Fancy mumbo jumbo...or just plain bullshit.

Everything had started out in the right pocket—she was sure of that.

She remembered the night before as she was stumbling into bed, through a slight haze of inebriation, instructing herself to hold on to each of the items’ places: the broken band of her leather belt in the left ass pocket of her jeans, her silver teardrop earrings in the coin pouch of her wallet, her orange plastic Casio watch looped around the handles of her handbag, the German’s number scrawled on an ATM receipt tucked into her left sock, which she was still wearing when she woke.

She lay still in bed, listening to the wind dumping rain against the windows of the dark room. Powerful gusts whirred through the bars of the fire escape outside.

A moment later the clock radio flashed alive and Beethoven’s 5th came blaring from its tinny speakers, ringing throughout the room. She shut off the radio and managed to find the floor with her feet. The old wood was cold even through her socks as she padded out of the room, through the kitchen to the toilet.

It was a fall morning: October 28th, a Saturday.

By the time she’d fixed herself a cup of tea and retrieved her watch from the handbag, which she’d finally located, slung in the corner of her kitchen against her wall of books, she’d forgotten that she’d found a slip of paper in her sock before she got in the shower.

At 4:30 that evening she was coloring in the illustrations in her copy of Breakfast of Champions with colored pencils when the phone rang.

It was Joachim, the German.

Bad Poetry Corner: "My Ne-mouse-is"

I’m certain that something has died,
The stench does not seem to subside,
I can’t find the mouse
That passed on in our house
Although I assure you I’ve tried!

brick.

Recently—as in two minutes ago—I finished watching "Brick," written and directed by Rian Johnson and starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt, on DVD. I’d read that it was a mystery set within the underbelly of a typical high school. The protagonist, Brendan (Levitt), is a loner out to uncover the details behind the death of his ex-girlfriend. Other than that, I wasn’t sure what to expect.

Oh boy. Having just gotten through the movie, I’ve not yet digested it completely, so I share only my initial reactions. Watching this movie, I had the feeling of watching a bunch of teenagers playing at, maybe mocking, classic film noir—the sleuth a romantic outsider, tough as nails and a step ahead of everyone; characters with names like The Pin, Tug, and Brain; a flurry of lingo that takes a couple of runs before you get it. Beyond that the characters, played by a bunch of fresh faces like Lukas Haas (maybe not so fresh), meathead Noah Fleiss, wingman Matt O’Leary, sultry Meagan Good, and Nora Zehetner, who has a small role as Eden, Mohinder Seresh’s neighbor, on the new NBC series “Heroes,” were interesting enough to keep me watching. The story is a mess of drug schemes and runaround among the heads of different cliques in school, not the most innovative content, but it’s got its twists and turns.

So the verdict? If you like detective stories and/or brooding leads with added drugs and violence, go for it! If you like J G-L, go for it! (It’s much easier to watch than "Mysterious Skin"…) If you like indie flicks—why not, go for it.

2.67/5

Dear rock band, Bishop Allen:

You are putting out an EP every month for the year 2006. Amazing! I am hooked.

When I heard about this innovative plan back in January, I was all for it – I jumped on the bandwagon and I ordered my January EP. It arrived in a chic and sophisticated, mail-friendly sleeve not a week later. I indulged and it was good…but not enough.

Despite my craving for more, more, more, as well as your regular e-mail updates with news of the latest month’s release, however…I fell away. Occasionally, I would download the one or two tracks you offered for free so generously at your website, bishopallen.com, but I failed to purchase the monthly EPs. There was the busyness of school, my general lack of funds, and then my impending change of address.

But then! Then I returned! About one month ago I made the time, I mustered up the funds, and I sent for all of the editions I’d missed: February through August (the 10+ track live EP!). And after a delay for pressing, they’ve finally arrived! And oh, what beauties they are. Based on physical appearance alone, this incomplete (still got September through December to go!) set is well worth the wait and delay. The tracks are delicious, each its own gem in the Queen’s most precious jewelry box.

So I just want to say: Thanks! Danke schön! Grazie! Doh Jeh! Obrigada! Arigato! Gracias! Merci beaucoup! I can’t wait for to receive September!

Regards,

A fan.

And the moral of that is…

Fall is hands down one of my favorite times of year. I look forward to the crispness in the air and the changing of the leaves, but most of all I anticipate the coming of my favorite seasonal ice cream flavor: PUMPKIN. The beguiling temptress did not disappoint me last night, and although our last encounter was almost an entire year earlier, Pumpkin was as familiar and succulent as ever.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, I felt a mysteriously foreign object interrupting my delightful Pumpkin ice cream. It was long and thin, an estimated rectangular shape having the dimensions 5 cm x 0.5 cm. At first I assumed it to be a part of the wax-papery cup cradling dear Pumpkin but this foreign object was made of a much tougher, sharper material. Not wanting to disgust my company, I decided to try to disregard this inexplicable object by masking it with more delightfully Pumpkin ice cream and consuming it entirely.

This plan seemed like a good idea at the time. However, approximately five minutes after consumption of the bizarre and extremely sharp rectangle of plastic, I felt sharp shooting pains on the left side of my sternum that got progressively worse with laughter and each breath. Discomfort continued to such a degree that two hours later, I decided to call a doctor and ask advice. The doctor recommended a trip to the emergency room as this dangerous synthetic material could easily makes its way to my lungs and cause considerable damage. Amazingly, on the way to the hospital, the nasty plastic element seemed to dislodge and move along and I returned home.

The physical pain is gone, for the most part, but the mental anguish brought on by the betrayal of Thomas Sweet’s Ice Cream Parlor shall not easily be forgotten.

Concerning the problem with my socks...

Dear Dr. Foster:

I hope this letter finds you well. Thanks once again for your prompt responses.

I’ve thought about what you said in your last letter—about not letting Shelley get to me when she steals my socks, and therefore succeed in her attempt to cause me anguish. I appreciate your advice and don’t doubt its effectiveness, however I fear you’ve neglected to accept the gravity of the situation.

You suggest that “plain” white tube socks with red double stripes can “simply be paired with any other, regardless of previous partnership,” as if I’d just grab at them willy-nilly. Well, I’m afraid that there is a distinct union among each pair. Mother has sewn different colored threads through each pair of socks so that each may find its match more easily. And so you see, dozens of left socks (I know they’re lefts because Mother places the colored thread through the big-toe region of the sock) without their companion right socks are simply worthless to me.

To make things even more pressing, as you know it’s now autumn here in Manhattan, and the weather is gradually becoming more and more chilly, which makes socks a most necessary part of my attire. My feet won’t tolerate the lack of insulation that a loafer-sans-chaussette provides for much longer, and I’d just hate to lose a toe or two from frostbite over this.

In addition, Coach Grier is insistent about second graders getting their fifty minutes of daily exercise, and I’ve garnered an innumerable amount of demerits for failing to have adequate gym apparel. I’ll be gathering stray tennis balls around the court during the boys’ tennis team practice for the next month.

But, as I’ve mentioned, I have taken your advice into consideration and will indeed make the switch from socks in the bottom drawer-underpants up top to socks up top-underpants in the bottom drawer. This way my four-year-old sister will have too much trouble reaching them, to meddle with my poor socks! Very clever of you! I guess Mother’s not paying you for nothing. By the way, please thank Mrs. Foster for continuing to forward my letters to you while you’re on leave. Please do let me and Mother know when you decide to return from the Cayman Islands. Mother hasn’t yet been able to find another analyst willing to see an eight-year-old.

Sincerely,
Tommy Kerschner

Another true-life experience…

I was at the gym last Thursday morning observing a short, Hispanic trainer named Alejandro.

“Where are you going to school?” He asked.
“Actually I just graduated in May.” I replied.
“Did you go to school to be a trainer?” He asked.
“No, but I’ve always wanted to be one. I actually studied music.” I said.
“Music? You read music?”
“Yes.”
“You play piano?”
“Badly.”
“But if I give you something you could mess around with it?” He questioned.
“Sure.” I said.

After hearing my affirmative response, Alejandro took off for the filing cabinets behind the trainer’s station; I did my best to keep up with him.

He quickly rummaged through the numerous files and after a few seconds presented a two page piano piece whose title I cannot recall, however I noted the composer – Yanni. I glanced over the music…

“You think you can play it?” He asked.
“Yeah, definitely if I practiced, it doesn’t look too difficult.”
“This is going to be my wedding song.” He said.
“Oh really! Wow! When are you getting married?” I enquired with great enthusiasm.
“I don’t know. I haven’t found the girl yet.”
“Oh.”

imagine a new color

imagine a new color, i dare you.
i’ve been trying and trying
to imagine a new hue.
to say that i have would be lying.

the rainbow is made of blue
and violet and yellow and green
and all that mixed up
gets something in between.

if i blend yellow and red i get orange.
blue and red, i get purple.
damn it, i chose
two words i can’t rhyme.

okay, forget the rhyme.

it’s time to think of a color –
i choose sepia.
i can change it just a little.
but all i get is
taupe,
khaki,
tan,
sand,
russet,
amber,
ochre,
gold,
brown
and
gamboge.

They’re already thought up.

The same with aqua.
See, I get
turquoise,
cerulean,
cornflower,
periwinkle,
teal,
jade,
cyan,
azure
and
robin egg blue.

taken.

imagine a new color, i dare you
to do something that i couldn’t do.
imagine a new color, i dare you.
i bet, i bet you can’t do it too.