One hand, feebly –or perhaps enthusiastically– waving goodbye.
Have we seen enough of Siddhartha?
Yes, I believe we have seen enough.
Blog
-
Voltage 1.5 (weeks late)
I had a lovely time at Voltage … I’m sorry I didn’t say so sooner.
You see, I was mightily impressed by the quality of the craftsmanship on display. By chance, I went to Voltage just after visiting with the owner of a fantastic local boutique. I was surprised to learn that s/he wasn’t going to the show. However, s/he did leave me with a local fashion critique, as well as a word of advice for the local couturieres: “Focus less on the trends, more on the detailing.”
Well, friend (who shall remain nameless), I’m happy to report that the local clothes-makers are one up. My favorite collections from Voltage were the following:
Those adorable, well-tailored jumpers from Annie Larson (one of which is posted above). And I just love how she paired them with jellies (at left). I’d get plantar fasciitis if ever I wore such flimsy things nowadays, but a girl can’t help but feel nostalgic for the strong arches of yore. 
I also loved George Moskal‘s collection, which was supposedly inspired by the documentary Gray Gardens. Having watched that movie several times over, however, I must say, I don’t see the resemblance. (And besides … everyone, even Miuccia Prada, is copying Little Edie this season, right?) Actually, this collection struck me as being rather ’40s inspired. As a side note, I ought to mention that I stopped by the Design Collective last weekend (Voltage Fashion Weekend) and there spotted Moskal’s hit-of-the-runway babydoll dress. In the off chance you wondered who snagged that finery, check the inset. (Pleased to meet ya’; that’s me!) 
Last but not least, I suppose it adds little to the conversation to note the strength of Katherine Gerdes‘ jersey dress collection. These pieces have flattering, but simple, cuts and drop-dead gorgeous drapes. In other words: Even chunky and/or busty girls can wear ’em! In fact, while shopping, I did spot the dress at left at Design Collective. It had been a favorite from the runway. It just seemed so sassy on that chick with the blonde afro! But, a dress like that you’ve got to be a very special kind of girl to carry off. On me it just looks like a toga. So, I was happy to notice, just yesterday, that Gerdes has finally launched her online store. Now I can order one up in turquoise or heather gray. (Oh, the agony!)By the way, the photo above is by Jenn Torres.
Now that this blog is fully functional, I vow to be more punctual in providing fashion insights and smack talk. Thanks for reading, friends! Come again, will you?
-
Moyers on the Press on Iraq
I’ve been waiting months for this one. By agreeing to publicly discuss and examine their culpability in so profound a failure/lapse should be an acid test for any editor … and publisher, certainly those who have ever nattered about journalistic “transparency”.
Sometimes your credibility rests on your ability to say you were wrong.
-
This MSPIFF, Don't Forget the Kids
Everyone’s talking about the Minneapolis/St. Paul International Film Festival, and for good reason: once again, the good fellows down at Minnesota Film Arts have pulled a rabbit from their collective hats, working with few resources to provide one of the great festivals in the country. There’s a slew of intriguing films this year, but none more interesting to me than those at the Childish Film Festival.
Deb Girdwood and Isabelle Harder have been fighting their own good fight to include the children each year. As I’ve written before, this is an awesome gift to parents in the Twin Cities and especially their kids. We’ve got art programs, theater, music, but very little in the way of adequate alternative movie programming for children. Yes, you can find DVDs and tapes kids can watch, but really, the Childish Film Festival is a place for people–kids–to gather and share experiences. It’s a place to charge the imagination, in ways that surpass the usual garbage that kids get from their local Cineplex.
I’m especially pleased with Bonkers which shows this Saturday, April 21 at 2:30 at the St. Anthony Main. Frankly, I can’t imagine a better afternoon than this: a picnic lunch along the Mississippi, then Bonkers in the early afternoon, followed by a walk and a talk about what your offspring just encountered.
Bonkers is a wacky, kooky, sad, and ultimately profound story of Bonnie, a young girl struggling with her family life. Her mother, Lis, is, in Bonnie’s words, “bonkers”. Lis struggles with what appears to be manic-depression, one minute eating ice cream with Bonnie and then, suddenly, waltzing crazily with the handsome waiter who serves them. Other days, poor Lis lays in bed all day, barely able to speak.
This situation is tolerable because of a loving Grandma who takes care of these two misfits. But when she’s killed in a car accident, Bonnie is thrust into the role of caregiver to her mom, has to feed herself, and stay out of the orphanage. Along the way, Bonnie gets involved in a variety of crazy mishaps, including trying to get her mother to produce a new baby brother, befriending the crazy lady next door, and bringing home an elephant.
Bonkers is crazy-fun, full of the mania kids love, gross-out scenes and touching moments of love and friendship. But it also has that patient, understanding, and ultimately respectful approach to life’s problems that American children’s films avoid like the plague. The filmmakers seem to understand, as ours do not, that children possess brains, are acutely observant, and can often take care of themselves better than adults. I challenge anyone to find a movie from this country with a mother as sexually active as Lis (and she’s no slut–she’s a lonely single mom who wants a good relationship), or that takes a good look at serious mental illness with such aplomb (if anything, we’d overdo the pathos, if we would address it at all). If you want an afternoon of cinematic fun that’s well acted, directed, and thought-provoking to boot, Bonkers is not to be missed.
-
Sweep
Wow. Three straight bunts in the seventh –a couple for base hits, and a sacrifice.
That’s winning ugly, but I guess it’s still winning. I hate small ball, though. And I hate bunts. I really do. I particularly despise the sacrifice bunt. That sort of stuff is rinky-dink baseball. Or piranha baseball, if you’re buying into that monkey business.
So much of what constitutes baseball strategy –especially the ingrained, knee-jerk stuff like the sacrifice bunt– chaps my ass.
I’m not going to argue with 16-for-16 in the stolen base department, however. Quick, though, somebody do the homework and tell me how many of those sixteen guys ended up scoring.
For the second straight year the Twins have gotten superb play from their super subs; this season’s cast: Tyner, Rodriguez, and Casilla.Speaking of rinky-dink, conventional-wisdom baseball, how about Seattle’s misfortunes with the intentional walk? First Morneau was given an intentional pass to load the bases and set the stage for Hunter’s grand slam on Tuesday night; then, last night Jarrod Washburn intentionally walked Joe Mauer with one out, and the next batter, Michael Cuddyer, doubled off reliever Juan Matteo to give the Twins a 3-2 lead.
And still Mike Hargrove hadn’t learned his lesson; Morneau was intentionally walked to load the bases for the second time in the inning, and Mike Redmond followed with a two-run single.
The unexpected: Carlos Silva (2.00) and Ramon Ortiz (2.05) have lower ERAs than Johan Santana (3.00). Thus far Boof Bonser has been a disappointment (6.89) and Sidney Ponson has pretty much been the disappointment we all expected (8.18).The bullpen has had more rocky outings than we’re accustomed to seeing, the team has been out-homered 16-8, and the Twins have already seen a rash of mostly nagging injuries (Rondell White, Jeff Cirillo, Nick Punto, Torii Hunter, Jesse Crain, and Luis Castillo), yet the team is 10-5, coming off its second series sweep of the season, and in first place in the Central.
All of this is surely good news as the team heads to Kansas City to take on the lowly Royals, and –at least for now– we can all stop worrying about the Twins stumbling out of the blocks the way they did in 2006.
-
The Weekend
the barn at gale woods farm …There’s a lot of yummy stuff happening this weekend.
It’s the weekend of our Restaurant Week, so if you’re going to go out, why not choose a place that benefits our cities? Seriously, there are so many great choices: Cafe Twenty-Eight, The Sample Room, the new Spill the Wine, and Luci Ancora are all cool date locations.
Tonight I can’t hit RW because it is my friend Kevin’s 40th birthday and we’re doing it up sexy at the Graves. Of course I’m planning to sneak away from the soiree to check out some snacks at Cosmos, which I loved loved loved under Mr. Daugherty, but have yet to fully experience under Mr. Trojhan. I’ll report back next week on that one.
Saturday is busy. I’m getting to the Seward Co-op early to check out their annual CSA fair. Surely it will be packed, which is a beautiful thing. This year they’re bringing in some meat producers as well, so I’m seriously going to check out a bit of organic beef and meadow-raised pork. I’m a total kid with my CSA pick-up, it’s like a Happy FoodDay present just for me.
After that, I’m headed out to Gale Woods Farm to teach my kids how to lick a tree. It’s a working educational farm, so I’m hoping we can see some baby cows or pigs. This Saturday they are focusing on Earth Day, so we might plant some seeds, run through a scavenger hunt, or just sit and appreciate the ever-greening grass.
For the evening activities, we’re cooking for twenty. I really wanted to do a lobster and clam bake, but have you seen the price of lobster lately? And then there’s the whole digging a pit in my yard thing, for which I’m gung-ho, but apparently no one else is. I’ve done it stove-top before, but meh. But I think I can build a fire in the fire pit and maybe come up with a spit-roasting contraption. I’ll let you know how this one turns out…
Sunday is Earth Day. My 14 year-old son and I will probably go Geocaching. Yes, because we are huge dorks. But along the way, we pick up trash, re-fuel at local coffee shops, and munch on a kicked-up version of trail mix (+ wasabi peas, dark chocolate chips…). A good day on the planet.
-
These Fragments I Have Shored Against My Ruin
The King deputized for the Queen at many sacred functions, dressed in her robes, wore false breasts, borrowed her lunar axe as a symbol of power, and even took over from her the magical act of rain-making. His ritual death varied greatly in circumstance; he might be torn in pieces by wild women, transfixed with a sting-ray spear, felled with an axe, pricked in the heel by a poisoned arrow, flung over a cliff, burned to death on a pyre, drowned in a pool, or killed in a pre-arranged chariot crash. But die he must. A new stage was reached when animals came to be substituted for boys at the sacrificial altar…
–Robert Graves, The Greek Myths: 1In man, unlike the apes, the impulse to use some sort of language is overwhelming.
–Norbert Wiener, The Human Use of Human Beings
This vision of someone, sitting alone in a room somewhere two hundred years ago, something of me moving in his blood, something maybe in the way he squints and puzzles, in the way his mind changes directions, the way words fall from his lips almost unbidden, the way they fly from his fingers like shavings he is whittling from the truth.
A relative, some pause on the long, crooked road leading to this moment, this old aching confusion and these persistent, nagging questions, this huge desire.
You, world, I imagine you sleeping and wish you sweet dreams, wish you love, wish you every wish of your darling heart. May you never find yourself leaning on a windowsill at four a.m., somewhere in the bleary midst of a stretch of sleepless nights you’ve completely lost track of, staring out into the dark streets of your neighborhood and trying to will something to move, if only to prove to yourself that you’re not dreaming.
Can I just tell you how much I hate it when someone says, “On the one hand”? It just means the other hand is coming, and I cannot balance the contents of two hands in my head at one time. How much better when someone –even some old pervert trying to ingratiate himself by offering sweets– offers me the choice of one hand or the other.
This guy in the elevator today, he’s talking into his cell phone, and his face suddenly gets bright red and he erupts in a spasm of almost alarming laughter. “God damn!” he says to the person he’s talking to. “What did I tell you? Show me a man’s weakness and I’ll break him down like a goddamn card table!”
At a dusty roadside stop somewhere in Montana, where there was a statue of the Virgin Mary and vases full of bleached, plastic flowers, an old man, who was leaning against the front of a pickup truck and having a smoke, pointed with his cigarette towards the range that ran all the way down the valley and addressed one sentence to me: “A choir’s rumored to be lost in them mountains.”
Remove one thing, let one thing go missing, and life can become a mighty painful and confusing business in a hurry. We aren’t simple, but we’re full of holes, and this world is full of things that do nothing but make those holes bigger and bigger by the day.
“It makes me feel like messin’ up.” (Lowman Pauling)
Books take me away and break my heart in a way different from the rest of the world. It’s the most beautiful, most wrenching sort of heartache: longing.
Those sad dishes have been sitting there in the sink for months now. Maybe I’ll never get around to washing them.
Anonymous: wanting a name, or so Samuel Johnson decided. And is that ever beautiful.
I did receive my telegram, in fact, and it was a lovely thing. I’ll remember it to the end of my days.
I intend something, dammit.
Why the hell did I put that calculator in the refrigerator?
What happened to that old woman who lived in my basement and made me such elegant and astonishing shoes? Gone, like so much else, without a trace.
The middle of the night, and morning still a long ways off.
It’s later than I think, I think.
Shit, it hurts. It still hurts. It hurts all over.
-
From the Erratic to the Erotic
FOOD AND FUN
We’re in This Together, You and Me
Here’s a secret for you — Galactic Pizza is having another Richard Simmons Night. That’s right, another one; apparently this is an annual event. You have to give this place credit. They lack no imagination. Order a pizza and Captain Awesome will be there in a jiffy in his electric Galactic wack-mobile. (Employees get to pick their own superheros when they start.) Well, now they’re giving it up to exercise guru/joker Richard Simmons. Dress like Richard Simons, act like Richard Simons, squeal like Richard Simons — or one of his “fatties” — and you’ll get half off your second pizza, second round, or second anything. Me, I’m going to pay full price and get some free entertainment. The employees all have to dress like him, too.Friday, Galactic Pizza, 2917 Lyndale Ave S, Minneapolis; 612-824-9100.
MUSIC by Britt Robson
Modest Mouse
The mainstreaming of Modest Mouse has predictably put many undies in a bunch among the band’s original die-hards. Aside from an occasional blast of belligerence and a meandering sonic idyll or two, the sextet’s new We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank furthers the commercial maturity of their improbable hit, “Float On.” And it cements a spot for frontman Isaac Brock (alongside the Talking Heads’ David Byrne and Pavement’s Stephen Malkmus) in the pantheon of “indie-rock” tunesmiths who like their clever, quirky, sardonic lyrics served up with angular, jangly, soft-elbowed grooves. The big splash of ex-Smiths guitarist Johnny Marr joining the band wasn’t overwhelmingly apparent on the disc, but one imagines his arching riffs will protrude a little more noticeably onstage. Friday and Saturday at 7:30 p.m., Orpheum Theater, 910 Hennepin Ave; 651-989-5151; $32.
If you dare to step outside the metro area for the night, there’s more good music to see in every direction: The BoDeans in Mankato on Friday; Cake at Winona State on Friday, and at Concordia College on Saturday; and Greg Brown in Rochester on Saturday night. Hell, I’d even drive to Iowa to see him.
DANCE
Progressive Evolution
But the must-see event this weekend isn’t just about music, it’s about dance. This weekend, the Minnesota Dance Theatre and Springboard come together to present Playin’ At The Pantages. Dance Theater member Dario Mejia — who I’ve had the pleasure of seeing grow up a bit over the past fifteen years — is making his choreographic debut with Soil, spinning from Ravel and Whitacre to Golillaz and Sia. Then watch as the Springboard dancers bring us the world premiere of Strange Attractors, composed by Shirley Mier and choreographed by Penelope Freeh (James Sewell Ballet) and Wynn Fricke (MDT Choreographer-in-Residence). That’s all for the premieres, but there are several other beautiful pieces to be performed, even an excerpt from George Balanchine’s Seranade.Friday and Saturday at 8 p.m., Sunday at 2 p.m., Pantages Theatre, 710 Hennepin Ave, Minneapolis; 612-339-7007; $32.
THEATER AND PERFORMANCE
She Did It All for Love, Amen!
Tonight is the opening night of Frontier Theatre’s production os Nicky Silver’s The Maiden’s Prayer at the Lowry Lab Theater. It’s a love story story with all the traditional fixings — obsession, romance, betrayal, tragedy. “The Maiden’s Prayer examines the delicate balance of loving someone and needing someone. Falling in love with the idea of someone can be tricky, and as these characters unpack their emotional baggage, their desperate romantic fixations breed betrayal, tragedy, and a little accidental prostitution.”7:30 p.m., Lowry Lab Theater, The Lowry Building, 360 St. Peter Street, St. Paul; 612 669-9306; $15.
FOOD AND SHOPPING
Secure Your Produce and Secure the Farm
Anybody know what Community Supported Agriculture is? Take the Farmer’s Market one step further and set up a direct partnership between the farm and the consumer. You simply subscribe to a share of the harvest. Your investment covers the farm’s operating costs, and your produce is delivered to one of various drop-off points each week. Find out more this Saturday at the sixth annual Seward Co-op Community Supported Agriculture Fair. Saturday from 11 a.m. – 3 p.m., Seward Co-op, 2111 East Franklin Ave, Minneapolis; 612-338-2465.
READING
A Touch of the Erotica“To be thrilled at the touch of leather, aroused by the sound of harsh words, or satisfied by the security of rigid bondage is the mark of a lover. To be thrilled at the opportunity to provide useful service, aroused by a pleased nod, and satisfied by the proverbial job well done, is the mark of a slave. It may sound severe. Almost anti-erotic. Until you see two people, owner and owned, existing in a complementary relationship where each suits the other like balances on a delicate scale.” — That’s an excerpt from Laura Antoniou’s Marketplace series. Now, you decide whether or not you’re up for it. Do you really want to be the one to say no?
Saturday at 7 p.m., DreamHaven Books, 912 West Lake St, Minneapolis; 612-823-6161.
-
Wolves Season Wrap
This will not be a comprehensive or otherwise definitive take on the current state of the Timberwolves. I’d like to think that anyone who read the 60 or so Three-Pointers I put out this year has a pretty good glimpse into what I think are the strengths and weaknesses of the team. And what should be done about it is out of my hands.
Trades? I can dream stuff up all day: So what?
Fire McHale? I assumed it would happen more than a year ago, and today’s announcement indicates that he’s still on board. Why wasn’t McHale fired was one of the first questions I asked owner Glen Taylor when we spoke *last October*. Since then, the franchise has canned its coach for a 20-20 record, seen his replacement go 12-30 and express a desire to bring him back, and *deliberately lost* basketball games for the better part of two weeks, if not longer. Maybe sometime after the May 22 draft lottery or after the summer draft pick I can begin to tolerate serious thought about this franchise again. But right now, quite frankly, there are better things to do in life and I suggest we all start doing them. If you want to add your comments to this thread, I may respond, but I must tell you that right now I am more interested in looking at the NBA playoffs, or starting to talk about the Twins and baseball, or even get into a little hockey if the Wild win again tonight.
In other words, that is not a good day for sober analysis. On the other hand, it seems like the right time to get a few things off my chest.
* Mark Blount should be ashamed of himself. His “effort” over the final three months of the season was provocatively half-assed, making Michael Olowokandi look like a poster boy of professionalism by comparison. At least two or three times a game, and sometimes up to half a dozen, a smaller player would drive the lane where Blount was situated and score the layup with impunity, without worrying about a hard foul, block, or any consequence to him or his team. These things get around the league–you don’t need scouts on the sideline to have the word spread that someone is chickenshit beneath the hoop–and had a lot to do with the Wolves collapse on the defensive end during the second half of the season.
* Ricky Davis and Blount care far more about making snide, snarky comments and feeling put-upon in a dual pity party than they do about improving themselves or this basketball team. Davis is a talented player who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the greater good of team, and he’s so pathological about it that I really don’t think he can change. Justin Reed occasionally joined this cancerous little clique, making the Boston trade an outright disaster even if Wally Szczerbiak never plays another minute. Davis needs to go. Blount is probably untradeable, but if I were the Wolves, I’d bring a very nasty banger into training camp next year and force-feed Blount to him. It would do wonders for team chemistry.
* Today, about the only thing Kevin McHale could say in support of Randy Wittman was that he was a taskmaster who runs a tight locker room and would demand discipline and responsiveness from his team. McHale has spread a lot of bullshit in his time at the Target Center, but this may top the list. The idea of Wittman commanding respect from his troops is evidenced by….what? Who got called out most blatantly during Wittman’s 4 months on the job? Not Davis, who got more minutes under Witt than he did under Dwane Casey. Not Blount, who played far far more minutes than he deserved from the All-Star break on, when rookie Craig Smith and energy guy Mark Madsen were blatantly better options. McHale also said today that in the current NBA, a guy like Smith can play the 4, that the game is gravitating to smaller and quicker front lines. He also stated that this team will get bigger and bang more, but more likely at the forwards than at the center position because of a lack of options. Well then, why didn’t Wittman sit Blount down and start grooming Smith for that role? Yeah, he eventually did it, about three weeks after the most casual fan could see it had to be done. Bottom line, Wittman continued giving Blount and Davis heavy minutes, even as complained about selfish play and a lack of chemistry, and affirmed that he would make players pay for lack of effort. Then McHale comes along and says Wittman will be back because he is a taskmaster who will get the players’ attention. How stupid do these people think we are? Meanwhile, the two players Witt really slighted were Trenton Hassell, who got benched for a perceived lack of hustle longer than anyone on the team–nearly two straight games–and then only grudgingly was allowed back in the lineup; and Kevin Garnett, who heard his coach say there wasn’t enough locker room policing going on–a direct rip on KG, the de facto leader of the team. Maybe McHale and Wittman see a different game than I do, but Trenton Hassell and Kevin Garnett are not among my top 6 things wrong with this wretched franchise. In fact the VP of Personnel and the Coach rate much higher on my “could be upgraded” list than the team’s two best on-ball defenders.
* Big Disappointment # 3, behind the listless, soft, quit-on-his team Blount and the narcissistic, unreliable, doesn’t-understand-what-it- takes-to-win Davis, is Mike James, who proved rather decisively that he can’t handle the pressure of being a key component of a quality team. Once the onus of meaningful games was lifted, James became similar to the player he was in Toronto–capable of scoring in bunches, and bringing energy to the offensive end (he defense remained awful). Last year it was Marko Jaric who demonstrated that he is not to be trusted when the game is on the line, but at least Jaric restricted his chokes to crunchtime. James cannot be trusted as long as his team means to contend and he is more than a bit role player in the proceedings.
* There is not a single player on this team that had a really good year. Not one. Garnett is showing signs of slippage, especially on defense, where he can’t scramble and recover or casually outjump and snatch rebounds or deter penetration the way he did in his prime. Davis is the team’s most fraudulant stat-stuffer since Micheal Williams. Randy Foye was inconsistent to a fault, even for a rookie looking an important, unfamiliar position. (McHale said today that he envisions Foye playing “off the ball” more in the backcourt next year.) Hassell and Jaric provided offense the way November or March occasionally provide a warm sunny day. Mark Blount provided a first 45 games of hustle and quality shooting that made his last 35 or so games all that much more abominable by comparison. James is a flunky, a sidekick, pure and simple. And so on, down the list.
There. End of rant. Time to start remembering why I enjoy basketball so much–I’ll do some thumbnail playoff series impressions and picks in the next post.
-
Bummer, But Sort Of A Good One
I guess this is one of those occasions where you could label a victory a bit of a disappointment. The whole game after the first inning certainly qualified as anti-climactic, but given the match-up going in, the win qualifies as a gift.
You could already tell that Felix Hernandez was off as he was throwing his last warm-up pitches, and it’s a shame we didn’t get to see even a glimmer of the guy who was so dominating in his first two starts.
What the hell do you suppose is up with Joe Nathan? Yesterday marked his third straight shaky outing –he escaped that first Tampa Bay game with a win thanks entirely to the Devil Rays’ baserunning blunders, then got beat around and blew the save in the series finale.I guess if you say anything with enough conviction it can almost sound like you’re making sense. This from Seattle manager Mike Hargrove after last night’s game: “A good third base coach is not doing his job unless he is getting guys thrown out at home plate.”
Okey-dokey.