Wellington Leg: I’m always open to guest bloggers but when Rainer Maria Rilke drops by I roll out the red carpet. It’s true that literary giants have fared poorly on this blog and Alan Greenspan wasn’t available to comment on Twentieth Century Lyrical Poetry. I think we should all curl up with Sonnets to Orpheus for the next ten days and hold our breath.
The purpose of life is to defeated by greater and greater things. I think this quote from Rilke is a template for a great noir story given the subtle suggestion that even anti-heroes or maybe especially antiheroes should die with their boots on. Rilke’s focus is on the personal not the political; he’s referring to the small things each of us must overcome to do the things we set out to do.
For writers many obstacles are self created, others grow naturally from the process. I think that writers block is probably some combination of inner demons being fed by external events such as rain, fog, a keyboard that sticks on the letter R and God knows how tough it is to avoid using the letter R in a piece of any length. Add high winds to the list, ringing doorbells, singing nuns, NFL scores, designer pizzas, Fed Ex delivery times, the exact location of the Snickers bar you hid from yourself and it’s a miracle anything gets accomplished.
Rainer Maria Rilke, this blog’s for you.
Archive for October, 2008
Rilke Drops By
Monday, October 27th, 2008Hollywood Calling
Wednesday, October 22nd, 2008Wellington Leg: In light of our financial woes I wonder how Hollywood will react to the new reality. “Reality” is charged word, a blend of 60s Calibabble and linked inevitably to television, but I refer to the competing notion of reality the world beyond the City of Angels’ number one employer. We’ve already looked at crime fiction briefly in this regard, so what about the motion picture industry?
Hollywoodland: I don’t expect a new golden age of Film Noir anytime soon. I think as the economy drives arugula futures lower and lower film execs will want to fall back on the tried and true. Perhaps a sequel or two. Air Force Two might be fun: After President McCain ( Richard Gere) is captured by treehuggers in Oregon, Sarah Palin ( Julia Roberts) takes the reins in a hilarious comedy of errors. Sarah sleds down Pennsylvania Avenue, busts Ted Stevens( John Goodman) out of jail and seizes control of the Senate. Tension mounts as the newly minted chief executive orders cavalry units to invade Oregon where the world’s largest Sitka Spruce is in the hands of socialists. 88 minutes. Rated: R. ( Republican).
Air Force Three: The Russians are Coming. President Palin is accosted by a Vladimir Putin lookalike while shopping at Neiman-Marcus. In fact a crazed scientist ( Richard Gere) is mass producing Putin clones in a defunct textile mill in North Carolina. With Putins rearing their heads America goes to DEFCON ELEVEN ( George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Matt Damon) while a Do Nothing Congress ( Donnie Osmond) tries crafting earmarks from discarded soda cans. 87 minutes. Rated: PG-47.
Some of the President’s Men: While President Obama ( Don Cheadle) tries to analyze his way out of a crisis, his cabinet ( George Clooney, Angelina Jolie) parachutes behind enemy lines. Near the corner of Wall Street and Broad the daring duo expose a ring of charlatans selling fake tickets to Broadway shows. 89 minutes. Rated: DF-11.
Liner Notes: Crime Fiction
Friday, October 17th, 2008Wellington Leg: I’m wondering how the financial crisis will effect book publishing. Most of the articles I read talk about the technical aspects of economic upheaval, frozen credit, the LIBOR rate, the new authority of the US Treasury to create what amounts the United States Sovereign Wealth Fund. I’m not so much concerned about book sales as whether or not this watershed moment will influence what we choose to read. Crime fiction is my lens through which to view the world we make around us so that is what I’ll focus on.
Literature reflects not only a mood but a sense of belief. Boom times instill a broad trust in the greater mechanism of government and a distilled sense that with enough education, grooming, and preparation a good job will stablilize a future morphing from the anarchy of being young. Things we read are lighter as we bask in the glow of this progression from cold water flats and barfing roommates to urban suburban exurban islands of relative success. I think in prosperous times crime fiction in particular struggles to find an audience because the essence of crime fiction is not about crime at all; the best of noir follows a path that examines crime and its consequences through the labrynth of a dysfunctional world, class warfare in a bottle.
Maybe this hard jolt of broken expectations will shape what we want to read for the next decade or so. I think the demand for books will increase but not for all books, not in equal measure. There will be casualties as publishers calibrate their lists through trial and error. A new mood will emerge from the carnage of global mismanagement. I wonder what that mood will be and how far the busted flush of financial parlays will carry us toward a new sensibility.
Writer Sees Shadow: Eight More Weeks of Winter
Sunday, October 12th, 2008Wellington Leg: Warning: some of the following content is graphic and horrifying. Although entirely imaginary it is based on events that would be true had they happened but are not since they did not. I know that a blog where people buy MIG air superiority fighters at garage sales is hardly anyone’s idea of a news source, but fabricating news is tough enough under normal circumstances, tougher now than a few short weeks ago. That’s why we send our own Tuffy Tuffington into the fray because Tuffy demands little in the way of maintenance or compensation and is naive enough to accept his publisher’s explanation that money will only complicate his life. Thus we gave him eighty cents and a Collateralized Debt Obligation and said, “Tuffy, go get the story.” The editorial board of the Druidical & Literary remains as devoted to the truth as ever although divided over the issue of money. I think it was Conway Twitty who said “it’s only make believe.” I don’t think he was referring our banking system when he wrote those lines but truer words are rarely spoken. It is our Motto and our promise to you, dear reader, that it is indeed only make believe. Your Humble Servants, The Editorial Board of the Druidical & Literary 1414 Conway Twitty Boulevard, Wellington Leg.
Here Now the Tuffington Post: Okay, I’m switching from HTML back to Visual. I have to whisper because the haunted house has a nasty old writer who might wake up if I make HTML noise. It’s like on The Unit when the guys are way behind enemy lines and the boss sez cut the chatter. Then some crazy borderline member of the team trips over a trash can and suddenly Vladimir Putin and the heavenly host are up in our faces with about ten thousand rounds of ChiCom ammo blazing away....
Okay I’m on his porch. Maybe I overreacted a little but to tell you the truth I’m a little put out about the editorial staff calling me naive about money blah, blah, blah. In an editorial no less! Without me what would the Tuffington Post actually consist of? Whoa this floorboard is creaking….the door is opening, the crazy writer guy is framed in the doorway.
“Mr. Tolstoy, my name is Tuffy Tuffington.”
Dude, he slammed the door. I think he saw his shadow. I think that means eight more weeks of financial meltdown!
Tuffy Tuffington reporting.
Ancient Memory
Saturday, October 11th, 2008Wellington Leg: Here in this particular October we are shrouded in pre-Halloween terror brought about by men and women dressed as a certified public accountants. When the dust settles and the electoral college has commencement day we can then return to the present tense for a short visit before the ensuing crisis. Meanwhile, though, charts depicting 1929 and its eerie resemblance to now will have to be endured; we have forgotten the lessons of the Great Crash because our institutional memory dies with those who actually lived through those times. Newsreels of Herbert Hoover are unintentionally funny because Mr. Hoover is very overdressed and moves in short choppy strokes at unpredictable speeds.
The current crisis might offer such low brow entertainment if Secretary Paulson and Chairman Bernanke wore top hats and rushed up the capitol steps at twenty or thirty miles per hour. The debates would be more interesting if McCain and Obama sped around walking like penguins and smoking cigars. McCain has the right idea with his motorized bursts of hand chopping staccato burp gun thoughts. Obama is not holding his end up by trying to think about his answers. Advantage: McCain.
So far no one in the center of the maelstrom has thought to quote lengthy passages from Shakespeare or delved into the possibilities of Thoreau, Voltaire, or Casey Stengel. Casey might well wonder if anyone here can play this game as he mused on the dugout steps with regard to the newly formed expansion team, the New York Mets. This particular rescue of our economy, once known as the Goldilocks Economy, has ripped a page from the story of Rapunzel. Rapunzel is stuck in the tower because she cut off all her hair, perhaps in a fit of pique, and now all her rescuers are down on the ground discussing the situation. Perhaps we could build a device made of slatted wood, lean that device against the tower and climb up. Or we could make rope out of everyday household items and sling the rope to her; we could do both, or neither, but let’s make one thing perfectly clear: it’s Rapunzel’s fault for cutting off her hair. Maybe she likes being in the tower. Forget it, let’s watch newsreels of Herbert Hoover. Man, he’s fast.
Earl Tooth: A Game Changer
Tuesday, October 7th, 2008Wellington Leg: Legians knew they could rely on the forty third earl for relief in these harrowing times, and, thus, when he appeared in public for the first time sporting a woolly mammoth tooth in his ear the populace rejoiced. Few doubted that technology’s prime innovator would remain silent for long now that he’s completed the remodeling of the palace.
What is It They Cry? Earl Tooth is the first “communication fossil” consisting of aged teeth found here and there and roundabout town. “One simply locates a fossilized tooth,” Professor Moriarity explains. “The tooth is then coated with anodes, diodes, cathodes and regular odes until the surface of the tooth is shiny. Miniature antennae are then imbedded both in your ear and in the fossil. Once the Earl Tooth is positioned in the outer ear canal the wearer is free to talk to anyone else similarly equipped.”
Can’t We Talk to Other People Without Earl Tooth? “Of course, but that requires one of two things: extreme proximity or the use of outdated and frankly unfashionable technology. For instance holes may be drilled in the Earl Tooth enabling the user to add colorful strings or personalized slogans while using Earl Tooth. Thus an element of sophistication is achieved with a fossilized tooth in one’s ear.”
What’s a Woolly Mammoth? “These rather large creatures settled in Wellington Leg formed a great big woolly pyramid and then died mysteriously all at once. We think they may have wanted to form a Ponzi scheme but lacked the know how or sustainable business model to pull it off.”
What About the Tooth Fairy? “While it is certainly possible that the Tooth Fairy will eventually stock Earl Tooth right now the answer is no. I hasten to add that the earl’s business plan calls for users to purchase Earl Tooth as a finished product, ready to be worn with pride while shopping or at work.”
The Earl Tooth device measures nine by twelve or five by five depending on the individual ear being addressed. Users are cautioned not to yell while wearing Earl Tooth as yelling interferes with invisible radiowaves bombarding the earlobe. “Speak softly but carry a big tooth,” is the earl’s recommendation.
T. Rex Love-Handles reporting.
Rescue Me
Saturday, October 4th, 2008Wellington Leg: Now that we are saved from the collective infirmity of economic excess we breath a sigh of relief. Before the rescue we went about our business with the knowledge that Congress Was Going to Act which creates the traditional anxiety that a piano is going to fall from a great height hitting us squarely on the head. Even a a glancing blow might prove fatal. All the conditions were present for legislative bursts of legergermain quick fixes belly laughs cries and whispers. We are astounded that through the days and nights of imminent peril Nancy Pelosi’s hair looked the same. My own hair went through many manifestations of disarray: one morning I looked like Barney Frank, another Jim Bunning. My hair suffered. Rescue me.
Once John McCain suspended his campaign my hair became manageable again perhaps securitized by his bold initiative. My hair responded to fiscal stimuli in new and unexpected ways, standing tall instead of cringing near the exits which are clearly marked for our safety and convenience. This sort of dazzling leadership is precisely what my sideburns needed. Balance was restored.
I watched the Biden-Palin debate like an astronomer discovering a new planet. Joe’s hair withstood several direct assaults while Palin’s hovered low almost covering her eyes. This explains the mystery of her glasses they keep her hair from obscuring her vision. There were times when I wondered what language they were speaking or if the answers were meant as responses to the questions. Joe laughed a lot. Sarah said say it ain’t so.
Then Congress acted. Failure to act is worse than acting and so the piano remains rigged above dangling by several legislated threads crafted to prevent disaster. And so the word may spread to Mr and Mrs. America and all the ships at sea:
Rescue me.