Fishing With John

This is a review, of sorts, of the series Fishing With John. I suppose it doesn’t really serve as a review, so much as a recommendation. But be cautious. It’s not for everyone.

Oddball renaissance man John Lurie, the feckless fisherman of title, guides the likes of Willem Dafoe, Dennis Hopper, Tom Waits, Jim Jarmusch, and Matt Dillon on ill-fated, but strange and comical fishing expeditions. From New York to Jamaica to Thailand.

Lurie, beyond his fishing aspirations, is the frontman of The Lounge Lizards, scores films, acts, directs, produces, and paints. The music and films are often critically acclaimed, and often excellent. The paintings, while not to my taste, have fun titles such as: I am a bear. You are an asshole. God is God; Harry didn’t want to say anything, but the appearance of Jesus was ruining his vacation; and If you make me go out I will dance like this.

Few fish are caught throughout the series, but Lurie does catch sight of the value of the footage - just between cerebral and goofy. The production value isn’t spectactular, and there are plenty of stretches of silence and a few presumably inside jokes. Also note the episodes are all about 15 years old. You’ll love it or hate it, so be forwarned. No apologies shall be forthcoming.

The Freshmaker! (?)

I buy Mentos regularly - sometimes at one of the convenience stores on the route to my office. In Florida. I’ve noticed that when I buy them at two of the several stores I frequent, they have what appears to be Arabic writing on them. Not exclusively, but largely. Interestingly, the words “Expiry Date” are in English, but what is presumably the date itself is in Arabic.

I would also swear that the flavor is slightly different from the all-English Mentos that I purchase at other stores. Not necessarily worse - but different.

Here is a photo. Translations welcomed.

On Nyquil

If peyote had not existed, and a shaman had discovered instead a plant that secreted Nyquil; I’m convinced this would have been adequate for certain visionary dreams to manifest themselves. Or maybe not.

It does the trick for me, though. I have had the strangest, and often unpleasant dreams when I’ve used Nyquil over the years - nevertheless, it clears my head and helps me sleep. I don’t think it’s the alcohol that causes the weird dreams, but neither do I thinks it’s entirely honest to list it as an “inactive ingredient.”

This comes to mind because I would take a dose right now, if only I didn’t have to get dressed and go to the all-night pharmacy to buy it. Nyquil, that is. I don’t think they carry peyote.

Twit(ter). Seriously? Perfect.

Mat Balez thinks Twitter faces a swift demise. I’m not so sure, but it would certainly provide me with hope for the future of the world if it were so.

I’ve only very recently heard about Twitter. Unsure of exactly what it was, I investigated — and quickly determined it was just another item for the list of wildly popular trends in which I find no appeal. But it doesn’t surprise me (If you’re not sure what it is, follow the link above, it will become all too obvious).

With the generation that makes up the vast majority of Twitter users, there is a bottomless well of narcissism and self-importance. Combined with the increasingly voyeuristic direction of entertainment and online social networks, you get hordes of people who believe their most mundane activities are worthy of record - and a group willing to feed these delusions.

I’m not suggesting that this is anything new or unique to the generation in question (nor am I by any stretch saying that it describes all of them - look at Mat’s Site) - there has been a notable increase in these tendencies for some time. The curve just accelerated with webcams, blogs, myspace pages, IM, and ubiquitious cell phones. Overlay a graph of free time, money and media access available to twentysomethings, and the picture is complete.

As for any hypocrisy about blogging - of course there are weblogs with equally inane and vapid commentary. Plenty. But there are also plenty which either share original and substantial thought, aggregation of information of common interest to readers, or other content of some weight. I hope to make this into such a substantial place eventually - I used to have a couple of content rich sites, but abandoned all web publishing activities for years. Any self-indulgence you find here is very likely just an opportunity for me to learn some of the new tools available.

Yes, I know. I’m old and I don’t get it. Really though, don’t get me wrong, I’m not angry or overwrought about this — just amused, and a little discouraged. Besides, maybe this is an opportunity for me to make a little cash in a friendly wager with Mat.

I might be able to maintain interest in the tedious and banal nature of Twitter for a couple of days — if there were creatures from other planets or dimensions talking about their activities. Otherwise, please kids — if you have that much free time, skip some stones. Watch a squirrel. Read a book.

Jaguar Paw, Meet Horse Ass

Mayan priests in Guatemala plan to spritually cleanse a sacred archeological site of bad spirits following a visit from U.S. President George W. Bush, according to this CNN story.

…Many Mayans are angry that Bush is visiting Iximche, founded as the capital of the Kaqchiqueles kingdom before the Spanish conquest in 1524.

“That a person like (Bush) with the persecution of our migrant brothers in the United States, with the wars he has provoked is going to walk in our sacred lands is an offense for the Mayan people and their culture,” Juan Tiney, director of a Mayan non-governmental organization with close ties to Mayan religious and political leaders, told The Associated Press.

This is only marginally better than if Guatemala had turned out the lights and pretended they weren’t home.

(P)lenty (H)ave (P)erished

I’m spending the little time I have available for this site scrolling repeatedly through the same pages of code, trying to tweak a series of templates into the design I want. It’s not the fault of WordPress (WP) — it works really well at what it does after a simple installation. The problem, I’m beginning to see, is that you have to either be content to use a template (again, there are many great free templates available - but I want my own design), or know PHP, and understand the WP structure.

I seriously considered both WP and Movable Type (MT) initially. I went with WP because it seemed more configurable, had a great support community, an enthusiastic development team, extensive documentation, and was free. MT seems cool also, but the array of similar products the parent company has available, and the pricing structure (free, unless you want support, or multiple users) led me to choose WP.

I’m rethinking that, but I still like WP for all the same reasons - and if weren’t for wanting my own design, it would be a cinch. At any rate, please continue to excuse the frequent (and often unpleasant) changes to the site, and the infrequent posts until I’m able to muddle through this process.

Hey Mr. Tough

My stepfather rode in the rodeo when he was a teenager. He had a basketball scholarship to a local college when he finished high school at seventeen, but he joined the Marines instead. My grandmother says that if she didn’t sign for him to join, he had sworn to join anyway a couple of months later when he turned eighteen. My aunt says, he was so wild that grandma thought this might be his only chance to avoid ending up in jail, or, ironically, dead. So he went to Paris Island, and then to Vietnam. He was decorated for bravery, and for the injuries he sustained in combat.

He and my mother moved to a farm a few years ago. He raises horses now. Miniature horses. Useless, silly little horses. Not particularly macho.

I only asked my stepfather about the war once, when I was ten or so. Mom had always told me that he didn’t like to talk about it (she also told me to stand across the room and shout at him if I ever needed to wake him up, rather than stand within his reach). It’s no wonder he didn’t like to talk about it. He was basically a kid when he was shipped overseas

I don’t know that I’ll ever feel comfortable repeating what he told me, somehow it just doesn’t seem like it’s mine to tell. But it was a horrific and disturbing story, even with some of the details that he must have omitted. He only hesitated for a minute before telling me, and it was difficult for even an imaginative child to imagine. I don’t know why he told me. I like to think that it was so I wouldn’t have a glorified image of war — and so I’d never want to go myself.

Those nightmarish circumstances left this man one of the most gentle and generous people I’ve known. I think he’s happy on the peaceful little farm now, tending his silly little horses.