Whenever I go on vacation I make it a point to not just grab any old thing to read. I try to pick out something that I’ve been meaning to read but have been unable to yet. Especially if I am going to be on a plane because that affords me a solid block of time to delve into a book. For this trip I brought along several books — 2 novels, 1 story collection, and 1 non-fiction book. I did not expect to read them all. I don’t have such a capacity. But I seem to need a tiny library when I do travel. Just in case.
For this trip my focus was on Brett Easton Ellis’ novel, Galmorama. It is the only book by Ellis’ that I have not yet read. I’ve had a hard copy edition for some years and have attempted to read it several times but never got further than maybe 20 pages in. I bought a paperback copy to read on the plane as it is a rather bulky book and have read about 60 pages in so for.
In some ways Glamorama resembles American Psycho. In fact, Patrick Bateman, the MC of AS makes an appearance in this novel, which was written after AS. But then a lot of people make appearances in it. The novel is concerned with celebrity culture. The main character is Victor Ward, male model and It Boy of the moment. He’s opening a new club. And the invite list is long, full of all manner of celebs. Victor is dating a big time model, Chloe. But he’s also running around with Alison Poole, another model/actress, who happens to be the main character in Jay McInerney’s novel, Story of My Life.
As with American Pyscho, the obsession with superficial details is frustrating but oddly compelling as well.
I did just finish a part where Victor meets with his father, which provided a bit more depth to the character, but it was short-lived. And yet enough to compel me on. The plot is supposed to involve terrorists eventually, in some way, I understand.
My main purpose in reading Glamorama is to explore a theme in Ellis’ work that I read about in a more recent article about the author. That theme is essentially the subversion of deep feeling by intensity of sensation, mainly via drug, sex and violence. When I read that it made immediate sense to me. Not just in terms of Ellis’ writing but in much of the culture of the 80s, in which I came of age.
I am always seeking out good reasons to use to defend Ellis’ work, as he has so many detractors and critics, some savagely so. I like to be at the ready to counter such arguments, especially to types who rant about his novel American Pyscho but who have failed to read it, and in fact refuse to read it.
The rain finally did cease yesterday and we were able to go out for a walk through the French Quarter, down Bourbon Street. It was very cool, and somehow vaguley familiar, no doubt from all those clips of Girls Gone Wild Mardi Gras I’ve watched with drunk people crowded onto balconies overhanging the narrow streets, girls yoinking up their tops to bare their breasts in exchange for some cheap colorful beads. Of course, some of these strings of beads do end up dangling from the street car lines that run down the center of Canal Street. There is quite a stretch of strip joints along Bourbon Street, one right after the other, with of course callers on the street trying to get you to enter. Of course, there is not cover charge. They all seemed pretty much the same except for Larry Flynt’s Barely Legal joint. And the one we passed right by that had a young girl sitting just inside the entrance, on a stool, wearing nothing but a pair of purple panties. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what I saw. It could have just been my over stimulated imagination.
The rain returned, however, and with a vengeance late last night in the form of a wicked thunder storm. Lightening flashing the sky. Torrents of rain pummelling the city. It shook us out of sleep. Rained a better part of the day today. But it’s dry now. We hanging in the room tonight, though. But there is a sweet view from our room on the 38th floor.
During last nights storm I did not get out of bed to have a look out the window. Not sure why. Normally it is the kind of thing I’d do, but not this time for some reason. I did dream about waking up to have a look out the window, only to be startled by a flood that was just below our floor and quickly rising. Not sure that is even possible, but it was a dream after all.
Here’s hoping it will be dry tomorrow. I like getting writing done up in this high-rise room. Makes me feel very important and all. But there is a cool-looking used bookstore down on Decatur that I’d like to check out. Then plans to hit a jazz club tomorrow night. Garden district tour on Sunday.
No. I’m NOT banging some slutty ex-girlfriend. Although it is warm and wet here. [ba-dump crash!] Yeah, sorry about that….
Colleen (the wife) and I are in New Orleans and it is raining. Flash flood kind of raining, in fact. Should we be nervous? Probably not. And yet I can’t avoid thinking about the Katrina disaster, images of that wreck flashing into my head. Funny. Funny - strange. Not funny - ha ha. But I probably didn’t need to explain that. Anyhoo…Colleen’s attending a conference and I am just tagging along on the comapny tit. Staying at the Sheraton, a high-rise hotel that I think figured prominently on news coverage of Katrina. But I could be wrong about that.
We’re on the 38the floor with a very cool view of the Missippi River. You can see straight down Canal Street (I’m pretty sure) right to the River Walk. Big, long barge full of coal, it appears, being pushed along the muddy waters of the Mississippi and a train trolling through along the river’s edge. Not sure how crowded New Orleans was before Katrina but it seems, I don’t know, not desolate exactly , that would be too dramatic perhaps, but thin, I guess. Still, what I’ve seen so far of this city, which admittedly is not much, has been pretty cool. Looking forward to checking out the French Quarter and The Garden District. Of course, Colleen, NIN fan that she is, wants to go past Trent baby’s old house, where he lived before making the leap to Cally. And, she wants to do a walking tour of one of some old cemetaries. They have tours that take you to see some of the devistation of Katrina, but I’m not sure we’re going to go on one of those. Not because we don’t want to be see any of that because it will be “just too depressing” or anything like that. It just seems kind of strange thing to do, to me anyway. As if the devistation were some kind of macbre amusement park ride or some shit like that. Although I realize that the tours probably help pump money into the economy down here and benefit New Orleans and it’s citizens. I’d rather just make another donation to some Katrina fund, and of course spend money while we’re here.
Of course, I’ll be keeping a vigilant eye out for possible Brand and Angelina sightings — OMG OMG OMG wouldn’t that be just so cool if I actually saw them. Oh. Look. (yeah, I know you can’t actually look, it’s just a fucking expression — sheesh) My hands are getting sweaty just thinking about it. Of course, that could be the humidity. But it is airconditioned in the hotel. Still. Oh, I don’t know.
Ah. The rain seems to be subsiding and the sun is making an appearance. Let’s hope that it lasts.
Not to be confused with J.D. Power and Associates, J.D. Powell & Associate is my cuz in Iowa and his associate is his new pup, Reuben, a doggy that apparently cuts farts, the smell of which live up to his name. PU! Anyhoo… I got a kick out of a recent email that my cuz sent me and I asked if I could post it here. He said, sure, go for it. Well, he didn’t actually say “Go for it.” That’s kind of lame. But he did say I could post it. So here it is. Enjoy.
John D Powell < powell_john_d@yahoo.com > wrote:
I’m not very politically active. Which is to say, I approach politics like an episode of COPS. It’s interesting to watch someone rant and ramble in coherently while local law enforcement surrounds them for thier own protection. However, being a participant on COPS is not on my list of things to do. If you feel that I’m lazy and apathetic, you may be right. I’m nothing but a bad boy bad boy but what am I gonna do.
Anyway, I’m now going on the record with my endorsement for a candidate for President. Here we go…
I am very drawn to Senator Obama because BARACK is the sound I make when I vomit. So, I feel a drunken hangover sort of kinship with him.
But then, in considering Hillary, CLINTON makes me think of female genitalia and the childhood scarring from ethusiastic 1980’s sex education coupled with the Catholic School death threat doctrine of eternal damnation if I ever put what I learned to actual use. So, you see, me and Hillary have a bond rooted in dysfunction. So, I could vote for Hillary provided her health care plan included unlimited thorozene drips to quell the gregorian chants in my head.
Then I consider John McCain. At first blush I might eliminate him from the list of candidates I would endorse. But McCain has one very important, often overlooked, quality. When viewed from the right angle, he has Marlyn Brando like jowels. If John where to pet a cat and do the famous wedding day requests scene from the Godfather I might consider him. If he will show up at the innauguration with an orange rind over his teeth like Don Corleone in the tomsto patch before he dies and, instead of reciting the oath, growls like a monster, I’d definitely consider McCain. Oh yeah, and if his growls make the chief justice scream like the little boy in the movie, I consider him for a 2nd term.
Now the moment has come. Who will I endorse? Well, given all the facts, I’m sure you’ve guess it. There is only one logical choice. It is my sincere hope, for all our sakes, that the next President of the United States is… THAT’S RIGHT!!!
JOHN LANGLEY the Creator and Executive Producer of COPS
The poet and philosopher George Santayana once said, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” To ensure that future generations don’t forget the triumphs and tragedies of pop music’s past, we host another Soundcheck Smackdown over the musical legacies of baby boomers and Generation X. Joining us in studio are Jeff Gordinier, editor at large at Details magazine and author of “X Saves the World,” and music critic Anthony DeCurtis, contributing editor at Rolling Stone and author of “In Other Words: Artists Talk About Life and Work.
I freely admit that I don’t know enough about music, my own generation’s much less any other’s, to argue about who’s is better. I just no what I dig. And I do dig the Beatles and Stones etc. But it is true, I think, what Jeff argues in this exchange. Much of this music has been so overplayed that it has lost its power.
Anyhoo… I enjoyed listening to someone who could take on a Boomer (two in fact, if you count the DJ host who freely jibbed and jabbed at Jeff’s points) on this subject.
As per usual, the Boomer, DeCurtis, seemed smug and condescenting, his attitude througout implying that it was a pointless argument because clearly Boomer music is better and always will be. When Jeff pushed his points, Decurtis back-pedaled into the position that it wasn’t really a generationly argument blah blah blah. Which I find to be a common tactic of Boomers. They seem to think this will effectively end the opposing GenXer’s argument, and while that may have worked in the past, now that GenXer’s are older, adults, and much more versed in making their points, we’re not as liketly back down in such circumstances. I don’t, anyway. Although I wished I could be a good-natured about it as Jeff.
Perhaps one of the funnier moments was when an email from a Gen Yer came in, expressing the wish that she had music as cool as her parents. And on that point Jeff and Anthony pretty much had to agree that too much of Millennial music is, well, crap. Sorry, dudes.
Part of what Jeff Gordinier does in his book, X Saves the World, is to tick off different accomplished members of Generation X, as evidence to the media hyped stereotype that we’re a slacker generation. I’d like to continue in that vein, if I may.
Swingtown is a new TV show that premieres June 5 on CBS, and it was created by Mike Kelley, a GenXer at age 40. The show is set in the 70s and was inspired by Kelley’s memories of his childhood. True to its name the show, in part, involves young hip couples swapping sex partners. Hubba hubba
It got the front page of the NY Times Arts&Leisure section this past weekend, and it looks pretty fucking cool. Just check out this youtube trailer:
The show seems like the 70s version of Mad Men, an AMC show about advertising execs in the early 1960s. Lots of period details. But more lurid and lose. Less Brill Cream and more shaggy mustaches. Less grays and more browns. You get the idea.
It was originally pitched to HBO but the cable pay channel turned it down. With some rewriting it was accepted by a regular network. Will there be any outcry or fallout? Maybe. But what kind and how much?
This novel must be GenXerish otherwise why would they cast John Cusack to play the lead in the movie version?
Beyond that it is about a guy in his mid-thirties who is still single and still fucking up his relationships. Also, the main character, Rob, has an encyclopedic knowledge of music. He owns a used record shop in London (that would be in England, not Ontario) which as much a hang out as a place of business.
And, oh yeah, the movie also stars chubby GenX slacker extrordinaire Jack Black. What more do you want?
How about the following quotes:
First, Rob describing him and two misfit employees work-ethic at his record store:
“…I’m proud of us, of the way that, though our talents are small and peculiar, we use them to their best advantage.”
That is the fucking definition of Generation X.
And this too emits an odor of X:
“…Dick and Barry and I agreed that what really matters is what you like, not what you are like…”
I saw the movie first and had never really intended to read the book. I’ve got a big enough reading stack as it is. But I happened across a paperback copy from the Brit publisher Indigo and for some reason I liked th cover better than the whatever the American publisher’s is. I figured I wouldn’t like it much and just toss it aside in order to move onto whatever else I had waiting. But I didn’t. I really liked it. I’m still diggin’ it too. I may have to check out some of his other work as well.
Pardon my French (why is cursing always associated with the French language in America?) but Mark Leibovich’s front-page-hogging piece in today’s Sunday NY Times Week in Review section is such fucking bullshit. The patronizing Boomer-centric tone of it is so annoying that it makes one want to seek out anyone who even looks like they might have attended Woodstock (the original one not the pathetic 90s rehashes or whatever) and give them a good, swift kick in the groin. Of course, I would never do such a thing. Not in the light of day without a disguise (say a rubber Nixon mask) and a getaway car at the ready, anyway.
I have no fucking clue if Mr. Leibovich is a Boomer but his article certainly drips with fatuous Boomer solipsism. Basically this long-winded opinion piece portrays Hilary as some kind of flawed tough but fair parent-creature to Obama. It asserts that her sleazy campaign tactics have served to toughen up an otherwise soft Obama, preparing him for an even tougher general election against the Republican nominee John McCain and the Republican slander machine by using the exact same tactics these opponents will use to defeat Mr. Obama.
Yeah, right. Whatever.
Of course, it is typical of the Boomers to spin this Democratic Primary race to try and put Hilary in the spot light while nudging Mr. Obama to the margins, putting forth what is no doubt the first of many such arguments to asssert that somehow Hilary made Mr. Obama. What bullshit!
Don’t misunderstand. I do not disagree with the points put forth in this piece. In fact, I find all of them to be right on the money. What I take exceptional exception with is giving so much undeserved credit to Hilary and the lack of credence given to Mr. Obama for his political skills, his ability to appeal to a broad and every-growing spectrum of people despite the savage attacks leveled at him every step of the way and of course his fortitude, which simply can not be doubted at this point.
A point to keep in mind, as the articles states: “….Mrs. Clinton, rather than being a spoiler, has in fact been and unwitting mentor to Mr. Obama.” The key word her being “unwitting.” It was never her intention to be any kind of mentor to Obama. She wants to drag him down. But she will fail. She knows it too. Her only chance now is to somehow fuck it up for Obama in the general election so that she can make another run in 2012. Anyone who believes her plan is otherwise is either naive or purposely obtuse or just a liar. Or perhaps a ranting, bald Cajun that bares a strong resemblance to a fucking rodent. Yeah, I’m looking at you Carville.
A QUICK SIDE RANT:Being from the Detroit area and a life-long Detroit Pistons fan, I also took exception with the basketball analogy in this piece that Isiah Thomas and Michael Jordan were made champions in the 1990s through competing against Larry Bird and Magic Johnson. This is not entirely accurate. Of course, competing with Bird and Magic did help make champions out of Isiah and the Pistons. But for Jordan and the Bulls it was more competing with Isiah and the Pistons, who routinely handed them their asses in the playoffs not to mention much of the regular season. It was the Detroit Pistons Bad Boys who broke down and softened up Bird and the Celtics and Magic and the Lakers for Jordan and the Bulls to get their championships.
Anyhoo…back to the Presidential thing.
But in the end, I very much agree particularly with the point in this piece that says that this competitive Democratic Primary has not been and will not be bad for the Democratic Party. It has energized the party and the American people if anything. It has increased voter registration. It has really ramped up youth (i.e. Millennial) involvement, which is may be the biggest plus of all, while reawakening the political involvement of previously apathetic GenXers. I will not use any term even close to revolutionary to describe what is happening. It is certainly exciting and unprecedented. But more than that, it is all too the good. And for a cynicism-prone, too often apathy-indulging GenXer like myself to make such a statement is very encouraging indeed, I think. Don’t you?
As I write this blog Hilary Clinton is being skewered by jokes on NPR’s Wait! Wait! Don’t Tell Me quiz show. According to reports all of Hilary’s advisors are urging her to find a graceful way to drop out of the race. All except for her husband, Bill. Of course. This was understandable to the host of Wait! Wait! Don’t Tell Me because of course there are two questions to which a husband must always repond, “Of, course not.”
First, “Does this make me look fat?”
And second, “Am I destroying the Democratic Party?”
There was much laughter. And more jokes. If she wants to maintain any semblance of dignity she needs to find an exit strategy. Now!
Of course, as a GenXer this does not surprise me. Somehow I always sensed that GenX would have to fight for the chance to lead in this country. And something tells me that Hilary is still not going to go that easily, and probably not that gracefully. One can only cringe at what she might try next. All eyes are on West Viriginia.
