Bookseller Barnes and Noble Weighs Sale of Company – NYTimes.com.

This is really sickening.

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Book Review – Golden Gate – The Life and Times of America’s Greatest Bridge – By Kevin Starr – NYTimes.com.

It’s hard to believe that only 73 years ago, the Golden Gate Bridge did not exist. The airplane is older than the Golden Gate Bridge. The particle accelerator is older than the Golden Gate Bridge. Betty White is older than the Golden Gate Bridge.

One of my favorite places on earth.  This is a review from the NY Times.

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I know, I’ve been missing in action for some time now.  Ok, here’s the thing: I don’t write a lot in the summer because there’s just too much to do outdoors and around the house.  Plus, the motorcycle calls my name each Saturday morning and let’s face it, the motorcycle is much more entertaining than writing……well, sometimes.

However, Captain LaFontaine is going to make another appearance in the near future and I promise more poetry.  To tide you over, I wrote another rap song for my friend Vickie.

Wanna hear it, here it is….

Vice Vice Baby

Yo V. to the I. to the Kie, let’s kick it

Vice vice baby (x2)
All right stop; collate and listen
Vickie’s back with a bad intention
Grabs my hips and holds them tightly
Grind up on me daily, nightly
Will it ever stop I just don’t know
Turn off the lights and there she goes
Jump on the bed, like a big fat vandal
Burned my ass on the wax of a candle
I scream like a girl in the hotel room
Spill my beer; go get a broom
Deadly, when she’s singin’ that melody
Damn she’s old, could be a felony
Love it or leave it I’ve gained some weight
Slap my ass and she’s here to play
If this is a problem yo I’ll solve it
Slip and slide now she’s gonna dog it

CHORUS
Vice Vice baby Vickie (x4)

Now you know, that Vickie is humpin’
Do a shot and I just keep pumpin’
Quick to the point to the point no faking
I’m fryin’ her ass like a pound of bacon
Ride that pony quick and nimble
I go real crazy when she pops a pimple
Step up the beat with a souped up tempo
She rolls away and it’s time to go solo
The judges give me a 10.0
I jump from the bed and I walk real slow
Vickie’s waving to just say hi
I look to her side and what do I spy.
I gag and I burp I can’t believe
Just to her left is the ho Tricky
I busted a left and I’m heading to the block
Then I realize hanging out is my cock
So I run and I run back to the hood
If I had a fast car, ride I would

REPEAT CHORUS

Take heed now ’cause I’m a lyrical poet
Grab my crotch in case you don’t know it
I fart and I rip a big bass sound
Enough to shake and kick some holes in the ground
‘Cause my style’s like a big fat chemical spill
And my body will make you fucking ill
Constructed I am from Taco Bell
What the fuck is that horrible smell

But stank as my ass just might be
There’s just one thing you’ll never believe
As bad as my ass all covered in hickeys
Nothing’s as bad as lookin’ at Tricky!

Vice vice baby Vickie
Vice vice baby (oh-oh) Vickie
Vice vice baby Vickie
Vice vice baby Vickie vice
Yo man let’s get out of here
Word to your motha, fucka
Vice vice baby too cold
Vice vice baby too cold too cold (x2)
Vice vice baby

When I sit down to write, whether it’s a blog entry or a short story, I use music as a driving force.  I’m always looking for that perfect combination of songs to continue the artistic drive and spark the next idea.

The difficulty is that I can’t listen to song with lyrics when trying to write poetry or fiction.  I have no problem listening to lyrical music when writing blog entries though.

One of my favorite blogs, Paper Cuts from the NY Times, has posted a variety of writer’s favorite playlists.  You can check it out here.  It’s really cool.

I started thinking about what I really want to listen to when I’m writing.  So I decided to put together just a small sample of what goes into my brain while I’m writing.

Blog Entries:

Two by Ryan Adams:  Songwriting doesn’t get much better than this.  God this guy is fucking phenomenal.  He hasn’t had huge commercial success but I’m sure he’s had enough to make a decent living.  Plus, he married Mandy Moore and she has a great ass!  Too bad Ryan is a complete punk and probably back to doing 8-balls again.  He’s going to corrupt my innocent little Mandy.  Fucker.

Heaven can wait by Charlotte Gainsbourg:  This was a freebie from Starbucks.  It’s decent background music without taking your thought process away too much.

Dog days are over by Florence and the Machine:  Flo & the Machine are one of my favorites but not all songs will fit into my playlist for writing.  I’m sure I will find more as time goes on but so far this is the only one on the list.

In State by Kathleen Edwards:  I love Kathleen Edwards.  She’s a Canadian country singer which means she dumped that horrible Nashville twang I hate so much.  Kathleen is more of a folk/acoustic/country.  It’s not so in-your-face and I like its subtly.

The Girls Insane by The Januaries:  This is another Starbucks freebie that I just like.  Nothing else to say.

Fiction, Poetry, etc.

The problem with listening to music while writing original thought is getting some consistency to the rhythm, beat, etc.  When you are moving on a thought, you don’t want a change in tempo to completely move your head out of the thought.  I go for instrumental compositions that tend to last fifteen minutes or more.  That way I don’t get interrupted often.

I almost always head to Pandora when I’m writing anything other than a blog entry.  If you haven’t experienced Pandora, you must get on.  I couldn’t live without it.  I even mow the lawn to several Pandora playlists.

Explosions in the Sky

Friday Night Lights Soundtrack

Pat Metheny

Al di Meola

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Whew, it has been a busy couple of weeks in my book world.  On the 23rd of March, Christopher Moore‘s Bite Me: A Love Story was released and I plowed through it in about 5 days.

Next was Lisa Lutz‘s The Spellman’s Strike Again.  This is the fourth in a series on the Spellman family.  Bite Me is the third in Moore’s vampire series.

Both are easy reads and fun.  Don’t label these books as literature; but never label them as crap, like Dan Brown and John Grisham write.

I must admit, I’m a big fan of both authors so I’m a little biased though.

Next I’m on to Divine Misfortune by A. Lee Martinez.  Here’s what the inside cover of the book has to say:

Teri and Phil had never needed their own personal god.  But when Phil is passed up for a promotion – again – it’s time to take matters into their own hands, and look online.

Choosing a god isn’t as simple as you would think.  There are too many choices; and they often have very hefty prices for their eternal devotion: blood, money, sacrifices, and vows of chastity.  But then they found Luka, raccoon god of prosperity.  All he wants is a small cut of their good fortune.

Oh – and to crash on their couch for a few days.

Divine Misfortune is a story of gods and mortals – in worship, in love, and at parties.

I’m always one to pick up a book that will pick at religion.  Let’s hope this does exactly that!

In the middle of all of this, I’m slowly reading through David Rakoff’s Don’t Get Too Comfortable.  The book is a collection of essays both social and political….and hilarious.

Rakoff is a little long winded, but it’s still a good read, if only for the bathroom.

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A bird you see, came down from his tree.
A wonderful smell lured him in.
He sat on the sill of the house of one Jill
And watched her sip tea within.

He pecked and he pecked at the window bespecked
Til his beak had begun to fray.
He just had to taste the aroma he faced
But the window was blocking his way.

Jill looked to the left and then to the right.
And to the window did see.
“A bird on the sill with extraordinary will.
I’ll shall invite him in for some tea.”

“What is your name, my fine feathered friend?”
“It is Plenty,” the bird he did say.
“Please do come on in and sip from my tin.
We’ll drink tea and shall chatter all day.”

So Plenty came in and he sat with a grin
as the two, they did share some more tea.
When the pot had been drained, Jill stood and she claimed,
“This day I could never conceive.”

“I really must say you enlightened my day
but I really must ask you to leave.”
“For my husband’s a chef and really quite deaf.
If he finds you here, cooked will you be.”

“You really must fly before he comes by
go seek safety there back in your tree.”
So Plenty did fly and the chef did arrive
and Jill thought it was over to be.

The chef was an ass and known to harass.
He was sure something home was amiss.
He thought and he thought, becoming distraught.
When his mind, it began to just guess.

He sat in his chair, his big eyes turned to glare.
“Who’s been sharing this house with my wife?”
It smells like a bird, a wee little turd.
An end will soon come to his life.

“It was nothing you see; a bird named Plenty.
We only shared tea from the pot.
But he went on his way; it was nothing I say.
To seek the safety he finds in his flock.

“The chef was enraged.  He could not be assuaged.
He screamed and he started to swerve.
He picked up a knife and threatened it twice.
“If he comes back again, him I’ll serve!”

As the chef turned to heave, his right foot did let leave.
He slipped and he started to fall.
With a swerve and a boom his body did loom
Then came crashing down like a brick wall.

A feather, it was found, had fallen aground.
A feather the chef did not see.
His head hit the floor; blood started to pour.
The chef would soon cease to be.

Freedom, Jill claimed, was now to be gained.
And she buried the chef in the back.
My new feathered friend has managed to mend
A loveless house turning to black.

For the rest of her life Jill woke at first light
and started a fresh pot of tea.
Plenty would come and both would succumb
and would never again have to flee.

A feather, you see, became very mighty.
More powerful than the chef’s sword.
Striking a blow, a fatal hero
In this tale of a woman so bored.

I’ve taken a small break from reading anything else so I can plow through Chris Moore’s latest novel, Bite Me: A Love Story!  However, I’m still doing a little trudging through The Poetry Foundation’s website and I’m truly digging the Poetry Out Loud website with the video’s from last year’s competition.

Since I can’t embed the Poetry Out Loud videos here, I thought I’d post some of the poems from the competition, those of the winners.  Amazing doesn’t come close to describing these kids.  Remember, these are high school kids, not adults.

God I wish I had that kind of passion when I was their age.  At 16 I was more interested in hair bands and sex.  Too bad I’m still thinking of it at 42!

Danse Russe

by William Carlos Williams

the happy genius of my household?

******

Progressive Health

by Carl Dennis

Who, when called on, really listens?

******

The Windhover

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

******

Somewhere to Paris

by Richard Blanco

The sole cause of a man’s unhappiness
is that he does not know how to stay quietly in his room.
PASCAL, Pensées

to the stars, this life, always moving and still.

******

Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906)

Sympathy

I KNOW what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals —
I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting —
I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings —
I know why the caged bird sings!

******

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Tuesday, March 23rd will mark the release of Christopher Moore‘s Bite Me: A Love Story.  In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a huge Chris Moore fan.  My tastes range from poetry to history to biography to absurdity!

Absurdity is the closest I can come to describing Moore’s fiction.  I did not make that up.  His work has been described as absurdist fiction and I can’t get enough.

Bite Me is the third in his vampire series.  I won’t go into a long description of the previous books because you can find a review anywhere….and that’s not what this site does.

The first two books are Bloodsucking Fiends and You Suck.  You can find them in paperback and I highly recommend them.  They have lovable characters that you really get attached to and Moore leaves lots of room for continuation of the story.

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I don’t think I need to give an explanation of the brilliance of Rudyard Kipling.  Just read and enjoy!

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream–and not make dreams your master,
If you can think–and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings–nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And–which is more–you’ll be a Man, my son!

–Rudyard Kipling

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I know, I’ve been missing for a little while.  Honestly, I just haven’t felt inspired enough to write.  I am working on a new story but it’s just a concept right now so I won’t share.

What I have been doing is reading a shitload of books.  Let’s start with Ian Sansom.  I started on his Mobile Library Series.  It’s fun and breezy and I can recommend the first in the series: The Case of the Missing Books.  I’m onto the second one now: Mr. Dixon Disappears.  There are four in the series.  I’m not sure if I’ll get to the last two any time soon because there are three book I want to read very soon.  Those are James Hynes’ Next: A Novel, Lisa Lutz‘ The Revenge of the Spellmans, and of course (the priority) Chris Moore’s Bite Me!

Jen bought me a couple of books I wanted for Valentine’s Day too.  Both are by Roald Dahl.  The first is Vile Verses.  It’s large and I’m just skimming through it.  But last night at dinner we read through Revolting Rhymes.  These are the stories you know told in a new, and kind of sick, light.  Snow White, Cinderella, the Three Little Pigs, and Red Riding Hood are just a few in the book.  I’ll put it this way: Red Riding Hood is packing heat in this version.  It’s a must read and you can get both on Amazon for cheap.

I’m hoping to get a little inspiration in the coming weeks and start pushing out some more poetry and a little fiction, just for fun.

Until then, keep on reading…books, that is!

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