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Saturday, August 11, 2018

The Writer's Life 8/11 - Oui

I love language, especially how it crosses borders and becomes understandable, if not commonly used in other countries. Most Americans are familiar with the most basic French, such as bonjour, merci, s'il vous plaît, au revoir, je ne sais quoi (my fave), merde. Last night, courtesy of Netflix, I watched The Assistant (2015), made in France. There were no subtitles. I went to the DVD's main menu and came up empty. I decided to let the flick run and see how much I could understand. After all, there was a chance it would be as good as anything I'd find on regular TV. The plot was easy to follow: a man driving his in-labor wife to the hospital during heavy rain hits and kills a young man who is jaywalking. He doesn't flee. He calls it in. Understandably, the victim's mom goes mad with grief. Nine years later she insinuates her way into the driver's life, becoming his secretary. He has no idea who she is. Is she up to no good? Director Cristophe Ali, in his third stint at the helm, chose a low key approach not unlike Alfred Hitchcock's most serious work. He collaborated on the screenplay with three others. I'm glad I stuck with it. Unfortunately, I cannot fairly report on its quality, given the language barrier. I was hoping the DVD had a flip side dubbed version, but it was not the case. 130 users at IMDb have rated it, forging to a consensus of 5.2 on a scale of ten. That seems too low but, again, I can't argue with it. Those who prefer gore would be disappointed. The accent is on quiet, creepy psychological horror. It runs less than 90 minutes. I was unfamiliar with the cast, although I recognized the name of the star, Nathalie Baye, who's been around for decades. She played DiCaprio's mom in Catch Me If You Can (2002) and was in Truffaut's ode to cinema Day for Night (1973). Here's a still that, since I know what occurs, gives me the willies:


Since the possibility of rain seemed 100%, I wouldn't dare set up shop on Bay Parkway today. After completing chores and lunch, I headed back to the neighborhood hoping to work at my usual nook under the scaffold. Alas, not a single convenient parking spot was vacated in the half-hour I waited. All was not lost, however. I've been putting off vacuuming for months. I have an Eloctrolux that must be 30 years old. I'd never used the attachments. Lacking an instructional booklet, I visited youtube for how-to video but, for once, came up empty. I'm not good at things mechanical, but I figured out how to hook the hose to the bottom of the machine. It involves a doohickey that has to be locked into place. This allowed me to get at dust that's been around so long it probably spawned children. Afterward, I still had time to fill, so I decided to experiment with my TV antenna, as the guy in the video at youtube suggested should be done every now and then. I'd fixed it to the top righthand corner of my third window. I tried the lower lefthand one and it brought in several more valuable channels, including Fox and Movies!. Although I didn't earn any money, it turned out to be a very good day.

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Friday, August 10, 2018

The Writer's Life 8/10 - Icons

When whatever I'm watching is in commercial, I reach for the remote. Whenever Grace Lee Whitney is on screen in the original Star Trek series, I stop. To this day, I speculate, often in lascivious detail and language, what went on behind the scenes between her and Captain Kirk. To my surprise, she did only eight episodes. She has 70 titles under her name at IMDb. She appeared in many popular programs of the '60's and '70's. A talented singer, she was in the Broadway production of Top Banana, starring Phil Silvers, and had an uncredited role in the 1954 movie version. She opened in nightclubs for Billie Holiday and Buddy Rich, and toured with the Spike Jones and Fred Waring Bands. Of course, she will always be remembered most for the iconic sci-fi series. Here is a quote from her bio at IMDb: "... There were two blond girls and one black girl. Nichelle Nichols was a more important character and couldn't be written out. Everything's political in America. One of the blonds have to go. The other one was engaged to the boss, so guess who went? I just about killed myself. I drank, that's what we do, we drink to get rid of pain. I was really mad. My God, was I bitter." She appeared in several of the Star Trek movies and TV spin-offs, her character Yeoman Janice Rand eventually attaining the rank of Commander. According to her autobiography, The Longest Trek: My Tour of the Galaxy, she also struggled with drug addiction, particularly marijuana. Of course, she was a mainstay at conventions, and once said: "When I told the fans I was an alcoholic, they all applauded. When I told them I had given myself to a higher power, they cheered again. I'm in a great place because I've gone full circle." Despite her troubles, she lived to 85, passing away in 2015.


Bob Montana illustrated Archie, Betty, Veronica and Jughead from 1942 until his death in 1975 at 54. He lived for 35 years in Meredith, New Hampshire, population circa 6,000. Unfortunately, I cannot separate the wholesome comic in my dirty mind from the pornographic drawings my friend Chucky's big brother drew of the crew In flagrante. A statue of the teenage icon was commemorated yesterday in Meredith's Community Park to coincide with the town's 250th anniversary. It was created by sculptor Valery Mahuchy. Here's a pic from the Concord Monitor, Montana's children in the background:


My thanks to the middle age woman who bought The Husband's Secret by Liane Moriarty, and Down on Ponce by Fred Willard; and to the other who selected Dan Brown's Origin; and to the gentleman who purchased Kiss Kiss Bang Bang a collection of the work of renowned movie critic Pauline Kael, and a travel guide to Fredericksburg, Virginia, site of two battles during the Civil War. In the first, December 11–15, 1862, the Union suffered nearly 13,000 casualties while the Confederates lost fewer than 5,000. A second offensive in January 1863 proved just as disastrous and cost General Ambrose Burnside his command.
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Thursday, August 9, 2018

The Writer's Life 8/9 - Originals

So what is there to be gleaned from this week's special elections? Although two are dubbed too close to call, President Trump, naturally, has declared victory in all five. His scorecard in this regard since he took office is almost flawless. Most pundits seem to think the narrowness of the victories presage a large erosion of support that may result in a huge turnover in November in the House of Representatives, a takeover by the Dems. The non-stop barrage of the mainstream media seems to be wearing down independent voters, who are the key to winning elections. The negativism of the elite seems to be triumphing over the promising results of the president's policies. As for me, I would rather have an effective blowhard in charge than the odious diplomats that comprise the swamp.

Babyboomers recall the great tagline of the 1960's Naked City TV series: "There are eight million stories..." There's a great one in today's NY Post. A 60-something Brooklyn woman owns properties worth in the neighborhood of $8 million. She lives in a million dollar co-op in Prospects Heights. Yet she drives a beat up '93 Toyota Camry neighbors dub an "eyesore" and she collects and redeems recyclables. She earns $20 to $30 for several hours of work a day, which she claims keeps her healthy and fit. Although her properties are worth a ton, some are said to be in disrepair. She complains that New Yorkers are no longer tolerant of the eccentrics that make the Big Apple so interesting, and calls herself a "Bohemian." Here's a pic of this original from the accompanying article:


Fran passes by almost every day, pushing a walker, lately in the company of a home attendant who should be awarded a Purple Heart. She is miserable and spreads her misery to others, especially anyone speaking a foreign language. She shocked the hell out of me today, praising a worker in a local cell phone shop, calling him a "wonderful human being." It is the first time I'd ever heard her say a good word about anyone. And to top it off - the guy's name is Abdul! I guess it's true - no one is 100% anything.

RIP Australian pro golfer Jarrod Lyle, 36, who battled a form of leukemia on and off for 20 years. He beat back the disease after being diagnosed at age 17 and went on to earn his PGA Tour card in 2007. The malady returned in 2012 and Lyle again triumphed. He went on to compete in many pro tournaments, 20 on the PGA Tour. He competed in more than 250 world-ranked events during his career, reaching a career-high of 142nd in the World Golf Ranking. He recorded five top-ten finishes on the PGA Tour between 2009 and 2012. Life is so unfair to some. Here's a gut-wrenching pic:


It was a quiet session of the floating book shop. My thanks to the gentleman in the mechanized wheelchair who bought The Autobiography of Malcolm X and a Life magazine pictorial of 1996.



 
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Wednesday, August 8, 2018

The Writer's Life 8/8 - Dangerous

Anyone who follows this blog knows I'm not a fan of written mysteries, although I enjoy them on the big and small screen. I've read only a few that transcend the genre. Dangerous Davies: The Last Detective by Leslie Thomas does not reach far into the existential territory that the best mysteries do, but it is distinguished by humor, imaginative extraneous segues, and quirky characters. Davies, in his early 30's, is on the low end of the totem pole, his nickname ironic. He is more likely to be a danger to himself than to criminals. He is the department's last choice to work a case. The time is the mid '70's. Davies is assigned to simply locate a career criminal who has returned to London and is up to no good. Along the way he becomes interested in a cold case, the disappearance of a 17-year-old girl in 1951. The plot is well conceived. I failed to guess the identity of the killer. Davies is an anti-hero, lacking self-confidence, self-deprecating, on the cusp of alcoholism. Although the novel is only 272 pages, it is not an easy read, which I attribute to the difference between the English of the UK and USA. The fact that Thomas was born in Wales may also have been a factor in the difficulty I occasionally encountered. His use of adjectives was frequently puzzling. Like so many authors before him, he began as a journalist. In 1965 he devoted himself entirely to books. There are four in the Davies series. He also wrote more than 25 other works of fiction, and memoirs and books on travel. Naturally, the BBC produced a series on the detective, and there is a highly regarded movie adaptation of the novel. Unfortunately, it is unavailable at Netflix. It is offered on DVD at Amazon for more than $100 to more than $200. 16 users at Jeff Bezo's behemoth have rated Dangerous Davies: The Last Detective, forging to a consensus of 4.3 on a scale of five. I rate it 3.5. Leslie Thomas passed away at 83 in 2014.


Betsy McCaughey makes an interesting point in her op-ed piece in today's NY Post. She questions why the emphasis is on Russia meddling in America's elections when they have the capability to do serious damage to great parts of the nation. They have hacked into our electrical grids more than once but have yet to turn off the lights as they did to the Ukraine. Fortunately, there are three separate grids in the USA and each uses different software. It is highly unlikely the Russians could damage all of them at once. McCaughey cites congress' apparent indifference to the issue.


RIP hockey legend Stan Mikita, 78. He played his entire 22 year career with the Chicago Blackhawks and is their all-time leader in points and games played. He scored 541 goals. He had a long tenure as team captain and was a member of the 1961 Stanley Cup champs. He is the only NHL player in history to win the Art Ross Trophy as scoring champion, the Hart Trophy as MVP, and the Lady Byng Trophy for sportsmanship - in the same season in both 1967 and 1968! Awesome, sir.


When I spotted Wolf limping along a block away, I was pretty sure he would buy the books I had on Golda Meir and David Ben Gurion. Given his back pain, I did not expect him to go on a spree, gobbling up CD's and other books in Russian and English. He explained it by saying his wife is spending time upstate, so he is free to pile up and hide books. My thanks, sir, and also to the gentleman who purchased two CD's, and to the two women who donated books in Russian, and to Herbie, who donated a pristine hardcover copy of Dan Brown's Origin.
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Tuesday, August 7, 2018

The Writer's Life 8/7 - A Fly & a Forgery

There are a couple of amusing gems in today's NY Post. Its Weird But True column includes a blurb about a German group of 20 setting up a 600,000 tile domino display. The work was near completion when a fly triggered a premature chain reaction, scuttling what would have set a new standard in the Guinness Book of Records... The second item appeared in a two-page spread about the divorce of a mega-wealthy California couple who own multiple properties. It is alleged the wife stole a Picasso painting, Le Repos, from the husband and - get this - replaced it with a forgery she'd painted herself. Here are related pics:



Now 68, mortality is an issue that moves more to the forefront each day. Although I'm blessed with good health, I decided to do a will. I heard a radio ad for legalzoom.com, which allows "writing" the document online, which means not having to visit a shyster. I'd assigned beneficiaries to my retirement and bank accounts months ago, but I also have the co-op but little else beyond items of sentimental value. I chose cremation and would like my ashes scattered in the garden of our old house - if it's still in our possession when I shuffle off this mortal coil. If not, anywhere else will do. Since I don't have a printer and didn't want to have the info sent to a relative who does, I decided to have the company mail the paperwork to me. That required an additional charge. The package came to less than $80. It took less than 15 minutes to complete the info. It seems a good option for those whose assets are simple. Hopefully it's not one of those things that seems too good to be true.

Yesterday a Facebook friend asked those who support Trump to un-friend him, accusing him and, by association, his supporters of treason. I replied: "Still support him. Do as you wish." No doubt the outburst stemmed from the recycling of an item at least a year old - that Trump's camp took an interview with someone who promised dirt on Hillary. Nothing came of that. And even if dirt had been uncovered - so what? It's part of what political operations do. I may be dense or blinded by my support of Trump, but why aren't Hillary and the DNC being investigated for purchasing the phony dossier on Trump and using it to maximum effect? Why isn't John Podesta, who did business with Paul Manafort, not on trial too? Why was the Obama administration given a pass by the media on allowing the sale of uranium to Russia? According to current polling, it looks like the Dems won't have to answer for any of this after the November elections. I try to take the views of right wing talk show hosts with a grain of salt, but their declaration that leftists are foisting Hillary's crimes on Trump does not seem far-fetched. I would congratulate them on smart strategy if the mainstream media wasn't complicit, making it so easy.

My thanks to the kind folks who bought books and CD's on this sweltering day. Special thanks to my Tuesday benefactress, who donated about 20 books, every one of them valuable.
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Monday, August 6, 2018

The Writer's Life 8/6 - Father's Love

With the news offering nothing but the maddening, here's an excerpt from what I believe to be my best work, Killing. It's a few minutes read:

...his gaze immediately fixed upon the mailbox. He'd been thinking about it all day, as he had for many days now. Would there be a Marine waiting inside the house? What would the news do to him? Would he throw himself on the floor and bawl? Would he be driven insane?
Finding nothing out of the ordinary, his body uncoiled and grew weak. He took down the flag, which was suspended from the overhang of the porch, and folded it reverently, as he had each day since the start of the war. He dared not forget even once for fear of bad luck.
"Daddy?" his daughter called, exiting her room.
His stomach contracted at the sight of the tension in her face. What did it mean? Had there been a telegram, a phone call?
"Wha'?" he said, almost snapped, bracing for the worst.
"Nothing. Hi."
He caught a glimpse of the interior of her room. The door was ajar. Blue circles were swirling in the light cast by the lamp on her desk, where a textbook lay open. She'd become bold enough to sneak an occasional smoke in the house. Did this account for her tension? He fought the urge to rebuke her.
She followed him into the kitchen and sat facing him, elbows on the table. He opened a can of beer, crossed his legs, and leaned back, feigning ease. He hated drinking in front of her.
"Daddy," she said, avoiding his gaze; "is it okay if I go to college?"
He felt relief flush through him and tried to conceal it. He suspected the glaze in his eyes gave it away.
"Sure. You thought I'd say 'no'?"
Relieved, she smiled. "I wasn't sure. You were always telling Danny you wanted him to go, but you never said anything to me."
"Sorry, mommy, I shoulda. I guess I ain't up wit' the times. I still got a lotta - what'd they call it back in the day? - 'male chauvinist pig' in me."
She glowed. He melted with pride, humbled by her beauty. She was even more attractive than her mother had been at 18, and that was saying a lot. He would have thought his genes would have diminished rather than enhanced that beauty.
"I was thinkin' I'd go to Kingsborough to start, to see if I can handle it, then transfer to a four-year school. This way it wouldn't cost you so much. I could even ride my bike there when the weather's nice to save on car fare."
He looked her in the eye. "You’re too good to us, mommy. Kids're supposta give you ahgihda. You never gave us none. We're so lucky compared to some fam'lies on the block."
She flushed, pulling her dark hair away from her face, a characteristic of her mother's in the days when she'd worn her hair long. "I can't wait 'til Junior gets home. It's gonna be like the Fourth of July."
Dante smiled. "Yeah." And just as quickly as it had arisen, the smile vanished. "You can go to a four-year school if you want. Your mother's workin', the house's paid off. We ain't exactly poor, you know. I been puttin’ money away since your brother was born, in case he wanted to go. You can use that."
"But what if he changes his mind and wants to go?"
"We'll worry about it then. There's always a way. Don't worry."
"Thanks, Daddy." She seemed on the verge of tears. "I wanna go to Kingsborough first, though."
"Whateva you want. Whattaya gonna take up?"
"I don't know. What d'you think I should?"
He shrugged. "Somethin' that'll make the world better. It needs a lotta help."
She chuckled, deep dark eyes sparkling.
"The way taxes keep goin' up, you better get an education so you can help keep up wit' the bills."
"Oh! That reminds me. Mommy called. She's gonna be late again."
He masked his feelings. His daughter seemed to suspect nothing. He was glad. "D'jeat?"
She shook her head.
"Order a pizza. I'm gonna take a shower."


Last evening I bagged the parking spot most favorable to the floating book shop. It was crucial in minimizing the toil on this sweltering day. My thanks to the guy in the Irish T-shirt who purchased The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, a complete collection of the work of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; and to the gentleman who donated about ten books, half classics, half significant non-fiction; and to the woman who donated a book on coins in Russian.
My Amazon Author page: https://www.amazon.com/Vic-Fortezza/e/B002M4NLJE


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Sunday, August 5, 2018

The Writer's Life 8/5 - Another Day

There's an item in today's NY Post about the NRA crying poverty. Although I support gun ownership rights, I have no sympathy for the organization's plight. It should budget its resources wisely, and not be like a government entity.

I've learned to accept the President's tweeting, although I wouldn't say I like it any better than than I did at first. I think his feud with LeBron James is a big negative. Whatever one may think about the superstar's political views, there's no questioning his work ethic. He is well-respected. Trump made inroads into the black vote and has the potential to attract even more given the all-time low unemployment rate amongst minorities. Why risk that? Both Ivanka and Melania have tried to soften the blows with their own tweets, but I doubt that lessens the damage.


There was a breeze blowing along Bay Parkway, which negated the heat somewhat. My thanks to the gentleman who bought six books in Russian, and to the other who donated five in that language plus The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Bob stopped by. He spent another day in the hospital, the victim of something he ate, perhaps a piece of melon. Recently, I'd told him about ditching cable and going back to an antenna. He tried it and picked up 50 channels. He said I've saved him $70. Today he thanked me with gifts, a couple of sticks that fit into a USB port. On them are 55 movies, several of which I haven't seen. Problem is, my PC is compromised. It happened about two years ago when I purchased Microsoft Word and noticed - too late - a box that should have been unchecked before the download. That let in enemy agents that ruined my IE and Firefox applications and wiped out my Itunes library and the stick I used to back up the computer. I've been using Opera since then, and it's been a godsend. I won't use Bob's gift until I get a new machine. I'm surprised mine has lasted this long, about ten years. It labors in the AM, curiously slowing down after about five to ten minutes, as if a spy has joined me in the background. In the evening it's fine. While Bob and I were chatting, an Asian gentleman waved before entering the Chase ATM area. I assumed he was signaling a companion in a car. Soon he approached. It was Thomas, a CPA who bought Killing about two years ago and who reads this blog regularly. The reason I didn't recognize him, besides the time lapse between our last meeting, is that he has lost 40 pounds. He wiped out all his problems with diabetes, BP and sundry ailments. He is off meds. Well done, sir. Bob too has lost a lot of weight but has another 30 pounds to go. Best of luck, sir, and thank you.

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