The Rake Magazine

Category: Blog Post

  • Happy (Belated) Bloomsday!

    Last night, The University Club of St. Paul hosted their annual Bloomsday celebration, honoring James Joyce’s Ulysses, a novel whose action takes place on June 16, 1904. A group of eighty or so people, primarily sexagenarian (by one superficial participant’s observations), gathered in a well-lit room.

    Aside from a fairly amazing reading of Molly’s soliloquy (by Molly Culligan, who could play Maude in Harold and Maude if it ever needed to be re-cast), little of the evening’s events had much to do with the book itself. There were some Irish folk songs, some Irish-flamenco folk songs, a reading from a contemporary book that has been compared to Ulysses, and then some poems about Joyce and his tome.

    At first I thought this was a little strange — shouldn’t a holiday about Ulysses focus its festivities on the text? But then I was all like, Nah — that would probably be kind of boring, or at least predictable. I assume that everyone who celebrates Bloomsday has read Ulysses (who else would possibly care?) and maybe wants something separate from analyses and praises of the book.

    In Dublin they do these sort of scavenger hunts, where people follow the paths of Leopold Bloom and/or Stephen Dedalus — the novel’s principal characters — throughout the city, but that can’t really be replicated in the Twin Cities, despite St. Paul’s deep Irish roots.

    So then I thought about Bloomsday’s temporal proximity to Father’s Day, and how maybe it should or could be a sort of anti-Father’s Day. One of Ulysses‘s central themes is about the disowning of one’s dad; Stephen is constantly trying to sever his ties with his father, while in a very morbid sense Bloom has been disowned by his son, who died. In The New Bloomsday Book — a wonderful paraphrase of Ulysses for any first-time reader — Harry Blamires describes what happens in the "Circe" episode: "Stephen runs away from his destiny. He flees the Pater, whether God, fatherland, Simon [his dad], home, Bloom, in his pursuit of freedom. Hunted, he gives the hunting cry, and Simon Dedalus swoops down on him like a buzzard."

    Declan Kiberd adds to this in his introduction to Penguin’s Annotated Student Edition of Ulysses, "The revolt of the son is never the cliché-rebellion against a tyrannical parent, but the more complex revolt against the refusal or inability of an ineffectual father to provide any lead at all."

    Maybe for Bloomsday, all sons (and daughters) could run around with leashes padlocked around their necks, though no one holding the leash. All the fathers (and mothers) could have the keys to the padlocks … and then lose them (another theme of the book is of lost keys/access/acceptance/etc). The day could be spent trying to wriggle out of our respective collars, probably to no avail. Just a thought.

    That was the first part of the post. Now comes the second part.

    As mentioned above, the crowd at The University Club was kind of small and kind of old. While no doubt there are some tight-jean’d hipsters out there reading Ulysses so they can say they read it, it’s a little sad to me that the book’s following seems to be dwindling.

    I’m not sure if it’s critics, or professors, or what, but there’s definitely a stigma about the novel that suggests it’s impenetrable. Ulysses is kind of like the stone that held Excalibur — we are told and believe that something invaluable and amazing exists therein, but it’s simultaneously insinuated that, for the commoner, extracting that value is damn near impossible. There are a lot of potential readers, I think, who won’t approach the book because they think it’s inaccessible. In fact this might be the fault, or intention, of Joyce himself, who declared that his book was written as a kind of practical joke to keep critics busy for a hundred years.

    Which is why it was so refreshing to come across this passage written by Anthony Burgess (author of A Clockwork Orange, etc) in his book ReJoyce:

    My book does not pretend to scholarship, only to a desire to help the average reader who wants to know Joyce’s work but has been scared off by the professors. The appearance of difficulty is part of Joyce’s big joke; the profundities are always expressed in good round Dublin terms; Joyce’s heroes are humble men. If ever there was a writer for the people, Joyce was that writer.

    And really, the entire novel supports this thesis. While much of the prose is intentionally difficult and obfuscated, the dialogue is mostly straightforward — and powerful. Joyce said that what he intended to do was take a sandblaster to the history of the novel and wipe the slate clean. Each of the eighteen episodes presents us with a literary style that is emulated, satirized, and then discarded.

    And then, finally, there is Molly’s soliloquy. It is Joyce’s gift to literature, the form of stream-of-consciousness writing. (Vladimir Nabokov calls it "Stepping Stones of consciousness" because he doesn’t believe it’s an actual stream — he argues that people think in images as well as words, and because there are no actual images in Ulysses, it cannot be the complete flow.)

    Molly, Bloom’s adulterous wife, is vulgar, simple, indulgent, human. And we get to see her thoughts and emotions from inside her skull. The lack of punctuation is dizzying, but as for the actual words, there’s nothing difficult about Molly’s internal monologue. Once you sync your own brain to hers — which happens pretty naturally — you can easily understand her thoughts. Of Bloom, for example, she thinks, "he never goes to church mass or meeting he says your soul you have no soul inside only grey matter because he doesnt know what it is to have one yes."

    The rest of the book is necessary — it prepares us for the soliloquy, which might not have the same revelatory power without the slog it takes to get there. Nevertheless, Molly and the other characters, through their actual words and thoughts, transmit enough revelations — in mostly plain English — that really anyone can grasp the power of Ulysses. So, hopefully next year there will be some fresh faces at Bloomsday.

  • Expand Your Boundaries with Gender-bending Vampire Mutants

    MUSIC
    Vinyl Venus Space Lounge

    Cozy Northeast neighborhood nook, the 331 Club, switches
    gears every Tuesday night to bring you a retro-glam space odyssey
    courtesy of Twin Cities music scene icon Venus DeMars. The All the Pretty Horses
    gender-bending front woman is a statuesque and decadently costumed
    sight to behold, and her charisma definitely rubs off on the record
    player. Rock, jam, or chill out to ’70s glam, ’80s punk, and plenty of
    underground and rare gems. The people watching isn’t half bad either.

    10pm, 331 Club, 331 13th Avenue NE, Northeast Minneapolis, Free

    FILM
    The Omega Man (1971)

    An
    early pioneer of the post-apocalyptic vampire-mutant survivalist story
    was the novelist responsible for the 1954 science fiction book, I Am Legend.
    Richard Matheson’s story about the last man alive in a future Los
    Angeles has now been reproduced as a movie three times. The Omega Man
    deviates from Matheson’s book and the other movies by turning the
    vampire creatures into a cult called "The Family," an obvious reference
    to the Manson Family and their murderous plot a few years prior.
    Neville must avoid being caught by the nocturnal Family at night by
    barricading himself in an apartment with powerful searchlights outside
    to keep the albino light-sensitive creatures at bay. Death to Our Enemies will provide the music portion of the evening at this outdoor event. —Christopher Kelleher (See full article HERE.)

    Dusk, The Basin, 22nd Avenue NE & Quincy Street NE, Free

    ART

    New Masters of Woodturning



    Twenty-nine international artists
    descend on the Nina Bliese Gallery in Downtown Minneapolis for a
    season-long exhibit of wood sculpture. Nature and fine art collide in
    surprising ways in this show, from intricate and delicate design work
    to more organic sculpture. Pick up the new book by Terry Martin and
    Kevin Wallace, New Masters of Woodturning: Expanding the Boundaries,
    an artful tome that will fill you in on what’s hot and what’s not in
    woodturning. Hear the authors discuss the exhibit at the opening reception this Friday, or stop in during regular gallery hours.
    This exhibit will run through September, so if your office is in downtown Minneapolis consider a lunchtime field trip for a little
    artistic rejuvenation.



    Noon-5pm, Nina Bliese Gallery, 225 South 6th Street, Suite 100, Downtown Minneapolis, Free


  • Keeping the Peace Means Communication and a Warm Taser

    While terrorists plotting to obliterate the Xcel Center in a
    fertilizer-scented blast of hellfire would seem to be the larger cause for
    concern among the various agencies responsible for security around the RNC, the
    Department of Homeland Security, in conjunction with Texas Security Threat
    Group officers, the California Department of Corrections and the Sacramento
    Intelligence unit, is bringing its "A" game. In other words, it’s examining all
    threats, no matter how unlikely.

    Saint Paul’s
    own plans
    for dealing with malcontents, such as corralling protesters in bamboo cages, a
    strategy code-named "The John McCain experience," are already well known. But
    even as Ramsey County invests
    in tasers     and autonomous independently targeting turrets, they can likely
    find other useful tools by digging in the Department of Homeland security’s
    arsenal. In fact, at a recent counterterrorism conference, a book of
    slang terms     (PDF), coined by a variety of street gangs, white supremacist
    groups, a variety of ethnicities, and, strangely enough, the judiciary, was
    circulated to help officers of the peace better understand those who would do
    harm to their innocent charges.

    While the primary threat to the RNC remains terrorism and
    unwashed hippies swaying in unison during group sit-ins and marches, the possibility
    of the Latin Kings, Mandingo Warriors, or Minnesota Court of Appeals judges
    growing militantly political and staging an assault on the Xcel can’t be
    discounted. And, failing that, it’s unlikely the various gangs have forgotten
    how much money they once made in the mid-80s selling various powders to rabidly
    capitalistic Republicans frothing at the mouth for junk bonds and snorting coke
    off Jennifer Beals’ taut buttocks.

    This bible of colloquialisms, ripe with
    charming observations about the nature of feminism, social commentary and keen insight on the seven habits of highly effective prison bitches,
    will act as security forces’ guardo camino, enabling them to protect the
    right-leaning stalwart souls come from all four corners of our great country to
    assemble and safely rejoice in a
    decision that was made half a year ago    .

    We at the Defenestrator, however, want to ensure all can
    identify the malcontents in the crowd sure to lay siege
    to the House that Norm Coleman Built.
    Empowering the citizenry with such insider knowledge will help ensure our
    safety and deter the criminals who will surely seek to disrupt this shining
    example of the democratic process. While the full list of terms is linked
    above, examples of terms you may hear from the hardened criminals in the
    streets and our judicial system are listed below.

    • BEEF STEAK…..(Rap)…..Refers
      to the penis.
    • NINJA TURTLES…..(Prison)…..A
      team of Officers dressed in riot gear in preparation to quell a riot, or
      to conduct a forced removal of an offender. The term is derived from
      the fact that the Officers resemble the Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtle
      (Cartoon Characters) in this gear.
    • BEES
      KNEE’s      …..(Latin Kings)…..An extraordinary person, thing, idea, The
      ultimate
    • BOOYAH…..(Street)…..Word
      used to simulate the report of a shotgun
    • CHARGE OF THE GODDESS…..(Occult)…..Originally
      written by Doreen Valiente, the charge gives the story of the message of
      the Goddess and her children. The High Priestess often recites the charge
      at the full moon Esbat.
    • HORSE FEATHERS…..(Latin
      Kings)…..A term for nonsense; lies (Same as applesauce, banana oil)

    So what have we learned from this sampling of the
    nomenclature of America’s
    most dire threats to peace and order? We’ve learned that:

    • criminals
      have an appreciation for early 90s action figures,
    • Wiccans
      are a danger to national security,
    • judging
      by their slang, the Latin Kings are a roving band of malicious octogenarians,
    • and the
      Department of Homeland Security, in conjunction with Texas Security Threat
      Group officers, the California Department of Corrections and the
      Sacramento Intelligence unit, could’ve saved a great deal of money by
      skipping this exercise altogether and making use of Urban Dictionary.

    Of course, if you have favorites I didn’t mention here, take
    a look in
    the book     and mention them in the comments below.

  • Crowdsourcing the Citizen Cafe

    Citizen CafeWanna be a restaurant critic? Wanna be a citizen journalist?
    Let’s try an experiment. The Citizen Café is opening tomorrow, at 24th
    Ave.and 38th St. in south Minneapolis. Instead of just me writing a
    review (which I will do eventually), how about all of you readers out there
    visiting the restaurant and sending me your impressions. You can either post
    them online as comments on this post, or send them to me as emails, to Iggers@rakemag.com.

    You don’t have to write a full-blown restaurant review,
    though you can if you want to. Don’t bother with star ratings, either (I always
    hated those), but do use lots of adjectives and adverbs. There’s no prize or
    payment or anything, just the glory of being quoted in Breaking Bread. I’ll read
    through your comments, and combine them into a collective review – and will add
    some comments of my own. Of course, keep in mind that it isn’t really fair to
    review a restaurant the first week it opens, so go prepared for the usual
    opening week screw-ups, and don’t be too harsh. Deadline for submissions is
    Sunday, June 29.

    To whet your appetite, here is what we know so far: Chef-owner
    is Michael McKay, who opened the Sample Room in northeast Minneapolis, and
    still owns a piece of it. The Citizen Café will be open six days a week for breakfast, lunch and dinner –
    closed Mondays and Sunday night. The menu is basically classic American fare
    made from scratch – McKay says he’ll make his own catsup from fresh tomatoes,
    and stuff his own sausage. For breakfast, McKay will offer scones, muffins,
    quickbread, homemade gravlax, and a Citizen Breakfast – two eggs over easy with
    hashbrowns, toast, your choice of meat, and a basket of breakfast breads ($6).

    The lunch menu adds salads and sandwiches – ranging from a
    Reuben to a shrimp po’ boy ($7-$11), while the dinner entrees will range from
    pot roast ($13) and brick chicken ($12) to braised short ribs ($15) all served
    with Yukon gold mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables. The most expensive
    entrée will be a $17 certified Angus strip steak

    The Citizen Café is open Tuesday to Thursday 7:30 a.m. to
    9:30 p.m., Friday 7:30 a.m. to 10 p.m. Saturday 8 a.m. to 10 p.m., Sunday 8
    a.m. to 2 p.m. Website coming soon: www.citizen-cafe.com
    .

     

  • Quick Thoughts and Queries for An Open Thread on Game Five

    (Photo by Brian Babineau/NBAE/Getty Images)

    NBA Finals, Game #5: Boston 98, Los Angeles 103

    Series to date: Boston up 3-2

    Other assignments prevented me to compiling a good three pointer for last night’s game, and it is already late in the day to slap together some of my impressions and questions about the contest. But given the exquisite recent feedback this site has received from a great mix of both Celtic and Laker partisans, KG fans, and everything quasi-neutral in between, I thought I’d briefly weigh in and open the floor for discussion. In any case, I’ll have something more thorough after Game Six.

    * I woke up this morning somewhat surprised that the "Kobe fouled Pierce" line seems to have generated some legs. Personally, I thought the worst call of the game was the third whistle on KG, when he obviously had a clean block on Gasol and yet was forced to go to the bench. The Kobe "foul" on the steal from Pierce was minimal contact, and given the stage of the game and the very slight infraction, I thought I was an appropriate no-call. But both the second and third fouls on KG were huge in deciding the game, and both were very questionable calls. Without Kendrick Perkins, the Celts were already hamstrung down in the low block. Pau Gasol and Lamar Odom finally seem to have gotten the message that they have to attack the paint with some urgency. Garnett discovered that guarding an energized Gasol is a tougher task than handling Odom; and James Posey on Odom should almost always be, and usually was, a mismatch in Odom’s favor. On a night when the Celts again did a good job on Kobe (post first quarter) and Paul Pierce was unstoppable, I think Boston wins if KG stays on the floor more than 11 minutes in the first half. Yes, LA got a majority of the "could go either way" calls, including the crucial ones like KG #2 and 3 and the Kobe steal. That’s a natural tendency when a team is at home and trying to stave off elimination.

    * I am rooting for the Celtics (but not so hard that I don’t want to see, close, well-played games) and have been a big critic of the Laker defense during the series, but did anyone else think that Van Gundy, Jackson, and Barry in particular were way too harsh on the Lakers’ indifferent D? JVG at least tried to be very specific, as when Jordan Farmar didn’t want to take the charge on Pierce, and I’m all for roasting Vlad Rad, but I can’t ever recall such vitriol being directed against the *winning team* in such widespread fashion. Barry essentially predicted the Lakers will get blown out on the return trip to Boston. Uh, I’m not so sure. The fact remains, the Lakers have a very good team, and that they don’t play team D nearly as well or tenaciously as the Celts shouldn’t obscure the fact that they have a superior offense and the game’s most talented player, and that the Celts are starting to physically break down. What sort of perverted logic will these pundits deploy if the Lakers snatch Game Six, which is not totally outside the realm of possibility, even if they play defense as porously as they performed last night? Do you folks agree or disagree with this? In any case, I was amazed at the negativity directed toward LA; maybe because many of them had picked the Lakers and are overcompensating for currently looking wrong.

    * KG lovers, including yours truly, have to own up to the fact that those two misses at the line in crunchtime were killers, the sort of misses that can invade the psyche if he’s put in a similar situation in the next game or two. Another ray of hope for LA’s chances of keeping this thing alive.

    * Yes, Pau Gasol is a lousy defender. But he is underrated for his grit on the offensive boards and I think his contesting for rebounds wore KG down some last night. Garnett is usually a master at snatching rebounds that are up for grabs and Gasol and Odom were able to keep many of them in play last night. Given how little ground Gasol covers on defense, especially compared to KG, he expends much less energy during a typical game. Thus, here is what I’d say to KG, who usually is very receptive to messages that emphasize defense as opposed to offense: "KG, unless you want to be worn out down the stretch, you need to take it at Gasol and get *him* in foul trouble so *he*’s the one who has to sit. Because Gasol is a key to their offense right now, both in the low block and the high post, where he can feed the perimeter shooters or dish down to Odom. The best defense you can execute right now is drawing fouls on him, which is what will inevitably happen if you go strong and hard in the paint when you guys have the ball."

    * How many points did Odom score with the right hand last night? Why hasn’t he been switching hands on the penetration off the dribble this entire series?

    * I don’t understand why Rondo and the other Celtics haven’t been able to make LA pay for sloughing off Rondo when he is running the half court sets, but after three games of this pattern, isn’t it time to start thinking about starting House, essentially matching him up with Fisher, and bringing Rondo in when the Lakers go to Farmar and Vujacic?

    * Will there be a fight before this thing is over? If so, my money is on either Posey or Vujacic as the instigator.

  • Multipurpose

    Exhibitions discussed in this article:

    Information Sickness and Time Fever by Molly Roth
    At Thomas Barry Fine Arts through July 3rd

    Roger Roger by Traci Tullius, and Meander, including work by Andrea Selese Carlson, Angela Zammarelli, Bethany Kalk, Brian Jorgenson, Caleb Coppock, Chad Rutter, Dan Tesene, Emily Smith, Erika Ritzel, Isa Gagarin, Joe Sinness, Markus Merkle, Mitchell Dose, Molly Roth, Robin Cotton, Ryan Macintyre, Sally Grayson, and Shepherd Alligood
    At the Soap Factory through July 6th

    The Multipurpose Statement

    It is by now customary that single-artist shows come conjoined with texts like the one that accompanies Molly Roth’s Information Sickness and Time Fever, at Thomas Barry Fine Arts. Striking a tone between the breathless and the merely descriptive, and often loaded with jargon, these multipurpose documents serve as a press release, advertisement, and curatorial explication in one. They argue for the significance of the work, and they often obviate the individual spectator’s response, (or the critic’s, for
    that matter).

    Perhaps such a text, useful before and after the exhibition should be kept out of the gallery space, where it can interfere with the work. In the case of Roth’s work, postcards peppered throughout the space assure us that it is "labor-intensive." We’re told she works in "tiny bows," and currently her medium is "newspaper." Approaching the work will also reveal these things.

    Could this text, that so carefully anticipates the correct response, be intended to alienate? After all, we’re told that the work involves "the post-modern depressed subject." And if there is one thing that such a subject knows, it’s that everything has already been said, read and interpreted.

    But don’t let anyone tell you that Roth’s work isn’t intriguing. Giant cursive words are mirrored across their midlines to create insect-like shapes. The resulting encryption leaves one final task, even for a subject thus interpolated. I won’t spoil it for you by translating. What depressed this subject about the exhibit is that the work — one that suggests the crazed empowerment of creating a single bold and lasting word from the cultural detritus of millions of words that are instantly obsolete — was limited by its multipurpose document. The potential of discovery was, to a large degree foreclosed.

    The Multipurpose Room

    Before I tell you of my trials on the way to see the current exhibition at the Soap Factory, I’ll say that you should hurry down to the show, if not to see the interesting failure of a collective work that is Meander, then to immerse yourself in Traci Tullius’s majestically melancholic video installation work, Roger Roger.

    I made time to see the exhibition on the Friday after its opening. But when I arrived at the gallery, workers setting up for a weekend wedding informed me that the gallery was closed. Upon asking when it would reopen, I was told, "Sunday."

    The collapse of the interstate has left access to the gallery an endeavor. Second street is buried under rubble. North of Hennepin, Main street is closed indefinitely. Traffic clogs the remaining routes most days and evenings. Not to be denied again, but wanting to see the work before the gallery’s Monday-Wednesday weekend, I phoned the number on the website during gallery hours and reached a recording. There was no mention of the closure, nor the resumption of regular hours. Discouraged, I elected not to waste another trip but left a message. I received a call the next day informing me that it had been open Sunday and would be open again on Thursday during regular hours.

    Thursday, I ducked in briefly on my way to a meeting to confirm that a special trip on Saturday would be warranted. But when I returned, an unannounced arts and crafts sale was filling the entire gallery. DJs had set up in the center of one of the galleries and were playing dance music for the attendant shoppers. The throb of commerce obliterated the layered audio track that accompanies Tullius’s work. A video advertisement for the Sound Unseen film festival had been installed so near to Tullius’s piece that it appeared to be a part of it. "I’m pretty sure that wasn’t there before," I said to my companion. A fourth visit confirmed this.

    I finally managed to have the experience with Tullius’s work that it deserves. In the cool and vacant gallery, six large video screens are hung like sheets on washing lines. Video projections show performances and private moments. Yet everything is shot through with the profound loneliness of place — a vacant venue, a deserted car dealership, and a weather-beaten farmhouse. In most of the videos, the lens observes a private moment, attended by no one but the camera. Contrasted to this, family videos evoke the homey nostalgia of filial companionship and harmony. Tullius has an eye for the evocative moment, and she understands that as a video artist, her effort should be focused on selection and subtraction. In the black space at the end of one loop, one can see another screen reflected, suggesting the idle mind’s movement to memory and repetition.

    The Soap Factory is an unconventional art space, and it owes some of its success to its cross pollination — hosting craft events, film screenings and a haunted house to generate the revenue that keeps its doors open. But it’s worth questioning whether a gallery that is effectively closed during two weekends of a six-week run is really fulfilling its obligation to the featured artists. If nothing else, The Soap Factory needs to be honest about when it is open for art viewing and when it is open for other functions, or closed altogether, so that viewers serious about seeing the art on display don’t get discouraged.

    The second work on display at The Soap Factory, Meander, is a collective work by artists too numerous to list in the text of this article. It’s a mishmash of roughly hewn sculpture, drawing and painting laid directly on the unfinished timbers of the gallery, where it seems likely to be eaten by a passing swarm of silverfish. Most of the works are unsigned. Some are identifiable to those familiar with an artist’s idioms and thematic concerns. With its varied light, its unfinished aesthetic, and its wide-open rooms, The Soap Factory can overwhelm all but the most focused and brilliant exhibition. Fellow writer Andy Sturdevant has noted that Meander is explicitly an attempt to deal with this problem. Its partial success is a testament to the specificity of the space.

    The urge to blanket such a work with the some textual analysis, some manifesto of hive mind pluralism conjoined with a fictional unity must be almost irresistible. More on group shows next time, but I’m grateful in this case for a silence that bravely foregrounds the in-itselfness of the diffuse, collective work. The exhibition ultimately lives or dies by its own merit on the gallery floor, dependent on the eyes and ideas of the individual viewers as much as on those of the artists and curators who have placed it there. Its rugged, rangy self-sufficience is an extreme example of art unhelped and unhindered by self-analysis.

  • Don't Need a Cure, Need a Final Speculation

    MUSIC
    Peter Murphy

    The "Godfather of Goth" glides into town tonight to treat Twin Citians to his seductive brand of gloom-tinged pop. Those of you who went through a goth phase
    will most certainly get a kick out of seeing Murphy live; at 50 years
    old he’s still as hot, mysterious, and mesmerizing as he was back in
    his Bauhaus
    heyday. Unfortunately, this performance is not in support of a fresh
    album, so don’t expect any new material; The Retrospective Tour is
    just for kicks (and probably bucks), but if you’ve been around as long
    as Murphy has, you’ve definitely earned the right. And who doesn’t want
    to hear the classic goth-jam "She’s in Parties" live? Ali Eskandarian opens.

    7pm, Fine Line Music Cafe, 318 1st Ave. N, Warehouse District, $41.50

    PERFORMANCE
    Flak Radio

    If you’re familiar with smart n’ sassy local writers/Flak Radio
    hosts James Norton and Taylor Carik, then you’ll certainly be
    interested in tonight’s super-ultra-rare live broadcast at the Ritz
    Theater. As someone who has been an in-studio guest on this show, I can
    absolutely endorse the live version as officially cool. The guys kick
    off the evening with a reading by Lit 6 author Geoff Herbach in support
    of his new novel The Miracle Letters of T. Rimberg, as well as the comedic stylin’s of Eric Nigg, beer-talk with author Doug Hoverson, tons of fabulous prizes, and many more surprises.

    6:30, Ritz Theater, 345 13th Ave. NE, Northeast Minneapolis, Free

    READINGS
    Speculations

    The Carol Connolly Reading Series
    features eclectic public literary events across the metro area.
    Tonight’s event, Speculations, includes a fiery reading courtesy of Rebecca Marjesdatter, a
    Rhysling Award-winning poet, fiction writer, poetry editor, and member of the poetry performance group, Lady Poetesses from Hell. The festivities will be hosted by curator Eric Heideman
    at Uptown alternative bookstore, Dreamhaven Books. If you’re on the
    fence, a free "soda pop and cookies" reception follows the reading.

    6:30pm, DreamHaven Books, 912 W Lake St, Minneapolis,
    Free


  • Is It Counterfeit or Real?

    This painting — a wedding present from my parents — was done by an artist who met me and Howard only two times at my parent’s home. I would love to give the artist credit, but after he painted several originals for my family… well… Lets just say that he’s not the most honest business man.

    How do I tell at this point in my life if someone or something is real or not? How do I distinguish what is Counterfeit?

    I use the only tool I have that doesn’t cost $$$$$$ — my instincts.

    On so many occasions I should have put my foot down, like I did for this photo yesterday.

    But I caved to my vulnerable side, wanting everyone that I love and care about to have the same advantages I have.

    My heart has been in the right place since I was but a little Melly — except when I’ve placed it in the hands of Counterfeit people, who are nothing short of hurtful and dangerous.

    It is perhaps a characteristic of humanity to feel sad when someone we see is hurting, and to feel frustrated when we don’t get our way; but the worst part of being human is the jealousy we feel when someone has something that we don’t have.

    I have been there myself at times, I suppose; but in truth, I don’t have green blood running through my veins. I have red blood that bleeds through my skin when it’s cut.

    Yesterday was one of those days that I wish I could bottle and sell. First, I shared a delicious lunch at Red Stag in Northeast Minneapolis, with people that I like, admire, and respect. (Sharing a nice meal with people with whom you can be yourself is one of life’s greatest pleasures!)

    After lunch, I caught up on the phone with some good friends who I know have my back.

    And then I went shoe shopping with my son and daughter, giving them the freedom to buy shoes that THEY feel comfortable in — at the Foursome in Wayzata. They were, unfortunately, unsuccessful; but I got some great deals on Uggs, Cole Haan’s, Merrell’s, and shoes that make you feel like you’re floating on air—AQUATALIAS.

    Finally, after a great lunch, great conversation with authentic people, and great shoe shopping with my children (resulting in shoes I can actually walk in), my daughter and I picked up a special treat from Byerly’s, so that when my husband and son got home late last night, we all had a chocolate pie party.

    Late last night and into the early morning hours it was hard for me to let go of a most comforting and comfortable day. This was one of the most relaxed and content days I have had since I was that little Melly wanting to give the people I love and care about the advantages that I had. You can’t counterfeit that!

    I went to sleep in one of my husband’s cotton T-Shirts, still wearing Jewelry (well worth the investment), and slept blissfully for four straight hours — making it really difficult to wake up this morning and start a new and realistic day.

    A tip for those of you who think that knock offs are just as good as the real deal: When I was a kid, I was told that if you don’t have the money to pay for something in cash, it’s best you don’t purchase it at all. The same lesson goes for life. If you are Not the real deal and you try to wrap yourself in a Tiffany Box (with nothing inside), you too will be exposed.

  • Don't Mess With The Lohan. (As If.)

    I am sitting here late in the evening babysitting. Perhaps it is because I feel so esconced here in a secure state of suburban responsibility that I can safely venture into a topic I should know little about. Then, of course, it could be because I work with a lot of "young" people. 

    By "young" I mean "millenials"—which loosely describes anyone entering the workforce since the turn of the century—or adults in their mid-twenties. I am a "first x" who came of age under Ronald Reagan but frankly since I partied away most of my mid-20s I feel much closer to millenials than garden variety gen-xers. 

    Speaking of whom (gen-xers) you might want to listen up, because the millenials I favor are literate adults, not Lohans. In fact, the only reason I place the risqué picture of Lindsay atop this post is because she apparently has a new book of her doing bad things. I just learned this tonight when I went looking for a picture online (for this post).

    Fortunately, the millenials I know would never mess with poster trash like Lindsay Lohan. While they are so much more than her, they also might not be that into you.

    They are not, for example, interested in your music. By "your music" I mean primarily the stuff they play on Cities 97 that is composed and performed primarily by white people. Forget Phish. Forget Radiohead. And please forget R.E.M. or Coldplay for that matter.

    They like hip-hop. Hip-hop is their cosmos. It is very explicit, and it can sound like scratches on a trash can to untrained ears.

    So train your ears.

    Because hip-hop and rap (same thing, essentially) is the first entirely new musical art form of the millenium (although it was born in the Bronx in the mid-’70s). It has its own critical cannon, including "flow," which when delivered by a master like the non-retired Jay-Z can be as mellifluous as Mozart.

    The reason you need to know this music is because music defines young people far more than older ones. Movies, books, those kinds of things matter far less than getting into their musical groove (books are not off-limits, just not the lead topic.)

    Young people are also not adept with their phones, except for texting. Older people might look down on this until they realize that younger people text because a) it is cheaper, b) they can do it in class, and c) it’s less intimate (and stressful) than talking to someone.

    Which leads me to my third point: young people prefer to keep their distance. They will not fully engaged with you until you get on their wavelength.

    I may have more insights soon, but that is it for now.

    Do I sound like an expert?

    Maybe I should ask a movie starlet.

    Know any?

     

  • The Three Pointer: As Good As Over

    (AFP/File/Gabriel Bouys)
     

    NBA Finals, Game #4: Boston 97, Los Angeles 91

    Series to date: Boston 3-1

    1. Changing Reputations

    It is just a matter of when now. Because surely you don’t think Lamar Odom finds his composure, Pau Gasol unearths some grit, and Kobe Bryant recaptures his magical mojo in sufficient quantities to take these unrelenting and surprisingly deep Celtics to the woodshed three times in a row. Not after last night. Not when all the pundits such as yours truly have proven to be dunderheaded false prophets. The "best player" has not been, and won’t become, the best player. The "best coach" has not been, and won’t become, the best coach. And the "better bench" has not been, and won’t become, the better bench. Lakers in 5 or 6, I said. Wrong.

    But more high profile reputations than mine are being altered by this star-studded, commercially attractive matchup. Here are the ones most shocking to me.

    * Phil Jackson–It has been a bad, bad series for the Zen Master. Throwing gasoline on the fire by using a very stale Trevor Ariza on Paul Pierce as first off the bench in Game Two was bad enough, but leaving Derek Fisher on the bench in favor of the callow and selfish Bobbsey Twins, Vujacic and Farmar, while his lead disappeared last night was even worse. When Fish left the game with 2:58 to go in the third, the Lakers were up 11, 72-61. Incredibly, the man with three rings and more than 100 starts and 4,000 minutes in the postseason, the man who kept stepping up to staunch the momentum shift in the Celts’ comebacks in the second period and early in the third, sat for more than 12 minutes, entering with 2:10 left to play and the Lakers down 5, 88-83. Ostensibly, Farmar and Vujacic were in the game to provide some ball pressure on Eddie House, a better shooter but less adept on the handle than Rajon Rondo. Didn’t work. The only Celtic turnovers in that 12:48 Fisher sat were offensive fouls on Pierce and KG. Meanwhile, House had 5 points and his backcourt mate Ray Allen had 4. So perhaps Vujacic and Farmar provided some offensive counterpoint and helped spread the floor so Kobe could go to work and have a capable safety valve on the perimeter? If that was the idea, it failed miserably. Vujacic and Farmar combined to shoot 0-5 FG during that stretch, and nothing from the line–zero points–while the Lakers’ team as a unit managed just 11, in 12:48. By the way, Derek Fisher finished the game 5-6 FG and led the Lakers in plus/minus with a plus +7.

    * Kobe Bryant–The Black Mamba. The crunchtime assassin, best closer in the NBA, able to make the big shot when it matters most. With Kobe in the lineup, LA can always stop the bleeding. An all NBA Defensive First Teamer, able to lock down any perimeter player. A more mature teammate whose generosity of spirit and willingness to shoulder most of the responsibility relieves the pressure on his teammates and enables them to play freely and easily, knowing that Kobe always has their back. You can ball that assessment up and throw it in the trashcan.

    * Ray Allen–Aging fast and with bad ankles his already mediocre defense has become subpar. That was the rap on Mr. Shuttlesworth, who merely played all 48 minutes last night, and, unlike Kobe Bryant and Kevin Garnett and even Paul Pierce, didn’t seem the slightest bit winded or gimpy at the end. His up-and-under wraparound layup through Gasol and two other Lakers to bump the lead from one to three was simply cool to savor for the next decade or so; his seizing on Vujacic’s lean in to blow past him for another layup that sealed the win will perhaps leave a permanent stain on Sasha’s psyche. But that’s not why I’m so surprised by Ray Allen. No, it has been his remarkable defensive effort on Kobe (although Pierce deserves more credit for last night), the nine rebounds he corralled while nobody really noticed, and the two perfect dishes to James Posey for treys that broke the Lakers in the 4th quarter. Ray Allen has the entire package.

    * Paul Pierce–Again, it is the defense that is most surprising. Pierce’s block of Vujacic at the close of Game Two, and his block on Kobe–when was the last time you saw Kobe’s fadeaway get swatted? Never? Me too.–was just part of it. His positioning and ability to use his length and strength to maximum defensive advantage was something I simply didn’t know he possessed until the Cavs series, and in retrospect, playing two long dudes like LeBron and Tayshaun probably really helped Pierce prep for Kobe. So did the fact that many people guarded Kobe. But in the second half last night, Pierce was mostly the guy. In the corners of our TV screens the last few games, we saw Kobe and Pierce constantly trash talking each other. Guess what? The best player on the floor in these playoffs has been Paul Pierce (in a close shave over KG).

    2. Garnett and McHale In Their Rightful Places

    During Kevin Garnett’s last two or three years here, there was clearly some mutual frustration going on that began to morph into disrespect. Both men were pretty careful not to say so in public too often, but Garnett thought McHale’s lack of prowess in evaluating personnel was the reason he was getting further from a ring instead of closer as he entered his 30s. For McHale’s part, he thought KG didn’t do the things that turn a star into a champion: Go down and bang for shots and box-outs in the low block, get to the foul line, set nasty picks, and simply do what it takes when the game is on the line to secure the victory.

    McHale has gotten the prototype player he wanted in Al Jefferson, and Big Al, who should never be judged as the KG compensation because it just isn’t fair to him, played well enough that all the homers around the Wolves in the local media crowed that Minnesota actually got the better of the KG trade. One columnist for one of the local dailies even said he wouldn’t trade Jefferson for two KGs. Well it is pretty close to final accounting time and what we see is that the Celtics won a league best 66 games, had the greatest single season improvement in NBA history, and are one victory in three chances away from being crowned NBA champion over the MVP on the favored squad from the better conference.

    As should be obvious to all of us by now, the Celtics win with defense, stifling defense. As should be equally obvious, the Celtics would be at-best a mediocre defensive team without Kevin Garnett. It is KG’s unparalleled combination of length, quickness, instinct and intelligence that enables the Celts to extend their schemes so far out on the perimeter and so wide toward the sidelines. By all accounts from the folks in Boston, it was KG’s selfless passion and relentless work ethic–we saw that work ethic for a dozen years and that passion for about ten a half here in Minnesota–that catalyzed the culture of the revamped roster and created the attitudinal synergy, the pride and trust that are as important as athleticism to creating great team defense. KG is the foundation of the Celtic D: more than any other player in the game today, he is "everywhere" when his squad is defending the ball and he doesn’t take plays off. (That’s why Bill Russell has such a blatant man-crush on the guy.) When the Celts were hopelessly behind last night, he made two plays–denying putbacks to Odom and Gasol about four minutes apart–that are the sort of crucial, unsung bits of grit that help get you out of a hole. It is no coincidence that Gasol always shot from in close with a hurried lack of confidence, and why, except for last night’s first quarter, Odom suffered from lead in the paint.

    Having spent a dozen years up close and personal watching KG, I too was unsure about his crunchtime capability at the offensive end, his desire to seize the game via brutish willpower of the sort he constantly demonstrates at the other end of the court. Af
    ter years and years of rebutting KG haters, and, less convincingly, KG skeptics, I wavered as I watched the Hawks extend the Celts to 7 games, knowing that their best player was not most comfortable being atop the crunchtime pecking order. And I bought into the alpha theory of hoops I so frequently disdained, picking first the Cavs and LeBron and then the Lakers and Kobe to overcome KG and his other Big 2. But last night, with everyone screaming for Garnett to get down in the damn low block and go to work, he did was he always does: played his game his way, with a share of low post moves and a share of midrange jumpers and a share of high picks and deft passes. He took more shots than anybody on the team and made half of them, led them in rebounding, and, of course, defense. He finished fourth on his own team in points and second to Eddie House in overall plus/minus with plus +17 in 37:09, which means the Celts were minus -11 in the 10:51 he was off the court. And the team that has adopted his personality is one win away from the NBA Championship.

    Put me in the long line of people who need to apologize for doubting Kevin Garnett, who in his first year away from the dysfunctional gulag of Minnesota, is on the verge of accomplishing all anyone could ask of him. And remember that the man who belongs at the head of that line is Kevin McHale.

    3. Kudos and Brickbats

    As Bob Horry packs up his trunk load of rings and heads into the sunset it is time to come up with a cool, catchy nickname for James Posey, the new man with the golden touch from outside when championships are being decided.

    Doc Rivers has outcoached Phil Jackson in this series but one thing that mars his great performance is the number of people, me included, who kept hollaring for more minutes for Eddie House at the expense of Sam Cassell. Give Rivers at least half a kudo for seeing how effective House was in keeping Kobe honest on defense, and riding him over Rondo down the stretch. And give Mr. House a full kudo for doing what the Vujacic/Farmar combo couldn’t–make big shots from outside in the second half.

    Gasol and Odom will have a very hard time recovering from this no-show. Even playing a small lineup for much of the second half, the Celts managed to essentially break even with the Lakers on the boards and in points in the paint. What’s more, all the Lakers except for Fisher were frontrunners, Odom worst of all. When LA was rollin’ easy, he was driving like a banshee, pulling up and sticking the 17-footer, and even twirling the ball around his back by the sideline on one play. When crunchtime beckoned, he not only disappeared, he hid. Neither he nor Gasol wanted anything to do with the final outcome of this game–you could see it in their body language. Kobe had yet another bad game. But Kobe also had ten assists and it should have been 15 or 18. Kobe was on an island. It will be a very very hard thing for him to forget this summer.