Saturday, February 11, 2006

so full

of pretzels. The Boston Globe didn't know what they were starting fifteen years ago when they published that street vendor First Night hot pretzel recipe. I think it could seriously contribute to peace in the Middle East. We just need to sit down the heads of states and let them gorge on soft and salty goodness.

The valentines were made, though for the most part not by me, who expended my creative energies on the aforementioned pretzels. The kids didn't get into the Hustlers, which was good. The girly magazines did provide for some funny Valentiney jokes. Thank you Kinsey.

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Rick Moody is Cream of Wheat

At least that's what he says he's trying to make of himself, in people's eyes, so his work can speak for itself rather than being mediated by the public's conception of him as Author. (I am really tempted to make a Foucauldian Author-function joke here, but that's just too geeky). It's a great image though, Rick Moody and Cream of Wheat all mixed up together, and now the two will always room together in my mind. At the reading Rick Moody sang a realio trulio protest song. He made up lyrics about a soldier in Iraq and sung them to the tune of a traditional ballad that Fairport Convention once covered, which explains where I knew the melody. Later he said he was sad that there weren't any protest songs around anymore, with their directness, like in the old tradition. Well, he didn't say he was sad, he said something more eloquent than that, but I extrapolated a sweet desolation. There's something so brave about someone getting up in front of a roomful of people and singing a song a capella. His voice wavered at first and then he grew confident (there were about seven verses). Toi Dericotte sang at her reading too, just burst into song in the middle of an essay. She sang that heartbreaking Motherless Child song that is probably an old spiritual but that Eric Clapton revisioned. My Dad put the Eric Clapton version on a mix for me once. I wept when Toi sang, it was so beautiful. Rick Moody did not make me cry. But he did make me want to put on old protest songs and get fired up. Later, at the Runcible Spoon, we talked about Elvis Costello, karaoke, how thank goodness the O'Henry prizes are judged blind. He has an amazing Brokeback Mountain anecdote that I would share but this is a public forum and I feel funny sharing other people's anecdotes about famous people on it. But if you ask me I'll tell you. Tonight I have come to realize a sad truth about myself. I have the awkward habit of proffering ridiculous confessions/personal details when confronted with the need to make small talk with semi-famous people. I told Rick Moody about my embarassing experience karaokeing Mercedes Benz. I even mentioned the "soundrack" of handclaps. I told Toi Dericotte about my affinity for cooking with real pumpkin. Toi and I bonded over Icebox Cake so in the end I guess it all turned out ok. The Mercedes Benz conversation led to enlightening Rick about those cheesy videos they run while the karaoke songs play. Perhaps he'll go sometime and see them, and then he'll remember me.