Ok. So keeping up with a blog turns out to be easier when one is more busy than when one has nothing positive to report. However, here is an update since the fall, some of which I hope to expand upon and illustrate.
Halloween Party was a great success, not only because the Sox win in Game 3 of World Series, but because our spirited and creative guests survived unscathed.
Jerry spent the fall getting ready for The Revels, which wraps up this weekend. His efforts lead to great accomplishments, such as learning many lyrics in other languages and how to get to Harvard Square in a snowstorm.
The Christmas Revels 2007 have a Balkan theme. The show is spectacular and fun, a lot like Balkan Camp but with more clothes and less alcohol.
I finally got a new job after four interviews and six months of waiting. It took all my restraint not to mention that I planned my wedding in less time than it took to fill that position, but as we know, holding one's tounge is paramount in the workplace.
Christmas was also lovely with many great opportunities to visit and eat, the things we do best in our family, oh, and sing.
More later.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Friday, October 12, 2007
On The Road again
I visited Lowell today to see the "original" scroll, the first draft of Jack Keroac's On The Road. I haven't really been a Kerouac fan, but felt it was my duty as a writer and Lowellian. Having tried a few times to read On The Road, Dharma Bums and Town and the City, I was disappointed that none of them grabbed me, and I was still missing what all the fuss is about. I'm not old enough to know the people who say he was nothing but a bloated drunken bum, but there seem to be more memories in Lowell of his vomit than of his contribution to literature or history. I own my share of black turtlenecks, and enjoy jazz and a poetry reading, but felt a little guilty that as a Lowellian, I never felt the need to ride the Kerouac bandwagon, but I wasn't ready to dismiss it either.So before I left for the exhibit today, I read Louis Menand's article in The New Yorker, Drive, He Wrote. I'm no scholar, and have apparently been buying into the stereotype of The Beats, and not known them well enough. Bop is the best. I've read my Ginsburg and my Corso etc. but didn't know much about them other than their well publicized exploits. Menand's article made two points that sent my view of Kerouac right over the falls.
On defining The Beat Generation, Menand writes, "Irony was the the highbrow virtue of the day, and the Beats had none." At this, I realized that I never quite got the Kerouac novels because I expected that irony, because you almost always do with what is established as "literature." Add to that Kerouac's staus as spokesman for the Beats, however reluctant, and all I could ever wonder was "What is he trying to be?" But without the irony, his work suddenly gains a sincerity I'm sorry I missed, and look forward to revisiting.
The second interesting point in the article was that the scroll, in all its sinlge-spaced persistence, was actually edited again and again over 6-10 years before it was published. But it's not just that the book wasn't actually coughed up in the legendary caffinated 21 days. It's that Kerouac planned his road trips specifically as fodder for his work, and then very deliberately chose the "this happened then that happened format," maybe not only-or not at all-as a rebellion against form, but to be true to form. "The scroll was therefore a restriction: it was a way of defining form, not a way of avoiding form," Menand writes.
Reading this made me so happy. Suddenly I can recognize more than the cobblestoned landscape of Kerouac's stories. Now he's just a writer in love with humanity, specifically humanity in America in an era I didn't know. Perhaps he was simply interested in defining life as he knew it at the time, a literary goal I hope to share.
Now that the search for irony and the presumption of pretense was gone, I began to see Kerouac the man and the writer through the exhibit I visited yesterday and not only began to see what all the fuss is about, but felt like maybe I could be a part of it someday too.
Maybe by the time I write the novel of our generation, global warming will have made us The Heat Generation. The Scroll's next stop is The New York Public Library, where many of his notes will be included in the exhibit.
Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
Here is the text of what I read at the Kerouac exhibit as what he was trying to do. And that's all writing ever is, is it not? It's a try.
Jack Kerouac's
BELIEF & TECHNICQUE FOR MODERN PROSE
LIST OF ESSENTIALS
1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy
2. Submissive to everything, open, listening
3. Try never get drunk outside yr own house
4. Be in love with yr life
5. Something that you feel will find its own form
6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
7. Blow as deep as you want to blow
8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
9. The unspeakable visions of the individual
10. No time for poetry but exactly what is
11. Visionary tics shivering in the chest
12. In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
13. Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
14. Like Proust be an old teahead of time
15. Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
16. The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
17. Write in recollection and amazement for yourself
18. Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
19. Accept loss forever
20. Believe in the holy contour of life
21. Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
22. Don't think of words when you stop but to see picture better
23. Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
25. Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
26. Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
28. Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
29. You're a Genius all the time
30. Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven
Jack Kerouac's
BELIEF & TECHNICQUE FOR MODERN PROSE
LIST OF ESSENTIALS
1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy
2. Submissive to everything, open, listening
3. Try never get drunk outside yr own house
4. Be in love with yr life
5. Something that you feel will find its own form
6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
7. Blow as deep as you want to blow
8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
9. The unspeakable visions of the individual
10. No time for poetry but exactly what is
11. Visionary tics shivering in the chest
12. In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
13. Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
14. Like Proust be an old teahead of time
15. Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
16. The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
17. Write in recollection and amazement for yourself
18. Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
19. Accept loss forever
20. Believe in the holy contour of life
21. Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
22. Don't think of words when you stop but to see picture better
23. Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
25. Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
26. Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
28. Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
29. You're a Genius all the time
30. Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
A Reveler among us
For as long as I can remember, my family and our friends the Keefes have attended The Christmas Revels every year at the holidays. Each year, the revue of traditional Christmas music features music from a different culture or era. It was telling when I took Jerry for the first time four years ago and he at least seemed to enjoy it.On Dec. 23, 2005, we sat down to dinner before the show, as we always do. This time, we were treated to a remarkable dinner at the Eastern Standard with buttery scallops, carefully selected wines and othe delicacies. Early in the meal, Frank gets to the point. "So when are you guys getting married?" I shrug and smile. Jerry laughs. Jennifer gives Frank a stern look and a reprimand. Little did they know what would happen later that night.
The theme of the show was French. I enjoyed it Jerry said it took a million years. Just after midnight (early Christmas Eve), we arrived back at Jerry's place. He came into the bedroom with a basket full of clean laundry.
A few months before, Jerry bought me a gift, a two-inch square jewlery box with a fancy enamel and crystal bee on the lid. (He calls me Bee.) I kept it on his bureau for keeping my jewelry in when I came to visit on the weekends. I would periodically peek into it and look at him expectantly. Hint hint.
Well Christmas Eve, 2005, to my surprise, I peeked into the box out of habit and it as NOT empty. He pulls a chilled wine out of the laundry basket with two glasses. Two years ago, I brought him a bottle of wine back from France that he was saving for something special.
I sheepishly covered the box. "Was I supposed to see that?" He sat down on the bed with me and proposed earnestly.
The point is, my lifelong appreciation of The Christmas Revels is now enhanced with the perfect romantic memory. It is a meaningful thing for us to go to The Revels every year. It's something my Mom always enjoyed. It's a reminder from our parents to always be curious about various cultures and their histories and music. It's our annual visit with our long time friends.
But this year, it takes on a whole new meaning. The theme this year is Balkan. If you've read this blog, you know that I know a guy who plays Balkan music. Well he auditioned, and he was chosen to be in the cast! The rehearsal sechedule is intense. Then, 18 shows at the holidays. Quite a committment. But if they want the real thing, they've come to the right place. Tickets go on sale Oct. 20.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Word Girl from the planet Lexicon
Have you seen Word Girl? This show is fabulous. My brother Will is a producer and writer. Coincidence? I think not. So far we've met Chuck the Evil Sandwich Making Guy, Dr. Two-Brains, The Butcher, and the Toby the evil techno prodigy. I am looking forward to meeting the villain "Lady Redundant Woman." I love how Word Girl can save the day with the power of vocabulary, but isn't condescending, and also sometimes says "whatever." I even like the monkey.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Gretchen Duram Lipchitz 1938-1996
We lost mummy 11 years ago today. This weekend we visited the cemetery, me and Jerry and Dad and Martha and Mike. The grass was well kept but dry from drought. A red tailed hawk alighted from under our noses to antother tree. Unlike the raw, rainy, and nothing short of miserable day 11 years ago, it was sunny and breezy. The change in weather seemed to suggest that we have made some progress, true or not.
"You never get over your mother," Martha said. It's true, but struck me especially at that moment as she stood with me. Her mother and my mother are buried in the same place. In a strange way, it was nice to all be there together.
"You never get over your mother," Martha said. It's true, but struck me especially at that moment as she stood with me. Her mother and my mother are buried in the same place. In a strange way, it was nice to all be there together.
First Anniversary
25 Aug
We drove down to the Cape, into Eastham where we stayed on our honeymoon. Had no idea where we would stay this time, if at all. Perhaps we would just spend the day. But the weather was spectacularly perfect, and we found a convenient campsite near the bike path. The idea of sleeping on an air mattress to celebrate our anniversary was disappointing at first, I must admit, and even the nondescript motel up the street was looking pretty good. But it wasn't $36 a night. And the weather was good and there was plumbing so, OK.
We set up camp and went out Coast Guard Beach. The weather turned grey and cool, and the waves were a bit threatening but not enough to stop me. After wading out to our waists and enduring several hits, I was ready to dive in. Jerry with his impeccable timing just had to throw in a "So, did they catch that shark?" which, as irrational as it was, drove me right back out onto the shore. We sat in our chairs in the wind and wached for the black shiny heads of sea lions bobbing in the distance.
Then we cleaned up and headed to Orleans to have a nice dinner at Mahoney's, the restaurant where we went on one of our early dates. The dinner was quite worthy of a celebration. I had swordfish provencal and he had cajun salmon, which was not ordinary in any way, and a perfect cut. Nice wine and shared blueberry bread pudding with white chocolate sauced topped it of. The bloody mary weren't bad either.
We got back to camp and promptly lit a fire since it was lights and fires out at 11 p.m. Jerry got the fire going good and sat on a log with a guitar and handed me my melodica and we played a few old favorites like Limehouse Blues before we were told to put the fire out. It was a short but starry night that turned out to be much more enjoyable than channel surfing on motel cable.
26 Aug
The next day we rented bikes and rode the bike path to Cahoon Hollow and White Crest beaches. The waves were too much to swim in on the short beach. Twice I got knocked on my beehind. The bikeride was nice. The sunburn began to flare. We headed into Provincetown to visit our old haunts and watch the street musicians. The final meal of the trip was of course our favorite at The Pig, a pub with the best fish fry. I like the smoked lobster bisque. J was thrilled with New Castle on tap as well. People watching from the deck of the crepes place (service was slow, but a nutella and chestnut puree crepe was worth the wait.) Then we drove home in the dark.
We drove down to the Cape, into Eastham where we stayed on our honeymoon. Had no idea where we would stay this time, if at all. Perhaps we would just spend the day. But the weather was spectacularly perfect, and we found a convenient campsite near the bike path. The idea of sleeping on an air mattress to celebrate our anniversary was disappointing at first, I must admit, and even the nondescript motel up the street was looking pretty good. But it wasn't $36 a night. And the weather was good and there was plumbing so, OK.
We set up camp and went out Coast Guard Beach. The weather turned grey and cool, and the waves were a bit threatening but not enough to stop me. After wading out to our waists and enduring several hits, I was ready to dive in. Jerry with his impeccable timing just had to throw in a "So, did they catch that shark?" which, as irrational as it was, drove me right back out onto the shore. We sat in our chairs in the wind and wached for the black shiny heads of sea lions bobbing in the distance.
Then we cleaned up and headed to Orleans to have a nice dinner at Mahoney's, the restaurant where we went on one of our early dates. The dinner was quite worthy of a celebration. I had swordfish provencal and he had cajun salmon, which was not ordinary in any way, and a perfect cut. Nice wine and shared blueberry bread pudding with white chocolate sauced topped it of. The bloody mary weren't bad either.
We got back to camp and promptly lit a fire since it was lights and fires out at 11 p.m. Jerry got the fire going good and sat on a log with a guitar and handed me my melodica and we played a few old favorites like Limehouse Blues before we were told to put the fire out. It was a short but starry night that turned out to be much more enjoyable than channel surfing on motel cable.
26 Aug
The next day we rented bikes and rode the bike path to Cahoon Hollow and White Crest beaches. The waves were too much to swim in on the short beach. Twice I got knocked on my beehind. The bikeride was nice. The sunburn began to flare. We headed into Provincetown to visit our old haunts and watch the street musicians. The final meal of the trip was of course our favorite at The Pig, a pub with the best fish fry. I like the smoked lobster bisque. J was thrilled with New Castle on tap as well. People watching from the deck of the crepes place (service was slow, but a nutella and chestnut puree crepe was worth the wait.) Then we drove home in the dark.
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