André Gregory, in My Dinner with André (dir. Louis Malle, 1981):
“You know, people hold on to these images — father, mother, husband, wife, again, for the same reason, ’cause they seem to provide some firm ground. But there’s no wife there. What does that mean — ‘a wife,’ ‘a husband,’ ‘a son’? A baby holds your hands, and then suddenly, there’s this huge man lifting you off the ground, and then he’s gone. Where’s that son?”He’s in Boston. Do great, Ben!
I wouldn’t say that Shadow of a Doubt is my favorite picture; if I’ve given that impression, it’s probably because I feel that here is something that our friends, the plausibles and logicians, cannot complain about.Don’t miss the full-size view of the photograph (still, alas, a little blurred).
François Truffaut, Hitchcock (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1985).
My imaginary liner notes for Van Dyke Parks’s new 45s now appear on the Bananastan Records website, on the front page and on a page about the first two releases. I’m honored to have my writing be part of the project.
Related reading
All Van Dyke Parks posts (via Pinboard)
In the news, or “news,” a celebrity-handwriting crisis, or a celebrity handwriting-crisis:
The handwriting of today’s teen stars “is so atrocious, it’s talked about and recognized through the industry,” says Justin King, a Toronto-based paparazzi for Flynet Pictures and independent autograph seller. “With stars ages 30 and above, they generally have a much more full, legible signature. When you deal with these new people like [teen actress] Elle Fanning, you’re lucky if you get an E and F and a heart for her signature.”
Nation of adults who will write like children? (CNN)
If you were born before the year 2000: add the last two digits of the year of your birth and the age you will be on this year’s birthday. The answer will be 111. If you were born in 2000 or later, the answer will be 11. If you were born in 1899 or earlier, the answer will be 211. (If you were born in 1899 or earlier, you’re probably not reading this post. If you were born in 2000 or later, you should be out playing.)
The year 2011 is the year of 1/1/11, 1/11/11, 11/1/11, and 11/11/11. And adding age to year always ends in eleven. Pretty mysterious, eh? Not really. Snopes has an explanation. Maths Questions has a more elaborate one.
[It amuses me that I learned this trick not from an online source but from my dad, who got it from a neighbor. Neighbors: the original Internets.]
The fortieth-anniversary special aired on my PBS affiliate last night, and it made me realize that 1971 is a long time ago. The editing and graphics that once made The Great American Dream Machine look so great look faux-retro now. (Not retro: faux-retro.) My son Ben wondered whether people really thought and spoke as they did in the anthology’s clips, particularly in a series of short interviews about martial fidelity. “It’s 1971,” said one fellow, meaning that the time for loyalty to a partner had passed. A married thirtyish woman explained the rules of adultery: good taste, no tell-tale signs. At the other end of the spectrum, a segment on Fascinating Womanhood, offering instruction in wifely subservience. (Yes, FW is still around.)
Missing: Kramp Heritage Loaf, a parody of the recipe commercials that used to litter television (“brought to you by Kraft”). Sorely missing: the conversations among Studs Terkel and company in a Chicago bar. (How can you have a GADM retrospective and leave out Studs Terkel?) Surprisingly present: Andy Rooney, who turns out to have been a regular, as tiresome then as now.
The best thing in last night’s show: Elaine Stritch singing Stephen Sondheim’s “The Ladies Who Lunch” with piano accompaniment, a performance not to be found on YouTube.
Related viewing
Kramp Heritage Loaf (The Groove Tube version)
“The Ladies Who Lunch” (recording session footage)
“The Ladies Who Lunch” (a later performance)
In the preface to Coming After: Essays on Poetry (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2005), the poet Alice Notley considers neglected poets (the so-called second generation of the so-called New York School) and observes that “‘non-careerist’ . . . is not the same as not professional.” That’s a useful distinction for makers and practitioners who are deadly serious about what they do but unconcerned about making the right moves or pleasing the right people.
