Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Consider: Blago represents only himself.


New cliches are minted hourly. Journalists strive for superlatives in describing Illinois as corrupt. Television newsreaders suggest that Blago is the face of the Democratic Party in the United States. Bobby Rush doubly invokes language of past, racially-inspired murders: "I would ask you not to hang or lynch the appointee as you try to castigate the appointor. Separate, if you will, the appointee from the appointor. Roland Burris is worthy." Blagojevich's public play for an insanity plea cannot end too soon. [Graphic: ABC News.]

Thursday, December 25, 2008

"Cancer Cells," by Harold Pinter (2002)


The black cells will dry up and die
Or sing with joy and have their way
They breed so quietly night and day,
You never know, they never say.


Pinter was 78.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

The Proof is in the off-putting: The NYT's new booze blog

The Times calls it Proof, and it's their blog about drinking, or wanting to drink despite behind sober for months and years. It's an odd cocktail. Here's a sentiment, from David Kramer's "Buybacks": "One thing I miss about drinking is hanging out in bars. Mm, okay. Let's sample Jim Atkinson's "It’s the Holidays. How About Just One?": "I had my last drink nearly 16 years ago, so you’d think I would have assimilated pretty much every bit of unpleasantness associated with clean and sober life in a society that remains thoroughly sodden with alcohol. But I still can’t quite handle the holidays. It’s not that I’m driven to drink; just to a certain uncomfortable distraction that doesn’t leave until the holiday season thankfully does. And it’s not just that the holidays seem to have been invented for the express purpose of promoting—no, necessitating—irresponsible alcoholic consumption." Cheer-filled! How about David Kramer's "Self-Inflicted Prophecy "? "Years ago, I had had a run of terrible luck in my life. My career was going nowhere. I thought about going to see a shrink, but I was totally broke and I didn’t want to get myself involved in anything that was going to cost me lots of time and money. So I went to see a psychic. In my mind, it was just like seeing a shrink, only instead of wasting all that time mulling over my past, I could set some totally arbitrary goals and navigate my life through them, moving forward." Got anything stronger? How 'bout Susan Cheever's "Drunkenfreude"? "As dessert ended, the woman in the red dress got up and stumbled toward the bathroom. Her husband, whose head had been sinking toward the bûche de Noël, put a clumsily lecherous arm around the reluctant hostess. As coffee splashed into porcelain demitasse cups, the woman in the red dress returned, sank sloppily into her chair and reached for the Courvoisier. Someone gently moved the bottle away. “Are you shaying I’m drunk?” she demanded. Even in the candlelight I noticed that the lipstick she had reapplied was slightly to the left of her lips. Her husband, suddenly bellicose, sprang from his chair to defend his wife’s honor. But on the way across the room he slipped and went down like a tray of dishes. “Frank! Are you hurt?” she screamed. Somehow she had gotten hold of the brandy. “S’nothing,” he replied, “just lay down for a little nap. Can I bum a smoke?” Bartender! What he's having! And make it a double!

Monday, December 22, 2008

Rockcrit: Matthew Perpetua on Tim Kinsella

Writing at Fluxblog, Matthew Perpetua considers the case of Joan of Arc's “Ne Mosquitos Pass”: "Tim Kinsella is not the easiest singer to appreciate. In fact, he’s probably the worst singer whose music I actively enjoy. But here’s the thing: Whereas all too many crappy indie vocalists hedge their bets and sing with timidity and a flat affect, Kinsella emotes and pushes his thin, frail voice to occasionally excruciating limits, often with gutting results. Even still, his style would come off horribly in most musical contexts, and so it’s pretty crucial that it’s in contrast with delicate, imaginative arrangements that balance out gorgeous, graceful instrumentation with uglier textures and unorthodox rhythms. “Ne Mosquitos Pass,” a Joan of Arc gem dating back to 2001, never fails to move me with its gently floating arpeggios, somber piano chords, and absolutely unhinged conclusion. The beat is steady, but it seems to stagger all along the way, as if it can barely hold itself erect, especially when the song gets around to its bitter, ironically anthemic chorus." Not only a nice paragraph, but it suits the song.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Terminal velocity: how to end the massive Madoff coverage in NY Times

NY Times front-pages the deceptions of Bernard Madoff in the December 21 editions. As written by Diane B. Henriques, the closing grafs offer a keen example of accelerating-cadence prose ending a huge, detail-choked article. "In early December he remarked to one of [his sons] that he was struggling to raise $7 billion to cover redemptions. He seemed tired and drawn, but so was just about everyone else during the turbulent weeks of late November and early December. Then, early on Dec. 10, he shocked [them] by suggesting that the firm pay out several million dollars in bonuses two months ahead of schedule. When pressed by his sons for a reason, he grew agitated and insisted that they all leave the office and continue the conversation at his apartment on East 64th Street. It was there, at midmorning, that he told his sons that his business was “a big lie” and, “basically, a giant Ponzi scheme.” There was nothing left, he told them—and he fully expected to go to jail. The questions have piled up since then: Could Mr. Madoff have sustained this worldwide fraud for so long by himself? Why didn’t regulators, in Washington and abroad, catch him sooner? And will anything be recovered for investors, some of whom have lost every penny? But when the news of his arrest began to spread on Dec. 11, the first thought that struck an old friend who had known him as a pioneer on Wall Street, was, “There must be an error. It must be another Bernie Madoff.” Then he added, “But then, there is no other Bernie Madoff.” [Reported by Henriques, Alex Berenson, Alison Leigh Cowan, Alan Feuer, Zachery Kouwe, Eric Konigsberg, Nelson D. Schwartz, Michael J. de la Merced, Stephanie Strom, Julia Werdigier and Dirk Johnson.]

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Clay Shirky on "vulgarity" on the internet, from CJR


Clay Shirky, who teaches at the Interactive Telecommunications program at New York University and is the author of "Here Comes Everybody, says not to worry about information overload. "You know, “Life was better when I was younger” is always an acceptable narrative. Right? And so for anybody who was brought up genuflecting to the literary culture and the virtues of reading Tolstoy—and essentially Tolstoy is a trope in these things, War and Peace is the longest novel in the sort of Euro-centric canon—you could always make the argument that the present is worse than the past by simply pointing to the virtues of the past. And so, what the Web does is that it does what all amateur increases do, which is it decreases the average quality of what’s available. It is exactly, precisely, the complaint made about the printing press. So, the only thing surprising about the Web, in a way, is that it’s been a long time since we’ve had a medium that increased the amount of production of written material this dramatically... [P]eople made the same complaint about comic books, they made the same complaint about paperbacks, and they made the same complaint about the vulgarity of the printing press. Whenever you let more people in, things get vulgar by definition. And people who benefited under the old system or who dislike or distrust vulgarity as a process always have room to complain. But, the interesting thing is, when you say so many people believe this, in fact almost no one believes this, right? There’s a tiny, tiny slice of the chattering classes for whom “Life was better when I was younger” is an acceptable complaint to make, and they have these little conferences or whatever and agree with one another about that phenomenon. But when you look at the actual use of the Web, it is through the roof. And it has continued in an unbroken growth from the early ’90s until now. So, in fact, almost everybody thinks it’s a good idea because they’re embracing it and they’re experimenting with it and they don’t really care what we think. And when I say “we,” I mean—I am a member of the Chardonnay-swilling East Coast liberal media elite. But I also recognize that anything I might have to say about the utility of the media actually isn’t going to influence whether or not people are going to adopt this. And so once you get out of the idea that basically the previous avatars of the cultural good, and the world that George W.S. Trow chronicled so beautifully 'Within the Context of No Contex't—once you grasp that those people are powerless to that effect, powerless with regard to the adoption curve—the question really becomes, “How do you point out an effect where something has been damaged?” And that’s where I think a lot of this conversation about reading breaks down, because if you assume that reading Tolstoy is an a priori good, your world crumbled in 1970. And it’s hard to point to the Web as responsible for any of that because that was a done deal for some time. If you want to point to more proximate harms, it would be very hard to argue, for example, that innovation, inventiveness, new intellectual discoveries had slowed as a result of the Internet, and so people are left with these kind of mealy-mouth cultural critiques, because nostalgia becomes the only bulwark against change. The actual effects of making more information available to more people have been enormously beneficial to society, yet not to the intellectual gatekeepers in the generation in which that change happened."

Greek protest posters






I've collected Greek political posters for a while and was disappointed this fall to find a lack of the usual startling design work. The provocation that led to the creation of these and the resulting violence is a terrible thing, but terrible times focus the mind. [Via Nassos Kappa.]

Manohla Dargis addresses her "dear (and hostile) reader"

In a sweetly optimistic, even uplifiting year-end countdown, New York Times film critic Manohla Dargis is inspired by the lead character of Happy-Go-Lucky: "There is, of course, perverse pleasure in ending the year with an angry rant, as I have proven in the past, if only to myself. But given the clanging of so much bad news, I thought I would try a change of pace. I’m not sure if optimism becomes me, but it sure feels nice. Every year filmmakers from around the world offer us stories filled with grief and tragedy that either feed our souls or rip out another little piece. I tend to fall for movies like these, but I also swoon for those filled with grace and generous sentiments, like Happy-Go-Lucky, that suggest that one way to face hard times (and raging driving instructors) is with an open heart and smile. Quickly now: give it a try!"

Friday, December 19, 2008

Thursday, December 18, 2008

A pleasing screed from a reader of writing on film: Time Out Chicago


The "Letter of the week" in the 18-31 December issue of Time Out Chicago was a surprise. Writes Brandon Linden: "I'm writing this in response to an article on the New French Cinema series at Facets Multimedia and in terms of your film coverage in general. We are lucky in Chicago to have a rich and distinguished culture of film criticism. Whether you take into account Rosenbaum's polemics at the Reader (sorely missed), Ebert's more mainstream but well-wrought and beautifully written prose, or Ray Pride's personal, almost memoirist, take on film at Newcity, these are all examples that show your own writing to be ill considered and snide when it should be thoughtful and exciting. If you did not like any of the films at the fest, that is certainly your right, but it is your duty to explain the whys and hows, not just as critics, but as writers who want to be read... Your dismissive attitude about the fest as a whole shows an attitude that pervades the rest of the film coverage as well... There are wonderful opportunities here to turn on an audience that might otherwise not see these films. Engage them, contribute to the wonderful film culture we have." The editors do not offer reply.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

"Duly noted" blog entry of the day

From a teacher-photographer in Thessaloniki, Greece who posts under the name Teacher Dude's Grill and BBQ:"Time to make ourselves heard... The batteries are charging, the bag packed, my pencils are sharpened and my notebooks blank. Tomorrow I am heading for the nationwide series of protests over the killing of Alexis Grigoropoluos. Hope to see you there."

Monday, December 15, 2008

She should have persisted: Summary graf of the day, Threepenny Review

At the estimable Threepenny Review, essayist Philip Lopate makes "Notes on Sontag". As an essayist writing about an essayist writing about an essayist, Lopate has this to say: "The title essay on Walter Benjamin, "Under the Sign of Saturn," is my favorite in the book, and probably my favorite of all her essays. Her tribute is a rare act of sympathy by which one author assimilates another, and transmits unselfishly that spirit to the reader, rendering his notoriously difficult aspects into something coherent and attractive... The prose is dense but clear, never stuffy or derivative; one would have to quote the entire Sontag essay to convey its method of piling idea upon idea, so that each insight builds on all the previous ones. A few sentences, extracted from the middle, may suffice: Benjamin's recurrent themes are, characteristically, means of spatializing the world: for example, his notion of ideas and experiences as ruins. To understand something is to understand its topography, to know how to chart it. And to know how to get lost. ... Anyone familiar with Benjamin's work will hear echoes and paraphrases... Sontag's prose here is also remarkably rhythmic, as though she were in a semi-trance when composing it, able to channel Benjamin's spirit calmly while looking at him objectively...She begins novelistically, by describing Benjamin as he appears in photographs. Then she takes us through some of his dominant motifs and characteristics: topography, miniaturization, indecisiveness, keeping one's options open, a courtier's courtesy. Benjamin was a passionate collector, and in her analysis of his fidelity to things... we get a first glimpse of the Cavaliere, the collector-protagonist of her novel The Volcano Lover. Benjamin was also another exemplar for her of "the freelance intellectual." Finally, he was a negative model in the difficulty he had finishing books. "His characteristic form remained the essay. The melancholic's intensity and exhaustiveness of attention set natural limits to the length at which Benjamin could develop his ideas. His major essays seem to end just in time, before they self-destruct." Her own essay on Benjamin runs a mere twenty-five pages. She later said, by way of explaining why she no longer gave her main energies to essay-writing, that some of the essays in Under the Sign of Saturn had taken her six months to write. From my perspective, this means she should have persisted in essay writing; it was just getting to the proper level of difficulty."

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Love, like light: Summary graf of the day, The New Yorker

From a long piece examining recent books about Boswell, Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Thrale, Adam Gopnik sums up: "Life has, as Johnson said, a way of pointing toward morals, but, as he also knew, they are rarely the morals we expect to be pointed toward. Mrs. Thrale did the disgraceful thing, and was rewarded with a serene and happy second life. Boswell took the diaries and journals he had piled up in a wasted lifetime of sensual pleasures and obsessive self-regard and turned them into one of the best and most enduring books ever written. It is a love triangle, certainly, but the shapes that the three points describe seem still to be in motion. Love, like light, is a thing that is enacted better than defined: we know it afterward by the traces it leaves on paper."

Friday, December 12, 2008

Lede: CNN's prisoner of war from Men's Journal

Rolling Stone-style new journo lede hits hard: “I am not the same fucking person,” he tells me. “I am not the same person. I don’t know how to come home.” It’s October, six months after our first meeting, and Michael Ware, 39, is at his girlfriend’s apartment in New York, trying to tell me why after six years he absolutely must start spending less time in Iraq. He’s crying on the other end of the telephone. “Will I get any better?” he continues. “I honestly don’t know. I can’t see the — right now, I know no other way to live.” [By Greg Vels, story at link.]

NY Times' Robin Toner, 54, was a scrupulous factpchecker

In their obituary of national correspondent Robin Toner, the Times notes, "[I]n a craft in which small errors are commonplace and bigger mistakes a regular occupational hazard, Ms. Toner devised a meticulous personal method for checking and re-checking names, dates, facts and figures in her own raw copy, a step few reporters take. As a result: only half a dozen published corrections over the years, on more than 1,900 articles with her byline." Examples and lessons were not provided.

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Monday, October 6, 2008

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Saturday, October 4, 2008

Friday, October 3, 2008

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Freedom stripes



Skidmarks, Chicago Tribune Freedom Center, Chicago Avenue at Halsted Street.