” of 2009-2010, but a series of smaller snow events, ice storms, and the like, which can be just as dangerous, if not more.
Again, this is a thumbnail sketch; much more detail to come.
I hope everyone has a fantastic 2010-2011 school year!
Bunk's Pre-2nd Birthday Photo Bash
In two short weeks, The Bunk will turn two years old. In the "dog years" formulation, he'd be starting high school, battling acne, and starting to dream of getting his learner's permit. But, unlike most teenagers, The Bunk just gets sweeter and sweeter, showing none of the mumbling aloofness of the typical freshman.
So: Happy Birthday, Bunk. Here are some pictures to brighten your day, as he does ours.
The Bunk gazes longingly into the backyard. Perhaps he is thinking about barking at the family of chipmunks that has emerged from its home under our neighbor's shed. Perhaps he has discovered the meaning of life, but is keeping it to himself.
The Bunk sleeping in the "splayed" position, which he only wangles himself into when he's feeling utterly secure and content. Sweet dreams, my boy.
The Bunk, pensive. Or, sleepy.
The Bunk after a brush, so his fur is at maximum poof. Isn't he just the cutest dog in the whole, wide world? Of course he is. It was a rhetorical question.
The Bunk vs. Homer Simpson. This is a doll--stuffed body, plasticene head--that was given to Bunk by Monsoon's parents on a recent visit to Norristown. Note the ferocious and merciless tactics of The Bunk in attacking Homer. Soon he will go into his "death roll," in which he grasps the unlucky Simpson in his paws and shimmies around on his back while gnawing on Homer and growling menacingly. I can't resist: D'oh!
Monsoon's Weather Report for Thursday, 12 August 2010
Here's the forecast...
Weather narrative: Rain and storms Thursday may linger into Friday, but Saturday 8/14 and Sunday 8/15 look clear with lower humidity. Humidity builds back in late Sunday, though, bringing with it the chance of thunderstorms at almost any time in the first part of next week.
The end of next week will be warmer and more humid still, with temperatures several days flirting with (or perhaps eclipsing) the 90-degree mark. This spell of tropical conditions won’t break until Tuesday 8/24 or Wednesday 8/25.
Future weather: Humidity breaks around mid-week as a strong cold front moves through, bringing with it potentially damaging severe storms. That following weekend (8/28 and 8/29) is looking gorgeous with highs in the low 80s, low humidity, and a nice breeze.
Introducing ... ARMANI SPADE
Back in the early 90s, I was on the Campus Center Board (CCB) at Albright, an organization that brought comedians and recording artists to campus and set up events for the student body. We got some great young comics, including Jay Mohr (he was great, and I remember him raving about the new Beastie Boys album), Janeane Garofalo (she was rather unpleasant, and stood outside smoking until the last possible moment she had to go onstage), and Renee Hicks (she was bald, apparently by choice). We also received tons of demos, including one that stood out to me: A Recluse by a Brooklyn-based artist named Armani Spade.
Well. To say it “stood out” is actually a dreadful understatement; it resonated with me so profoundly that I soon became an Armani Spade evangelist, playing the cassette’s hottest tracks for everyone I knew. The cassette’s three main tunes—it also includes an extended instrumental piece called “India (Meditation)” that comprises all of side A, and an instrumental version of “More About Your Eyes”—are a mélange of synthesized rhythm and melody lines, potent and poetic lyricism, and unforgettable vocals. Each song is embedded in this post—though they’re on YouTube, the only video is a still image of the cassette cover.
(Special thanks to Bill Snelling for converting the songs from cassette to CD for me, so I could share them with the world.)
Allow me to deconstruct each track here.
The best place to start is with the first song on side B, “More About Your Eyes.” The piece is a study in the tension that exists in the space between desire and attainment, that magnificent limbo from which Spade sings and raps about his amorous intentions. At 1:21, the song’s energy shifts, underscored by an ominous tone, as Spade raps, “Gettin’ next to you in latitude.” The climax follows immediately thereafter as he then wills his voice into a previously unattained tonal range and sings, “Listen to what I say! / It feels better this way / Don’t tell me to go / ‘Cause I won’t leave you no / But if I do and I got spare time / I will think about you all the while / Nothing could take my mind from you / ‘Cause you’re all I want to do.”
Once the song has reached these heights and Armani has employed a sophisticated vocal overlay, the listener is left with the pulsing swish of a heartbeat—an afterglow, if you will, befitting the emotional and romantic journey he’s just taken us on.
Though spent by the power of “Eyes,” we have no time to recover before “Could I Get A Little Closer,” which begins with a fierce warning yawp from Spade that announces his passion will not be denied. Again, the lyrics best lay bare the astuteness of this piece: “I called you up on the phone / To come to my pad, my crib, my home / To talk about the birds and the bees / The chemistry between my bed, you and me / There’s nothing else that you can say to me / ‘Cause I’m lookin’ at your body in a sexual degree.”
The chorus consists of an iteration of the title in harmonized vocal overlay, which is followed by the somewhat more direct plea, “Could I get beside you? / Could I get inside you?” The song is then dominated by an extended keyboard solo—first in a synthesized xylophone, then in a synthesized saxophone—that fully comprises the final three minutes of the piece.
Thirdly, and lastly--but most definitely not leastly--is a composition called simply “Relax,” whose refrain, “Cool cool out, cool out / Cool cool out, cool out,” will be echoing merrily through your ears for many days to come. “Relax” is the dance club hit that never was. It features a jangly riff, throbbing beat, and manic vocals that must be heard to be truly appreciated. The opening lines here, about the singer’s attempts to initiate a romantic relationship through physical gyrations, are deep and instantly grab the listener’s attention: “I remember when I was at the club / Dancin’ with a girl, tryin’ to get some / Then you walked through the door / My eyes and yours made four.” Having laid his two eyes on her two, he then proceeds to praise her physical attributes in the most flattering terms: “You’re more than a man could feed on / Skin so smooth, legs so strong.”
Into this fledgling encounter comes an apparently exotropic Cupid, looking simultaneously with one eye at Armani and with the other at Armani’s quarry. The song concludes with negligee, romance, poor dancing, barely averted fistfights, and a final exhortation to relax.
Having been so affected by this man’s music, I embarked on a more than 15-year crusade to find him, and/or more of his tuneful output. Using clues from his cassette cover (his Brooklyn address, the people he thanked, etc.), I finally tracked him down in 2009.
As it turns out, Armani Spade is just his stage name; his given name is Walde Murray. In a few brief conversations, I learnt much about how Walde became Armani. For some reason, he was surprised (but delighted) that someone wanted to talk about his music.
A Recluse was the most professionally recorded piece he did; all else that exists are snippets and unfinished songs. He can see the other songs’ potential, he said, but to someone else it might sound like nothing. “Somebody could look into Stephen King’s book and they see scratches and scribbles and things, even in a verbal sense,” he explained.
He told me that he writes “straight out, from the inside out,” eschewing any pattern or methodology. “You write it in such a way that you amaze yourself, or somebody else comes along and says, it’s not much there,” he said. “But then, something came out of it.” He likened his songwriting style to that of the late King of Pop, Michael Jackson. Recently, Jackson released an album of unfinished songs that illustrated the need for a good producer to “draw out” the music’s potential. “Let’s use a real bass guitarist, or a real piano-ist [he or she might say],” making magic from “unrefined work.”
Armani Spade received “great responses” to the cassette when it was released. However, he had no luck taking his tracks to radio stations and asking them to play his music. “If it had been a known star,” he observed, “it would have been played.”
Walde Murray has spent the past nine years in the US Army, which does not afford him the time or resources to continue his music dreams. While it’s important to “follow your heart,” it’s also important to make a decent living, he said. However, when he retires to the reserve, he plans to renew his pursuit of music stardom, as he is still formulating ideas and writing songs. “I’m keeping my head into the up-to-date stuff” as a way to stay in tune with modern musical sensibilities, he said.
“I need to keep my eye on the ball,” he said, “and the ball is music.”
Monsoon's Newseum Review and Television Debut
If, as Jean-Paul Sartre wrote, hell is other people, then people in their hordes and crowds and maundering packs of listlessness must constitute a new circle in Dante’s Inferno. Trying to have a meaningful museum-going experience amidst the sweaty multitudes is a nearly fruitless pursuit. Dodging visor-and-fanny-pack-bedecked tourists, restless adolescent Boy Scouts and their harried scoutmasters, giggling imps, and fusty society ladies can take all the magic out of taking a look at some nice-assed art.
Seeing a large wooden track for homemade model cars bisecting a portrait gallery in the Smithsonian (it was some sort of Scouting and crafts weekend) was as disheartening as it was shocking.
Surely a museum of that magnitude can be appreciated by patrons of all ages simply on the basis of its cultural and artistic merits without being turned into a Night at the Museum come to life. Judging from the Scouting chaos, the little girl who almost knocked over a statue (prevented from doing so by my alarmed yawp, after which her parents ushered the stunned toddler from the gallery), the disinterested tweens texting obsessively, and the brazenly loud cellphone conversations carried on unapologetically in front of artistic treasures, the answer to that question is a resounding no.
But truly and sincerely, the Newseum was well worth the effort of enduring the inappropriateness, insensitivity, lack of museum etiquette and just plain presence of other people—teeming, snorting, prating, obstructing, farting, shuffling people.
As a person who teaches a journalism elective course, has worked briefly in journalism, and harbors a long-standing interest in the field, I have been excited about the Newseum since it was reported in its planning stages.
The Newseum is on Pennsylvania Avenue between 5th and 6th Streets, and is open 9 to 5 daily (closed only on Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Day). Unlike the Smithsonian museums, which are free, it costs $19.95 for adult admission. Let me hit some of the highlights of this museum; my recollections are by no means intended to be exhaustive, though by the end of this post you may feel much as I do when my mother says “to make a long story short” well into a longwinded saga.
Into the façade of the Newseum is etched the so-called Establishment Clause from the First Amendment, and the length of the building is lined with the current front pages of newspapers around the country and (on the sixth floor) world.
We began on the concourse level, one of the highlights of which was the largest hunk of the Berlin Wall outside Germany (including guard tower), which was supplemented with many informative placards and interactive touchscreens. (The Newseum, like most museums, integrates new technologies and media into its exhibits; however, unlike in many other places, the incorporation of these tools is seamless and overwhelmingly effective.) Another concourse highlight was the changing exhibit “G-Men and Journalists: Top News Stories from the FBI’s First Century,” which included powerful artifacts relating to the Oklahoma City bombing, the DC sniper case, the Branch Davidian compound siege, the fight against hate groups, and the Unabomber case (including Ted Kaczynski’s actual cabin).
From there we were whisked up a hydraulic glass elevator, past the gigantic LCD monitor and up to the 6th floor, which wasn’t great. (This is the recommended path for exploring the Newseum—concourse, then 6th floor and work your way down—and we followed it.) From the 6th floor we could see down to the 4th floor, which is dominated by a 9/11 exhibit that focused too much on the outrage of the American people and not enough on journalism’s role in covering the attacks.
The 5th floor, though—once we got there (it was a little difficult to figure out how to access it)—was staggering. Visitors are just overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of information: News History traces the history of news-gathering in the US from its earliest examples through its transformations and milestones and vicissitudes. The room is dominated by rows of drawers containing glass-encased newspapers and magazines, chronicling not only the story of us as a people, but journalism as a field. Ringing the room are interactive pieces focusing on various major topics—satire, plagiarism, Watergate, tabloids, the publishing barons, etc. All contain a masterfully conceived admixture of actual artifacts, news items, video clips, and more. There are also several small theaters on the outer edge of the room—and, in fact, throughout the entire museum—showcasing issues in journalism, exploring ethics and news values, discussing photojournalism, etc.
My only complaint for the 5th floor was that the lighting was too dim to read beyond the headlines, and the arrangement of the drawers at knee-level and in vertical columns meant that closer examination—to say nothing of sharing material with another museumgoer—was impractical. But really, these are comparatively minor quibbles.
The 3rd floor was a’ight: stuff about Edward R. Murrow, internet news, and a memorial to journalists killed while covering the news. It should be noted that throughout the Newseum are actual pieces of journalistic history that go beyond the newspapers and typewriters: news vans and helicopters, studio cameras, satellite dishes, and the like.
Friends, on the 2nd floor, I became a child again. The 2nd floor is home to the Interactive Newsroom, where one can queue up and become part of an actual “newscast”! To be honest, the opportunity was seized mainly by children, but I could not resist even the fleeting fulfillment of a longtime dream: to be a weatherman.
The results:
Mrs. Monsoon can be heard near the end of the video laughing loudly at my inexplicable antics: the saucy delivery, the tentative, pointless gestures, and just the obvious glee I took in being in front of the camera. Your comments are, always, welcome.
Finally on the first floor are the 4D theater (skipped it), the gift shop, and one of the most moving exhibits I’ve ever seen. The gift shop has lots of what you would expect—key chains, magnets, pencils, shot glasses, and more emblazoned with the Newseum name. It also has some great DVDs, mugs that read “Not tonight dear … I’m on deadline” and—the pièce de résistance —a book called Correct Me if I’m Wrong. This slim volume collects the best selections from the Columbia Journalism Review’s popular feature “The Lower Case,” which reproduces unintentionally funny headlines and press blunders. Some examples—which are also printed on tiles in the Newseum’s bathrooms—include:
Nuns forgive break-in, assault suspect
Crack in toilet bowl leads to 3 arrests
Literarcy week observed
Parking lot floods when man bursts
Drunk gets nine months in violin case
Farmer Bill Dies In House
…and my personal favorite…
Johnson Teacher Talks Very Slow
The first floor is also home to the permanent exhibition of Pulitzer Prize winning photographs. All of the winners are reproduced in small prints, but there are 30-40 enlarged photographs, each with a bit about the context of the piece and a reflective comment from the photojournalist responsible for the image. I had not seen some of these photographs, but even with the ones with which I was familiar—the execution of a Viet Cong prisoner in Saigon, the iconic image of a firefighter carrying an injured infant after the Oklahoma City bombing, the famous photo in the aftermath of the Kent State massacre—seeing them in a gallery setting, presented not just as photojournalism but really as art, was profoundly affecting. Many museum visitors were moved to tears by some of the photographs. I marveled at how impactful, how intense a photograph can be—far more moving and eloquent, in many cases, than a video of the same event, or an eyewitness account.
Not to be missed, and never to be forgotten.
Monsoon's Time Capsule: Today was like a terd struck me!
Today boggie shnot was dripping out of my nose!
Today is art. Nodbody hardly talked to me!
We had art today. Today is a fartty! day!
Yesterday I could of pooped! My mom drived me nuts!
As I opened the box, I felt as though I was revealing the contents of a time capsule, sealed nearly thirty years ago. In the box—obtained from my parents, who are cleaning out their storage cellar—were artifacts from my first few years of school. I took a deep breath and dug in.
In excavating my wonder years (at Cole Manor Elementary School - what what!), I found stories I had written, pictures I had drawn, simple poetry and yellowed report cards and autograph books. But what I found most engrossing were two journals I wrote in 1st and 2nd grade, respectively. As the note from the teacher stapled to the front cover explained, the journal’s “purpose was to encourage the expression of thoughts and feelings in writing. Some of what is written may by very personal to your child.”
Here is one of the first entries of the first journal, written when I was seven years old:
In combing through these journals, I found much of value: reminders of old feuds and crushes; evidence of the deeply nerdy and spastic manner in which I conducted myself; remembrance of happy times in what, in recollection, often seems to be a somewhat less than happy childhood. (And some of it confirms that perceived unhappiness.) Most of all, many of the entries are just a jumbled mess of goofiness, still-developing syntax, scatological humor, and utter confusion.
I present here a selection of the most memorable entries—the masterful similes, the eloquent summative statements about lousy days, the beginnings of my storied fussiness, the obsession with fecal matters, the allusions to 1980s television, the burgeoning awareness of girls, the angry denunciations of my peers, and more—all of which is presented unedited, as written. Please, enjoy.
The first journal was from first grade, so I was 7 years old.
Today boggie shnot was dripping out of my nose!
Today is art. Nodbody hardly talked to me!
We had art today. Today is a fartty! day!
Yesterday I could of pooped! My mom drived me nuts!
Today ain’t very good. Today was like a terd struck me!
Ah yes, the great cosmic terd (properly spelled "turd," but whatever). As Longfellow famously wrote, "Into every life a little terd must fall."
Today I went to the bathroom at scholl, and I didn’t have the runs.
I must break in here to observe several patterns already emerging: I was preoccupied with fluids and secretions; I was fond of the exclamatory; I did not care for art class—more on that later—and I was actually kind of lonely.
Today smells like poop!
Today Roberrt brought a picture of naked wimmin in today. I’ll show you.
And I did, by drawing crude renderings of the breasts and buttocks that lingered in my imagination after Robbie Mitchell—he’s to my left in the class picture—showed me the smut. I am in the white plaid shirt; Robbie’s shirt is red and blue.
Aside from those identified in the text: middle row, far left is Luke Embree; middle row, third from left is Craig Smyser; top row, fourth from left is Robbie Fisher; and top row, next to teacher is Christine Oliver.
Everybody kiss my grits!
Today Dee was hilarious.
That would be Dee Herbert, top left in the photo, who gave me my first kiss in Kindergarten.
Today Amanda was hit by alot of cheese!
Note the passive construction here: Amanda was hit avoids the delicate question of who did the throwing of the cheese. I don’t recall that it was me, but I cannot rule it out.
Today was like a fart.
Today – toilet.
Today Robert was on the stage for the 9th time!
Again, Robbie Mitchell. Children who misbehaved during lunch were forced to stand on the stage to be ridiculed by the rest of the student body. In reality, few dared ridicule these kids, as they were usually the baddest asses among us.
__________________________________________________________
The second journal was from second grade, so I was eight years old. Here I acquired a more sophisticated vocabulary, wrote more complex sentences, and must have even learned “cursive” (script writing), as there is evidence of such writing herein.
Today is the first day of school. I feel Absouluteley, Positively, lousy!!!! about coming to school today.
Today Sucks!
Today was suckey.
Glen learned a new word over the summer, evidently.
Today we had Mrs. Farb for reading. She is terrible.
I don’t recall what was so terrible about her, but seeing the name did evoke a sort of visceral revulsion in me.
Today I ate my finger.
No, I did not.
Today Adam is DEAD! Because Adam likes Denise and so do I, and Adam likes STEPHANIE and so doe Bruce!
Detail: Monsoon, grade 2
That would be Adam Vogin—front row, right side, smartly dressed in a navy blue three-piece suit and docksiders—and Bruce Jacoby—front row left, maroon checkered blazer. Oh, and Stephanie Smith, to my right in the light pink dress. I had my first date with Stephanie in 5th grade: my mom took us to see A Christmas Story and went to see another movie. Stephanie sat in the aisle seat and put her coat in the seat next to her. I spent the beginning of the film brooding from two seats away, but quickly got caught up in the hilarity of the movie. And check out Mrs. Bair, whom I had a major crush on. But I digress.
Today I wanted to sit next to Denise in the play, but I didnt.
Today is really cruddy!
Today I wen’t nuts! Everybody says “Like yer lady shirt”! I was about to kill them!
I know not what shirt had drawn the ridicule of my peers, but I recall having clothing-related distress even in Kindergarten. My mother would dress me in a tan, ribbed turtleneck shirt and brown corduroy pants, and each time I was forcibly clad in this earthy fashion tomb, I suffered untold anguish. In addition, I was beginning to get a bit of a belly (as you can see in the baseball picture), so when my mother took me to Penney’s to shop for school clothes, she would blare as we entered the boys’ section: “Where’s the husky section? Do you’s have husky pants?” And I would die, die, die.
Eddie Oceluss’s _____ is grass today! Kendall is gonna beat his _____! I’m sure were gonna win the fight.
Clearly “ass” is the omitted word, and I think that I took no part in any such dust-up. Sadly, no picture of Eddie, or Kendall. Kendall was a young black man who was always getting in trouble. Usually we were on good terms, but in 3rd or 4th grade I called him a “fartface” while getting off the bus, and he pummeled the ever-loving shit out of me by the monkey bars.
Geic! We have our book test on Monday. My black eye is healing up. I had the most terriblist dream of all of the centurys!
No word on what the dream entailed, or what “Geic” means. Lost to the ages.
I am frusturated! My friend [crossed out theatrically] bruce told denise that I made a crank phone call on her! (But I didnt!)
Really: I may have.
Today we are having spaghetti for lunch and having a play at 11:00. The play is cinderella and I think I’m going to hate it!
Today I think is going to be a bad day Because Kendall has been picking on me. I think kendall is every curse in the world that anybody ever said!
This was around the time we got HBO and my parents would let me watch George Carlin specials with them, so I could have actually supplied more than a few of these curses.
Today I am buying lunch. We are having Cheeseburgers. I like them. Today Kendall is picking on me like I was a nose!
Today I fell in love. This sexy fox came walking down our bus stop. I fell down. And that is all I have to say today.
These were apparently my first blues lyrics. Really, though: can there be any more succinct statement of the devastation that results when love strikes?
Yesterday I saw flash gordon on home box. I might to Denise to the movies if she wants to go and her parents let her go. I am paying for it. We are seeing Robin Hood. I love her. I hope my mom sits in the row in front of us so we can be necking during the movie.
Today we have a contest. I don’t know what it is though. I think it is going to be a dumb contest.
Here we see the beginnings of my cynicism: I do not know what the contest is, but I know it will be dumb.
Today Denise is absent. I think Stephanie likes me. I don’t know why but I think she likes me. Kathy has poison ivy so she better not touch me.
Reality check: Denise is trying to avoid me; Stephanie does not like me (see above); Kathy does not even want to get near my cootie-ridden self.
We have art today. I HATE ART!!!!!
Today I am going to a Phillies game. They are playing the Giants. I hope the Phillies win. I really like Mike Schmidt.
Little League, right around this time. I would spend much of my time standing in the outfield swatting at chiggers, or riding the bench. The outfit in which I am clad is just stone cold sexy: rolled-up jeans, polo shirt collar poking fashionably out of uniform t-shirt, sweatshirt under the t-shirt. Need I go on? Oh, and that's Adam Vogin again, sitting closest to me.
Art was fun yesterday. I am going to be so bored because you know how I hate violin music.
Alright, so I like art now, but I have a well-renowned aversion to classical music.
Today we didnt go to the zoo! I am so mad I could spit nickels! We are going on June 3!
Either my mom or my nana or both used this phrase: “spit nickels.” Could I have really been this worked up about the postponement of our field trip? Or did I just want to wield that cutting phrase?
Today we are seeing the Muppet movie. I liked it the first time and I am willing to see it again.
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And that’s that. First grade began with my favorite hanky, and second grade ended with a frank, controlled keenness to see The Muppet Movie for the second time.
It’s all so much clearer now…
Monsoon’s Heat Wave Alert for Saturday, 3 July 2010
After a few idyllic days with highs in the 70s and pleasant breezes, we’re in for the first real heat wave of the summer: with temperatures reaching into the 90s on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Blech.
Saturday 7/3: Starting out cool; overnight temperatures will be in the 50s around here. Temperatures will climb rapidly in the afternoon, reaching 88. Low 62. And here we go.
Sunday 7/4: Hot, but not yet really disgustingly humid. High 94, low 65.
Monday 7/5: Blazing sunshine with increasing humidity. You'll feel like an hours-old cheeseburger baking under a merciless heat lamp at a rest stop Roy Rogers. High 96, low 69.
Tuesday 7/6: Hazy, hot and humid. Just soupy. Any time you spend outside will feel like you are swimming through a steaming vat of sweat bisque. High 97, low 71. Heat indices in the 100s.
Wednesday 7/7: Hot, humid, and partly cloudy. By this point you will have forgotten your name, and hallucinations will be common. You’ll move with the leaden, apathetic steps of a high school sophomore walking back to class from the lavatory. Someone will ask, "Hot enough for ya?" and you will stab him in the forehead with your car keys. High 95, low 70. Heat indices again in the 100s.
Thursday 7/8: Blah, blah, yadda, blah. You will get into your car and burn yourself on the seat, the steering wheel, and the gearshift all before you start the damned thing. You'd like to cry out, but the humidity will prevent you from catching your breath, so you just blast the A/C and get on your way. But sadly, you are now delirious and forget where you are going. High 93, low 70.
Friday 7/9: The heat wave breaks as a weak cold front comes through, which may touch off a few thunderstorms. High 91, low 66.
Saturday 7/10: Breathing freely will again be possible. High 85, low 55.
Sunday 7/11: Clouds mixed with sunshine and cooler. High 76, low 53.
The following week: Rainy to begin the week, then a bit warmer with highs in the 80s. By the third week in July, I think we’ll see another heat wave brewing.