12/24/13
12/19/13
IT HAPPENED ON FIFTH AVENUE : FILM CIRCA 1947 : HOMELESSNESS CIRCA 1947 : CHRISTINE TRZYNA FILM REVIEW
A vintage Allied Artists film - staring Don DeFore, Ann Harding, Charlie Ruggles, Victor Moore, Gale Storm.
This is an improbable but touching film in which a man who would otherwise be homeless lives the life of a millionaire by infiltrating the boarded up Fifth Avenue, New York, mansion of the second richest man in the world. We see the man, his bowler hat, heavy coat, and cane, as he walks down the street, lifts up a man hole cover, and lets himself into a shut down but extremely livable mansion. It's a squatter's dream with a stocked pantry and apparently a stocked cigar closet too. This squatter knows well how to live the high life. He is a highly principled person. We never ask while watching "What did he do to deserve this? When spring comes he has somewhere else to squat. (He's nice enough to leave the place as he found it. But in fiction we are always asked to suspend disbelief.)
Soon the rich man's daughter leaves finishing school on a whim to be a singer in New York and comes to live in the mansion as her bolt hole. Then other people who have no homes - a couple with children, a single man down on his luck - come to live there. These well dressed homeless are World War II veterans and mom's who wear their millinery and high heels while living in vehicles.
After the second richest man in the world - an Irishman! - has his detectives locate his wayward daughter, he and his ex wife come to visit and influence their daughter to get back to her education and privilege. Of course, stereotypically mom is sympathetic to her daughter because she has fallen in love with a man down on his luck. Once upon a time she and her husband lived in a lousy apartment when they were first starting out. You have to start somewhere.
But by the end of the film you know it; the rich man's heart softens to approve his daughter's less than greedy and materialistic romance and eventual marriage to that man.
The World War II veterans with no jobs and no homes decide to pool their money and get investors so they can establish a kind of shelter town in an abandoned army base. Eventually the rich man gives in and supports their efforts, even though when he got word of their idea he bought it all up for himself.
Review: While watching I was thinking how heartless people have become in the last 60 years. Old films with heart create a kind of happiness in one's own. I was also thinking about the screenwriters of that era who were pitching their ideas to movie makers. This film, posted as "an original story by Herbert Clyde Lewis and Frederick Stephani," was meant to be watched by hopeful Irish (20 years before we had out first and only Irish Catholic in the White House), by hopeful World War II Veterans (soon women who had worked in Industry would be encouraged by the government through well placed magazine articles and such to get married and be stay at home moms. They were no longer supposed to take a job away from a man!), and by those who hoped that class differences could be melted (but seems to me we are nowhere near that yet.)
To have a heart, to have hope, you must also have believe that people are essentially good.
That notion that people are essentially good, is what made this film one of four in a series called FILM FAVORITES, Classic Holiday Collection Vol 2.
This is an improbable but touching film in which a man who would otherwise be homeless lives the life of a millionaire by infiltrating the boarded up Fifth Avenue, New York, mansion of the second richest man in the world. We see the man, his bowler hat, heavy coat, and cane, as he walks down the street, lifts up a man hole cover, and lets himself into a shut down but extremely livable mansion. It's a squatter's dream with a stocked pantry and apparently a stocked cigar closet too. This squatter knows well how to live the high life. He is a highly principled person. We never ask while watching "What did he do to deserve this? When spring comes he has somewhere else to squat. (He's nice enough to leave the place as he found it. But in fiction we are always asked to suspend disbelief.)
Soon the rich man's daughter leaves finishing school on a whim to be a singer in New York and comes to live in the mansion as her bolt hole. Then other people who have no homes - a couple with children, a single man down on his luck - come to live there. These well dressed homeless are World War II veterans and mom's who wear their millinery and high heels while living in vehicles.
After the second richest man in the world - an Irishman! - has his detectives locate his wayward daughter, he and his ex wife come to visit and influence their daughter to get back to her education and privilege. Of course, stereotypically mom is sympathetic to her daughter because she has fallen in love with a man down on his luck. Once upon a time she and her husband lived in a lousy apartment when they were first starting out. You have to start somewhere.
But by the end of the film you know it; the rich man's heart softens to approve his daughter's less than greedy and materialistic romance and eventual marriage to that man.
The World War II veterans with no jobs and no homes decide to pool their money and get investors so they can establish a kind of shelter town in an abandoned army base. Eventually the rich man gives in and supports their efforts, even though when he got word of their idea he bought it all up for himself.
Review: While watching I was thinking how heartless people have become in the last 60 years. Old films with heart create a kind of happiness in one's own. I was also thinking about the screenwriters of that era who were pitching their ideas to movie makers. This film, posted as "an original story by Herbert Clyde Lewis and Frederick Stephani," was meant to be watched by hopeful Irish (20 years before we had out first and only Irish Catholic in the White House), by hopeful World War II Veterans (soon women who had worked in Industry would be encouraged by the government through well placed magazine articles and such to get married and be stay at home moms. They were no longer supposed to take a job away from a man!), and by those who hoped that class differences could be melted (but seems to me we are nowhere near that yet.)
To have a heart, to have hope, you must also have believe that people are essentially good.
That notion that people are essentially good, is what made this film one of four in a series called FILM FAVORITES, Classic Holiday Collection Vol 2.
C 2013 Christine Trzyna All Rights Reserved
12/15/13
THE LINGERING DEATH OF E-MAIL : SOAP BOX : CHRISTINE TRZYNA
THE LINGERING DEATH OF E-MAIL : SOAP BOX : by CHRISTINE TRZYNA
As many of you already know, from the bad experience of it, Yahoo recently decided to "recycle" old e-mail addresses, those that no one had logged into in a year. A year is really not a long time. Now people are gaining access to other people's private information and communication. IT IS A PRIVACY INVADING NIGHTMARE, one that is opening common ordinary people to identity theft and other embarrassments. Yahoo may not be the only e-mail provider, as I hear now that Microsoft is doing the same thing, but I'm personally pissed off at Yahoo.
It's sometimes difficult not to believe that someone wants us all micro-chipped to prevent ID theft. I got a call one morning a couple weeks ago from first one, then another, peach fuzz boy types, and they knew way too much about me.
It's sometimes difficult not to believe that someone wants us all micro-chipped to prevent ID theft. I got a call one morning a couple weeks ago from first one, then another, peach fuzz boy types, and they knew way too much about me.
I've been thinking about my whole e-mail experience and find that my enthusiasm for this form of communication, which I initially thought of as something closer to a telegram than a phone call, has waned considerably.
CLASS REQUIREMENT
CLASS REQUIREMENT
My first e-mail experience was at college, where it became a requirement for a class to not only do all the reading and studying, taking quizzes and writing papers, but to also continue classroom discussion by e-mailing with the TA and classmates. After trying to give some open, honest, and impactful feedback, I soon realized there wasn't much else to say or do. Enough was enough. (All professors do think their class is the only one you're taking!)
SAVING ON LONG DISTANCE PHONE BILLS
I used that e-mail account to be in touch with some friends who had become long distance to save on the phone bill (don't laugh! Few people had cell phones then. Students who lived in the dorms were upset about there being only one phone jack in each room!)
SAVING ON LONG DISTANCE PHONE BILLS
I used that e-mail account to be in touch with some friends who had become long distance to save on the phone bill (don't laugh! Few people had cell phones then. Students who lived in the dorms were upset about there being only one phone jack in each room!)
One of my friends was into playing paint ball. One day he sent me a message about a weekend paintball game that went something like "and I could have killed that guy." The University server picked up the wording and sent a message about using their computers to send (or receive) threats that scared me enough that I called him long distance to warn him. (Don't laugh even harder.)
Soon after that I opened a mainstream, non-university free e-mail account. It would become one of many that I simply didn't use and walked away from rather than cancelling the account. (I should have deleted all of them!) I once even had EarthLink as a service - and their Internet dial up!
KEEPING A FRIENDSHIP GOING - OR NOT
KEEPING A FRIENDSHIP GOING - OR NOT
As I neared graduation, with so very much work to do, finals, a thesis, and not knowing where the hell I was going to live in a few weeks, brewing rapidly, a friend who I'd been e-mailing back and forth taught me my first lesson about the nefarious use of e-mail.
(And for this he is not forgiven.)
Nothing was more important to him at that point than the boycott he was declaring against a venue where he'd been holding free poetry classes over the whiff of cigarette smoke that had made it through the front doors. When I look back on that now, I know this person had an anger disorder, and if it wasn't focused on one person, it would be focused on another. When I refused to join the boycott, our e-mailing ended along with our friendship. But not until he, I heard, e-mailed his entire contact list of poets - hundreds - to say bad things about me.
E-mail was being used to shame me? Shame on him!
Overall, I came to think that e-mail was a substandard way to keep a friendship going. Text was too subject to misinterpretation. But then, this was before the sometimes cute, sometimes irritating smiley and other emoticon faces.
(OK, so now you are holding your belly and rolling on the floor.)
The first and best way to communicate with a person is in person where there is facial expression and the intonations of voice. Next comes the phone. Letter writing - handwriting - is the next best. You can diagnose the handwriting if you want to. (Ah! I see that the slant here has changed. Her hand must be really tired and she's writing on the surface of a book at an angle!) Then typed letters or text oriented messages, like e-mail that are sight based only.
THE LEARNING CURVE CAN BE LIKE A ROLLERCOASTER
Forward a few years later - early 21st century - when I first began to blog. A friend in a coffee house who was very into Social Networking and pretty much spending much of his day on his laptop doing just that suggested that I should experience the Yahoo Blogger. I tried it under an assumed name and fake avatar and actually made a few "friendships," all that went Poof! as soon as Yahoo decided to discontinue that free product. However, I enjoyed exercising my writing skills and learning to import pictures and videos. And what happened with that friend? He managed to attract some very unsavory people into his life. I used his laptop a few times to check e-mail and before you know it he was sending messages to my entire contact list, and with multiple accounts. Clearly even though I logged in and out while he was in the men's room he was able to follow my keystrokes. I started getting mail from the unsavory people he attracted. I spent hours blocking this big mess.
AIN'T NOBODY'S BUSINESS BY MY OWN and THE MYTH OF THE PAPERLESS OFFICE
Next came the clever idea to save documents such as resumes, family pictures, research data, letters, edits, short stories, novel chapters, and other stuff that you would usually have saved in file boxes or cabinets on paper, things that require someone to actually break into your home to steal your property, on line, before the Internet in places like e-mail (or Photobucket, or some other product that has a "privacy settings.") Things maybe you aren't ready to print out yet. I bought into the myth of the paperless office. I did this, and in multiple unrelated accounts. My thinking was half correct and more cautious. While my goal was preservation, such as if things were lost due to fire or flood or actual theft, there would be another place I could retrieve them. In the end neither home or storage unit or Cloud is truly private and safe.
YOU NEVER KNOW SOMEONE UNTIL YOU GIVE THEM YOUR E-MAIL ADDRESS
Next came using e-mail to give people you meet here, there, and around, who seem OK but you don't want them to know where you live or have your phone number - yet. (Now people will say "Find me on Facebook!)
In one case I took a local gardening class - a few sessions - and the teacher asked for contact information, she said to follow up on our gardening experiences. Without my permission she gave my e-mail to someone at an agricultural program at a major university and soon after came one solicitation after another to be a slave laborer at a community garden. More than one a week. And an account that never had spam was subject to all the usual ROT of offers of penile implants, Viagra, Canadian Pharmacies, Diet Solutions, Credit checks, Ponzi schemes, Job Offers, and Social Networking with Sluts, Local Sluts, Horny Sluts, and the one that really got me - Christian Sluts! (Adriana, if you're reading this, you really belong in a jail cell.)
OK, this bothers me, a lot, because I have low tolerance for anything that comes close to porn. I do not want my eyes to even accidentally subliminally view the Rot!
(And that means that I wish the lesbian porn site that attaches to this blog would cut the crap.)
In another case I attended, with an open mind but not conversion, a free class that was supposed to be about A Course In Miracles. Turned out it was actually a psychic witch looking for clients.
Ditto.
Never take a free class where you have to give your name, address, telephone number, or e-mail address as terms and conditions of "registration." Time is money.
These people are putting together a mailing list and they will soon be sending you monthly, even weekly solicitations. Do I have that much time to keep clicking and sending to Trash without reading. No I don't !
A friend tells me that he never really knew what a great person his wife was until they needed to be divorced.
HACKERS ARE EVIL PEOPLE and THEY ARE NOT ALL FROM AFRICA
Recently an account I'd used for years with no spam at all was hacked. I contacted someone who said they were a contracted to Yahoo, they got back to me, and said that they knew that this particular hacking event was one in which the goal was to read all my saved correspondence to put together a profile, invade my bank accounts, etc. LUCKILY I NEVER DO ON-LINE BANKING or ANY FINANCIAL TRANSACTIONS AT ALL ON LINE! Yahoo said that the source of this was Africa and that the same people would then continue to "invade" my entire contact list and go from there.
Sadly, the old "Africa" excuse is just a teeny part of the problem. Think I'm wrong? Then attend a hacker convention in Vegas!
TOOLS ARE MEANT TO MAKE OUR TASKS EASIER, OUR LIVES SIMPLER
The U.S. post office is limping along with higher postage rates and less service. Why? Because we started using e-mail instead of postage because we thought it would be cheaper. BUT AT WHAT PRICE? Meanwhile, for all your PSYCHOBABBLE LOVERS OUT THERE, there is a NEW DIAGNOSIS and NEW SUBSTANCE ABUSE PROGRAMS! Internet Addiction. With it's sub categories such as SELFIE ADDICTION! People who can't afford cell phones any more are going through withdrawal symptoms!
PS: Did I mention I'm pissed at Yahoo?
TO THE PERSON WHOSE PICTURE ON YAHOO HAS MY VERY WORDS FROM THIS GOOGLE BLOGGER RUNNING BELOW IT!
I'm sorry for you, who ever you are, if you are looking for a job, a boyfriend, or whatever, that YAHOO has you mixed up with me. Yahoo, you are grabbing words that are on GOOGLE BLOGGER, and using them without my permission certainly.
C 2013 Christine Trzyna All Rights Reserved including Internet and International Rights.
(And for this he is not forgiven.)
Nothing was more important to him at that point than the boycott he was declaring against a venue where he'd been holding free poetry classes over the whiff of cigarette smoke that had made it through the front doors. When I look back on that now, I know this person had an anger disorder, and if it wasn't focused on one person, it would be focused on another. When I refused to join the boycott, our e-mailing ended along with our friendship. But not until he, I heard, e-mailed his entire contact list of poets - hundreds - to say bad things about me.
E-mail was being used to shame me? Shame on him!
Overall, I came to think that e-mail was a substandard way to keep a friendship going. Text was too subject to misinterpretation. But then, this was before the sometimes cute, sometimes irritating smiley and other emoticon faces.
(OK, so now you are holding your belly and rolling on the floor.)
The first and best way to communicate with a person is in person where there is facial expression and the intonations of voice. Next comes the phone. Letter writing - handwriting - is the next best. You can diagnose the handwriting if you want to. (Ah! I see that the slant here has changed. Her hand must be really tired and she's writing on the surface of a book at an angle!) Then typed letters or text oriented messages, like e-mail that are sight based only.
THE LEARNING CURVE CAN BE LIKE A ROLLERCOASTER
Forward a few years later - early 21st century - when I first began to blog. A friend in a coffee house who was very into Social Networking and pretty much spending much of his day on his laptop doing just that suggested that I should experience the Yahoo Blogger. I tried it under an assumed name and fake avatar and actually made a few "friendships," all that went Poof! as soon as Yahoo decided to discontinue that free product. However, I enjoyed exercising my writing skills and learning to import pictures and videos. And what happened with that friend? He managed to attract some very unsavory people into his life. I used his laptop a few times to check e-mail and before you know it he was sending messages to my entire contact list, and with multiple accounts. Clearly even though I logged in and out while he was in the men's room he was able to follow my keystrokes. I started getting mail from the unsavory people he attracted. I spent hours blocking this big mess.
AIN'T NOBODY'S BUSINESS BY MY OWN and THE MYTH OF THE PAPERLESS OFFICE
Next came the clever idea to save documents such as resumes, family pictures, research data, letters, edits, short stories, novel chapters, and other stuff that you would usually have saved in file boxes or cabinets on paper, things that require someone to actually break into your home to steal your property, on line, before the Internet in places like e-mail (or Photobucket, or some other product that has a "privacy settings.") Things maybe you aren't ready to print out yet. I bought into the myth of the paperless office. I did this, and in multiple unrelated accounts. My thinking was half correct and more cautious. While my goal was preservation, such as if things were lost due to fire or flood or actual theft, there would be another place I could retrieve them. In the end neither home or storage unit or Cloud is truly private and safe.
YOU NEVER KNOW SOMEONE UNTIL YOU GIVE THEM YOUR E-MAIL ADDRESS
Next came using e-mail to give people you meet here, there, and around, who seem OK but you don't want them to know where you live or have your phone number - yet. (Now people will say "Find me on Facebook!)
In one case I took a local gardening class - a few sessions - and the teacher asked for contact information, she said to follow up on our gardening experiences. Without my permission she gave my e-mail to someone at an agricultural program at a major university and soon after came one solicitation after another to be a slave laborer at a community garden. More than one a week. And an account that never had spam was subject to all the usual ROT of offers of penile implants, Viagra, Canadian Pharmacies, Diet Solutions, Credit checks, Ponzi schemes, Job Offers, and Social Networking with Sluts, Local Sluts, Horny Sluts, and the one that really got me - Christian Sluts! (Adriana, if you're reading this, you really belong in a jail cell.)
OK, this bothers me, a lot, because I have low tolerance for anything that comes close to porn. I do not want my eyes to even accidentally subliminally view the Rot!
(And that means that I wish the lesbian porn site that attaches to this blog would cut the crap.)
In another case I attended, with an open mind but not conversion, a free class that was supposed to be about A Course In Miracles. Turned out it was actually a psychic witch looking for clients.
Ditto.
Never take a free class where you have to give your name, address, telephone number, or e-mail address as terms and conditions of "registration." Time is money.
These people are putting together a mailing list and they will soon be sending you monthly, even weekly solicitations. Do I have that much time to keep clicking and sending to Trash without reading. No I don't !
A friend tells me that he never really knew what a great person his wife was until they needed to be divorced.
HACKERS ARE EVIL PEOPLE and THEY ARE NOT ALL FROM AFRICA
Recently an account I'd used for years with no spam at all was hacked. I contacted someone who said they were a contracted to Yahoo, they got back to me, and said that they knew that this particular hacking event was one in which the goal was to read all my saved correspondence to put together a profile, invade my bank accounts, etc. LUCKILY I NEVER DO ON-LINE BANKING or ANY FINANCIAL TRANSACTIONS AT ALL ON LINE! Yahoo said that the source of this was Africa and that the same people would then continue to "invade" my entire contact list and go from there.
Sadly, the old "Africa" excuse is just a teeny part of the problem. Think I'm wrong? Then attend a hacker convention in Vegas!
TOOLS ARE MEANT TO MAKE OUR TASKS EASIER, OUR LIVES SIMPLER
The U.S. post office is limping along with higher postage rates and less service. Why? Because we started using e-mail instead of postage because we thought it would be cheaper. BUT AT WHAT PRICE? Meanwhile, for all your PSYCHOBABBLE LOVERS OUT THERE, there is a NEW DIAGNOSIS and NEW SUBSTANCE ABUSE PROGRAMS! Internet Addiction. With it's sub categories such as SELFIE ADDICTION! People who can't afford cell phones any more are going through withdrawal symptoms!
PS: Did I mention I'm pissed at Yahoo?
TO THE PERSON WHOSE PICTURE ON YAHOO HAS MY VERY WORDS FROM THIS GOOGLE BLOGGER RUNNING BELOW IT!
I'm sorry for you, who ever you are, if you are looking for a job, a boyfriend, or whatever, that YAHOO has you mixed up with me. Yahoo, you are grabbing words that are on GOOGLE BLOGGER, and using them without my permission certainly.
C 2013 Christine Trzyna All Rights Reserved including Internet and International Rights.
12/12/13
LAWRENCE WESCHLER (1995) FROM AN ARTICLE IN THE NEW YORKER
LAWRENCE WESCHLER - Published 1995 in The New Yorker magazine
He grew up in Southern Cal and became as writer for the New Yorker. This was published in that magazine in 1995. In this article, Weschler examines the question of the light and air quality in LA, which is famous for smog. First he gets opinions at Cal Tech.
Page 668) Hal Zirin at Caltech speaking
"Well, it's all thanks to the incredible stability, the uncanny stillness, of the air around L.A. It goes back to that business people are always talking about - a desert thrusting up against the ocean, and, specifically, against the eastern shore of a northern ocean, with its cold, clockwise, southward-moving current. And the other crucial element in the mix is these high mountain ranges girdling the basin - so that what happens here is that ocean-cooled air drifts in over the coastal plain and it's trapped beneath the warmer desert air floating in over the mountains to the east. That's the famous thermal inversion, and the opposite of the usual arrangement, where warm surge air progressively cools as it rises. And the atmosphere below the inversion layer is incredibly stable. You must have noticed, for instance, how, if you're on a transcontinental jet coming in for a landing at LAX, once you pass over the mountains on your final approach, no matter how turbulent the flight may heave been prior to that, suddenly the plane becomes completely silent and steady and still."... "That's the stable air of L.A."
Pages 669-670)
Angelenos tend to take perverse credit for the uncanny light of the place, as if they themselves were the ones who made it all happen; and, in fact, according to at least one way of looking at things, they may have a point. Someone told me that if it was air pollution I wanted to consider I should go talk to Glen Cass, at Caltech, a jovial, rotund, clear-eyed, and short-cropped professor of environmental engineering with very specific interest in smog....
So I asked Cass,what, exactly, was all that white stuff chocking the view of his beloved mountains?
"Well, it turns out that there are all sorts of different sizes of particles floating in the air - from absolutely minuscule to relatively large and coarse, he explained. "Some of those - and especially the larger ones - simply get in the way of the line of vision between you and, say, that mountain over there. They blot out or diffract the beams of reflected sunlight emanating from the mountain that would otherwise be conveying visual detail to your eyes. Contrary to what you might think, though, it's not so much the large, coarse particles that pose the biggest problem, Instead, it's those of a specific intermediate size - about half a micrometer, to be exact - those constitute the jokers in the deck when it comes to visibility."
from
Writing Los Angeles
A Literary Anthology
Edited by David L. Ulin
Library of America publisher
Copyright 2002
He grew up in Southern Cal and became as writer for the New Yorker. This was published in that magazine in 1995. In this article, Weschler examines the question of the light and air quality in LA, which is famous for smog. First he gets opinions at Cal Tech.
Page 668) Hal Zirin at Caltech speaking
"Well, it's all thanks to the incredible stability, the uncanny stillness, of the air around L.A. It goes back to that business people are always talking about - a desert thrusting up against the ocean, and, specifically, against the eastern shore of a northern ocean, with its cold, clockwise, southward-moving current. And the other crucial element in the mix is these high mountain ranges girdling the basin - so that what happens here is that ocean-cooled air drifts in over the coastal plain and it's trapped beneath the warmer desert air floating in over the mountains to the east. That's the famous thermal inversion, and the opposite of the usual arrangement, where warm surge air progressively cools as it rises. And the atmosphere below the inversion layer is incredibly stable. You must have noticed, for instance, how, if you're on a transcontinental jet coming in for a landing at LAX, once you pass over the mountains on your final approach, no matter how turbulent the flight may heave been prior to that, suddenly the plane becomes completely silent and steady and still."... "That's the stable air of L.A."
Pages 669-670)
Angelenos tend to take perverse credit for the uncanny light of the place, as if they themselves were the ones who made it all happen; and, in fact, according to at least one way of looking at things, they may have a point. Someone told me that if it was air pollution I wanted to consider I should go talk to Glen Cass, at Caltech, a jovial, rotund, clear-eyed, and short-cropped professor of environmental engineering with very specific interest in smog....
So I asked Cass,what, exactly, was all that white stuff chocking the view of his beloved mountains?
"Well, it turns out that there are all sorts of different sizes of particles floating in the air - from absolutely minuscule to relatively large and coarse, he explained. "Some of those - and especially the larger ones - simply get in the way of the line of vision between you and, say, that mountain over there. They blot out or diffract the beams of reflected sunlight emanating from the mountain that would otherwise be conveying visual detail to your eyes. Contrary to what you might think, though, it's not so much the large, coarse particles that pose the biggest problem, Instead, it's those of a specific intermediate size - about half a micrometer, to be exact - those constitute the jokers in the deck when it comes to visibility."
from
Writing Los Angeles
A Literary Anthology
Edited by David L. Ulin
Library of America publisher
Copyright 2002
11/26/13
LAWRENCE LIPTON (1959) First chapter of THE HOLY BARBARIANS - SLUM BY THE SEA
Lipton writes about Venice Beach.
LAWRENCE LIPTON (1959) First chapter of THE HOLY BARBARIANS - SLUM BY THE SEA
Page 421-422
Here, working couples with children find the run-down apartments and tumble - down shacks that the realtor has to offer,. To them, too, it is Land's End. After being turned away in other parts of town with "No children, no pets." they stagger finally into Ocean Park and Venice, foot-sore or with an empty gas tank, ready to rent anything with four walls and a roof, even if the walls are paper-thin and the roof leaks and the toilet is stuffed up. "Wait till you see how I'll fix it up," says the wife with a tired little smile, and Dad has visions of puttering around Sunday morning with a paint brush turning this time-rotted ruin into the American Dream Home of the magazine color pages.
The young who come here have no such dreams. The aged, living in the sealed-in loneliness of their television sets, will leave them alone. The working couples, fatigued after a night on the graveyard shift at nearby Douglas Aircraft, will nod over their beer and listen to the jukebox in the waterfront taverns. If books, painting or music, or all-night gab fest are more important to the young than the mop and dishrag, nobody will read them any lectures on neatness in a neighborhood where it is no crime to leave the beds unmade and two days' dishes in the sink. Nobody will turn to stare at beards and sandals or dirty Levi's on the beach where a stained sweat shirt or a leather jacket is practically formal dress.
Writing Los Angeles
A Literary Anthology
Edited by David L. Ulin
Library of America publisher
Copyright 2002
LAWRENCE LIPTON (1959) First chapter of THE HOLY BARBARIANS - SLUM BY THE SEA
Page 421-422
Here, working couples with children find the run-down apartments and tumble - down shacks that the realtor has to offer,. To them, too, it is Land's End. After being turned away in other parts of town with "No children, no pets." they stagger finally into Ocean Park and Venice, foot-sore or with an empty gas tank, ready to rent anything with four walls and a roof, even if the walls are paper-thin and the roof leaks and the toilet is stuffed up. "Wait till you see how I'll fix it up," says the wife with a tired little smile, and Dad has visions of puttering around Sunday morning with a paint brush turning this time-rotted ruin into the American Dream Home of the magazine color pages.
The young who come here have no such dreams. The aged, living in the sealed-in loneliness of their television sets, will leave them alone. The working couples, fatigued after a night on the graveyard shift at nearby Douglas Aircraft, will nod over their beer and listen to the jukebox in the waterfront taverns. If books, painting or music, or all-night gab fest are more important to the young than the mop and dishrag, nobody will read them any lectures on neatness in a neighborhood where it is no crime to leave the beds unmade and two days' dishes in the sink. Nobody will turn to stare at beards and sandals or dirty Levi's on the beach where a stained sweat shirt or a leather jacket is practically formal dress.
Writing Los Angeles
A Literary Anthology
Edited by David L. Ulin
Library of America publisher
Copyright 2002
11/22/13
EXCERPT FROM THURSTON CLARK'S BOOK : JFK LAST HUNDRED DAYS
Commentary : This is fabulous writing, bringing the reader to the scene in the nation, in the world, with broad strokes and then the small details, painting a heart rendering picture of the JFK assassination and immediate aftermath!
CHAPTER "AFTER DALLAS" (Last Chapter)
Pages 347 - 362
Jackie wept first, and from her and from Dallas a tidal wave of tears rolled across the nation and around the world. In New York, there was a murmur and then a rising wail as the news jumped between tables at a midtown restaurant. Advertising men in tailored suits hurried into St. Patrick's Cathedral and fell onto their knees. Outside, drivers hunched over steering wheels, sobbing as dashboard radios broadcast the news. A crowd gathered at the Magnavox showroom on Fifth Avenue, watching on television sets piled two stories high as Walter Cronkite chocked back tears before announcing that the President was dead. Chorus girls rehearsing for an evening television show at the Ed Sullivan Theater on Broadway kicked in unison, arms linked around waists and tears streamed down their cheeks.
In Washington, a rookie police officer wept as he lowered the flag on the Capitol dome to half mast and looked down to see that drivers had abandoned their cars and stood in the street, staring up at the flag and crying... At Harvard, a girl wept on the steps of the Widener Library and a boy hit a tree in time to a tolling church bell... President Truman cried so much when he called on Jackie before the funeral that he had to be put to bed in the White House. A poem by the columnist Art Buchwald began each line, "We weep for, " and conclude, "We weep because there is nothing else we can do." The cartoonist Bill Mauldin drew the statue of Abraham Lincoln at the Lincoln Memorial, sitting with his head in his hands... November 22 would be the first time many children saw an adult cry, and after hearing the news from sobbing teachers they went home to find their mothers in tears. A girl remembered her mother doing the ironing as she watched television, her tears sizzling a they hit the hot iron...
Soviet interest in maintaining the atmosphere of détente created by the nuclear test ban treaty was demonstrated by the appointment of First Deputy Premier Anastas Mikolya, the most powerful Soviet official after Khrushchev, to represent the USSR at President Kennedy's funeral. Khrushchev instructed his wife to write Jackie a personal note, an unprecedented gesture for a Soviet leader that his son believed was meant to stress "the sincerity and personal nature of his sympathy." ... (Yevgeny) Yevtushenko would tell the actor Kirk Douglas, "People cried in the street... They sensed that, in him (Kennedy). there might be a chance for our two countries to get together."
... Big Ben tolled every minute for an hour, lights dimmed in Piccadilly Circus, and Prime Minister Alec Douglas-Home reported that distraught British teenagers were "openly crying in the street." ...
Danes carried bouquet to the U.s Embassy and left behind a six foot high wall of flowers. ...
Sixty thousand West Berliners held an impromptu torchlight procession and gathered in the square where Kennedy had said "Ich bein ein Berliner." ...
President Charles de Gaulle told a friend, "I am stunned. They are crying all over France. It is as if he were a Frenchman, a member of their own family."
EXCERPTS FROM : JFK'S LAST HUNDRED DAYS by THURSTON CLARKE C 2013
The Transformation of a Man and the Emergence of a Great President.
Penguin Press New York 2013 Publisher
CHAPTER "AFTER DALLAS" (Last Chapter)
Pages 347 - 362
Jackie wept first, and from her and from Dallas a tidal wave of tears rolled across the nation and around the world. In New York, there was a murmur and then a rising wail as the news jumped between tables at a midtown restaurant. Advertising men in tailored suits hurried into St. Patrick's Cathedral and fell onto their knees. Outside, drivers hunched over steering wheels, sobbing as dashboard radios broadcast the news. A crowd gathered at the Magnavox showroom on Fifth Avenue, watching on television sets piled two stories high as Walter Cronkite chocked back tears before announcing that the President was dead. Chorus girls rehearsing for an evening television show at the Ed Sullivan Theater on Broadway kicked in unison, arms linked around waists and tears streamed down their cheeks.
In Washington, a rookie police officer wept as he lowered the flag on the Capitol dome to half mast and looked down to see that drivers had abandoned their cars and stood in the street, staring up at the flag and crying... At Harvard, a girl wept on the steps of the Widener Library and a boy hit a tree in time to a tolling church bell... President Truman cried so much when he called on Jackie before the funeral that he had to be put to bed in the White House. A poem by the columnist Art Buchwald began each line, "We weep for, " and conclude, "We weep because there is nothing else we can do." The cartoonist Bill Mauldin drew the statue of Abraham Lincoln at the Lincoln Memorial, sitting with his head in his hands... November 22 would be the first time many children saw an adult cry, and after hearing the news from sobbing teachers they went home to find their mothers in tears. A girl remembered her mother doing the ironing as she watched television, her tears sizzling a they hit the hot iron...
Soviet interest in maintaining the atmosphere of détente created by the nuclear test ban treaty was demonstrated by the appointment of First Deputy Premier Anastas Mikolya, the most powerful Soviet official after Khrushchev, to represent the USSR at President Kennedy's funeral. Khrushchev instructed his wife to write Jackie a personal note, an unprecedented gesture for a Soviet leader that his son believed was meant to stress "the sincerity and personal nature of his sympathy." ... (Yevgeny) Yevtushenko would tell the actor Kirk Douglas, "People cried in the street... They sensed that, in him (Kennedy). there might be a chance for our two countries to get together."
... Big Ben tolled every minute for an hour, lights dimmed in Piccadilly Circus, and Prime Minister Alec Douglas-Home reported that distraught British teenagers were "openly crying in the street." ...
Danes carried bouquet to the U.s Embassy and left behind a six foot high wall of flowers. ...
Sixty thousand West Berliners held an impromptu torchlight procession and gathered in the square where Kennedy had said "Ich bein ein Berliner." ...
President Charles de Gaulle told a friend, "I am stunned. They are crying all over France. It is as if he were a Frenchman, a member of their own family."
EXCERPTS FROM : JFK'S LAST HUNDRED DAYS by THURSTON CLARKE C 2013
The Transformation of a Man and the Emergence of a Great President.
Penguin Press New York 2013 Publisher
11/15/13
11/13/13
JFK and JACKIE VORACIOUS READERS : FROM JFK'S LAST HUNDRED DAYS
Page 72
He and Jackie were voracious readers. For her, books had been an escape from her parent's troubled marriage; for him, an escape during his many illnesses and hospitalizations. His reading had a determined and remorseless quality, and he read at meals, in the bathtub, and even propped a book up on his bureau as he dressed. He told his friend Larry Newman, "I feel better when there are books around. That's really where my education comes from." Exchanging books had become a form of communication for them - a way of expressing feelings they had difficulty voicing.....
Page 73
Kennedy was a fast reader and could have finished the biography that weekend (of Marshall of France: The life and Times of Maurice de Saxe.
******
CT editor : Jackie may have given this book to her husband because Maurice de Saxe, the man it profiled, was much like him. Witty, elegant, a philanderer. Even the Count's mother may have reminded her of Rose Kennedy, growing increasingly eccentric as she aged. Also, the Count's father may have reminded her of JFK's father, Joe Kennedy, who was a "notorious satyr." There were other similarities. Jackie's first child Arabella, had been miscarried. Maurice de Saxe's wife's first born lived only a few days, as had their son Patrick. I wonder if Jackie believed in reincarnation. I know from reading around her that she was a bit of a fatalist.
JFK'S LAST HUNDRED DAYS by THURSTON CLARKE C 2013
The Transformation of a Man and the Emergence of a Great President.
Penguin Press New York 2013 Publisher
He and Jackie were voracious readers. For her, books had been an escape from her parent's troubled marriage; for him, an escape during his many illnesses and hospitalizations. His reading had a determined and remorseless quality, and he read at meals, in the bathtub, and even propped a book up on his bureau as he dressed. He told his friend Larry Newman, "I feel better when there are books around. That's really where my education comes from." Exchanging books had become a form of communication for them - a way of expressing feelings they had difficulty voicing.....
Page 73
Kennedy was a fast reader and could have finished the biography that weekend (of Marshall of France: The life and Times of Maurice de Saxe.
******
CT editor : Jackie may have given this book to her husband because Maurice de Saxe, the man it profiled, was much like him. Witty, elegant, a philanderer. Even the Count's mother may have reminded her of Rose Kennedy, growing increasingly eccentric as she aged. Also, the Count's father may have reminded her of JFK's father, Joe Kennedy, who was a "notorious satyr." There were other similarities. Jackie's first child Arabella, had been miscarried. Maurice de Saxe's wife's first born lived only a few days, as had their son Patrick. I wonder if Jackie believed in reincarnation. I know from reading around her that she was a bit of a fatalist.
JFK'S LAST HUNDRED DAYS by THURSTON CLARKE C 2013
The Transformation of a Man and the Emergence of a Great President.
Penguin Press New York 2013 Publisher
11/10/13
GARDEN VARIETY PARANOIA ? LAPL LIBRARY RECORD? ACCIDENTALLY RUNNING INTO PORN?
GARDEN VARIETY PARANOIA ? LAPL LIBRARY RECORD NOT PRIVATE?
ACCIDENTALLY RUNNING INTO PORN?
ACCIDENTALLY RUNNING INTO PORN?
By Christine Trzyna C 2013
One of my more garden-variety-paranoid associates, who used to be a security guard at a world famous museum and owns a gun collection that was handed down in his family, is, among other things, afraid of how law enforcement (maybe the FBI?) can get your LIBRARY RECORD. The way this goes is that you're suspected of doing something wrong and so they get your library account number and then a list of all the books you ever took out from say, LAPL. From this they determine a psychological profile of you.
The truth is that I do suspect that LAPL and other libraries are collecting this information, but I don't know for sure. I feel more sure that they know exactly what you're doing on the computer with your two free hours, but then I still believe you'd have to be doing something illegal for any law enforcement to actually ask for the record.
Example, several years ago a person was arrested in the Studio City branch for using e-mail to send prostitutes to assignments. It was in the paper that the police had been monitoring (reading) his e-mails for years, since he'd been doing so from the Sherman Oaks branch.
I tried to calm my garden-variety-paranoid associate.
"I read all around subjects. I sometimes take out a book for the hell of it and I may or may not read the whole thing. There are books and films I've ordered, picked up, and then returned without reading or watching much of. NO ONE CAN PROVE YOU READ A BOOK OR WATCHED A FILM SIMPLY BECAUSE YOU TOOK IT HOME. NO ONE CAN PROVE YOU AGREE WITH AN AUTHOR'S POINT OF VIEW or that you were influenced by what you were exposed to! ou can just as well get pissed off at an author as you can suck up information. Who can prove that what you read or watch says anything about you besides that you were curious or had a whim?
Actually, to me, it's circumstantial evidence that you actually looked at or read a web-site. Unless you're Robert Blake and the FBI just looked at your hard drive and found out you were looking for murder supplies.
Through the years I have honestly and accidentaly hit into porn when I wasn't looking for it. n my lifetime I have actually looked for it almost never. I'm not for it. It goes against my spiritual beliefs and what I want for this world.
One such case was maybe a decade ago when I was looking for information on Sarasvati, the Goddess of the Arts in Hinduism. (You might think of her as a patron saint of writers, musicians, dancers...)
At the time I had an earthlink account and used their search engine. One of the main links on the first page was called "Sarasvati's Temple." So I clicked and got onto an inter-racial dating site. I believe it was owned by a woman of some Asian background and her purpose was to give dating advice to men, mostly Asian men, and to assure them that there were inaccurate stereotypes that were effecting their self esteem. So if you paged all the way down to say, page 20, you got to the International Penis Size Survey. This page had a 'how to measure' that had an actual penis on it. I wasn't offended. One of my platonic men friends thought it was so funny that he asked me to print the whole thing out for him to show his friends.
However, soon after that my earthlink account was plagued with porn spam, even communications that suggested I could get my hands on child pornography. It was disgusting. I was advised that pornographers were targeting me. I got over 700 such offers in the 3 weeks that I was out of town on vacation. One person suggested that the offer for child porn was actually an undercover operation.
Then there was the time I was checking on where hits were coming from to this Blog. I happened to be at a Latter Day Saints genealogy library taking a quick break from research and believe me when I say that in the one second that it took to see a flash of the porn and shut it down, the Church people were notified that someone was looking at porn. It was embarrassing as the manager came out and looked at what a row of young missionary men ("Elders") who had just come in were looking at on the computers.
More recently I discovered a graphic lesbian porn site linking to this blog. It took me about half a second to get back to a civilized view of the world. Sometimes people actually think that they are going to get at you in some way, say because you hate porn, by trying to infiltrate your work.
Is this where I yawn?
C 2013 - 2022 Christine Trzyna All Rights Reserved
11/8/13
THEY DIDN'T PAY ME TO SAY THIS! MY FAVORITE SALSA? HOMEBOY INDUSTRIES PEACH MANGO!
HOMEBOY INDUSTRIES : FATHER GREGORY BOYLE - SALSA ETC
Bought it at Ralphs - LOOOOVED it! And there are many other products you can buy to support the effort which focuses on helping gang members get out of gangs and stay out of gangs!
Bought it at Ralphs - LOOOOVED it! And there are many other products you can buy to support the effort which focuses on helping gang members get out of gangs and stay out of gangs!
11/6/13
WILLIAM FAULKNER (1933) GOLDEN LAND
WILLIAM FAULKNER (1933) GOLDEN LAND
"Hush now. Get into your trunks while I fix you a drink. It's going to be swell at the beach." In the bedroom his bathing trunks and robe were laid out on the bed. He changed, hanging his suit in the closet where her clothes hung, where there hung already another suit of his and clothes for the evening. When he returned to the sitting room she had fixed the drink for him; she held up the glass, watching him still with that serene impersonal smiling. Now he watched her slip off the cape and kneel at the cellarette, filling a silver flask, in the bathing costume of the moment, such as ten thousand wax female dummies wore in ten thousand shop windows that summer, such as a hundred thousand young girls wore on California beaches; he looked at her, kneeling - back, buttocks and flanks trim enough, even firm enough (so firm in fact as to be a little on the muscular side, what with unremitting and perhaps even rigorous care) but still those of forty. But I don't want a young girl, he thought. Would to God that all young girls, all young female flesh, were removed, blasted even, from the earth. He finished the drink before she had filled the flash....
Writing Los Angeles
A Literary Anthology
Edited by David L. Ulin
Library of America publisher
Copyright 2002
"Hush now. Get into your trunks while I fix you a drink. It's going to be swell at the beach." In the bedroom his bathing trunks and robe were laid out on the bed. He changed, hanging his suit in the closet where her clothes hung, where there hung already another suit of his and clothes for the evening. When he returned to the sitting room she had fixed the drink for him; she held up the glass, watching him still with that serene impersonal smiling. Now he watched her slip off the cape and kneel at the cellarette, filling a silver flask, in the bathing costume of the moment, such as ten thousand wax female dummies wore in ten thousand shop windows that summer, such as a hundred thousand young girls wore on California beaches; he looked at her, kneeling - back, buttocks and flanks trim enough, even firm enough (so firm in fact as to be a little on the muscular side, what with unremitting and perhaps even rigorous care) but still those of forty. But I don't want a young girl, he thought. Would to God that all young girls, all young female flesh, were removed, blasted even, from the earth. He finished the drink before she had filled the flash....
Writing Los Angeles
A Literary Anthology
Edited by David L. Ulin
Library of America publisher
Copyright 2002
September 11 2023 My apologies to the fourteen readers who hit on this post. I suppose spell check did not work or save did not, as there were an embarrassing number of errors on this post. I do sometimes review posts after hitting the word publish but apparently did not catch these. I hope this is corrected now. This is one of several quotes selected from Writing Los Angeles....
JFK'S LAST HUNDRED DAYS by THURSTON CLARKE : CHRISTINE TRZYNA BOOK REVIEW
JFK'S LAST HUNDRED DAYS by THURSTON CLARKE
CHRISTINE TRZYNA BOOK REVIEW
Any writing on a well known subject (The Sinking of the Titanic, Elvis Presley, the Presidency and Assassination of President John F. Kennedy) is challenged by all those who have tackled it before. This year a number of JKF books are out to celebrate the 50th Anniversary of his death. Are publishers just trying to Capitalize on this or is it more? Could the American Reader be harkening back to a time when the typical citizen believed in his President?
Thurston Clarke was brilliant on focusing on JFK's last hundred days of life, as a President of the United States, because the reader senses in this a countdown to the inevitable. Indeed, that focus makes us anxious because we already know what is going to happen, the death of a President by assassination, an event that is still controversial to this day. Thurston managed to build suspense despite our already knowing what is going to happen.
For a writer the challenge is how to tell the same old story it a different way, perhaps through his own writing style that simmers up from their own personality and character, and in this Thurston Clarke has exceeded all expectations. The focus here is on the humanity of the man and how he had changed as person within the historical context of the Presidency and his marriage to Jackie. Readers around the subject as I am, will take in stride some of the reportage and note the difference in how certain issues are opened without defensiveness.
Haunting are the many times that JFK acknowledged, considered, and spoke about possibly being assassinated, as if he knew, and you know, sometimes people do know that they are going to die.
The last chapter brought all that momentum to the sad climax of the immediate aftermath of the announcement that our American President was slain. The event was impactful, the writing even more so in the delivery of a succession of scenes from around the country and around the world. I cried, and I knew I wasn't just crying for JFK, or what once was, but for our United States of America, which seems to be in so very much trouble now.
Was it innocence that the American public had? How could that be in this era of developing Civil Rights? What made a Harvard educated man who never carried cash or credit cards with him because all bills got paid one way or another, who was shielded from poverty for much of his life, acknowledge the poor and understand that poverty is an issue tied to Civil Rights?
Sometimes I think it was, first and foremost, because of his personal experience of bodily pain, disability, something that he (and his family) sought to dismiss. Many people in as much pain, without advantage, suffer their whole lives in poverty, unable to find an employer who will have them. He knew he would not be elected or considered a viable President if people knew what ailed him, and what ailed him was a lot.
As I continued to read this book, my promise to myself that I really would get up and do the dishes went unkept, as did my promise that I would take my dog for a really long walk. I admit to be a slug of a woman who laid around in an unmade bed until I finished the book. My dog sat with her head down on a pillow watching me, waiting with patience. But not a lot of you have that much luxury, so for you my excerpts.
Christine Trzyna
JFK'S LAST HUNDRED DAYS by THURSTON CLARKE C 2013
The Transformation of a Man and the Emergence of a Great President.
Penguin Press New York 2013 Publisher
10/27/13
CHRISTOPHER ISHERWOOD (1939 - 1942) DIARIES
CHRISTOPHER ISHERWOOD - Published 1939
Isherwood was a British ex-patriot who came to Southern California with his friend W. H. Auden on the eve of World War II. These excerpts are from his DIARIES. He became interested in the Hindu gurus who were here and was once an attendee at the Vedanta Society (as I once was.)
Page 233) From 1939.
..." Krishnamurti was a slight, sallow little man with a scrubby chin and rather bloodshot eyes, whose face bore only faint traces of the extraordinary beauty he must have had as a boy. He was very quiet and modest man and never talked in ordinary company about philosophy or religion. He seemed fondest of animals and not at least with children. Gerald complained that he got violently upset about trifles - like catching a train - and showed little sign of inward calm. Certainly, he didn't impress me as Prabhavananda did; but he had a kind of simple dignity which was very touching. And - there was no getting away from it - he had done what no other man alive today has done; he had refused to become a god.
Page 237) From 1940
..."Garbo was at tea with us today. I think Peter is right when he says she's a "dumb cluck." She actually didn't know who Daladier was. If you watch her for a quarter of an hour, you see every one of her famous expressions. She repeats them, quite irrelevantly. There is the iron sternness of Ninotchka, the languorous open -lipped surrender of Camille, Mata Hari's wicked laugh, Christina's boyish toss of the head, Anna Christies's grimace of disgust. She is so amazingly beautiful, so noble, so naturally compelling and commanding, that her ridiculous artificiality, her downright silliness can't spoil the effect.
Page 243) From 1942.
Yesterday. the Swami drove down to visit us. The day passed off quite pleasantly, although there were some embarrassing silences. The Swami, as always, was very quiet and polite. We drove him up to Trabuco. "Is smoking permitted here?" he asked. It isn't. But he smoked.
From
Writing Los Angeles
A Literary Anthology
Edited by David L. Ulin
Library of America publisher
Copyright 2002
Isherwood was a British ex-patriot who came to Southern California with his friend W. H. Auden on the eve of World War II. These excerpts are from his DIARIES. He became interested in the Hindu gurus who were here and was once an attendee at the Vedanta Society (as I once was.)
Page 233) From 1939.
..." Krishnamurti was a slight, sallow little man with a scrubby chin and rather bloodshot eyes, whose face bore only faint traces of the extraordinary beauty he must have had as a boy. He was very quiet and modest man and never talked in ordinary company about philosophy or religion. He seemed fondest of animals and not at least with children. Gerald complained that he got violently upset about trifles - like catching a train - and showed little sign of inward calm. Certainly, he didn't impress me as Prabhavananda did; but he had a kind of simple dignity which was very touching. And - there was no getting away from it - he had done what no other man alive today has done; he had refused to become a god.
Page 237) From 1940
..."Garbo was at tea with us today. I think Peter is right when he says she's a "dumb cluck." She actually didn't know who Daladier was. If you watch her for a quarter of an hour, you see every one of her famous expressions. She repeats them, quite irrelevantly. There is the iron sternness of Ninotchka, the languorous open -lipped surrender of Camille, Mata Hari's wicked laugh, Christina's boyish toss of the head, Anna Christies's grimace of disgust. She is so amazingly beautiful, so noble, so naturally compelling and commanding, that her ridiculous artificiality, her downright silliness can't spoil the effect.
Page 243) From 1942.
Yesterday. the Swami drove down to visit us. The day passed off quite pleasantly, although there were some embarrassing silences. The Swami, as always, was very quiet and polite. We drove him up to Trabuco. "Is smoking permitted here?" he asked. It isn't. But he smoked.
From
Writing Los Angeles
A Literary Anthology
Edited by David L. Ulin
Library of America publisher
Copyright 2002
10/23/13
10/20/13
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR (1948) AMERICA DAY BY DAY
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR - Published 1948 from "AMERICA DAY BY DAY"
(I would've never guessed Simone spent time in Pasadena or Hollywood. Reading through, Beauvoir saw the dark side of Los Angeles life. She finds what we take in stride as not ordinary. In this excerpt, she is amazed by the way Angelenos buy things on credit and gives her opinion on American cities and neighborhoods that reveal class structure.)
Pages 337 - 338)
"A year ago N. married a GI (Ivan Moffatt), who is now a scriptwriter in Hollywood. When she came to join him, they hadn't a penny between them, and I. was earning very little money. N. was expecting a baby. Thanks to the credit system they practice here, they could rent a kind of barn and transform it into a livable house, and also buy a car, something absolutely necessary in this city of vast distances. Now I.s' situation has improved, but his salary is almost entirely consigned to paying off his debts. Besides, a law requires parents to take their children to the doctor once a week during their first year; this is very costly. It's hard to balance the budget every month. I know all that and also that I.'s car is red. So I am utterly astonished to see a little yellow car standing in front of the station. N. tells me, "It's ours. I. bought it last week just so we could drive around." "Nothing simpler," adds N.M., "since you buy without paying!" Obviously. But I'm stunned by such ease. Los Angeles also stuns me. This city is unlike any other. Below me, the downtown looks just like the downtowns of Rochester, Buffalo, and Cleveland, which themselves evoke New York's downtown and Chicago's Loop. It's the tall buildings housing banks, stores, and movie theaters, the monotonous checkerboard of streets and avenues. But then, all the neighborhoods we drive through are either disorganized outlying districts or huge developments where identical wooden houses multiply as far as the eye can see, each one surrounded by a little garden. The traffic is terrifying; the broad roadways are divided into six lanes, three in each direction, marked off by white lines, and you are allowed to pass to either the right or the left. You can turn to the right only from the right lane, to the left only from the left; this last maneuver is often prohibited, which complicates one's itinerary. At intersections the car that has arrived first has priority, a rule that provokes thousands of disputes..."
Page 339)
"Hollywood, as everyone knows, is where the studious are. The stars live in Beverly Hills,. To see their houses, you have to enter an artificial park humming with neither the muffled life of the countryside nor the feverish life of the city; the luxurious villas are surrounded by a false solitude. Avenues lined with garages and with flat-roofed boutiques, barely one-story high; a blue coastal road above the sea; vast camps of parked trailers, those caravans in which many homeless Americans live on the outskirts of towns; working -class sections filled with monotonous shacks..."
from
Writing Los Angeles
A Literary Anthology
Edited by David L. Ulin
Library of America publisher
Copyright 2002
(I would've never guessed Simone spent time in Pasadena or Hollywood. Reading through, Beauvoir saw the dark side of Los Angeles life. She finds what we take in stride as not ordinary. In this excerpt, she is amazed by the way Angelenos buy things on credit and gives her opinion on American cities and neighborhoods that reveal class structure.)
Pages 337 - 338)
"A year ago N. married a GI (Ivan Moffatt), who is now a scriptwriter in Hollywood. When she came to join him, they hadn't a penny between them, and I. was earning very little money. N. was expecting a baby. Thanks to the credit system they practice here, they could rent a kind of barn and transform it into a livable house, and also buy a car, something absolutely necessary in this city of vast distances. Now I.s' situation has improved, but his salary is almost entirely consigned to paying off his debts. Besides, a law requires parents to take their children to the doctor once a week during their first year; this is very costly. It's hard to balance the budget every month. I know all that and also that I.'s car is red. So I am utterly astonished to see a little yellow car standing in front of the station. N. tells me, "It's ours. I. bought it last week just so we could drive around." "Nothing simpler," adds N.M., "since you buy without paying!" Obviously. But I'm stunned by such ease. Los Angeles also stuns me. This city is unlike any other. Below me, the downtown looks just like the downtowns of Rochester, Buffalo, and Cleveland, which themselves evoke New York's downtown and Chicago's Loop. It's the tall buildings housing banks, stores, and movie theaters, the monotonous checkerboard of streets and avenues. But then, all the neighborhoods we drive through are either disorganized outlying districts or huge developments where identical wooden houses multiply as far as the eye can see, each one surrounded by a little garden. The traffic is terrifying; the broad roadways are divided into six lanes, three in each direction, marked off by white lines, and you are allowed to pass to either the right or the left. You can turn to the right only from the right lane, to the left only from the left; this last maneuver is often prohibited, which complicates one's itinerary. At intersections the car that has arrived first has priority, a rule that provokes thousands of disputes..."
Page 339)
"Hollywood, as everyone knows, is where the studious are. The stars live in Beverly Hills,. To see their houses, you have to enter an artificial park humming with neither the muffled life of the countryside nor the feverish life of the city; the luxurious villas are surrounded by a false solitude. Avenues lined with garages and with flat-roofed boutiques, barely one-story high; a blue coastal road above the sea; vast camps of parked trailers, those caravans in which many homeless Americans live on the outskirts of towns; working -class sections filled with monotonous shacks..."
from
Writing Los Angeles
A Literary Anthology
Edited by David L. Ulin
Library of America publisher
Copyright 2002
10/16/13
EDMUND WILSON (1931) : THE CITY OF OUR LADY THE QUEEN OF ANGLES : EXCERPT FROM WRITING LOS ANGELES
EXCERPT FROM EDMUND WILSON (1931) THE CITY OF OUR LADY THE QUEEN OF ANGLES
page 96) Writing about Bob Shuler and other preachers of the era such as Aimee McPherson and Dr. Briegleb. These people tried to have influence on the values of the city and at question was their own relationship to money.
... "I came from the poorest of the poor, "he would say. "I have always been an underdog all my life, and my sympathies and efforts will always be on the side of the common people... I must be forgiven for wanting this city run in the interests of the common people for the benefit of those who need protection and defense." He did not believe that "an honest officer would be active in enforcing the law against the defenseless and friendless while he flossed his eyes to the lawlessness of the rich and powerful; and he was "against the third degree, against special assessment of the poor, against confiscation of humble homes for public improvements." "I've found a very few millionaires, "he would say, "Who didn't get their money in a manner that I doubted if God could own or bless." He was indignant in his intimations that his Baptist rival, Aimee McPherson, had diverted the money she raised on the pretext of pious purposes to her own luxurious living. When she had elicited, on one occasion, contributions for a monument for her husband's grave, Bob Shuler, several months afterwards, had photographs of the grave taken and would display them to his congregation, showing that there was nothing there but the original ignoble headstone..."
page 106)
... "Poor Dr. Briegleb! Some basic Germanic simplicity, Puritanical inflexibility, professional respectability, will always, one fears, prevent him from appealing to the public of Los Angeles as Aimee McPherson and Bob Shuler do. Shuler can still charm every heart with a whiff of the cow-manure from his heels. Aimee, in her jolly gaudy temple, enchants her enormous audience by her beaming inexhaustible sunshine and her friendly erotic voice. She writes them operas in which ancient oratorios and modern Italian opera are mingled with popular songs and tunes from musical comedies..."
from
Writing Los Angeles
A Literary Anthology
Edited by David L. Ulin
Library of America publisher
Copyright 2002
page 96) Writing about Bob Shuler and other preachers of the era such as Aimee McPherson and Dr. Briegleb. These people tried to have influence on the values of the city and at question was their own relationship to money.
... "I came from the poorest of the poor, "he would say. "I have always been an underdog all my life, and my sympathies and efforts will always be on the side of the common people... I must be forgiven for wanting this city run in the interests of the common people for the benefit of those who need protection and defense." He did not believe that "an honest officer would be active in enforcing the law against the defenseless and friendless while he flossed his eyes to the lawlessness of the rich and powerful; and he was "against the third degree, against special assessment of the poor, against confiscation of humble homes for public improvements." "I've found a very few millionaires, "he would say, "Who didn't get their money in a manner that I doubted if God could own or bless." He was indignant in his intimations that his Baptist rival, Aimee McPherson, had diverted the money she raised on the pretext of pious purposes to her own luxurious living. When she had elicited, on one occasion, contributions for a monument for her husband's grave, Bob Shuler, several months afterwards, had photographs of the grave taken and would display them to his congregation, showing that there was nothing there but the original ignoble headstone..."
page 106)
... "Poor Dr. Briegleb! Some basic Germanic simplicity, Puritanical inflexibility, professional respectability, will always, one fears, prevent him from appealing to the public of Los Angeles as Aimee McPherson and Bob Shuler do. Shuler can still charm every heart with a whiff of the cow-manure from his heels. Aimee, in her jolly gaudy temple, enchants her enormous audience by her beaming inexhaustible sunshine and her friendly erotic voice. She writes them operas in which ancient oratorios and modern Italian opera are mingled with popular songs and tunes from musical comedies..."
from
Writing Los Angeles
A Literary Anthology
Edited by David L. Ulin
Library of America publisher
Copyright 2002
10/14/13
COLUMBUS DAY MEMORIES
We celebrated Columbus Day when I was a child. These days here are alternative theories about who "discovered" the American continent. The Celts, the Norse, or the Chinese, for instance.
We're sensitized to the idea that there were Native Americans here for centuries before anyone "discovered" America, and that the idea that a European discovered the continent is part of a marketing ploy or a mythology that this was a vast country for the taking, absent of any people with land rights.
I once won a Columbus Day poster contest. I was proud of my crayoned images of Spanish with stripped pantaloons pants and Spanish flag on the beach. I was given the prize of one brand new dollar, which I still have.
I once met a man who was so into Christopher Columbus that he went to the very beach that Columbus landed on as a vacation one year. He is the last person - the only person since I won that poster contest as a grade-schooler - who got to see my poster.
These days there's a more than a suggestion - a whole book - on Christopher Columbus as from a family named Colon and Jewish. Don't know how he got that Christian - Greek given name Christopher.
We're sensitized to the idea that there were Native Americans here for centuries before anyone "discovered" America, and that the idea that a European discovered the continent is part of a marketing ploy or a mythology that this was a vast country for the taking, absent of any people with land rights.
I once won a Columbus Day poster contest. I was proud of my crayoned images of Spanish with stripped pantaloons pants and Spanish flag on the beach. I was given the prize of one brand new dollar, which I still have.
I once met a man who was so into Christopher Columbus that he went to the very beach that Columbus landed on as a vacation one year. He is the last person - the only person since I won that poster contest as a grade-schooler - who got to see my poster.
These days there's a more than a suggestion - a whole book - on Christopher Columbus as from a family named Colon and Jewish. Don't know how he got that Christian - Greek given name Christopher.
10/10/13
HARRIS NEWMARK (1915) : SIXTY YEARS IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA : EXCERPT FROM WRITING LOS ANGELES
HARRIS NEWMARK : SIXTY YEARS IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA 1853-1913
Published in 1915
Pages 40-41)
...The charms of climate and scenery (widely advertised, as I have said, at the Philadelphia Centennial and, later, through the continuous efforts of the first and second Chambers of Commerce and the Board of Trade), together with the extension of the Southern Pacific to the east and the building of the Santa Fe Railroad, had brought here a class of tourists who not only enjoyed the winter, but ventured to stay through the summer season; and who, having remained, were not long in seeking land and homesteads. The rapidly - increasing demand for lots and houses caused hundreds of men and women to enter the local real-estate field, most of whom were inexperienced and without much responsibility. When, therefore, the news of their phenomenal activity got abroad, as was sure to be the case, hordes of would-be speculators - some with, but more without knowledge of land-manipulation, and many none too scrupulous - rushed to the Southland to invest, wager, or swindle. Thousands upon thousand of Easterners swelled the number already here; dealers in realty sprang up like mushrooms.... Selling and bartering were carried on at all hours of the day or night, and in every conceivable place; agents, eager to keep every appointment possible, enlisted the services of hackmen, hotel employees and waiters to put them in touch with prospective buyers; and the same properties would often change hands several times in a day, sales being made on the curbstone, at bars or restaurant tables, each succeeding transfer representing an enhanced value...
from
Writing Los Angeles
A Literary Anthology
Edited by David L. Ulin
Library of America publisher
Copyright 2002
Published in 1915
Pages 40-41)
...The charms of climate and scenery (widely advertised, as I have said, at the Philadelphia Centennial and, later, through the continuous efforts of the first and second Chambers of Commerce and the Board of Trade), together with the extension of the Southern Pacific to the east and the building of the Santa Fe Railroad, had brought here a class of tourists who not only enjoyed the winter, but ventured to stay through the summer season; and who, having remained, were not long in seeking land and homesteads. The rapidly - increasing demand for lots and houses caused hundreds of men and women to enter the local real-estate field, most of whom were inexperienced and without much responsibility. When, therefore, the news of their phenomenal activity got abroad, as was sure to be the case, hordes of would-be speculators - some with, but more without knowledge of land-manipulation, and many none too scrupulous - rushed to the Southland to invest, wager, or swindle. Thousands upon thousand of Easterners swelled the number already here; dealers in realty sprang up like mushrooms.... Selling and bartering were carried on at all hours of the day or night, and in every conceivable place; agents, eager to keep every appointment possible, enlisted the services of hackmen, hotel employees and waiters to put them in touch with prospective buyers; and the same properties would often change hands several times in a day, sales being made on the curbstone, at bars or restaurant tables, each succeeding transfer representing an enhanced value...
from
Writing Los Angeles
A Literary Anthology
Edited by David L. Ulin
Library of America publisher
Copyright 2002
10/6/13
EDWARD SNOWDEN READS RUSSIAN LIT AND HISTORY
THE GUARDIAN : EDWARD SNOWDEN READS RUSSIAN LIT AND HISTORY link
EXCERPT: ..."The American had little to do besides surf the Internet and read. Kucherena (his lawyer Ct) said he selected a number of classic books to help Snowden understand the mentality of the Russian people: Fyodor Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment, a collection of stories by Anton Chekhov, and writings by the historian Nikolai Karamzin. Snowden quickly finished Crime and Punishment. After reading selections from Karamzin, a 19th-century writer who penned the first comprehensive history of the Russian state, he asked for the author's complete works. Kucherena also gave Snowden an alphabet book to help him to start learning Russian."
I took a Russian Literature (works surrounding the Russian Revolution) in college. My college did not offer any Polish or Slavic Literature courses at the time. Ever since seeing the movie Reds, and also reading around Isadora Duncan, I've been interested in those times and the people of those times. Pre-Revolution, the Russian Government sponsored artists, poets, writers, dancers, and other creative people so that they could concentrate on their work and be supported without experiencing severe deprivation. Isadora Duncan's memoir explains the conditions in which her students lived, for she was an American ex-pat in Europe when she received sponsorship by the Russian government for her school.
The article linked to finally explains more about Edward Snowden's circumstances and lifestyle while in the airport, which, though repetitive reportage attempted to cover it, was a mystery. As I suspected he was never in a motel or hotel but in the innards of the airport. As those of you who are following the story from all angles as I am may know, there were and are conflicting reports on what's next for the man who has been granted a year to live in Russia.
I've talked to many people I've met while just living my life, people from a multitude of backgrounds, about this whole situation. Though I've heard a variety of opinions (my World War II Vet senior friend yelled "Execute Him!") I haven't fully formed my own opinion quite yet.
EXCERPT: ..."The American had little to do besides surf the Internet and read. Kucherena (his lawyer Ct) said he selected a number of classic books to help Snowden understand the mentality of the Russian people: Fyodor Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment, a collection of stories by Anton Chekhov, and writings by the historian Nikolai Karamzin. Snowden quickly finished Crime and Punishment. After reading selections from Karamzin, a 19th-century writer who penned the first comprehensive history of the Russian state, he asked for the author's complete works. Kucherena also gave Snowden an alphabet book to help him to start learning Russian."
*****
I took a Russian Literature (works surrounding the Russian Revolution) in college. My college did not offer any Polish or Slavic Literature courses at the time. Ever since seeing the movie Reds, and also reading around Isadora Duncan, I've been interested in those times and the people of those times. Pre-Revolution, the Russian Government sponsored artists, poets, writers, dancers, and other creative people so that they could concentrate on their work and be supported without experiencing severe deprivation. Isadora Duncan's memoir explains the conditions in which her students lived, for she was an American ex-pat in Europe when she received sponsorship by the Russian government for her school.
The article linked to finally explains more about Edward Snowden's circumstances and lifestyle while in the airport, which, though repetitive reportage attempted to cover it, was a mystery. As I suspected he was never in a motel or hotel but in the innards of the airport. As those of you who are following the story from all angles as I am may know, there were and are conflicting reports on what's next for the man who has been granted a year to live in Russia.
I've talked to many people I've met while just living my life, people from a multitude of backgrounds, about this whole situation. Though I've heard a variety of opinions (my World War II Vet senior friend yelled "Execute Him!") I haven't fully formed my own opinion quite yet.
10/3/13
WRITING LOS ANGELES - A LITERARY ANTHOLOGY EDITED BY DAVID L. ULIN : CHRISTINE TRZYNA BOOK REVIEW and READING ALOUD
Writing Los Angeles
A Literary Anthology
Edited by David L. Ulin
Library of America publisher
Copyright 2002
This book held my interest author after author, so editor David L Ulin made some truly wonderful and wise decisions about what authors and what works would best move the visions of Los Angeles we readers behold here through history and individual points of view. I've had the book in my possession near 5 weeks and loved that I could pick it up, read one entry, and put it back down since things have been so busy for me.
I'll be posting excerpts from this book over the next few months, pages I stuck post-it-note stickies on so I could come back to it.
Something else I did, which I haven't in years, is that I read these passages ALOUD.
Reading aloud to oneself or an audience is a different experience, isn't it? How wonderful it would be if there could be a CD of each of these authors reading their own work aloud, but it's impossible because many of them are no longer alive and didn't live in the days of recording readings. Why not try it yourself?
The book takes you through an 1884 publication to the near present (Writing Los Angeles, circa 2002, was on the NEW BOOK SHELF at my local library) and authors that you never knew or dreamed ever came through or lived in Los Angeles.
As I mentioned in my review of the book "Pasadena" a few months back, I'm one who enjoys reading that is placed in the local one knows; the topography, geology, even the old Thomas Brothers Maps. Though books often take us to foreign lands and cultures, there's a sense of more involvement when you can say to yourself, "Yes, I know that road."
Each entry in this book has a short orientation about the author and the importance of the particular piece of work which I found important to situate not only the author but the reader.
If you wish to read all my excerpts in the months ahead, try using the Google Search feature embedded in the side bar using the words Los Angeles.
A Literary Anthology
Edited by David L. Ulin
Library of America publisher
Copyright 2002
This book held my interest author after author, so editor David L Ulin made some truly wonderful and wise decisions about what authors and what works would best move the visions of Los Angeles we readers behold here through history and individual points of view. I've had the book in my possession near 5 weeks and loved that I could pick it up, read one entry, and put it back down since things have been so busy for me.
I'll be posting excerpts from this book over the next few months, pages I stuck post-it-note stickies on so I could come back to it.
Something else I did, which I haven't in years, is that I read these passages ALOUD.
Reading aloud to oneself or an audience is a different experience, isn't it? How wonderful it would be if there could be a CD of each of these authors reading their own work aloud, but it's impossible because many of them are no longer alive and didn't live in the days of recording readings. Why not try it yourself?
The book takes you through an 1884 publication to the near present (Writing Los Angeles, circa 2002, was on the NEW BOOK SHELF at my local library) and authors that you never knew or dreamed ever came through or lived in Los Angeles.
As I mentioned in my review of the book "Pasadena" a few months back, I'm one who enjoys reading that is placed in the local one knows; the topography, geology, even the old Thomas Brothers Maps. Though books often take us to foreign lands and cultures, there's a sense of more involvement when you can say to yourself, "Yes, I know that road."
Each entry in this book has a short orientation about the author and the importance of the particular piece of work which I found important to situate not only the author but the reader.
If you wish to read all my excerpts in the months ahead, try using the Google Search feature embedded in the side bar using the words Los Angeles.
9/17/13
THEY DIDN'T PAY ME TO SAY THIS EITHER! WONKA SWEETTART GUMMIES
Do you ever get the desire to have the flavor of something in your mouth that is totally ARTIFICIAL, like maybe when you've been "good" all week and had Organic? Well, then demand that your closest store carry WONKA candy brand, Sweettarts Gummies, which are of a wonderful gummy-sugary texture and SATURATED with flavor. Yes, the first ingredient is CORN SYRUP. And it might even be the evil GMO CORN SYRUP. However, these must be experienced!
9/11/13
THE SEPTEMBER ISSUE ANNA WINTOUR AND THE MAKING OF VOGUE : CHRISTINE TRZYNA FILM REVIEW
This film was fascinating and fun.
OK, so we all know the film "THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA" was supposed to be about Anna Wintour (the DEVIL) famous, powerful fashion editor of Vogue and about the same subject, the production of the most influential fashion magazine in the world.
Is Anna really a bitch or does she maybe have to be?
Does anyone have to be a bitch?
Woa! Don't want to get too philosophical in this moment! Check in with the feminist impulse to never ever call any woman a bitch!
As I watched this video I thought about how busy Wintour is and how so many people - fashion designers - are pressing upon her trying to gain her approval so that their product can be featured in the magazine. I would probably resist. Wear sun glasses. Be careful to remain professional.
The clips of famous fashion designers and fashion shows is exciting - their workrooms - the runway-OK, so we all know the film "THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA" was supposed to be about Anna Wintour (the DEVIL) famous, powerful fashion editor of Vogue and about the same subject, the production of the most influential fashion magazine in the world.
Is Anna really a bitch or does she maybe have to be?
Does anyone have to be a bitch?
Woa! Don't want to get too philosophical in this moment! Check in with the feminist impulse to never ever call any woman a bitch!
As I watched this video I thought about how busy Wintour is and how so many people - fashion designers - are pressing upon her trying to gain her approval so that their product can be featured in the magazine. I would probably resist. Wear sun glasses. Be careful to remain professional.
All of it is ART!
C 2013 Christine Trzyna All Rights Reserved
9/5/13
BEHIND THE CANDELABRA AUTHOR SCOTT THORSON WRITING HIS NEXT BOOK : I CAN'T WAIT!
BEHIND THE CANDELABRA AUTHOR SCOTT THORSON
HAS ANOTHER BOOK IN HIM: I CAN'T WAIT TO READ IT !
HAS ANOTHER BOOK IN HIM: I CAN'T WAIT TO READ IT !
By Christine Trzyna
Settle down into your too soft sofa because this too is a tale.
You might even want to make some microwave popcorn before you begin to read.
You might even want to make some microwave popcorn before you begin to read.
Years ago I had a Movie Buddy, A Platonic Male Hetero Friend. We saw some of the movies ("film") together that remain favorites of mine to this day. We used to read an institution in LA called The LA Weekly on say, Wednesday when it came out, to figure out what we might see on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday night.
There was this one film critic at the LA Weekly who hated just about every movie we loved. We started reading his column to see what he HATED!
Then we'd go see that movie.
We could afford to go.
We could afford the tickets, the gas, the parking, and afterwards, some pie and ice cream with coffee or tea, and tips to the waitress, at a diner. All of which now would be a luxury and why so many people stay home and watch DVD's.
I do so miss the BIG SCREEN. To me the Big Screen is a Big Part of the Movie Experience.
Years went by and my friend started having to always have his way, the final say, when it came to what movie to see. His tastes had changed. He liked more violence and kink than I could stand. He was always arriving last minute and running late and driving like a hellion over the canyons and scaring the hell out of me that we'd be killed on a curve on Laurel Canyon. (As much as I would want to be reincarnated to live in a house on a curve of a road in Laurel Canyon, it would be better to have a PAST LIFE rather than a FUTURE LIFE there! I let him drive my car on the freeway once and broke out in a cold sweat, clawing the seat as we almost shaved the side of another car. ) This was the beginning of the end of our Movie Buddyship and then our friendship.
... So now you've eaten half that popcorn and you're saying "Wait a minute! What does this have to do with "Behind the Candelabra?" and Scott Thorson? ...
I'll tell you.
I thought the movie was fantastic, me with the mom who used to say of Liberace "He's not gay he just loves his mother!" and have seen it TWICE. (Maybe I should have a film rating system that gives five stars to only the few films I've seen twice or want to see again?) It seems that movie has the magic something and that I wasn't the only one who loved it.
As I watched this film I was thinking back to being in the theater with my long ago Movie Buddy, Platonic Male Hetero Friend, and such Romantically Sweet films such as "Crossing Delancy Street." We all wanted the Amy Irving character to forget the Literary Bore and get out of her Snobby and Low Paying Independent Book Store job and marry the Pickle Man!
My friend was so involved in that film - that near-end part where the Pickle Man has been stood up waiting for this woman at her Bubbie's apartment. She's gone to read the unpublished pages of the Literary Bore and escaped his seduction. She's realized how stupid she's been and races to meet the good man who really wants her, but thinks she got there too late. From where he stands he sees her shed a tear and only then he renters the room.
My friend's words out loud -"Kiss her! Kiss her!" - filled the quiet theater.
What would my friend, who has since imported a bride from a Communist Country and married, and who is no longer my friend, think of "Behind the Candelabra?"
Did anyone yell "Kiss him! Kiss Him!" at the screen?
"Behind the Candelabra" takes place in the past but as a genre in film I'd say it is where Romance is at presently in film, for gone are the days of Sweet Romance.
And...
IT SEEMS TO ME THAT "BEHIND THE CANDELABRA" FILM WAS MADE FOR THE BIG SCREEN! Liberace and his sets and Vegas were larger than life. (We the lurid want to see Matt Damon's hot body on the big screen too! We the lurid have loved Matt since he played that quite possibly gay character, Ripley, by intentionally confusing author Patricia Highsmith, in "The Talented Mr. Ripley." )
I read Scott Thorson's memoir, "Behind the Candelabra" when it came out years ago and read it again last spring when I heard the film was in production. I wanted to know more about one of my mom's favorites! I can't wait to read Scott's second book. (He worked on the first one with another writer, Alex Thorleifson, incorrectly called a "ghost writer" since he is credited.) This second book is also already written and will contain his relationship with Michael Jackson and other secrets.
I ALSO WANT TO READ SCOTT'S THIRD BOOK, the one he has yet to write.
This third book is going to be the Biggest Challenge of His Life, and Scott's life has been and is challenged. First, while the movie and its stars gained traction, he had no home to go home to but the Bunny Ranch, a legal brothel where the owner, Dennis Hoff and some of the sex workers paid to bail him out of jail and for a good attorney. Then Scott was removed to a Reno location where he's having trouble staying with the program.* As is he's in treatment for colon cancer. Between the terms of his probation and the cancer, he is unable to attend to promoting "Behind the Candelabra" book or the movie, which appears to up for awards.
Scott needs a Big Challenge of the Positive Kind. I believe writing can heal a writer, or at least move one towards understanding what has happened in life so you can go from there.
Scott, if you're reading this, YOU HAVE A THIRD BOOK.
While I had a Movie Buddy, a Platonic Male Hetero Friend, I worked in a business where I had lots of contact with gay men and even some Platonic Male Homo Friends. None as flamboyant as Liberace, but it seems to me that the much older man with the much younger man was sort of the reality in that crowd. (I even remember some of them saying that underage boys "knew" what they were "doing" when they got involved with older men, which today we are sensitized to understand as child molestation.) The movie and what Scott lived reminded me of those days and that scene, that time and place in the gay world that needs to be written about.
While watching "Behind the Candelabra" I was remembering an era, a time and place that is gone - for good. That time is the time before AIDS! Oh sure, there are writers who have lived it and written it, and many of them are dead. Most of them have not enjoyed a mostly heterosexual readership or viewership.
*update September 9th. Scott has been rearrested for testing positive for illegal drug use and is back in the pokey. His attorney says he thinks some of the medications he's taking for cancer may have triggered a false positive...
C Christine Trzyna 2013 All Rights Reserved.
9/3/13
8/16/13
I'M BACKFLOATING IN 12 FEET OF WATER FOR THE NEXT COUPLE WEEKS...
Enjoy reading some of my past posts! I've enjoyed writing them! Christine
8/13/13
DAN BROWN'S INFERNO ; THE GOOD AND BAD OF A BEST SELLER
DAN BROWN'S INFERNO ; THE GOOD AND BAD OF A BEST SELLER
BOOK REVIEW by CHRISTINE TRZYNA
Since it's already on the best seller list and been reviewed countless times why am I bothering to add my voice? OK, like Steven King has become, Brown is the multi-genre genius. A spy thriller, a fast chase movie, futuristic novel, a love story kinda, set in foreign travel, art history, cutting edge biology and medicine, a who-done-it mystery, and did I mention literary?
Here's an example of the time old trick of letting literature refer to literature that is considered literary to make your book more literary.
Page 82 - Professor Langdon speaking
"As you are no doubt aware, Dante* is best known for his monumental literary masterpiece - The Divine Comedy - a brutally vivid account of the author's descent into hell, passage through purgatory, and eventually ascent into paradise to commune with God. By modern standards, The Divine Comedy has nothing comedic about it. It;'s called a comedy for another reason entirely. In the fourteenth century, Italian literature was, by requirement, divided into two categories: tragedy, representing high literature, was written in formal Italian; comedy, representing low literature, was written in the vernacular and geared toward the general population."
"As you are no doubt aware, Dante* is best known for his monumental literary masterpiece - The Divine Comedy - a brutally vivid account of the author's descent into hell, passage through purgatory, and eventually ascent into paradise to commune with God. By modern standards, The Divine Comedy has nothing comedic about it. It;'s called a comedy for another reason entirely. In the fourteenth century, Italian literature was, by requirement, divided into two categories: tragedy, representing high literature, was written in formal Italian; comedy, representing low literature, was written in the vernacular and geared toward the general population."
And so we readers are in the classroom being lectured.
Or this, on age 215, Professor Langdon speaking again.
"In ancient mythology," Langdon offered, "a hero in denial is the ultimate manifestation of hubris and pride. No man is more prideful that he who believes himself immune to the dangers of the world. Dante clearly agreed, denouncing pride as the worst of the seven deadly sins... and punished the prideful in the deepest ring of the inferno."
This book is populated by characters, male and female, who are geniuses and have much to teach, and maybe that's what was bothering me. All that genius, and the only dummy in the story is the reader. All that lecturing, even during breaks in the chase, which, by the way tired me out. I couldn't believe that the aging Langdon, a bookish fellow, could even run so fast or so long. Even James Bond hopped into fast cars to get places pronto. The endless detailed descriptions of architecture and landscape also had the effect of stalling the action. Looking at the book as one in a series about Langdon, I'm frustrated because he keeps repressing his interest in females. No, I don't want Brown to add erotica to his novels as yet another genre, but if Langdon had a real romance once in a few books maybe he'd have more dimension to his character.
There's just no place for an everyman in his work. No place with all the intellectualism for a deep feeling. Inferno is a story to be witnessed but not participated in. It's too high, too mighty, to allow the reader of a mystery one pleasure, the chance to figure a few things out before the characters do!
*(Ct notes Dante Alighieri)
C 2013 Christine Trzyna All Rights Reserved including Internet and International Rights
"In ancient mythology," Langdon offered, "a hero in denial is the ultimate manifestation of hubris and pride. No man is more prideful that he who believes himself immune to the dangers of the world. Dante clearly agreed, denouncing pride as the worst of the seven deadly sins... and punished the prideful in the deepest ring of the inferno."
This book is populated by characters, male and female, who are geniuses and have much to teach, and maybe that's what was bothering me. All that genius, and the only dummy in the story is the reader. All that lecturing, even during breaks in the chase, which, by the way tired me out. I couldn't believe that the aging Langdon, a bookish fellow, could even run so fast or so long. Even James Bond hopped into fast cars to get places pronto. The endless detailed descriptions of architecture and landscape also had the effect of stalling the action. Looking at the book as one in a series about Langdon, I'm frustrated because he keeps repressing his interest in females. No, I don't want Brown to add erotica to his novels as yet another genre, but if Langdon had a real romance once in a few books maybe he'd have more dimension to his character.
There's just no place for an everyman in his work. No place with all the intellectualism for a deep feeling. Inferno is a story to be witnessed but not participated in. It's too high, too mighty, to allow the reader of a mystery one pleasure, the chance to figure a few things out before the characters do!
*(Ct notes Dante Alighieri)
C 2013 Christine Trzyna All Rights Reserved including Internet and International Rights
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