Porcelain
PG was in the Kroger parking lot, waiting for his brother to buy groceries. To pass the time, he read
Porcelain. This was a memoir, written, allegedly, by Moby. The copyright goes to “Moby Entertainment, Inc.” There is a modern notice below. This is a repost from 2017.
“Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to publish books for every reader.” Should PG say you’re welcome?
Page 360 was the focus. Moby was in Portland, at the last gig of a bad tour. He is flying home to Connecticut the next day. His mother is going to die in a couple of days. The christian-vegan-performer is drinking Jack Daniels with strippers. A fan asks him to autograph a bible.
This was 1997. PG saw a few parallels with his life. In late 1997, PG’s mom was still alive, but clearly near the end of her life. 1998 would see the cancer diagnosis, the surgery, the radiation treatment, and finally, the death.
PG quit drinking at the end of 1988, and never looked back. Moby was an alcohol enthusiast, who went straight edge in 1987. Eight years later, Moby gave into temptation, and started drinking again. Evidently, he tried to make up for lost time. His drunken adventures are described in great detail here. How does Mobes remember all that?
Moby continued to call himself a christian, even with more and more doubts crowding into the picture. PG quit going to church at 17. Jesus is impossible to ignore, and only marginally tolerable. Whatever the temptation, and the social rewards, PG has never called himself a christian. In the southern baptist tradition, you walk down the aisle, shake the pastor’s hand, and get baptized. Then you call yourself christian. PG, for various reasons, never took that walk.
The trip to Connecticut did not end well. Moby apparently woke up in the night, and set his alarm clock ahead three hours. As a result, his missed his mother’s funeral. Porcelain starts with young Moby sitting in the car, while his single mom is paid to do laundry for neighbors. While in the car, he heard “Love Hangover,” by Diana Ross, and was impressed.
Page 378 was a few days after the funeral. Moby goes to a party at Windows on the World, on top of the World Trade Center. Few imagined what would happen to that space four years later. (Richard Melville Hall, aka Moby, was born September 11, 1965.) Moby got very drunk, and had sex in a ladies room stall. After the act, Moby was staring out the windows, looking at New York, and crying. The DJ played Downtown, by Petula Clark.
On January 23, 1965, Downtown, was the number one hit in America. When Moby was born, eight months later, the number one hit was Help, by the Beatles. PG turned eleven in 1965. Thousands of drafted young American men were sent to Vietnam. The techno dystopian world of nineties New York was a few years down the road.
The last few pages see Moby driving, without a license, through the Connecticut of his youth. He is listening to a rough cassette. The tunes on that cassette will become Play, sell millions of units, and make Moby a star. All this will be in the second volume of his memoirs, currently in production.
While waiting for the next part of this story, maybe a few one star reviews will be amusing. John The most depressing book I’ve read in a while. I used to love Moby. When it was announced he was writing a biography I was very excited…that is until I read it. Moby has always had the reputation of being arrogant and rude. Well it won’t disappoint the critics. This is the worst autobiography I have ever read. Self indulgent and pretentious from start to finish. … Startlingly transphobic. I gave up. I will admit, I didn’t get through the entire book. But that’s the reason for this review. I put up with seven chapters filled with tales of death, drugs, and destitution, all with way too much specific detail to be totally true. In chapter 8, Moby starts getting into some pretty blatantly transphobic territory, repeatedly calling people the derogatory “tranny” and using pronouns like “his/her”…
Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. Pictures were taken in Louisiana, August 1940. The photographer was Marion Post Wolcott
Hollywood Part Five
This is a repost from 2022. I got a TV, so watching the Super Bowl was easy … except when the niners scored a touchdown, and I said “go motherfucker” without muting my microphone. … This is the fifth, and final, installment of chamblee54’s revenge fantasy against Hollywood, by Charles Bukowski/Hank Chinaski. The book is an account of making the movie Barfly. Other chapters in this series are available. one two three four Pictures today are from The Library of Congress.
37 – Some photographer comes by. He wants to take photographs of Hank, and Francine Bowers/Faye Dunaway. Jack Bledsoe/Mickey Rourke also posed, but refused to sign a release. I went looking for the pictures online. I found a picture that Francine and Hank did after the movie has been released. I don’t know what happened to the glamor shots.
38 – The action starts at a party, after shooting for Barfly wrapped up. It’s at a club somewhere, rented only until midnight. Hank orders a drink after midnight. The bartender says she has to charge him. Tonight, because, she’s a fan, Hank won’t have to pay. The evening is a mixed blessing for Hank. Some guy comes up to him, and swears he got drunk with Hank at Barney’s Beanery. The fan is offended that Hank does not remember.
The Super Bowl turned into a disaster. I was at my online poetry reading, watching the game with the sound cut off. Channel 11 was not doing very good. It kept going into this video catastrophe. It was tolerable as long as the picture came back, and I could see most of the action. But then, just as the game was starting to get good, the video just completely went out. I’m probably not going to watch too much TV until football season starts again, so it might not be a problem.
I’m trying to pay attention to the game, and feeling terrible because I can’t. I get a phone call, pick up the phone, and push this button. It is supposed to turn on speaker phone, but, if the call is not fully connected, will decline the call. IOW, I hung up. The call was from “J,” who lives in Mexico. He can call me, but I cannot call him. After some facebook messaging buzzouts, we get to talk on the phone. “J” was carrying on about how he does not care about the super bowl, and I just zoned out and said yeah, yeah, yeah. Tomorrow is another day.
39 – Hank goes to the editing room, and asks John Pinchot about the producers. “They are like children, they have heart. Even when they are trying to cut your throat, there is a certain warmth about them. I’d much rather deal with them than with the corporate lawyers who run most of the business in Hollywood.”
There’s a tasty quote on page 200. Hank notices a shot in the movie where his alter ego is meeting a girl. He takes a beer that he’s halfway through, pushes it aside, and doesn’t finish it. Hank points out that no alcoholic would ever do that. “That’s what happens you have a director who isn’t an alcoholic, an actor who hated to drink, and an alcoholic writer who preferred to be at the racetrack.”
40 – Hank and Sarah go to a screening of the movie. They get to the screening place, and it’s been moved to another location. They have to drive over there, and Hank needs a bottle.
There is a rhetorical tactic called the Motte and Bailey. As I understand it, this strategy involves making a claim that no one could disagree. Later, you learn that the plan is for something treacherous. An example would be CRT in K-12 schools. Who could disagree with learning about racism in school? It seems reasonable enough. It is only when you bring in Robin DiAngelo that you learn the truth. “Its always something. If its not one thing its another.”
Motte and Bailey is based on a medieval castle. The motte is a ground in front, where people live their everyday lives. The Bailey is a fortified stone house behind a moat. When there is trouble, this is where people go to wait out the trouble.
41 – Well Hank is going good, now that he’s made it to the premiere. This chapter is pretty boring, except when Hank tells about the time he lived with Tully and Nadine. This is not the same Nadine that Chuck Berry wrote a song about. Nor is it about the facebook friend who lives in Florida with three cats, one of whom is named Nadine.
Hank was living with this lady named Tully, some sort of entertainment industry suit. Tully thought Hank was in a bad way, and needed to be cared for. Hank responded by staying drunk, insulting all her friends, and fornicating with Tully whenever appropriate. Tully had a housemate named Nadine, who was keeping a musician named Rich. One night Hank and Rich got drunk, and decided that this business of being a kept fuckboy was not working too good, even if Nadine was a nymphomaniac. Nadine was going around the house naked one time, when Tully was out. Hank was not amused, and said he didn’t want to see her p**** flapping around. Nadine replied that she wouldn’t screw him if he was the last man on Earth.
42 – Hank is hanging out at the house in Los Angeles, and takes a phone call from Jon Pinchot at the Cannes Film Festival. Mickey never showed up, and Francine is making a spectacle of herself. She’s the last great movie star. Meanwhile Hank is reading James Thurber, who he thought was pretty funny. It was a shame that Thurbur had such a upper-middle-class view point. “He would have made one hell of a badass coal miner.”
It’s time for another interlude from real life. I was at the gym, and Neil Young’s “Rockin in the free world” came over the noise box. It was so ironic to hear that old fuquad sing about freedom, when he is made taken it upon himself to censor Joe Rogan. I agree with Lynyrd Skynyrd about Neil Young.
I will give Neil Young credit for one thing. One afternoon in 1978 I went over to see someone. He told me that 96 Rock was giving away tickets to see Neil Young. 96 Rock was in that triangle building on Clairmont Road. There was a man out in front, with a shoebox full of tickets for Neil Young at the Omni. You could have taken you could have asked him for 15 tickets, and he would have happily given them to you. The seats were in the upper level, at the back of the hall. The band was so loud you could hear them clear as day. Even though I think Neil Young is a pretentious, half-crazy fuquad, he puts on a damn good show. He was doing the Rust Never Sleeps show. The roadies were dressed up like Star Wars characters. Neil tore the place up, so you have to give a man credit, even if he has way too many opinions for his own good, and is ugly is boiled over sin.
The only Neil that’s uglier than Neil Young is Neal Boortz. I would hate to be the judge of that beauty contest. I saw Mr. Boortz give a show, at the CNN Center, one time. They had an on camera talk show, with Neal as the host. It is a cliche that Neal has a face for radio, but there is another reason he never made it on tv. When he talked that day, you could see the disdain for the audience in his face. You can just look at him, and tell that he’s a lying a*******. He thinks you’re an idiot for paying attention to him, which many of his followers are … this robo secretary rant is being edited on the day after Russia invaded Ukraine. It is amazing how last week’s concerns are now obsolete.
43 – At first, there was not going to be a premiere for Barfly. Then Hank insisted that he wanted one. He wanted to have a white limousine take him to this premiere. On the night of the premiere, this gentleman named Frank picks him up. Frank was sort of an a******, but then very few people got along with Hank. They made it to the premiere without breaking down in Hollywood traffic.
There used to be a dirt road in Chamblee, where a bunch of limousines were parked. I just rode my bike by there, and I saw them. There’s another place down on Whitehall Street, just south of downtown. They kept horses that used to pull buggies for the tourists . I don’t go downtown anymore, so I don’t know if it is still there.
44 – So the premiere happened. Hank and Sarah showed up, and had to have some wine brought in for them. They sat on the front row, where all he could see was these huge figures towering above. He realized that one day he was going to watch it all on videocassette, so he could actually see it.
After the premiere Hank is in the men’s room. There’s this drunk at the urinal next to him. He says “hey you’re hanging trying to ski.” Hank says “no, I’m his brother Danny.” “why don’t you talk to him” “because I used to beat him up every time I could and that’s why we don’t get along. I don’t know why I came to this premiere, I hate his guts, but that’s how life goes”
There were a bunch of hippies at Cross Keys who thought forty four was a magic number. It was Hank Aaron’s jersey number. Forty four has a certain synchronicity, with the multiplication of two times two times eleven. Eleven is two ones to that, so there is a sequence of two ones multiplied by two twos. There’s a certain fibonaccian synchronicity afoot. Two is a fibonacci number, as is thirteen, which is two plus eleven. Thirteen is also considered unlucky.
45 – I am starting to run out of things to say. The story is over, but Hank might be getting paid by the word. I did enjoy this adventure. The next book is The Santa Suit, by Mary Kay Andrews. TSS is off to a slow start, and seems a touch boring, after the antics of Hank Chinaski. An Amazon one-star review gets to the inner truth: “The book is ripped and dirty. I can’t give this to a patient for christmas! If I could give it zero stars I would”
The one-star review did not have a period at the end. When you write stuff, you notice details like that. God is in the details. I always think I am going to have a red-pencil happy english teacher going over my text. Like my butch tenth grade teacher. She was married at the time, to a greasy haired man with two packs of cigarettes in his shirt pocket.
46 – This is the last chapter. This has been a fun series. It was my first production written, in part, by the google robo secretary. While it requires a lot of editing after the fact, it does have its applications. It is good for reading text from a book, like this cable tv movie show review of The Dance of Jim Beam, which is what Hank calls Barfly. The next paragraph was borrowed, and not written by me.
“Selby shook his head, and limp-wristed the movie away. Awful, terrible. This has to be the worst movie of the year. Here we have this bum, with his pants down around his ankles. He’s filthy, uncaring, obnoxious. All he wants to do is beat up the bartender. From time to time he writes poems on torn pieces of paper, but mostly we see this scumbag sucking on bottles of wine, or begging for drinks at the bar. In one bar scene, we see two ladies fighting to their very death over him. Impossible. Nobody nobody would ever care for this man. Who could care for him. We rate movies from 1 to 10 here. Is there anyway I can give this a -1?”
From what I remember of my bar-room days, there’s a lot of characters like that. I’ve always felt that Hank Chinaski is the one person who actually created something, instead of just feeding a urinal. Drunks are generally useless people.
One morning, a friend and I had been up all night tripping. We wound up in the blue room, a beer joint across the street from the bus station. There was this guy in there named Hawaiian Eddie. He was insisting that we stay, and let him buy us another beer. We had to lie to him, and tell him we had to go to work, so we could leave without drinking more beer. Life was fun in those days.
Pretty Monsters Part Four
This is a repost from March 12, 2020. This is the day the stock market fell 2400 points. There was snowjam-style panic buying at Kroger. The lockdown had arrived. America has never been the same. … Pretty Monsters is a work of speculative fiction. You visit a world created by the author’s imagination. If you make enough predictions, some are going to come true. This happens in The Surfer.
Adorno, aka Dorn, is a soccer goalie. He thinks he is pretty good. His father is a Philadelphia doctor, who brought Dorn to Costa Rica on a moments notice. “Dorn is here with his father because of Hans Bliss and the aliens. Because, you know, Hans Bliss said that the aliens are going to show up again real soon and this time he knows what he’s talking about. Not like all those other times when he said the aliens were coming back.”
Hans Bliss is some kind of hippie utopia-grifter dude. Before the end of the story, Mr. Bliss is dead. There is some kind of virus going around, killing a bunch of people. In Costa Rica, all the visitors are quarantined in a gym. They spend their days playing soccer, looking at “googlies,” and getting in arguments. Meanwhile, the virus is busy in the outside world.
“It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, telling my father when he finally came home. And we haven’t talked about it much since then. I don’t know why it’s easier for some people to talk about aliens than to talk about death. Aliens only happen to some people. Death happens to everyone.”
The quarantine continues. Dorn has a soccer match. A guard makes a fool out of Dorn. It turns out the guard was a professional player. Dorn decides to quit playing, or maybe not. Dorn doesn’t quite know what he wants to do.
The aliens really do arrive. Dorn is out of quarantine, so he can see them. “Dad,” I said. “Dad! Everyone! The aliens! They’re here. They’re just outside! Lots of them!” But I stood there feeling empty and lost and ashamed and alone until I heard my father’s voice. He was saying, “Dorn! Adorno, where are you? Adorno, get out here! They’re beautiful, they’re even more beautiful than that idiot said. Come on out, come and see!”
Is a visit from aliens going to coincide with COVID-19? Or maybe a gang of murderous con-women, like Zilla and Ozma in The Constable of Abal. “Zilla was not greedy. She was a scrupulous blackmailer. She did not bleed her clients dry; she milked them. You could even say she did it out of kindness. What good is a secret without someone to know it? When one cannot afford a scandal, a blackmailer is an excellent bargain. Ozma and Zilla assembled the evidence of love affairs, ill-considered attachments, stillbirths, stolen inheritances, and murders. They were as vigilant as any biographer, solicitous as any confidante. Zilla fed gobbets of tragedy, romance, comedy to the ghosts who dangled so hungrily at the end of their ribbons. One has to feed a ghost something delicious, and there is only so much blood a grown woman and a smallish girl have to spare.”
“the ghosts who dangled so hungrily at the end of their ribbons.” The titular Constable was one of these ghosts. When Zilla was not looking, the Constable and Ozma got to be pals. Ozma was developing into a young women, which was not convenient to Zilla. “It isn’t your fault, Ozma. My magic can only do so much. Everyone gets older, no matter how much magic their mothers have. A young woman is trouble, though, and we have no time for trouble. Perhaps you should be a boy. I’ll cut your hair.” Ozma backed away. She was proud of her hair. “Come here, Ozma,” Zilla said. She had a knife in her hand. “It will grow back, I promise.”
“I took a position in service,” Zilla said. “You are my son, and your name is Eren. Your father is dead, and we have come here from Nablos. We are respectable people. I’m to cook and keep house.” “I thought we were going home,” Ozma said. “This isn’t home.” “Leave your ghosts here,” Zilla said. “Decent people like we are going to be have nothing to do with ghosts. … This did not sound at all like Zilla. Ozma was beginning to grow tired of this new Zilla. It was one thing to pretend to be respectable; it was another entirely to be respectable.”
The new employer, Lady Fralix, is not with the program. Or maybe she is, and Zilla is out to lunch, with Ozma caught is trans-respectability purgatory. “The pink dressing gown,” Lady Fralix said. “If you let me keep your ghost in my pocket today, I’ll give you one of my dresses. Any dress you like.” “Zilla would take it away and give it to the poor,” Ozma said. Then: “How did you know I’m a girl?” “I’m old but I’m not blind,” Lady Fralix said. “I see all sorts of things. … You shouldn’t keep dressing as a boy, my dear. Someone as shifty as you needs some truth now and then.”
“It’s a good thing,” Lady Fralix said, “that most people can’t see or talk to ghosts. Watching them scurry around, it makes you dread the thought of death, and yet what else is there to do when you die? Will some careless child carry me around in her pocket? … Your mother is a goddess,” Lady Fralix said. “My mother is a liar and a thief and a murderer,” Ozma said. “Yes,” Lady Fralix said. “She was all of those things and worse. Gods don’t make very good people. They get bored too easily. And they’re cruel when they’re bored.”
There is more action, but in an effort to maintain a spoiler free blog, you will have to read the story. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. Quotes are from the .pdf. Previous episodes of this series are available. (part one part two part three part five)
Common Sense Quote
This is a repost from 2022. … 0312 – We’re going to conduct a facebook experiment. I posted a video from Dr. John Campbell. He discussed some reputed side effects of the Pfizer vaccine. Soon, Facebook sent me an admonition. “… The post includes information that independent fact-checkers said was partly false. …” The suspicion here is that Facebook has a problem with Dr. Campbell.
On to today’s experiment. I’m listening to another video from Dr. Campbell. He admits that he made some errors in his interpretation of the Pfizer data. He goes on to say “you can’t put solid footsteps into fresh air you need solid ground.” This is just a common sense quote. My plan for today is to make a video segment of the CSQ, and post it on Facebook. Lets see if the fact-checkers have a problem with it. As of March 19, Facebook has been silent.
0314 – I was through with Blocked and Reported, and making great progress on my picture. It was time to go out. I had two destinations. One was the gym. The other was the library. I had a book, The Santa Suit, to return. Think — inside the work — outside the work.
TSS is not a great book. Perhaps that was what was needed. With the book I am starting, quotables lie on every page. The desire to go in depth may prove irresistible. However, I read to have fun. Sometimes a trifle like TSS is what I need. Just read a story, without provoking great thought. The fact that TSS is easy to read indicates that the author worked like hell. Easy writing makes tough reading.
0318 – I’ve stumbled onto this podcast series about the shooting of Martin Luther King, The MLK Tapes. The shooting was quickly blamed on James Earl Ray. He was supposed to be a racist/white supremacist, and most people believed he was guilty. It turns out that there were serious problems with the government’s case. The podcast series is downright fascinating. It’s not something I’ve really thought about a whole lot. I just accepted the conventional wisdom, and went on with my life.
In episode 3, the case was going to trial. Mr. Ray’s lawyers were confident of an acquital. The government was not going to have that. For some reason, Mr. Ray fired his first lawyer. A gentleman named Percy Foreman took over. Soon Mr. Ray entered a guilty plea.
In the show, people talk about how worthless Percy Foreman was. I was curious if Mr. Foreman was still alive, so I googled him. A legal document turned up. JB Stoner was lawyer number three. Mr. Stoner was an extreme racist, even by Georgia standards. He ran for Governor in 1970, and made a spectacle of himself. At one point, Mr. Stoner sued a TV station, to allow an ad with the n-word.
There are many stories that could be told about JB Stoner. The candidates were speaking at the Governor’s Honors program. Mr. Stoner was going through his routine, when three students starting walking up the aisle. A young black man, with a blonde on each arm, walked up the aisle to the front of the hall. The man who won the Governor’s race, Jimmy Carter, was laughing so hard that tears came out of his eyes. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress.
Factotum
I found a copy of Factotum a movie based on Factotum, by Charles Bukowski. The F-book details the life of Henry Chinaski, who bears a striking resemblance to Herr Bukowski. I finally learned how to pronounce Chinaski. I always thought it was China ski, but it turns out to be more like Chuck nasty. Which is a good way to describe what’s his name.
Hank is working is working with a jackhammer when the movie starts. The boss tells him to go make some deliveries. Hank drives off with the truck plugged into the electric power outlet, and drags the wire along. First stop he makes is a bar. The boss finds him there, and fires him. I don’t remember this scene in the in the book. It’s kind of far-fetched, because operating a jackhammer is a semi-skilled profession. Other than drinking and smoking and f******, Hank does not have any skills.
A few minutes later, Hank is at a desk writing. The movie Hank writes left handed. I asked google about this, and got this answer in a forum: “So maybe, Bukowski was going to be left handed, but ended up becoming right handed. He certainly signed autographs with his right, as seen in the footage from the Hamburg reading in 1978.” This contradicts Ham on Rye:“My spoon was bent so that if I wanted to eat I had to pick the spoon up with my right hand. If I picked it up with my left hand, the spoon bent away from my mouth. I wanted to pick the spoon up with my left hand.”
“During my lunch period one day I noticed an intense and intelligent looking Chicano boy reading that day’s entries in the newspaper. “ This is one of the more uplifting parts of the book. Of course, the actor playing Manny in the movie is anything but Chicano … unless it is Chicano, Alabama. So they drive like crazy to the track, and park in a handicapped spot. The book is set in 1945.
Manny and Hank have a terrific bit of dialog: “You married, Manny?” “No way.” “Women?” “Sometimes. But it never lasts.” “What’s the problem?” “A woman is a full-time job. You have to choose your profession.” “I suppose there is an emotional drain.” “Physical too. They want to fuck night and day.” “Get one you like to fuck.” “Yes, but if you drink or gamble they think it’s a put-down of their love.” “Get one who likes to drink, gamble and fuck.” “Who wants a woman like that?”
It is obvious that the movie is not set in 1945. The bar advertises miller lite. … I am pausing it at 48 minutes, with 44 to go. … Hank has met a lady in a bar. She is living off the cantankerous old rich man drunk named either Wilbur or Pierre. “There’s one guy been bothering the girls, he picks them up, then takes them to his place, strips them down and cuts crossword puzzles into their bodies with a pen knife.” “I’m not him.” “Then there are guys who fuck you and then chop you up into little pieces. They find part of your asshole stuffed up a drainpipe in Playa Del Rey and your left tit in a trashcan down at Oceanside…” “I stopped doing that years ago. Lift your skirt higher.”
Hank is always smoking a cigarette, and yet you never see him light one. Maybe he’s just has these magic movie cigarettes, that just always just appear on command. Or they have a person on the set whose job it was to always keep a cigarette lit. The cigarette always seems to be a certain length, and a certain amount of ash. Maybe it is a continuity thing, or an artificial ciggie. … I was wrong about lighting the cigarettes. Hank lights one on Wilbur’s yacht, and then when he is having breakfast with his father. The thing with dad happened at the start of the book. The movie is not going in sequence. It’s just sort of impressionistic. That’s how a drunk’s memory works.
We get to the part where shackjob Jan gives Hank the crabs. There is a shot of Matt Dillon’s butt as he walks away from the camera. (Matt Dillon plays Hank) His tush looks pretty good, not at all like what you would think Hank would look like, even at 25, when the story is set. Matt was 40 when this movie was made. It is doubtful that the well preserved 40 yo can convincingly play a 25 yo degenerate. Maybe it is Matt Dillon’s legendary penis that makes the difference.
This is obviously a 2005 set, with modern phones and SUVs on the road. However, in 2005, smoking was an outdoor activity only. These people light up whenever and wherever, like people did in 1945. It is as if the story is 1945 people set in the middle of 2005 California. Hank’s working holidays in New Orleans and Miami are not mentioned. The movie was set in Minnesota, which is not California.
So the movie ends, as Hank philosophizes about life while watching a pole dancer. The post mortem spirit of Hank drives a twitter account praising rotten roast beef. @nihilist_arbys “Make no mistake, no one cares about you and when you’re down in a ditch covered in six varietals of diseased piss and need friends the most, that’s when they’ll prove your ultimate truth: the world is dark and you are alone and you’ll die as you lived: alone and scared Eat arbys”
Goodreads has some tasteful one-star reviews of the book. Make your own entertainment. … Wilbur – August 1, 2019 _ “If I could bring back someone from the dead, I would bring back Bukowski just to send him to hell again. This is the worst book I’ve ever read written by the most overrated, crass, disgusting excuse of a human and author and I want my time back. negative infinity stars” … Karen – September 14, 2017 _ “Very male. White guy gets drunk all the time, all hot women want him, he’s bored with all his jobs. What a hard life. #sorrynosympathy”
Rotten Tomatoes gave the movie a 74% rating. … Mar 26, 2012 _ “I miss the whole point of this movie, and rather then watch it a second time, I rather have pins stuck in my eyeballs, The best part of the movie was the line about the wine nats on the unemployment office. Could Matt Dilon fall any lower.” … Jun 6, 2012 _ “po knjizi od bukowskog, neznan kako mi je ovo promaklo.”
Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. Bath Suit Fashion Parade Seal Beach CA, July 14, 1918, photographed by M.F. Weaver.
Hollywood Part Three
This repost is Part Three of a book report series. The topical text is Hollywood, by Charles Bukowski/Hank Chinaski. The book is a semi-fictional account of making Barfly. Other parts of this series are available. one two four five Pictures are from The Library of Congress.
22 – I finally broke down, and cheated. The Hollywood (Bukowski novel) wikipedia page is the decoder ring, to see who the fictional names are. The technical name is Roman-à-Clef, even when nom de guerre is more accurate. It turns out that the producers are not Harvey Weinstein/Orion. BF was produced by the Cannon Group. Cannon/Firepower seems to be as crooked and devious as Orion … an occupational hazard of show business.
23 – Hank and Sarah go back to the ghetto, to visit Jon and François. Life is lots of fun. People sneak into the crawl space. They will knock on the floor, and let the residents know they’re there. After a live demonstration for Hank and Sarah, François started cussing out the crawlers. François is a French actor named Steve Baës. He’s one of the best characters in the story, yet does not have a Wikipedia page. At the end of chapter 23, Jon Pinchot gets a phone call from the crooks. The picture has been cancelled again. All’s fair in hate and Hollywood.
24 – Pinchot decided on a plan. He’s gonna go see the producers. He will threaten to cut off his little finger if he doesn’t get his way. Hank doesn’t think this is a very good plan. You need your little finger for typing a. Pinchot says that he never types a. He may be a type a, but he never types a.
This reminds me of a story. Paul was on the payroll, allegedly as a salesman. Most of the time he was in the office, looking at the accountants. One day, our store manager wrote a message on the white board. “Clean the head, Jim.” Jim was a driver. I went to the white board, erased Jim, and wrote in Paul. When he saw this, Paul got mad. “I shouldn’t have to clean the bathroom, I never use it.”
I am moving this production into the living room. There’s a nice comfy chair here. Take the mouse, book, and pink glasses to the living room. Since cataract surgery, I’ve been dependent on reading glasses. Every time I go to the dollar store, I pick up another pair. Every pair that I get is a little bit tackier than the one before. The latest one is flamingo pink. It is going to be tough to get something tackier than flamingo pink. All things are possible in a world without God.
There was a twitter notification. I made a comment about the instability of calling human ivermectin “horse dewormer.” There was a reply. This is what you expect from the kool aid drinkers who believe everything that Rachel Maddow says. @chamblee54 What about corporate media labeling a safe drug like ivermectin as horse dewormer? ~ “safe drug” 1) with a common side effect of causing you to shed your intestines? 2) that is known to cause kidney failure? 3) that available data does not show is effective against COVID-19? They’re labeling it horse dewormer because that’s what too many idiots are ingesting ~ “context needed” ~ Context: If someone eats a product sold to deworm horses, calling it horse dewormer is accurate. If someone refuses to take a proven safe/effective vaccine, but willingly shits their intestines out after eating horse dewormer, they are in fact an idiot. Context supplied.
25 – Hank and Pinchot have a meeting with a lawyer named Zach Nick. Pinchot brought his Black and Decker saw, and he repeatedly threatens to cut his little finger off. The lawyer gives him the contract, then deletes one of the chapters. Pinchot says it has too many ambiguities. Hank asks Zach Nick if he’s read anything of his. His daughter read Cesspool Dreams. Surely that’s a fake name, even if Cesspool Dreams is tasteful by Hank Chinaski standards. The meeting finally ends. Zach Nick says the practice of law gets stranger all the time.
26 – Hank is in movie production hell, again. He’s going to work on “the poem” now. There isn’t much money in the poem, but it sure was a big playground to flounder around in. It seems like Hank signed a contract years ago. It gives somebody else the rights to the character of Hank Chinaski. Now, they can’t make this movie. Hank gets on the phone with his old buddy, who’s somehow connected to the guy that owns the rights to Hank. He gives Hank a release, and the movie is on again
27 – The movie is back with the Canon Group. Now they’re having problems with actors. Francine Bowers got sick, and it’s gonna have to be out for a couple of weeks. Mickey Rourke has to have a Rolls Royce limousine. Some of his buddies are gonna get up on the hood of the Rolls, and do shots, and pound all kinds of insecurities into the hood. They’re gonna be moving into a hotel, with a bunch of real barflies … is barf short for barflies? I always thought that barf was short for bar food, especially after eating some. Of course, some of the barflies are nasty to eat, so maybe barf does mean barflies. The Bay Area Radical Faeries should be ashamed.
I really do need to see this movie. I did a multi-part book report for Catch 22 a while back. I had seen the movie Catch 22, when it first came out. C22, a so-so flick, did not turn out to be a hit. I saw C22 in this old theater that smelled like a popcorn machine. Margaret Mitchell was trying to cross Peachtree Street, to get to this theater, when she was run over by a taxicab.
A facebook friend posted an item. ‘Let’s Go Brandon’ merchandise at Alaska exchange crossed AAFES’ line on vulgarity “In the days leading up to Christmas, a temporary vendor at the exchange … sold wooden bear figurines fashioned to resemble former President Donald Trump and holding signs reading, “Let’s Go Brandon.” … The foot-tall bears sported long red ties and slicked-back blond hair in Trump fashion. … “Let’s Go Brandon” serves as code for some who oppose Joe Biden’s presidency. Pro-Trump crowds routinely chant the phrase during rallies, and it now adorns T-shirts, hats, coffee mugs and a host of other merchandise popular with conservatives.”
28 – They’re starting on the movie. Filming is in this old beat up hotel in Los Angeles. One of the rooms they’re using, in the movie, is a room that Hank lived in. They’ve hired some of the degenerates living in the hotel, to work as extras on the movie. The hotel is gonna be torn down for some commercial venture. The residents don’t know where they will go.
Hollywood Part Four
This is a repost from a couple of years ago. I am currently reading Factotum, by Hank Chinaski, aka Charles Bukowski®. You will learn nothing by reading Hank Chinaski novels. Hank will not make you a better person. Hank requires little of the reader, except the labor of turning the page. Hank recycles the same story over and over. Work, fight, drink, fuck, over and over. I would say rinse and repeat, but Hank is not big on washing. When you are finished with a Hank Chinaski story, you are left with wasted time, instead of insights into the plight of humanity. My kind of book. … What follows is part four in the chamblee54 celebration of Hollywood, by Charles Bukowski/Hank Chinaski. The book details making the movie Barfly. Other installments of this series are available. one two three five Pictures today are from The Library of Congress.
29 – The movie is shooting. Press people are starting to descend, in search of interesting copy. People have this notion that Hank is gonna be interesting. “The phone rang every day. People wanted to interview the writer. I never realized that there were so many movie magazines, or magazines interested in the movies. It was a sickness, this great interest in a medium that relentlessly and consistently failed, time after time after time, to produce anything at all. People became so used to seeing **** on film that they no longer realized it was ****.”
Hank Chinaski has to have a pro-active editor. This book is too smooth, and too easy to read. There is no way that a broken broken down urinal-feeder like pink China’s key can write a page turner like this. (Sometimes it is best to not correct the robo secretary.) Easy riding makes hard reading. Stream of consciousness is more fun to write, than it is to read.
Barbet Schroeder/Jon Pinchot did a series of interviews with Hank for French TV. I’m gonna find them on YouTube, and listen to as much as I can stand. (I did not make it through two minutes.) I thought I could use them as background noise for a graphic poem. The text was written by Ambrose Bierce, yet another drunken journalist. I’m gonna to use pictures of dogs for the background. This is gonna be the first time that I’ve married images to text in a while.
30 – Hank and Sarah go to a party. They meet a lawyer representing somebody. The client owes Hank money. The lawyer says the check is in the mail. Hank, Sarah, and the lawyer, continue to drink heavily. The lawyer’s wife, Helga, is a retired drunk. Hank says that there is absolutely nothing worse then being sober around drunks.
I was brought up in a Southern Baptist house. Father would drink a beer or two, but mom was a teetotaler. As a result, I really never learned how to drink. A social outcast in high school, I didn’t learn there either. I may be the only person alive that never drank, before he was legal. By this time, I was a dedicated pothead. It went from enjoying an occasional beer, to the point where the drinking was more than I was comfortable with. I never got a DUI, and I never progressed to hard liquor dependency. When I was 34, I quit, and never looked back.
I quit drinking on December 31st 1988 … The windows robo-secretary quit, for the last time. I am moving over to google docs, which is much better. … I’m not as willing to put up with alcoholic nonsense as I was before. I try not to be obnoxious about it. Alcohol serves as a social lubricant, that helps you get to know people. I spend a lot more time by myself now. It got even worse when I quit smoking pot. Now I’m an anti-social mess. It would be best if I could figure out *moderation,* but that is not happening for me.
31 – The checks did arrive. They promptly bounced. … I’ve always liked the phrase, returned for insufficient funds. The last time I got a reality check, it was returned for insufficient funds.
There’s a campaign ad, from a lady named Kay Ivey. She’s some sort of politician in Alabama, and she has nothing good to say about President Brandon. I’ve condensed this video down to the best 5 seconds. This lady looks at the camera all sweet and squishy and says “poor Joe bless his heart.”
32 – So they’re shooting the scene in a bathtub. Francine is concerned that her tits are going to show. Mickey is not loosening up. They’re on their 19th to take. The camera man wants a drink … he’s a brilliant camera man, and a drunk. They don’t want him to drink. However, people do want Francine to have a drink, so she can loosen up. Finally, Sarah comes out of the kitchen, with of coffeecup of whiskey, gin, and cat piss. Francine drinks the concoction, and the scene is shot.
Being a retired drunk is nothing to be proud of. If I was really doing it right, I would have learned the gift of … what’s that word, not sobriety, not temperance … anyways that that word that means that you can drink enough to enjoy yourself, or to loosen up when you need to, but not become a basket case. Now I can’t remember the word. I never could do it when I was drinking, and now I can’t remember the word for it. I’m sure I’ll remember it later.
33 – They’re shooting a scene. The building they’re using used to be a ballroom. It was full on Saturday night. The drunks outside hated the bougie dancing people. Now the building is a rehabilitation center for alcoholics, full of “reformed drunks who read the Bible, smoke too many cigarettes, and play bingo.”
This German lady, and this Italian lady, want to interview Mr. Chinaski. Italian lady goes first, all she wants to do is talk about drinking. Hank wants to talk about being pickling up the ass of death. By the time he got to German lady, Hank ran out of things to say. … There’s an old joke, about this Polish starlet. She thought she could get a part by fucking the screenwriter.
I am happy with the google robo secretary. It is time to take this further, and try editing in gd. as this program is affectionately initialized. I have to have background music. This would be The fastest guitar in the world. A man named Lloyd Ellis created the album in 1958. A bunch of studio musicians record instrumentals, destined for the $1.98 bin at K-mart. Meanwhile, the timer on the phone goes off. Breakfast is ready. Life is good.
34 – Jon Pinchot calls Hank. The movie has been cancelled, again. That seems to happen a lot. Hank is sympathetic, and invites Jon over for a few drinks. Pinchot says no thank you, I have a date with two lesbians. Hank was going to go to the racetrack anyway.
The racetrack system is all based on the concept that the public must lose. You decide what the public is going to do, and bet against it. Hank has a good system, but doesn’t always follow it. One of the problems that you have to defeat is human weakness.
Cary Grant was a star of LA racing. He would go to Hollywood Park, place a $2 bet, and go into hysterics when losting. The former Archie Leach was so well known at the track, they named a race The Cary Grant Stakes. Randolph Scott was a drink served in the clubhouse.
Hollywood Park eventually became obsolete. It was torn down, and SoFi stadium was built on the site. The Super Bowl is playing in this venue as we speak. I have a digital converter powering a huge tv that weighs 66.6 pounds. It was given to me. The game is on Channel 11, where over-the-air broadcasting is not a priority. The picture is on for a while, then breaks down into pixelated goulash.
35 – Hank and Sarah go to see a scene shot. They go to the bar. It is somehow connected to a flop house hotel. They go in, and a famous film critic there. .. Siskel and Ebert or Airhead or one of those guys .. Soon, Francine Bowers/Faye Dunaway comes in with her little notebook.
She is playing Jane, Hank’s gf, and wants to know about her. The Barfly cheat sheet says that Jane is “real,” but I suspect that her name is really Betty. In one of his books, Hank talks about his shack job Betty. Neither one was a member of the Junior League.
This man, Illiantovitch, comes in, and orders a double vodka. I had that I had to Google that name because it’s not in the Wikipedia summary. I found this Bukowski Forum. They had a text document, with every character in Hollywood, and the real life counterpart. There is no information about Illiantovitch, which is too bad. He is a sloppy drunk, but a neat character. Illiantovitch keeps drinking double vodkas, cussing out everybody when they go to watch the movie.
Francine is a great name. On dead Saturday, 1973, I went to a Stadium concert in Charlotte NC. One of the bands was ZZ Top. This was back when their beards were only about three fingers long. ZZ Top was the only band that to play an encore. One of their star songs was Francine.
36 – They need to shoot the bar fight. They’ve got doubles, to do the real fighting. Mickey Rourke is just going to pretend, in a couple of close-ups. Let the doubles do all the dirty work. Hank is nostalgic for his days as a barroom drunk. Later, Francine asks Hank how Jane died. She was the maid in this hotel, and everybody gave her a bottle of wine for Christmas. Hank went over to see her, and saw all these bottles in her room. “Babe you can’t drink all of that you’re going to die.” He came back a few days later, all the bottles were empty, and she was laying on the bed unconscious. Jane came to long enough to say “I knew it was you going to be you.” She died an hour later.
Hollywood Babylon
PG recently read Hollywood Babylon: The Legendary Underground Classic of Hollywood’s Darkest and Best Kept Secrets. A yard sale last summer had a deluxe edition on sale. The man asked PG how much he thought it should cost. “If you are going by the amount of truth in it, the price should be a nickel.” In a fit of synchronicity, PG was on his way to a party, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”. This is a repost. Pictures are from The Library of Congress.
HB is highly entertaining, despite those troubling concerns about the facts. The cover has an NSFW picture of Jayne Mansfield, where the top of her dress serves as a display case for her boobies. HB goes all TMI about the death of Miss Mansfield, but it is a model of good taste compared to Find a death. The *bottom line* is that Jayne Mansfield was not decapitated in that auto accident.
While asking Mr. Google whose jugs adorned the cover of HB, this article came up: Satan and Mummified Psychics: A Kenneth Anger Marathon at Sweat Records Tonight. Someone with too much free time was promoting an evening of the short films of Kenneth Anger. Mr. Anger, born Kenneth Wilbur Anglemyer, has the copyright credit for HB. PG suspects that other scribes helped out. In some parts, the prose is purpler than in others. Of course, when writing about Hollywood, it is fitting that a committee produced a book filled with lies. Kenneth Anger croaked May 11, 2023.
The Miami story disputes the notion that Kenneth Anger was a child star. “… a little boy named Anger was born in Santa Monica CA. He attended a school for child stars, did dance steps with Shirley Temple, and minced about as the changeling prince in the 1935 Warner Bros. movie version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. But all that might be bullshit. There’s not much documentation of Anger’s alleged child star days. The one legit source that seems to corroborate the claim is Mickey Rooney. He played Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream and he says Anger’s mommy dressed him up as the girl named “Sheila Brown” who officially played the Changeling Prince.”
A website called Vice.com managed to snag an interview with Kenneth Anger. The introduction has this story. “He went on to recount the time Kenneth showed up at fellow director and mutual friend Curtis Harrington’s funeral at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery wearing a black raincoat, eyeliner, and fingernail polish. His shirt was opened to his navel, revealing the giant lucifer tattoo emblazoned across his chest, and he was accompanied by a boyish photographer who took pictures as Kenneth kissed Curtis’s corpse before its cremation. Before he was ejected from the premises, Kenneth handed John a small plastic vampire figurine that contained mint candies inside, clarifying its original use by saying, “It’s actually a dispenser for tickle-ribbed rubbers.”
The interview had a few high moments. VICE But it did attract the attention of sexologist Alfred Kinsey, whom you befriended. Did he encourage your work?
KA Yes. Kinsey was doing interviews for his book Sexual Behavior in the Human Male, and I don’t know… What if you are not human? The title is kind of awkward, but that was what he called his research book. He was basically a biologist, an expert on wasps, of all things. When he came to LA to do interviews, I met him. He came to see Fireworks at the Coronet Theatre at a midnight showing, and he wanted to buy a print for his collection at Indiana University. I agreed, and that was the first copy I ever sold. But I remained good friends with him until the end of his life.
VICE Do you have a favorite star from this era?
KA I love the career of Rudolph Valentino, who died at 31 and had an amazing trajectory in that short time. His life continues to fascinate me.
VICE Do you continue to find new information?
KA I have plenty of information on him. There are facts, and then there is gossip. I go for the facts, but I will listen to the gossip. [smiles]
VICE Your willingness to sift through the gossip was a point of contention with some people when Hollywood Babylon was published, especially after its second printing. Some have accused you of muckraking, and others have even gone further and claim that it contains factual inaccuracies.
KA Well, I’ve never been sued…
VICE In other words, your detractors can’t prove it.
KA No one ever came up to me and said, “Well, you made the whole thing up.” Because I didn’t.
HB is a fun book, with great pictures. The stories are mostly lies, but this is Hollywood we are talking about. With its continued popularity, there will be plenty of copies at yard sales and used book stores. .
More Tales Of The City
This is a repost from 2017. It was a simpler time. Looking back six years, we had it pretty good in 2017. Our biggest problem was an orange haired idiot in the White House. In three years we would melt down over Covid. In five years Russia would invade Ukraine. In six years, Israel would crank up the lawn mower. In these six years, the national debt has gone from $20t to $34t. That is a $14t increase in six years. By comparison, the total debt in 2011 was $14t. America has borrowed more in the last six years, than it did in 235 years previously. … So much for today’s fantasy. This repost is a book report of More Tales Of The City, another fantasy from a more innocent time. MTOTC took place in the San Francisco of 1977. Talk about not knowing when you had it good. … Whales of the city is about books four and six of the Tales of the City series. In this report, your humble scribe realizes that he has yard sale copies of books two and three, but does not know if he read them. He soon learns that he had not read those two books.
More Tales Of The City, book two of TOTC, is the subject of today’s book report. It begins with Micheal Tolliver’s Valentines Day Resolutions for 1977. “3. I will stop expecting to meet Jan-Michael Vincent at the tubs. 4. I will inhale poppers only through the mouth.” Cruise ship people wonder why Michael wore a T shirt advertising Crisco.
MTOTC occupies a totally different world from the 1988 scenery of Sure of You, book six. Consuming these stories out of sequence can lead to some head scratching. Either Armistead Maupin could see the future, and had a perverted sense of humor, or synchronicity is real. SPOILER ALERT Things in various parts of TOTC will be discussed below. If you are spoiler sensitive, you can just skip over the text, and look at the pictures. These images are courtesy of The Library of Congress.
The end of MTOTC shows Michael Tolliver and Mary Ann Singleton bemoaning the departure of Burke Andrew. Mary Ann met Burke on a cruise ship. They had their moment, and Burke got a job in New York. Micheal goes back to his southern queen roots, and quotes Scarlett O’Hara… tomorrow is another day. Fast forward four books/eleven years. Burke is a married New York hotshot. He gets Mary Ann to leave San Francisco, finally, and move on to national stardom in the Big Apple.
86 is an expression meaning get out of here. On page 86 of MTOTC, we see this 1977 comment: “There are – and this is conservatively speaking – one hundred and twenty thousand practicing homosexuals within the city limits of San Francisco. … Those one hundred and twenty thousand homosexuals are going to grow old together, Arch. ….Think of it! The first gay nursing home in the history of the world!” The Arch mentioned in this sales pitch is Archibald Anson Gidde. He will die in book six. The obituary will use a euphemism.
A lot of those 120K P.H. were going to die between book two and book six. One of them is Dr. Jon Fielding, an on-and-off bf of Michael Tolliver. The two re-connect on the same cruise ship that facilitated Mary Ann’s romance. On page 109, Michael is fantasizing about having a decadent funeral. Jon listens appreciatively, then says “Don’t die, O.K.? Not until I’m through with you.” In less than five years, Jon will be through with Micheal, and everything else.
MTOTC is a fun book. It is not a documentary. A few of the plot twists will stretch your credibility. It is escapism, and is set in a more innocent era… back when things were still fun. Before we go, we need a couple of one star comments. Robert S. Marrinon “While Tales of the City had redeeming love and touching stories, “More Tales of the City” was simply filthy. I can see why it sold for one cent.” Rozanne “I can’t believe I read another book by this guy. He’s pretty awful.”
Combination Of Deodorant And Testosterone
Razor Girl is a story by Carl Hiaasen. The unpronounceable one specializes is Florida crime stories. Criminals are mustache twirling dastardly. Damsels dwell in fallen angel distress. Lawmen are a citizen complaint away from being criminals. Mr. H, a newspaper dude, says he never makes up anything, but waters down the technicolor reality.
Which brings us to Pitrolux®. This is a combination of deodorant and testosterone. The “refreshing juniper scent” caused teenage girls to steal it out of daddy’s medicine cabinet, and grow beards. Is Pitrolux® a real product? If you google “combination of deodorant and testosterone,” you might find out. Do you know what TMI means?
ClinicalTrials.gov scores with A Study of Effect of Deodorant and Axillary Hair on Testosterone Absorption in Healthy Participants. “This study will evaluate the effect of deodorant and antiperspirant use and the presence of underarm hair on the absorption of testosterone. Each participant in this study will receive 6 single doses of 30 milligrams (mg) testosterone applied as a solution to each underarm. … Deodorant spray applied to unshaved axillae. At least 2 minutes wait time. Then, single 30 mg dose of testosterone applied topically to each axilla…”
The Journal of Sexual Medicine gets down and dirty with “Effect of Deodorant and Antiperspirant Use and Presence or Absence of Axillary Hair on Absorption of Testosterone 2% Solution Applied to Men’s Axillae.” Axillary hair is the stuff that grows under your arms. Conclusions: “Absorption of testosterone 2% solution was unaffected by use of deodorant/antiperspirant or by the presence or absence of axillary hair. Testosterone solution was generally well tolerated.” Key Words: Bioequivalence, Deodorant, Pharmacokinetics, Testosterone Solution, Hypogonadism.
A reasonable person might ask, why would anyone want to study the effect of deodorant on absorption of testosterone? It seems as though this is one of the methods used by female-to-male transpeople. “In FTM testosterone therapy, testosterone (often called “T” for short) can be administered into the body in a number of ways. … Esterification of testosterone is done in order to improve the solubility of testosterone in oil, which in turn slows the release of the testosterone from the site where it enters the body.”
Does High Testosterone in Women Increase Body Odor? “Offensive body odor can cause embarrassment and self-consciousness in women. … There is no “normal” amount or smell for body odor … Although men generally have higher testosterone levels than women, women actually have more sweat glands than men.”
10 Best Deodorants and Antiperspirants for Men is an article at Beardholic. Right Guard, longtime foe of macho B.O., did not make the top ten. None of the ten deodorants reviewed contains testosterone. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. These men fought in the War Between the States. This was before the invention of modern deodorant. This is a repost.
Tommy Rotten
This is a repost from 2015. It was a simpler time. … In 1977, Rolling Stone did a piece about a “counterculture writer” named Thomas Eugene Robbins. “Tommy Rotten,” is known for colorful phrasing. It is as if Vladimir Nabokov caught butterflies with psychedelic juice in their wings, and made a lepidopterist stew that allowed him behind the looking glass. … You can tell people that my goal is to write novels that are like a basket of cherry tomatoes—when you bite into a paragraph, you don’t know which way the juice is going to squirt.” Pictures today are from Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library
Tibetan Peach Pie: A True Account of an Imaginative Life is a TER autobiography. This accounts for the page references. … On page 25, TER was on an Asian honeymoon. A Sing snake crossed their path. A guide invited the snake to dinner. The reptile was prepared with enough red chili paste to give heartburn to the human blowtorch. TER felt as though he had gargled napalm. Later, on page 145, TER would describe “many a hot, sticky summer night, when a restless Richmond felt like the interior of a napalmed watermelon.”
TER is thirteen years old on page 63. He has not joined the church, given his soul to Jesus, and been assured of salvation. These are important items on the Southern Baptist bucket list. At the end of the service, the congregation sings “Just as I am,” and kids are shamed into salvation. The Baptist ritual of pressuring pre pubescent youth into a “commitment of faith” is morally dubious. Yes, this is better than what the Roman Pedophile Church likes to do with little boys, but that’s a technicality. … The man assigned to win the soul of TER was Dr. Peters. “tall, gaunt, and pale, with a weak damp smile and cold damp palms: shaking hands with him was like being forced to grasp the flaccid penis of a hypothermic zombie….more creepy than refrigerated possum slobber.”
At some point TER is on a ship, and editing a newspaper. “…the paper’s adviser, a Roman Catholic chaplain who possessed the purplish physiognomy and perpetually petulant pucker of the overly zealous censor.” Soon TER is in Nebraska, and buys his first automobile, a “1947 Kaiser … looked like the illegitimate child of a sperm whale and a pizza oven.” TER did not specify the gender.
The Fan was the hippie district of Richmond VA, although the 1954 version was considerably tamer than the summer of love variety. TER was reading books about zen. Learning zen, by reading a book, was similar to learning how to swim by reading a magazine. Or telling time by reading a newspaper. As Ben Hecht put it, “Trying to determine what is going on in the world by reading newspapers is like trying to tell the time by watching the second hand of a clock.” … “I’d better shut up now before the woo-woo alarms go off.”
The edited version of this nonsense ended before a purple paragraph. Purple prose has long been a derogatory phrase for overwrought wordsmithery. It is now the sunday after turkey day, in the year of our satan 2023. As TER liked to say in “Cowgirls,” the state of the world is desperate as usual. TER is either 91 or 87, depending on what mood google is in. We probably will not get another novel out of him. … There is probably a good quote to end this with, but I am too lazy to look for it.
Squeeze Me
A new laptop has found its way into the world of chamblee54. The best way to make friends is to assign chores to the new device, and just do it. The first one was this poem. There were numerous challenges along the way. I never hesitated to take a break. Finally, the poem was finished, and posted. The next assignment is a book report on Squeeze Me, by Carl Hiaasen. This is a repost.
One challenge of working with Mr. H is the surname. The first google how-to, Pronounce Names, got it wrong, after running a popup ad for Lucy McBath. (The congresslady’s son was killed in Florida.) Finally, another video was found, where the man introduces himself. The proper way to say Hiaassen is HI-a-sin. High a sin. How could anyone mess that up?
SM is set in Florida, with most of the action taking place in Palm Beach. There are plenty of widows, with too much money, and way too much spare time. A group of them, called the Potussies, are Presidential groupies. A sometimes resident of PB bears a striking resemblance to a recent POTUS. The Secret Service code name is Mastadon.
Trump bashing has been the national pastime for the last few years. Most of it is unimaginative, featuring an unhealthy obsession with racial attitudes. Mr. Hiassen takes Trump bashing to a new level. Between the adderall, and the velcro wig holder, it is little wonder that POTUS cannot satisfy Mockingbird, his wife. She takes comfort in the arms of a Secret Service agent.
The plot centers around a Potussy, eaten by a Burmese Python. The snakes were imported to PB by Skink, a recurring Hiassen character. I have always thought Skink was one of Hiassen’s yuckier characters, and was happy to go through most of the book without him. Alas, when it became clear that the snakes were manually introduced to PB, it should have been obvious who was responsible.
SM is a wild ride. It is like eating a box of chocolates… you know you will run out soon, but cannot resist just one bite. Soon it will time to look up something else to get from the library. There are two volumes in the “Tales of the City” series to go. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress.
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