Total Pageviews

Friday, April 14, 2017

The Writer's Life 4/14 - Believe It or Not

From the NY Post, edited by yours truly: Researchers at George Mason University have created a synthetic version of an antimicrobial compound using a substance in the blood of the Komodo. It appears to help wounds heal faster and kill a type of bacteria often found in infections. So far it has been tested only on the lesions of mice. The discovery may eventually lead to the development of a new type of antibiotic. Approximately 23,000 Americans die each year from antibiotic-resistant infections. Here's a pic of the critter:



Also in the Post, in my own words: It is believed Eli Manning has been involved in the hawking of fake sports memorabilia. The Post is convinced of his complicity, Yahoo Sports not so sure. Why would he do it? Are his astronomical salary and endorsements not providing enough income? This is a blow to his squeaky-clean image. If he's guilty, a long suspension is in order. And if that happens, Giants' brass should think about calling Tony Romo.

From Yahoo Sports, in my own words: In 2015 baseball Hall of Famer Rod Carew, 71, suffered a massive  heart attack doctors dubbed a “widow-maker.” In December he received a heart and kidney transplant. As chance would have it, his donor was an ex-pro athlete - Konrad Reuland, a tight end who played in the NFL from 2011-16, including four starts in 2015 with the Ravens. He died in December at age 29 of a brain aneurysm.

Also from Yahoo, in my own words: The Seattle Mariners have a surprise hit in the concession market - toasted grasshoppers from Poquitos, a Mexican restaurant. Sprinkled with a chili-lime salt, they're called chapulines. More than 18,000 grasshoppers have been sold - more than the restaurant sells in a year. The cost is $4, eaten by the bowl or in a taco.



My thanks to the kind folks who bought books in Russian, and to the woman who purchased The Purpose Driven Life: What on Earth Am I Here For? by Rick Warren, and another self-help book; and to the woman who bought the Best of Jim Croce CD, and to the one who bought the Terminator 2 (1991) DVD. I was relieved that no donations came in today. There's a little more room in my trunk. My arms are fatigued from carrying the jammed-packed crates. I shouldn't complain. It's only ten minutes of hard work per session... Best of luck to Maddy Cruz, who worked in a nearby law office. She's taken another job in a different neighborhood. I'll miss her sunny presence.
Vic's Sixth novel: http://tinyurl.com/zpuhucj 
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc

Posted by at No comments:

Thursday, April 13, 2017

The Writer's Life 4/13 - Reasons

Here's a fun collection from listverse.com, edited heavily by yours truly. The names have been eliminated to protect the guilty: An attorney proffered an odd reason for a client who shot his supervisor six times: a crash diet left him dehydrated, exhausted and delirious... An Arizona man claimed he was sleepwalking when he stabbed his wife 44 times. Prosecutors pointed out that the guy stashed the murder weapon, his bloody clothes and boots in a plastic container, and hid them inside the tire well of his car. The actions were too complex and specific for a sleepwalker and indicated premeditation. Judge and jury agreed... A Swedish man had an interesting explanation for a series of assaults he perpetrated - nutmeg, which contains myristicin, a psychoactive drug. The jury didn't swallow it. He was convicted of multiple charges... A woman gagged her husband, taped over his mouth and eyes, wrapped a bandage over his head, then later tied his arms and legs behind his back, a regular, consensual activity, she claimed. She then left home for 20 hours. By the time she returned, her hubby had suffocated. Authorities were unable to prove premeditation, so she received only an 18-month sentence for negligent homicide... In 2000 a 27-year-old San Francisco college student chopped up his 47-year-old landlady and scattered her body parts across town. He had a novel explanation - he was afraid of getting sucked into “the Matrix.” According to the movie, this world is just a simulation, an idea that played well into the perp’s paranoia. He'd already been institutionalized in his native Switzerland. It was this delusion, compounded by a crystal meth addiction, that pushed him over the edge and led him to attack his landlady, who was emitting “evil vibes.” He was declared insane and institutionalized... A 32-year-old security guard from India was accused of stalking two women. His lawyer attributed his doggedness to Bollywood movies, which teach men that the relentless pursuit of a woman will eventually make her succumb. The mouthpiece also claimed the guy's behavior was quite normal for an Indian. The dude was let go on condition he behave himself for five years... A woman was busted for passing counterfeit bills. When asked to explain she said President Obama had passed a law allowing people on a fixed income to print money. Cops found up to $50,000 in counterfeit cash in her apartment, all crudely made on her printer. The "law" came from an article in The Skunk, a satirical zine. It stated that Obama’s plan was to distribute a printing press to every American so they could print US currency... During the trial of drug-trafficking Malaysian twins, each blamed the other. Authorities were unable to determine which was guilty, so they were freed, escaping the death penalty that country levies against such a crime... Absent from the list, Flip Wilson's Geraldine's: "The devil made me do it."



Seven former and current students unveiled a 1,500-pound Rubik's Cube during a ceremony at the University of Michigan. The massive, mostly aluminum structure is the brainchild of four students who three years ago handed it down to others. If memory serves, I solved it once in umpteen tries - and had no idea how. There must be a catch to it that the mathematically inclined intrinsically understand. Here's a pic from usnews.com/:



The floating book shop received donations from five different people this crisp spring day. I could barely close the trunk of my old Hyundai. I brought 20 of the less marketable books back to the apartment. My thanks to those kind folks, and to the woman who early in the session bought Overcoming Overeating by Jane R. Hirschmann and Carol H. Munter. It looked like that would be the only sale until one of my regulars, a middle age Russian woman, saved the day by overpaying for novels by Belva Plain, Jude Devereaux, Judith McNaughton, Anita Shreve and Gloria Goldreich - in English. Spasibo, madam.
Vic's Sixth novel: http://tinyurl.com/zpuhucj 
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc
Posted by at No comments:

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

The Writer's Life 4/12 - J & Others

RIP J. Geils, 71, founding member, guitarist of his eponymous band. He played trumpet in college, influenced by his dad, who was a fan of Jazz and Big Band. Geils formed his group in the '60's, beginning as an acoustic trio, eventually switching to an electric sound and adding members. They worked the club circuit for years before hitting it big, building a reputation as a great live act. They found great commercial success in 1981 following the release of the album Freeze-Frame, which went to #1 and achieved triple platinum status. The title track rose to #4 on the singles chart, and Centerfold spent six weeks at #1 in '82. Overall, 17 of the band's singles cracked the Billboard Top 100. Love Stinks has been used on several film soundtracks. The band broke up in 1985, but reunited for several tours through the years. Geils released two solo jazz albums post 2000. He also recorded albums as a member of Bluestime and New Guitar Summit. Well done, sir. (Facts from Wiki & Billboard)

According to Reuters, China has sent a flotilla of 12 North Korean freighters loaded with coal back to their home port. Meanwhile, it has placed massive orders for the steel-making commodity with U.S. producers. The move reflects the country’s commitment to join other nations in punishing North Korea for its continued nuclear weapons and ballistic missile development program. China is suspending North Korean imports for the rest of this year. This sounds like great news. Did the summit with President Trump have anything to do with it?

Here's sobering news from a blurb in today's NY Post, edited by yours truly: According to the renowned Mayo Clinic, a second opinion changes an original diagnosis 88% of the time. 21% of the time it changes completely, 66% it is refined or redefined.

I like this guy. A Montana man, convinced he was being screwed by the tax man, vented his displeasure by adding a note to his $745.77 check. In the Memo line he wrote: "Sexual Favors." So far, the check has not been cashed, as "it isn't clear what the funds should be applied to." It's quite simple, really. I believe the gentleman was referring to being told to "bend over" by the government. I've been tempted to write something nasty on every check I've written to pay an alternate side parking violation, which in each instance had been a matter of forgetting, not intentionally ignoring the regulation. I resisted, afraid it would lead to trouble. I'm sure the guy hasn't heard the end of it from government gangsters. (Adapted from the Weird But True column in the NY Post.)

My thanks to Ira, who bought a bio of Walter Cronkite and a book on the Kennedys, to the gentleman who bought three Russian translations of Frank Herbert's works, and to the elderly woman who purchased a Fern Michaels thriller.
Vic's Sixth novel: http://tinyurl.com/zpuhucj 
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc
Posted by at No comments:

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

The Writer's Life 4/11 - Flights of Fancy

The story of the day seems to be the United airlines fiasco. Although I've made umpteen pickups of relatives at airports, I haven't been on a plane since pre-9/11. Given the hassle of security, I hope I never again have to fly. I don't know anything about what goes on except for the occasional complaint of someone who has just landed, and a glance at negative story headlines, so I won't comment on whether the company's bumping of that man from a flight was unjust or not. On his radio talk show this morning, Mark Simone played audio of the incident. I do know one thing - I'm glad that guy's not my doctor.

From Yahoo Sports, edited by yours truly: Last night the Detroit Red Wings played their final game at Joe Louis Arena, where they won four Stanley Cups. Many of the greats from those teams attended. Their enforcer, Bob Probert, who succumbed to a heart attack at 45 in 2010, was there in spirit. He played 474 games with the Wings over nine years, but the number fans remember most is 2090 – the penalty minutes he earned when he was the NHL’s uncrowned heavyweight fighting champion. On Sunday his widow brought him back one last time. Dani Probert, wearing a locket with her late husband’s ashes inside it, decided on the spur of the moment to spread his ashes inside the penalty box. Here's the best picture I could find of it:



I've put aside the file of the novel I plan to self-publish in January, but I keep a list of thoughts that might fit the narrative. The title is Present and Past, and throughout it the characters reminisce. One is particularly enamored of his experiences. This line occurred to me recently, spoken by his friend: "How d'you even know you're rememberin' this stuff right after so long?" My first reply was: "They may not be exact, but the essence is right on." I wasn't satisfied with it, but let it be. This morning another occurred to me, which I will incorporate with the first, most likely preceding it: "True. When I'm watching a movie I think I have completely down pat, I'm always surprised it isn't exactly how I remember it." That's happened to me countless times. Yesterday I came across an interesting quote on the subject by Jessamyn West: "The past is really almost as much a work of the imagination as the future." Note that she uses "almost." Although humans are frequently given to delusion, I believe we nail the essence of what has been. I recall how deluded I was about my athletic ability, believing I would be able to play college football. I now occasionally wonder if I'm as deluded about my literary aspirations as I was about my athleticism. I don't believe I'm deluded regarding my memories. The mind is wondrous, full of twists and turns, ins and outs, ups and downs. Wiki lists 21 books, all fiction, under West's name. Her most famous is The Friendly Persuasion, the story of a Quaker family, published in 1945, adapted to the screen in 1956, starring Gary Cooper, directed by William Wyler, nominated for six Oscars, including Best Picture. It was originally released without a screenplay credit, as the writer, Michael Wilson, was blacklisted. In another fun bit of trivia, West was a second cousin of Richard Nixon. A Quaker herself, she died in 1984 at 81.

My thanks to the kind folks who bought wares today, especially the elderly Russian gentleman who purchased eight DVD's and the woman who took the Oprah pictorial I've been displaying prominently for a month. Special thanks to my Tuesday benefactress, who donated another marketable cache of fiction and non.
Vic's Sixth novel: http://tinyurl.com/zpuhucj 
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc
Posted by at No comments:

Monday, April 10, 2017

The Writer's Life 4/10 - Shotmakers

Almost every year Sunday's back nine at the Masters provides high drama. Yesterday's duel between two Europeans was epic. It was Sergio Garcia's 71st attempt to win a major tournament, the longest streak of such futility ever. I suspect Britain's Lee Westwood will surpass that mark. Garcia, 37, had finished second four times, third twice, always betrayed by his putting. When he missed fairly easy putts at 16 and 18, it looked like his fabulous ball-striking would again fail to lead to a major title. Of course, he would have won more than $1.8 million for finishing as the runner-up, but it would not have placed his name in golf history. Then, on the first playoff hole, Justin Rose drove into the tree line and made bogey. Sergio made birdie, the crowd roared, and the coveted green jacket was his. As is often the case in such competition, there were a couple of wonderful quirks. It was the birthday of the late Seve Ballesteros, Spain's first golf idol. The two-time champion at Augusta would have been 60. And, according to announcer Jim Nantz, the last player to eagle 15 and go on to win was Garcia's idol, Jose Maria Olazabal. Now that Sergio has shaken the mantle of Best Player Never to Have Won a Major, that dubious distinction falls to Westwood and young American Ricky Fowler. Great show, guys. Great coverage, CBS. The congratulatory hand-slapping between the competitors following great shots was refreshing in this age of showboating. Here's a pic of last year's winner, Britain's Danny Willet, helping Sergio don the prize all pro golfer's dream of attaining:



Russell Westbrook of the Oklahoma City Thunder had his 42nd triple double of the season yesterday, breaking a record long held (1961-'62) by the great Oscar Robertson. And to top it off he made a 36-foot buzzer-beater to win the game. Awesome, dude.


The hard left is spinning the bombing of the Syrian airport as collusion between President Trump and Putin to distract everyone from the alleged ties between them. The strangest aspect of it is that it's exactly the type of potshot one would expect. Man, it's a crazy world.

My thanks to the the gentleman who bought two DVD's and the woman who purchased two CD's. Upon looking at my books, she said she wished they were in Spanish. Fortunately, I'd noticed the two Latino albums among the eclectic batch Caroline  recently donated, and I took a shot the lady would be interested. Again there was no movement on the Russian books. Three females regulars passed on that batch of sci-fi.
Vic's Sixth novel: http://tinyurl.com/zpuhucj 
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc

Posted by at No comments:

Sunday, April 9, 2017

The Writer's Life 4/9 - Passion

The intellect of some people is astounding. Such is the case with Alan Lightman. A graduate of Princeton, he excelled as a physicist, writing numerous articles published in top magazines and journals. He has also written several novels. I just finished Reunion, published in 2003. It's the story of a divorced fiftyish professor attending his 30th college reunion at an unnamed university in the Boston area. While he is there in body, his mind dwells in the past. His comfortable life is suddenly angst-filled, as he recalls his relationship with a ballerina in training who lived in Manhattan. It's a tale of the one who got away. Many (most?) of us have been there, but I doubt few go as gaga as the protagonist did. It is hard enough to understand our own obsessions, let alone that of another, despite the beauty of the woman in question. That is the problem I had with the book. None of it comes off as false, but it never soars. It is unusual to encounter a male character as sensitive and vulnerable as Charles, a lit major/aspiring poet who loves the works of Emily Dickinson. He is not a milquetoast, being a member of the wrestling team. The reader is privy to his inner world, and that often makes a a character appear weak and ridiculous. The prose and dialogue are first-rate, grounded, accessible to anyone, quite an accomplishment for someone with the impressive intellectual credentials of Lightman. The 231 pages read like considerably less. Here's an example: "... For what does time matter in the extravagance of youth? When an infinity of hours and years stretches in front of you, what do a few hours here or there matter? I was immortal." At a similar age, 50ish, I suffered what has, so far, been my final amorous passion. It took me a year and a half to recover. I still frequently think of the women I was nuts about, Maybe if I wrote a novel strictly about my passion for them I'd come off just as foolish and pathetic. Or perhaps the fact that I'm now 66 and have practically given up on love has something to do with my lukewarm response to the book. It was once foremost in my life. This is biggest change I've undergone, my now tepid interest in sports a distant second. When it occurs to me, I can hardly believe it. It has little to do with sex, which is still frequently on my mind. Some people have remarked about my passion for my own books, and it's always strange to hear it described as thus, as I don't get sick over literary frustration the way I have over women. Anyway, 16 users at Amazon have rated Reunion, forging to a consensus of 3.9 on a scale of five, way higher than I would go. It has a decent sale's rank, one-millionth-plus, considering it's been on the market for about 14 years. There are at least 13 million titles listed at Amazon. Lightman has more than 20 books in print and has been nominated for or won significant awards. He has been on the faculty of Harvard and is currently at MIT. His most successful novel, Einstein's Dreams, published in 1993, was an international bestseller and has been translated into 30 languages. More than 100 independent theatrical, dance, video, and musical productions worldwide have been based on it. I wish I'd come across that instead. (Facts also from Wiki)

Two customers hit the floating book shop early today, making the trek to Park Slope worth it. My thanks to the woman who bought Fudge Cupcake Murder by Joanne Fluke. Interested in baking, she was happy to hear the author includes dessert recipes in her books. Special thanks to the old-timer who asked for books on war, and who took SEAL Team Six: Hunt the Dragon by Don Mann and an epic novel on Vietnam whose title I've forgotten and was unable to find online. The gentleman also purchased a Rex Stour Nero Wolfe mystery, and thrillers by John Sandford and Vince Flynn. Thanks also to the young man who bought a music CD. I was busy packing up so I didn't see which he selected. The biggest surprise of the session was that no DVD's sold. I don't display Russian books in Park Slope, as I've never heard the language spoken there.
Vic's Sixth novel: http://tinyurl.com/zpuhucj 
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc
Posted by at No comments:

Saturday, April 8, 2017

The Writer's Life 4/8 - Talking Cure

A couple of months ago I read Love's Executioner by Irvin D. Yalom, a short story collection that chronicled the renowned psychiatrist's most fascinating cases. That led me to add When Nietzsche Wept (2007), an adaptation of his novel, to my Netflix list. I watched it last night. It pales in comparison to the remarkable story collection, but wasn't the unwatchable mess several people dubbed it in web commentary. Although I've read at least two of  Nietzsche's books, I did so on my own, not under the guide of a teacher. I'd guess those who dislike the film most are serious students of psychology and philosophy. The narrative is from the point of view of Josef Breuer, a successful physician who developed the "talking cure," which was embraced by one of his students, Sigmund Freud, who is referred to in the flick as Siggy. Bits and pieces of the ideas of the three historical figures are sprinkled throughout. The central story involves the unhealthy obsession Nietzsche has for a woman decades ahead of her time, which Breuer helps him overcome. The tables turn, as Breuer reveals how distant he has grown from his loving wife. Both men struggle to shed despair. The film's tagline is: "We are more in love with desire than the desired." Having twice suffered the unrequited love of someone I was nuts about in adulthood, I easily related to Nietzsche's plight. There are many dream sequences. Some come off as silly, comical rather than profound, particularly one in which the two are paddling a canoe shaped like a swan. That is easily forgiven, as dreams are frequently bizarre. Assante's performance as the philosopher is uneven, more convincing when he is quiet than when he's over the top. Ben Cross is superb as the doctor, as is the still beautiful Joanna Pacula as his wife. Jamie Elman is adequate as the 25-year-old Freud. The women with whom the distressed pair are obsessed, Anna Winnick as the pre-feminist enchantress, and Michal Yanni, whose character would be immortalized on paper as Anna Q by Breur, are terrific. Pinchas Perry adapted the screenplay and directed. He has been at the helm of only three films since 1996, all of which he wrote. I give him credit for risking criticism in such grand fashion. The running time is only 1:45, and there are several pieces of classical music masterpieces interspersed to liven the proceedings. The appeal of the subject matter is likely limited to those who dabble in it, not study it intensely. I liken it to cliff notes. 3000+ users at IMDb have rated it, forging to a consensus of 6.5 of ten, which was surprising given the vitriol of the detractors. Breuer died in 1925 at 83, Nietzsche in 1900 at 56, Freud in 1939 at 83.  

Here's a curveball: congratulations to Wei-Yin Chen. Who, you say? The Marlins pitcher entered last night’s game against the Mets without a base hit through 50 career at-bats. He beat out a dribbler to get off the schneid. (Yahoo Sports)

My thanks to Lyudmila, who bought A Hitch in Twilight, the 200th copy of it to sell, counting Kindles. Thanks also to Bill Brown, author of Words and Guitar: A History of Lou Reed's Music, who bought a couple of CD's, and to Monsey, who bought three; to Jack of Chase, who bought a hardcover thriller, and to the other kind folks who made purchases on this beautiful day.
Vic's Sixth novel: http://tinyurl.com/zpuhucj 
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc
Posted by at No comments:
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)