James Frey's New Novel Needs A Dude With A Sock Puppet

James Frey, the author who got an Oprah smackdown after it was revealed that his memoir A Million Little Pieces was more fiction than non, is back with what his publisher is calling his first novel. Maybe they should say second just to be safe. An activist reader group might sue.

Bright Shiny Morning (available May 13) is described as a “sweeping chronicle of contemporary Los Angeles.” It delves into the lives of a handful of lost souls who represent the many faces of the city: a struggling immigrant, a self-absorbed action-movie star, a young couple transplanted from a small town, a homeless alchoholic and a meth-addled teenager. He forgot stripper, wannabe rock star, the guy with the sock puppet who sits in front of the Hollywood Bowl singing opera, and my white trash neighbor who preferred sex outdoors, and who never once bought lemonade from my son’s stand, but sent her kids over to borrow cups and a pitcher when they decided to set up shop in their own driveway.

To Irvine Robbins

Co-founder of Baskin-Robbins, who died today at the age of 90 in Rancho Mirage, CA.

Dear Mr. Robbins,

Thanks for giving us a place to go on summer evenings when dinner was over and it was too early to head to the family room and watch TV, but too late to go out and play. Dad would say, “Let’s go to Baskin-Robbins,” and we’d be out the door and on our way in our pale yellow, wood paneled, Country Squire wagon.

Soon I’d be standing in front of the long glass case examining all thirty-one flavors even though I already knew I was getting Daiquiri Ice. We’d walk out into the warm evening air, ice cream in hand, the heat rising up off the asphalt parking lot, the neon signs beginning to glow up and down the street, sky turning the color of rainbow sherbet.

We’d drive home slowly, maybe taking the long way through the canyon just to see the open land and smell the sage and eucalyptus in the air while we savored our frozen treats. These were the days when we all had time. There was no email to check. No web to surf. Maybe we’d catch “The Rockford Files” when we got home. There was no hurry. These were simple outings. In the scheme of things, they don’t add up to much yet they are among those lynch pin moments that form the structure of my childhood memories.

In his seventies, my dad was well known at the Baskin-Robbins near his home. He often placed special orders for his favorite German Chocolate Cake ice cream. He died this past December. The week of his passing, there was a message on his machine. “Mr. Hall, we have a half gallon of German Chocolate for you if you’d like to come in.” I picked it up and we all shared a scoop in his honor. I ate it thinking of those summer evenings.

Dear Mr. Robbins, thanks for all the sweetness.

Pangea Day: Spend It With A Few Million Of Your Closest Friends

When I was a teenager, I had a surefire plan for world peace. Set up massive Marshall stacks every hundred yards or so all the way around the globe so the entire world’s population could sing along to the same song at the same moment. I was convinced that all the world’s injustices, misunderstanding and prejudices would just melt away under that unifying bond of song. It was the era of Coke’s “I’d Like To Teach The World To Sing” commercials, so it probably wasn’t the most original idea, but it was sincere. I really believed it would work. I just had no idea how it could be done. So like most people with an insurmountable goal, I forgot about it and began working on something more within my control, finishing college and amassing a mountain of debt before I was twenty-five.

Turns out, some other people had a similar idea (the global unity thing, not the debt), and clearly a whole lot more vision and fortitude because they actually made it happen. At the Ted Conference in 2006, filmmaker Jehane Noujaim revealed her wish to “bond people together, to cross borders, and to help understand the other” through a communal day of film. She invited other like-minded creative people to join with her in developing the concept. Pangea Day is the culmination of that dream.

This Saturday, May 10, in an unprecedented harnessing of technology and human spirit, people from all over the world will come together for four hours of global empathy building. The event will feature twenty-four short films, music and visionary speakers broadcast live from six locations—Cairo, Kigali, London, Los Angeles, Mumbai and Rio de Janeiro. The entire program will also be streamed online.

Selected from among 2500 entries from more than a hundred countries, the films were chosen “based on their ability to inspire, transform and help us see the world through another person’s eyes.” They take on subjects ranging from war and poverty to Indian laughing clubs, embark on journeys big and small, show us determination in the face of adversity, and uncover hope in the most unlikely of places. Ultimately, they remind us of the underlying connections we all share.

Speakers include Queen Noor of Jordan, CNN’s Christiane Amanpour, memoirist Ishmael Beah, Oxygen Network host Lisa Ling, and artist and computer scientist Jonathan Harris (check out his amazing talk at last year’s Ted Conference). And it wouldn’t be a global consciousness-raising event without Sir Bob Geldof who will perform his song “This Is The World Calling” with Eurythmics mastermind Dave Stewart. A performance by the rapidly emerging Iranian rock band Hypernova is a story in itself.

Robin Williams, Forest Whitaker, Cameron Diaz and David Blaine are among the celebrities who have thrown their support behind the global meet and greet, which you can watch online, on TV, on your mobile phone (though at four hours, I wouldn’t recommend it), or at one of more than 1000 events planned worldwide. Photos, videos and text messages from these events will be incorporated into the live broadcast making the whole thing a truly interactive experience.

My only suggestion to the event organizers: a different name. I know naming it for the supercontinent that existed before the land mass split apart is logical, but I can’t get past the fact that Pangea sounds more like a new strain of bird flu than a global unity fest. How about something a little more celebratory like "Fandanglobal" or "Popcorn For All"? In fact, could you actually make it rain popcorn during the event? That would be my second suggestion.

The Pangea Day website has tons of information about how and where to view the event, details about the films, speakers and musicians, and a lot of other really interesting stuff. Check it out.

Smokey Says, "Go Easy On The Lighter Fluid"

With barbecue season officially underway, it’s time for a little common sense reminder. Don't put the barbecue right next to the house. This goes double if you live if you live in an apartment because there are all those other apartments adjacent to yours and the whole thing is likely to go up like a Chinese fireworks factory.

Some cook-out enthusiasts in Sunnyvale, CA learned that lesson the hard way this weekend when their balcony weenie roast turned into a three-alarm fire seriously damaging all eighteen apartments in their building. Their neighbors are really pissed. Not only do they have to find a new place to live, but they weren't even invited to the party.

Can the people who brought you the McShaker Salad seriously be a threat to Starbucks?

It probably depends on how deeply indoctrinated you are in the church of the divine roast. If you save your religious fervor for the deeper parts of your soul, then McCafe is probably okay for you. If Sunday mornings mean some serious communing with your espresso machine, then you’ll probably agree with my assessment.

First, McCafe is hardly the premium coffee bar its described as. It’s one corner of the regular McDonald’s counter with a bistro inspired logo above a completely automated plastic machine. The barista training presumably consists of a quick tutorial of which button to push. Forget the laundry list of choices available at Starbucks and other premium coffee outlets. McCafe keeps it simple: latte, cappuccino, regular, non-fat, three syrup choices, plus sugar-free. I ordered a non-fat vanilla latte and asked for two pumps of syrup instead of the standard four.

The coffee tastes exactly as you’d expect, just a notch above the stuff you get from the vending machine outside the jury duty waiting room. There’s none of the bold edge that comes from the slow forcing of the hot water through the tightly packed grounds. The milk and espresso come out together from the same spout, so one could contest even calling it an espresso drink. Even with the syrup cut in half, it’s too sweet, and there's a hint of cleaning product in the aroma. To top it off, at $2.79 + tax ($3.02), I pocket a mere eighteen cents in savings. Hardly worth the sacrifice.

That said, I don’t think Starbucks is the pinnacle of coffee either. It’s just highly consistent, readily available, and pleasantly satisfying. If I’m going to pay for a premium coffee, that’s usually what I get, but there’s certainly better out there.

Maybe if my parents had been taking me to McDonald’s for a stiff cup of scalding liquid asphalt instead of Happy Meals all those years, I might have a soft spot for their java. But I’m definitely not loving it.

Mucho de Mayo: The Mother Of All Months

May is a heady month. It's a robust, fecund, hopeful time when the earth and its inhabitants are preparing for the glorious days when the vine is heavy, the corn is high in the field, and the living is easy. In Mutual of Omaha's "Wild Kingdom" speak, we might say we are in nature’s cycle of renewal. In other words, the whole planet—from honey bee to muskrat to grizzly bear—is waking up and getting it on.

Since ancient times, people have been inspired by all this earthly delight and have sought to harness this energy through ritual and ceremony to ensure their own fertility and bountiful harvest.

The Celtic people were big on fire, using it in ceremonies of purification and rejuvenation. Young men leapt across fires to ensure fertility. Cows were driven between two bonfires to cleanse them of evil spirits and bring buckets of sweet milk. Little did these folks know, they were just a beer and a basting away from another great spring ritual, the barbecue.

In towns and villages across Europe, this is the time of year young men drag a tree from the forest, hack off its limbs, and erect it in the village square for the popular May Pole phallus dance. In Japan, they don’t bother with symbolism. They just parade huge penises through the center of town in the Kanamara Matsuri Festival held in Kawasaki (technically, that was last month, but close enough).

Everywhere, except maybe South Dakota, which got 36 inches of snow this morning, there are reminders that it’s time to shave, break out the Bermudas, and get ready to fly your freak flag.

But May is not just about revelry, it’s about remembering. There’s Cinco de Mayo, or as it’s known in America, Cerveza Day, a celebration of the battle in which 5,000 Mexican soldiers trounced France’s better dressed, better armed, and much larger army. There’s May Day, which honors workers who, a little more than a century ago, gave their lives so you could get off work in time for happy hour. And, of course, there’s Memorial Day, when we honor the many brave men and women who’ve given so much in the name of freedom. Though laborers don’t get their due until September, when we officially celebrate Labor Day with the traditional price slashing at malls and car dealerships, Americans do remember the hardest working among us during the month of May: Mothers.

So here’s to a ripe and randy world, which prods the industrious honey bee toward prolific pollination, which ensures a bountiful harvest, which keeps the wine flowing, which allows us to raise a glass to courage, and to all the workers of the world, especially Mom.

Break out the barbecue, crack open a cold one, and let the rituals begin. May is on.

This American Life Returns To Television

Sometimes the beauty of a story lies as much in the telling as in the tale itself. No one is more aware of that than Ira Glass, the creator, host and executive producer of the hugely popular, award-winning radio and television series “This American Life," which returns for its second season on Showtime this Sunday night.

Each show features a handful of real life stories centering on a single theme. What makes theses stories stand out is their ability to reveal so much with so little contrivance. The stories emerge with startling simplicity, leading to revelations that often seem to surprise even the producers themselves.

In the coming television season, a rancher refuses to believe that the clone of his favorite pet bull is different from the original animal even after it seriously injures him. A fourteen- year-old boy decides, even before he’s experienced it, that love will never be worth the pain. An Iraqi travels around the country setting up a booth with a large sign inviting people to “Talk To An Iraqi” and engaging in conversation with a variety of people including and eleven-year-old girl whose father is a soldier in Iraq. And a small town Southern politician runs his Congressional campaign with total honesty—to the point of admitting affairs, homosexual experiences, drug use and STDs.

Tonight, you can experience a rare opportunity to see “This American Life” on the big screen. In an exclusive broadcast live from New York via satellite to select theaters around the country, Glass will show previously unreleased footage, outtakes, and answer audience questions. Check the Showtime website for a theater near you.

The show, which began its life on Chicago Public Radio more than fifteen years ago and now boasts more than 1.7 listeners, airs Sunday nights at 10:00 p.m. on Showtime beginning this Sunday, May 4. It can be heard weekly on over 500 NPR stations around the country.

Don’t Talk To Strangers While Shopping

They’ll talk you into buying these shoes.

Unless you are over 50, unnaturally tan, and live in Palm Springs, you have no business putting these on your feet. I am none of the above and yet this frightening use of synthetic fur wound up in my closet. They screamed at me from the shelf at DSW when I was in a vulnerable state. They looked cheerful and fun. Why not just try them on? The fact that the toe is tapered to a point so severe even an elf couldn’t wear them, might have deterred me had a pair of strangers not happened by at the moment I was cringing in front of the mirror. “Oh my God, those are so cute! Where did you find them?” I pointed to the stack of satan’s footwear. “You’ve got to get those,” they gushed.

It wasn’t until a week later, when I unpacked at a hotel 500 miles from home, running late for a Bar Mitzvah in Los Angeles, that I realized just how evil those women were.

“You cannot wear those cougar shoes,” my son said. And by cougar, he was not referring to the animal print. The only other shoes I had with me were my utilitarian brown Clarks, just this side of lesbian loafers. I wore the cougar shoes.

All day long, I was sure people were staring at my feet and wondering why such a young, beautiful woman would want to look like Angie Dickinson at a Chippendales party. On top of that insult, by the time we left I was in such pain, I could barely toddle to the car.

These shoes are too offending to even put in my thrift store pile. I’ll have to find a special use for them. Planter? Doorstop? Lamp base? Dog chew? Maybe I should send them to Iran along with a case of Barbie dolls.

Nothing Says "Welcome Spring" Like A Hail Of Bullets

Today is a great day for lovers of rapacious violence, gratuitous sex, explosions and fire. Grand Theft Auto 4 hits stores worldwide like a greeting card from America. “Hello world, let’s come together over a little head-busting.”

The makers of GTA 4 announce that there are a few changes this time around. They’ve raised the skill level a bit. For instance, the main character can’t steal a car simply by opening a door. The game now requires him to smash the window and hot-wire it first. Good thinking. We don’t want to give our youth the false impression that stealing a car requires no skill at all.

If you pre-ordered through Amazon, you’re going to get a soundtrack CD, an art book (an art book?), a home safety-deposit box with key to hide your porn stash, and a GTA 4 black duffel bag for your next drop.

It’s interesting to note that in Australia the game has been edited to meet their standards. Is that Rugby thing all for show?

Reviewers are calling this the best Grand Theft Auto yet and sales are expected to top $400 million worldwide. Whoo hoo. GTA 4, just in time for summer, when temperatures are high, tempers are short, and kids have nothing better to do than simulate killing and mayhem for thirty-hour stretches at a time. Life is good.

Where Was The Last Place You Saw It?

Men are always misplacing things—the car keys, wallet, cell phone, the remote. But in Kinshasha, the capital of the Democratic Republic of Congo, the item currently topping the list is penis. They aren’t exactly misplacing them. According to reports, many Kinshasha men are suffering at the hands of sorcerers stealing or shrinking their penises. These masters of the dark arts are accused of using some super-mojo black magic to cast a spell (which, in most parts of the world, is known as “impotency”) to make off with the victim’s junk.

The allegations are serious for the thirteen "sorcerers" who’ve been arrested, mainly as a way to protect them until the panic subsides. A decade ago in Ghana, twelve suspected penis poachers were beaten to death during a similar harvest.

As I see it, there’s a very simple solution: a visit from the sorcerer who restores penises, the one known as Viagra.

Espresso Love

I can’t believe I’ve reached the point in my caffeine addiction where seeing a price of $1795 for an espresso machine doesn’t make me laugh at the very idea that someone would spend that kind of money on a machine that isn’t even self-cleaning. That’s more than I spent on my flat screen TV. More than I spent on my laptop. The espresso machine does nothing to simplify my life. It doesn’t organize my files or help me do my taxes. But, it provides a truly priceless service brewing shot after shot of deep, dark, pleasantly bitter espresso topped with that beautiful, frothy, chestnut head of crema. It produces that blissful aroma that says, “wow, this is going to be a great day!”

Now that I’ve read news on Wired.com that says periodic small shots of caffeine are better for me than large doses, I could classify that $1795 as healthcare.

Do I need more reasons? Look at the thing. It’s like the Viggo Mortensen of espresso machines. Gorgeous, well-proportioned, vaguely exotic. Not like those hulking machines that spread across half your counter, or the ones that are all switches and lights with a skinny little wand. This one has two substantial wands, one for steamed milk and one for hot water. How considerate. And I love the way the two knobs on the front seem to wink at me.

How much do I want this machine? How much do babies want milk? How much does a dog want to sniff crotch?

I know it's unfair to my current, hard-working Rancilio Silva, which may actually make a better shot. But how can it compete with its boxy utilitarian design that looks more like something I'd find in an auto repair shop? It had to know a machine like Rocket Giotto would come along one day.

Celebracadabra: Magically Delicious, or Magic Dookie?

How many more ways will the television industry find to exploit former child stars and fringe celebrities desperate for a paycheck and a chance to get exposure somewhere other than The Smoking Gun? That was my first thought when I heard about VH1’s upcoming show “Celebracadabra,” where seven vaguely familiar entertainers team up with professional magicians in a race to be crowned Ultimate Celebrity Sorcerer.

The prospect of these novices learning how to do anything more impressive than pulling a quarter from a toddler’s ear, or making a dollar disappear, seemed about as likely as George Bush learning to say nuclear.

But I wanted to be fair. So, I took a look at the premiere episode on the VH1 website to see how many ways I could find to make fun of it. I was so prepared to hate this that I’d already come up with a string of snarky descriptions. I kind of hate to waste all those, but it’s really not as horrendously bad as I’d expected.

When Carnie Wilson, C. Thomas Howell, Celebrity Fit Club Host Ant, Kid of Kid N’ Play, actress Lisa Ann Walter, comedian Hal Sparks and Kimberly Wyatt of the Pussycat Dolls put their skills to the test by heading out on the street to perform magic for jaded Los Angeles passers-by, some of them actually pull off some pretty convincing tricks. If non-magic folk can learn tricks of that quality within a day (as they would have you believe), why not push the envelope with something really challenging like “Celebrainsurgeon”?

It’s pretty easy to guess who will be the first eliminated, who will be kept around just for sex appeal, and even who will win. If this lasts longer than CBS’s one night-only “Secret Talents Of The Stars,” I predict good things for Hal Sparks’ career. Who? Exactly my point. But just wait.

Best WTF moment: Magic Coach Silly Billy (representing the children’s segment of magical entertainers) reminds us yet again why clowns scare the hell out of us as he gleefully begins sawing a full digit off his forefinger with an Exacto knife during a lesson with Lisa Ann Walter. It was either a really good trick, or he thought he was on appearing on the Jim Rose Circus.

Will I watch this show? Not unless I’m quarantined and my computer has exploded. But for those who enjoy this sort of thing, it’s nice to know it’s not quite the humiliation fest that the name implies.

“Celebracadabra” premieres April 27 on VH1, home of “Flavor of Love,” “My Fair Brady,” and “Scott Baio is 46 and Pregnant.” You can also look forward to “Celebrity Circus” coming to NBC this summer.

Reduce, Reuse, Rebel

Now I know what to do with that stack of promo tee-shirts collected during my years working in the music industry. Somehow too cool to get rid of, but too hideously ugly to wear even if they weren't all the default XL. London-based fashion designer Gary Harvey created this evening gown from 37 black logo tee-shirts—the kind you get at rock shows—cut up, hand stitched and turned into something no greasy haired, head-banger would be caught passed out in.

The tee-shirt dress is one of several clever, boundary pushing, eco-themed designs the former Creative Director of Levi’s Europe debuted at London’s Fashion Week.

Forty-two pairs of vintage Levi's 501s went into the making of this denim fetish gown.

The best use of Hawaiian shirts I've ever seen.

The Financial Times has never been called sexy before. Harvey used thirty copies to make this fragile frock.

Earth Day: Stuff To Ponder

Circuit Boards #2, New Orleans 2005 by Chris Jordan

Photographer Chris Jordan has created something both exquisite and disturbing in his collection Intolerable Beauty: Portraits of American Mass Consumption. Jordan explored the nation’s shipping ports, landfills, and industrial waste yards to capture bizarrely intricate images of the by-products of mass consumption. The result is a moving, eloquent and fascinating illustration of the complex problem of modern consumer society. What do we do with all the stuff? How do we consume less? Do I really need yet another cell phone upgrade?

Cell Phone Chargers, Atlanta 2004, by Chris Jordan

Check out more of Chris Jordan’s work at www.chrisjordan.com.

Still More Ways To Love The Earth

Been looking for a simple way to turn last night’s dinner scraps into next summer's Early Girl or Giant Belgium? Check out NatureMill, an eco-friendly product that lets you avoid the hassle and stink of the backyard compost pile. Using a patented dual-chamber technology, NatureMill heats, mixes and aerates your organic kitchen waste producing rich, loamy filth every two weeks for fertilizing your garden. A built-in air filter keeps things from getting too ripe. Just don’t confuse it with the coffee grinder.

If your eco-tastes run a bit more toward fashion, have a peek at this hard-working line of bags and accessories made from truck inner tubes by Colorado-based English Retreads. Stylish and durable.

Thirty-Six Shootings In One Weekend?

Hey, Chicago, spring is here. Time to get outside with your Glock and settle those scores that have been piling up all winter long.

Chicago police blamed warmer weather for a rash of gun violence over the weekend that left nine people dead and 27 injured. Has anybody heard of having a barbecue?

Fatal Idealism: The Pippa Bacca Story

In my mid-twenties I made a conscious decision to live an “uncensored life,” meaning I would ignore the inner voice that said, “mmm, maybe not.” The voice that was “keeping me from expressing my true creativity and fully experiencing life.” It was about the same time that I took a solo-backpacking trip through Europe to explore the bohemian life. I was desperate to get to Morocco. Cautionary tales of young women kidnapped and sold as sex slaves would not deter me. Somehow, I never made it farther south than Barcelona having acquired some French traveling companions and gotten sidetracked by the seemingly endless nights in Spain. In retrospect, I think that was for the best.

Having just read the tragic story of slain Italian performance artist Pippa Bacca, I am reminded of those times and my then fierce belief in my own immorality. Bacca, whose real name is Giuseppina Pasqualino di Marineo, set out on a trip from her hometown in Milan to hitchhike across North-Eastern Italy, Serbia, Bosnia, Bulgaria, Turkey, Lebanon, Palestine, Israel and Syria. She and fellow artist Silvia Moro would make the trip, at times together, at times splitting up, wearing wedding dresses in an effort to spread a message of peace, harmony and love among nations.

At first glance, it seems an incredibly foolish thing to do. But I do not think these were stupid women. I think these were women who valued truth, beauty and life itself, above all else. Women for whom the prospect of personal harm was less important than the opportunity to alter the course of human relations. An idealistic and perhaps overly simplistic idea, but certainly a worthy one.

“…man, like a small god, rewards those who have faith in him.” -Bacca and Moro in a statement on their website.

The sad reality is that trust and dreams are extremely fragile and exposing them to the world, risky. Three weeks into their journey, Pippa was brutally raped and murdered by a man who gave her a ride in Turkey; a sad, though not completely surprising, ending to their epic journey of hope.

In the end, perhaps Ms. Bacca succeeded in her quest. She will remain a symbol of faith in the human race, which will hopefully inspire greater unity and understanding among the people she hoped to reach. Her story becomes a far different work than she set out to create, but something that resonates deeply, a tragic poem that pokes at the heart and refuses to be forgotten.

Ride the Eye, or end world hunger? Tough call

With the current exchange rate, it cost a ridiculous ninety bucks for two of us to "fast-track" to the front of the line for a fifteen minute cruise above the London skyline. I could feed a starving Somali family for a month on that money, but at the end of the month, they'd be hungry again and I'd have missed this super cool view.


When that bit of dark humor came to me, it caused me to Google world hunger to look for ways to help. Here’s a link to Save The Children where you can find plenty of opportunities. Don’t let the fact that Paula Abdul and Randy Jackson are on their home page frighten you off.

Extreme Green

The "Daily Insight" newsletter from Yoga Journal arrived in my inbox this morning urging me to deepen my commitment to the environment. Try these tips, it cheerfully suggested. "Save 700 tons of carbon emissions per year by line-drying your clothes instead of using the dryer."

You mean live like a polygamy bride in Texas? I don’t think so. Besides, every time I try air drying clothes, they end up looking like they’ve been stored in a coffee can. That means ironing. Lots of it. Kind of negates the dryer savings.

I particularly like their next suggestion. “Generate your own electricity by purchasing a Human Power Generator, a stationary-bike-style contraption that allows you to supplement your electricity with your own sweat!”

I guess the exclamation point is supposed to say, "wow, that sounds like fun!" Hey, maybe you could get a few of those bikes and power the whole house. You could recruit a couple of neighbor kids. Start your own green child labor camp. It’s all for a good cause. You’re helping the environment and fighting childhood obesity. Everybody wins.

I can't wait to see the new Michael Graves line of washboards at Target.

In Honor Of National Poetry Month

Dear Author
We deeply regret having to use this form letter
Dear Author
Please be assured
Dear Author
Your work is like piss in the Pacific
Dear Author
It pains us to inform you
Dear Author
Your rent is due
Dear Author
Look unto the mailbox
from whence cometh your next soul-crushing rejection letter
Dear Author
Why do you continue to torture yourself this way?
Dear Author
What makes you think anyone wants to read your
pitiful little moments of joy or beauty or truth or revelation
Your ornate ways of presenting simplicity
Your overt attempts to turn the mundane
into a thing of transcendent glory
Your supine opine
Your so-called clever use of alliteration
Your assonance and innocence
Your metaphors and mindfucks
Your illusions and invitations
Your passions and sorrows
Pains and sufferings
Your subtle repetition for dramatic affect
Your attempts to build to a climactic rise and clever resolution
That will fall into the lap of your reader like a ripe plum
Surprising him with its satisfying sweetness
Bringing a small smile to the corner of her unwitting mouth
And carving the merest notch
into the edge of a heart brimming with discontent.
Dear Author
We wish you luck.

by Julie Hall, in celebration of a drawer full of rejection letters.

Naomi Should Have Waited A Week

One week into the grand opening of Heathrow’s much vaunted and equally vilified Terminal 5, my husband, son and I were scheduled to fly to London. I watched the news reports with growing concern, trying to figure out how I could cram a week’s worth of clothing into a carry-on. Ultimately, I was too lazy to attempt the Rubik’s Cube packing job and checked everything but my laptop. When we arrived in T5, we sailed through immigration and straight on to baggage claim where, within minutes, our bags appeared on the gleaming carousel. It was too good to be true. We enjoyed a coffee in the four-story tall architectural confectionary of glass and steel framing, and marveled at the details before walking about fifty yards to a taxi. No queue.

We had a similarly stress-free experience on the flight home, now two weeks into British Airways’ public relations nightmare. Our wait time at check in was less than five minutes. Security was a streamlined affair with zero wait time. And there was a sleek and modern coffee lounge within a few feet of our gate with an electronic screen giving up to the minute departure and boarding information. As an added bonus, when we got to San Francisco, our bags were there too.

Maybe the bugs are worked out, or maybe we just got lucky. I was just happy not to have to go "Naomi" on anyone.

Elvis Costello On The Telly

Brilliant songwriter, master of subtle wit and evincing charm, iconic wearer of hats, Elvis Costello has just been slated to host a weekly music-variety talkshow on Sundance Channel. Each hour-long segment will be a platform for talk about the arts (not limited to music) and will include performances from music to vaudeville. The legendary Elton John will executive produce the show and make frequent appearances. You’ll have to wait till December to get your first look at “Spectacle: Elvis Costello with…,” but I am already excited by this announcement.

More good news from Sundance Channel. They’ve just confirmed an additional season of another great music series “Live From Abbey Road,” which takes you inside the famed studios for an intimate look at recording sessions with some of your favorite, or soon-to-be favorite artists.

Comcastic? I Think Not

The trouble with our 40-inch Sony Bravia HD television is there are only about seven HD channels. And the rest of the 483 channels look worse than Philo Farsnworth’s first attempts at image oscillation in 1927. I don’t blame Sony. They’ve made a wonderful piece of technology, and the flat screen with its museum quality frame hardly obscures the books hiding behind it. It’s Comcast I’m angry with. The supposedly HDMI set-top box they gave me looks and behaves remarkably like the analog box I had before. Except the fan is even louder.

“Nevermind that HDMI cable,” they told me. “You don’t need it.”

Comcast claims it will soon be upgrading all the cable in our neighborhood and then, even the analog stations will be as clear as a mountain stream. In the meantime, to avoid the annoying fuzz, I’ll watch absolutely anything in HD. I’ve recently been filling in the gaps in my knowledge of historic battles. And you have not seen “Orangutan Island” until you’ve seen it in HD.

Consumer Libre! Wait, isn’t this April Fools day?

People in Cuba went to stores today to buy a host of items previously available only to foreigners and corporations. As they rush home to enjoy the newfound pleasures of pressure cookers, DVD players, flat screen TVs, computers and cell phones, should they be at all worried about the implications of the date chosen for this historic consumer revolution? Are they going to wake up to a couple of burly guys at the door with a moving van?

“You know all that stuff about a new Cuba? We were just kidding.”

Raul Castro is either boldly moving his country forward into the age of mass consumption, or he’s got a hell of a sense of humor.

Kryptomania

If all you’re missing to complete your collection of superhero paraphernalia is an Aquaman action figure in the original box, you are probably already waxing your back and packing your bags for this month’s New York Comic Con. The nation’s second largest pop culture convention is going down in Gotham City April 18-20. In case you’re wondering what to pack, check the FAQs under “Can I Bring My Sword?” The complete Costume Weapon Policy is there.