Age of Utopias

A few weeks ago I was sent an email that included the de-industrialization of America as a national crisis. In it were facts of the United States becoming the first “post-industrial” nation on the globe. All great economic empires eventually become fat and lazy and squander the great wealth that their forefathers have left them, but the pace at which America is accomplishing this is amazing. It was America that was at the forefront of the industrial revolution. And it will be the heavily mortgaged America that doesn't produce anything – other than garbage that will not have any kind of viable economic future.

One thing I saw time and again this past year was the obliteration of photographs. Having been shown this holiday season a photograph of my maternal grandfather from 1917, as a young man, I quickly asked to make copies, before the process is wiped out. Many of our possessions that we used to own are still in our lives, but we may not actually own them in the future. Today our computer has a hard drive where we store our pictures. But even that is changing.

Photo labs no longer process Kodachrome, they have stopped developing the iconic film forever. Most people believe that this is “progress.” It seems we are losing touch with everyone and everything that constitutes History and Art.

When I was a kid, I marveled at the thought that I would be able to command a robot to take on menial tasks, but now I see the advent of robots will come with a high price- this ever increasing amount of automation comes with an end to human contact for what may turn into many hours in a day or perhaps several days, or weeks at a time, and that comes with the psychological impact of social isolation.

Oodles and Oodles of Red

I'm in a flurry of preparations, I'll let Diana Vreeland share her holiday wishes along with my suggestions for you. They are culled from her longtime column in Bazaar, "Why Don't You."

This holiday season, why don't you...

Sleep-in

Have tiramisu for breakfast

Play “Jingle Bell Rock” and boogie in your pajamas until noon

Drink expensive champagne in the middle of the day

Bake and eat sweets to your heart's content

Snuggle up with a good comedy and a cup of cocoa

Get a professional massage

Splurge on a piece of fine jewelry

Read romantic poetry in the bare under the duvet

Call for take-out

Cuddle in front of a fire

Carry around mistletoe

See a Christmas tree lighting

Take a girly-girl's hot leisurely bubble bath by candlelight

Ice Skate; or if not possible get a bike, find a hill, ride down with your feet planted on the handlebars laughing all the way!

http://bit.ly/7J9NIa

Movies, a gold-rush business

In the holiday season, Hollywood releases movies, packing them in for year-end nominations. As any studio executive will admit, there have always been box-office failures, but successes counter the losses. But does Hollywood know what we want as an audience? Or do they only know what they are giving us? 

 

One of the losses we experienced moving to the desert was we no longer saw premieres at the Directors Guild, with a respectful audience, where talking was not permitted during the show, no snacks, cell phone rings, no shuffling around until the final credit rolled. Occasionally, after the film, one of the actors who starred in it, would be in attendance for a Q&A. Three actors stand out as memorable- Shirley MacLaine who is as comical as she appears on screen, Keira Knightley who is as smart as a whip and John Lithgow who is a wonderful orator.

But we moved, and the thought of not seeing movies was painful.

Being a cable subscriber for the first time, I saw movies I had never seen before. I'm even more demanding of film than I am of television. I sat there and saw generally a lot of movies where nothing circled the orbit, and there was no gravitational pull.

This morning I groaned at the Golden Globe nominations, I no longer pay them heed since they nominated Slumdog Millionaire, Sideways, Before Sunset, Dark Knight or Up in The Air. All bland, soon to be forgotten films, which had nothing unusual, but were a total waste of my time.

I haven't been stunned since Atonement, which had a beautiful plot based on a novel with a wonderful score. It made me think; once a moment is lost, it's lost. Another film of a lesser quality yet moved me was Australia, because there was a child element and the Aboriginal culture and its relationship with nature, that fueled an imaginative vision.

Don't the moguls know movies are an essential part of our culture? Instead of spewing out stories that denigrate the soul and bore the mind, when will they give us real stories? The kind that leave you speechless and in complete utter awe for hours after. Enchanting throwbacks to an era which strives to entertain its audiences with dazzling spectacle and melodrama, and all of the beauty and dark impulses that comes with it. 

 

Home to Vincent

I've never met a vegetable I didn't befriend, although I had to work at peas and lima beans but eventually chummed up to them. I like my vegies fresh and in season for optimum flavor. One thing about living and visiting different regions is your palate gets exposed to a novelty of tastes. A green that is currently available in your supermarket is Kale. I came by way of it during a trip to Amsterdam as a student, a time when I hardly ate, much less cooked. Although the Dutch use Kale in several ways integrating potatoes as a winter staple, I visited before the cold struck and got a simpler version of it. How I recall sitting in that homespun cafe, where staff brought their dogs to work. What impressed me about the country was how unpretentious the Dutch were. Years later, I made Kale adding lemon to brighten its flavor and enjoy it as a salad.

1 bunch raw Tuscan kale (sweeter than regular Kale)

2 slices country bread, or two handfuls of good, homemade coarse breadcrumbs

1/2 garlic clove

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1/4 cup (or small handful) grated pecorino cheese, plus additional for garnish

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus additional for garnish

Freshly squeezed juice of one lemon (1/4 cup)

1/8 teaspoon red pepper flakes

Freshly ground black pepper to taste

Trim the bottom few inches off the kale stems and discard. Massage a little with your hands to tenderize and slice into 3/4-inch ribbons. Place the kale in a large bowl.
Take bread and toast until golden brown on both sides and dry throughout. Tear into small pieces and pulse in a food processor until the mixture forms coarse crumbs, or to the texture of your liking.
Using a mortar and pestle, pound the garlic and 1/4 teaspoon of salt into a paste. Transfer the garlic to a small bowl. Add 1/4 cup cheese, 3 tablespoons oil, lemon juice, pinch of salt, pepper flakes, and black pepper and whisk to combine. Pour the dressing over the kale and toss very well (the dressing will be thick and need lots of tossing to coat the leaves). Let the salad sit for 5 minutes, then serve topped with the bread crumbs, adding a little more cheese, and a drizzle of oil. Can keep in the fridge and tastes even better the next day.

Juice Joint

We begin, in true 1920' style with a man in a three piece pin-stripe suit and black derby hat with his back to the camera. He stands at the shore with the azure blue sky in the horizon in the style of surrealistic painter Rene Magritte. His eyes flash, and the last shot of the opening credits, the camera pans to the tide that recedes but his regal two-toned wingtips remain clean, untouched, opposing realities and one of the coolest intro's I've seen. A strong visual hook, engaged, I had to see more.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yBTjymxdweA

When I stated in a former blog that I went years without watching television, I wasn't exaggerating. The shows I missed read like a scroll; Hawaii Five-O, Miami Vice, Hill St. Blues, Cheers, Ally McBeal, Family Matters, 3rd Rock from the Sun, Friends. I could on and on; I am bored by sitcoms, and didn't feel I was missing out–I was studying, not putting myself to sleep, feeding my mind, feeding my soul. All these shows were on network television, and the programming styles from cable to network are radically different.

In 2009, I tuned in and discovered HBO, cable, which is like an art form, a visual cinema aesthetic, with stylistic authentic period pieces, wonderful sets, and excellent writing–storytelling with narrative and real acting. The pace is also slower not jumpy like network television because the close-ups require the actors to develop their inner artistic truth and convey their emotions--those of their character to the audience.

Last Sunday was the season finale of Boardwalk Empire, a show that takes place in 1920, during prohibition in Atlantic City, with the rise and fall of politician Nucky Thompson. In real life, Nucky Johnson's largesse was legendary, he was a benefactor to the poor, a power broker for the politically ambitious, and a staunch protector of mob interests -- all while serving the Republican Party.

Now I can catch up on the beginning episodes I missed and I'll stay tuned for the crime, politics and life on the boardwalk next year.

The Man in the White Suit Speaks from the Grave

Earlier this spring I saw a PBS documentary marking the 100th anniversary of Mark Twain's death. A few days ago I got an invitation to a literary event from UC Berkeley, since they published the three volume set of his autobiography. I imagine the set will be flying off the shelves for Christmas, since most people like to buy what's popular, doesn't matter what, then when they go to a party they have something to discuss that makes them hip and smart, hence a crowd-pleaser is born.

The Twain resurgence reminds me of how laborious it was to read Huck Finn, I guess I'm the only one who remembers that minor literary detail. And while I also read Innocents Abroad and Life on the Mississippi, that were also noteworthy, in my opinion they were a spin-off from his only masterpiece, Huck Finn, something that Twain admitted to. So why all the commotion?


This Twainness everywhere, marks how I would be mentally baffled and question–who says something that causes a trend and drives others? How does the initiator make their word stick and hone into the masses of psyches causing so much excitement? People love to fawn over writers once their dead. But acknowledging them while their alive, that would require a risk that rarely crosses anyone's mind. That's why book clubs like Oprah's are popular–people need and like to be told what to read. They either can't figure it out themselves, are too intellectually boring and robotic or simply don't have the curiosity to assume the task.


Regarding the autobiography, Twain forbid its official publication until 100 years after his death, which turns out to be a marketing ploy, sort of like a book embargo. In America it works, delayed gratification and exaggeration make consumers believe they have lived to see the pot of gold in the Promise Land!


While I admire Samuel Clemens theatrical nature, his prose, his publishing ventures, and jabs at social issues, I wonder if this book has not been rehashed and will it stand the test of time as being worthwhile?

An Irresistible Pathway