Cloister Commentary, Day 25: Glitter Up The Dark, Will Ya?

After sleeping on the couch again (it has to do with our dog’s mysterious ailment, which requires an Elizabethan collar and my nearby presence at night), Nicole surprised me with two hearty slices of avocado toast that would have powered me all day. I quickly forgot about the couch.

I was supposed to have a project, but I do not think vacuuming the carpeting counts. Mostly, I spent the day finishing Sasha Geffen’s Glitter Up The Dark: How Pop Music Broke the Binary (notice how I keep referring to it? it’s an old teaching trick…), a terrific book that I may require of my students next semester if one happens.

Meanwhile, Nicole created an altar / art installation in the basement closet of “The Kitten Room.” That is something to be proud of.

Installation

We decided to eat out again, and tried one of our long-time favorite spots, La Terraza. We love several different Mexican restaurants in town; they are each subtly different, and I prefer LT’s chili rellenos, while we both prefer their margaritas. “Curbside margaritas,” you say? “Indeed,” I answer: 32 ounce “travelers”! Those and the food went great with the tensest “Better Call Saul”(spoilers in link) I’ve ever seen.

La Terraza

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Continuing to mourn Hal Willner. Back when this was released, it helped push me off the high boards into the deep end of Monk’s pool of inimitable compositions. Willner’s guests range from Donald Fagen to John Zorn, from Dr. John and NRBQ to Shockabilly and Steve Lacy, and believe it or not, not only isn’t it uneven but it actually holds together. Dig it.

Cloister Commentary, Day 24: Tributarial Developments

This is really a great time to share music with friends. My pal Clifford, whose hatches are battened down on The French Quarter, recently prepared for me and other folks a four-volume musical companion to Charlie Gillett’s classic The Sound of the City, which traces the tributarial developments that led to an ocean of rock and roll. The highlight of my day was simply sitting with Nicole at the kitchen table, enjoying lunch and beers to the tune of Bill Doggett, Cecil Gant, Wynonie Harris, Ruth Brown, Hank Williams, Merrill Moore, The Everlys, Ray Charles, and so many more. We already had their music in our library, but Cliff assembled his compilations so wisely we had to listen to it that way.

We tried to go for a walk to the park–quite a beautiful day!–but of course someone was out with an unleashed dog. I understand that some unleashed dogs are better trained and friendlier than others, but that’s no guarantee they’re going to interact with leashed dogs that aren’t. Just sayin’…

We binged on two of our favorite snacks. Binging on favorite snacks is a requirement during a plague. If you can get ’em.

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Sunday isn’t Sunday without Call the Midwife. Seldom does an episode pass without teaching the viewer something new about the way women’s bodies are tortured for our species to be propagated, and last night’s episode was no exception. Nurses Crane and Anderson: now those are heroes.

Speaking of, in the morning on CBS, I also marveled at the ability of Cuomo and de Blasio to look directly at their respective audiences and speak with eloquence, leadership, clarity, respect, inspiration, compassion, concern, power, truth, and preparation. Hearing that was on the level of experiencing Little Richard’s “Long Tall Sally”with the stereo turned up to about 7.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Celebrating the birthday of a true original.

Cloister Commentary, Day 23: Sound and Vision

We, like you, have stumbled upon (or been forced to observe, rather) several habits in this sheltering that I think we’re going to keep when we are liberated. Nicole is a great cook, but she also works her butt off AND we both are tasteaholics who love supporting our many local restaurants, so we haven’t ever eaten in all that much. However, by my calculations, we’ve only gone out to pick up food once in the last 27 days. I’m here to tell you: homecooking is great. Yesterday, she sautéed some fresh asparagus, fried some new potatoes, and grilled some cheese sandwiches (with, instead of butter, Blue Plate Mayonnaise)–that was just lunch. Dinner was chickpea tikka masala with basmati rice! Now, I don’t just sit around like Henry VIII, fork and knife in fists that pound the tabletop! Our deal has always been that she can make as big a mess in the kitchen as she wants; I’ll clean up and put up everything. Feels about even, but I know I get the best of it–plus I’ve lost weight while never feeling unsatisfied. Ok, I’ll stop…

This was our first “flipped house” of the plague. That’s when the feline-o-phobe dog and I go downstairs and the cats come up. So it was “Music in the Man Cave” for me.

I loved“Fame,” “Golden Years,” and (especially) “Young Americans” (that song tortured me) as a teen, and“Let’s Dance”always kicked ass no matter HOW many times I heard it lifeguarding that summer in Monett, but I was never a massive Bowie fan at the time. However, reading’s always been a corrective to my waywardness, and after taking in David Bowie: A Life (by former Ziggy crumbsnatcher Dylan Jones), Rob Sheffield’s On Bowie, and Sasha Geffen’s Glitter Up the Dark: How Pop Music Broke the Binary, I’m fully on board. Better late than never. I listened to his work alllll afternoon. And hit up Discogs for some CDs I surprisingly don’t have.

Speaking of music and habits, I recently hit my Apple Music limit of 100,000 songs in the ol’ iCloud library. So I just blew the whole thing up and started anew. I need to remember to only “Add” what I need, and that the entire contents of my external drive don’t have to be (can’t be) in my library, too. #nerdalert

Random facts of COVID-19 impact: 1) My garage door opener fixed itself on its own after I ignored it for two weeks. Word to the wise looking to save money. 2) We decided to cancel our lodging in Lawrence in late June for theFree State Fest(this year, John Waters and Boots Riley were among those scheduled). It ain’t gonna happen, we’re fairly sure. And if it does, we won’t be inclined to attend.

I’m not religious, but happy Easter anyway. He not busy being (re)born is busy dying.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Such sound and vision.

Cloister Commentary, Day 22: Grasshopper

As I mentioned yesterday, I videoconferenced with the two Mizzou teacher interns I am supervising this year. Their student teaching journey was abruptly truncated by COVID-19–they are still assisting their as they are able with grading and virtual lessons–so we discussed the possibilities they’d encounter next fall: content challenges and limitations, stressed students with fragile economic support, explaining what is happening right now in the context of their instruction, isolation (if teachers can’t yet work in person in the fall). The potential environment is daunting, and I do not envy them. I usually let them do the talking, but I did offer them each these words of advice: try to find a crusty old veteran who still has ahold of their joy and sidle into a “grasshopper” role. Nothing helped me get my footing better; it’s not that I avoided my fellow greenhorns, but “the older guys know what it’s all about,” as someone once sang. They helped me dodge several potholes–right, Bob Bilyeu?

Nicole and I started some new shows: HBO’s adaptation of Richard Russo’s novel Empire Falls, which I just finished reading; Netflix’s The Stranger, recommended by our go-to Anglo-American TV critic Susan McDermott-Griggs; and another Netflix item, Self-Made, an impressive limited series tracing the life of Madame CJ Walker, who’s played by the always-great Octavia Spencer. It’s got fire, spunk, wit, and a surprising style and soundtrack–plus Tiffany Haddish, who threatens to steal every scene she’s in.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Sample an early ’80s album by Nina Simone that was just reissued and might even surprise big fans if they haven’t heard it.

And: if you want to sample Self-Made‘s soundtrack?

Cloister Commentary, Day 21: Blithely

I am writing these to a) share how Nicole and I are making our way through this crisis, and b) keep a record of our journey so we can look back when we have better perspective. Sometimes, though, when I re-read them, I’m dumbstruck by the good fortune that allows me to move about securely and comfortably in my home environment, and I feel a pulse of self-loathing that just makes me want to stop writing.

But–no matter how blithely I may seem to move through my days, I’m all too aware that we were in trouble before COVID-19, we’re unbelievably vulnerable now, and we’re surrounded by many (who happen to have access to the buttons, levers, and strings) who have only scorn for vulnerability. So…one can carry that around all day, into the night, and as dawn breaks. Frequently, I can’t turn my projective mind off; I do stay (and have stayed) well-informed, and that information constantly feeds the projector. Today, I video-conference with the two student teachers I supervise, and I know I won’t be able to help from asking them to project what their teaching environments will be like in the fall, and how they hope to respond to their students who’ve been hit the hardest.

I am so grateful for the books, music, laughs and love that allow me to be distracted meaningfully and healthily from these concerns. If it does seem I’m responding too blithely to our troubles, perhaps I am, but a quickened heartbeat has been disrupting my sleep.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Maybe we need to talk to the spirits.

Cloister Commentary, Day 20: Beet Box Bounty

I had hoped to vote for Bernie again in the general election, but no. As Nicole told me yesterday, if we can all be and think more like Bernie, the country will be better off if anything like THIS happens again. As my friend Ken wrote recently, an economy where folks don’t have to work multiple jobs and more than 40 hours a week to survive, and a health care system that’s inexpensive and accessible to all are both reasonable requests of the wealthiest nation in history.

We went out to eat for the first time in over three weeks yesterday. I love my wife’s cooking, we’ve been eating smarter, and is it easier on the wallet! But our restaurants need patrons to survive, and we have some damned good ones in town. We chose Beet Box, called in our order (two falafel sandwiches and an order of Za’atar fries), carefully picked it up, returned home, plated the food and tossed the containers, sanitized the table and our hands, microwaved the plates for 30 seconds, and dug in. WOW!!! I have plugged this restaurant here before, but I have never eaten a falafel sandwich so good, and I’ve eaten many. Co-owner Benjamin Hamrah, as hardworking, talented, and ebullient a person as I know, has got something great going–think about supporting Beet Box. (The process above may seem laborious–and that’s a truncated version–but we believe it’s safe. It is also intense, which is why we always have a drink afterward!)

A tiny detail of my new normal: no matter what time of day it is or where I am in the house, I have a laser pointer in my pocket. #catkingdom

Three joys of the day: our front yard trees, bushes, and flowers popping out, an early evening breeze and sunshine combo, and a Zoom double-date configured (what a word!) with our friends Vance and Liz Downing.

Some relevant photos:

Streaming for shut-ins:

If you need to get up and move (and you do), here.

Cloister Commentary, Day 19: Please Don’t Bury Me

This stuff can kill us, is killing us at a very rapid rate. If it doesn’t, something else will, we are assured. It’s just that we’re getting reminders at a rapid rate, too, from thousands we do not know to the few who we imagined could live forever (they may, through their work) but understood could not, like that old crust John Prine. I’d like to recommend his work to those unfamiliar with it, because it has the soul nutrition we need to put these days in perspective. Take, for example, the mortality song I have shared below, which he wrote before he turned 30. A grinning, shrugging, generous acceptance–and an invitation to kiss his ass goodbye.

In other news, Nicole and I moved the lawn furniture out into the backyard and onto the deck. That was a simple action that made us both feel good, and gave our external felines Goldpaw and BB hope for more strokes than usual. I actually executed a decent Zoom class–I just said eff it and used my phone–and participated in two other video sessions, with some Stephens folks (having to lean on it more heavily than this part-timer, they’re tiring of it but are digging in) and my parents, to whom I told the vanilla-ice-cream-loving penguin joke (this time). I tried to tell it to the fabulous furry Frissell brothers, George and Lee, via text–in short bursts to match the timing necessary if we had been together in person–but Lee let me get all the way to the verge of the Paragraph Four punch line before he inserted it himself (George had told it to him long ago). Never trust a Texan. I won’t tell you the one he told me, a COVID-19 joke worthy of Ken Weaver’s immortal but scarce Texas Crude.

Short, contained note: it’s all I can do to keep from screaming at our judicial, executive, representative, and military leadership right now, but fortunately, Mike, I tucked away The Inchiridion the other day and found the necessary restraint. I suspect you may have returned to it in recent hours. Your leadership deserves no screams, only praise.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

I like to offer full albums, but this single song is a must for the moment.

Cloister Commentary, Day 18: Escape to Reality

If you’ve not read Richard Russo, I strongly recommend you do. Known best, perhaps, for the novels Empire Falls (which I’m currently reading) and Nobody’s Fool, he is expert at chronicling small town life in our modern world and–especially–capturing the subtleties of human interaction. Very, very funny, observant, and wise, his work is an excellent opportunity for the reader to, for change, escape back INTO face-to-face community.

You will not surprised that we are trying our best to support book and music stores remotely. We received a package yesterday from Lafayette’s fantastic, big-hearted Lagniappe Records, which specializes in items from the deep well of Louisiana sounds. Check ’em out on IG–you may find yourself helpless to order.

Wasn’t that a classic “Better Call Saul” episode? (This link includes spoilers.)

Our dog Louis is currently plagued by something around his butt area that I don’t want to look at closely (even if I could–it’s obscured by fur), so he wears a small donut collar during the day, then a bigger Elizabethan collar at night (because he’s figured out a way to get around the donut when we’re asleep). It seems too minor to bother our vet about, but he’s damn restless, so I’m sleeping out in the living room with him, where his “nook” causes him to calm down. The things we do for love…

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Speaking of Louisiana music? A full album of it for you (full of rhythm and hijinks, that is).

Cloister Commentary, Day 17: Everybody Disco!

Work: Nicole made delicious buttermilk biscuits out of Southern Living as well as some spicy hummus. I put together an order for us from Powell’s Books (is that work?) and drifted into a project I had not planned: moving these over to one of my blogs to improve their readability.

Play: When I came up from the man cave after finishing said project, Nicole was playing disco songs from her computer. Without really discussing it, we switched the sound over to the stereo, turned it up, and danced until we got tired–about 15 minutes, probably, but it seemed longer, and that’s a positive statement.

We didn’t even shut the blinds, so any neighbor watching got to see me mincing like ’70s Jagger (scolding, pointing, wrists on hips) and helplessly gyrating. Partial playlist: three Hot Chocolates (“Emma,” “Every 1’s a Winner,” “You Sexy Thing”), Chic’s “Real People” (the greatest song of all-time), Bowie’s “Let’s Dance”–I forgot how great that one is!–two “Last Dance”s (George Clinton’s answer to Bowie, and Donna Summer’s), James Brown’s “Super Bad, Parts 1, 2, and 3,” Sylvester’s “Mighty Real,” Maxine Nightingale’s “Right Back to Where We Started From,” and Trammps’ “Disco Inferno.” Those are the ones I remember, as cognac Old Fashioneds were involved. But it was the definite highlight of the day. You should try it!

Disco did not and does not suck, even though I was once kicked out of high school for an afternoon for hypocritically wearing a t-shirt that said as much. At the time, I was regularly crossing state lines to dance under the glitter ball in Columbus, Kansas, and that shirt was tight and black, with the offensive message decorated in glitter and colored pink and green.

We made contact with Planet Earth again with “Call the Midwife”, which we never miss. You shouldn’t, either.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Cloister Commentary, Day 1: Happy Anniversary, Here’s Your Pandemic!

My good friend Ken Shimamoto, probably remembering that, in 2012, I began documenting daily what I then thought was my last year of teaching, suggested yesterday I do the same for this science (non-)fiction fix we’re in. That seems overwhelming, but I’m going to take his advice and just write what comes to mind and not fuss.

My head is daily spinning. Its preoccupations have grown from the immediate (“What’s the best way to teach these kids remotely?”) into the long-term (“When will I see my friends and family again, and how will this change us?”), from the rational (“This too will pass.”) into the paranoid (“How will we be exploited this time?”). My revelation-flickers have been both comical (“I need to at least have a stretching routine!”) and horrifying (according to Brecht-Weill, food is the first thing morals follow on). I have more ideas than I know what to do with, but for once I actually have plenty of time to do them, so to speak. In a weird way, and I know I’m not alone, in the explosion of change I feel more alive and more clear-eyed; for a second time in recent memory, a big national scab has been ripped off, and it is time to deal or die. But then there are also kitty litter boxes and windows to be cleaned! Don’t scoff at mundane rituals: what the tortoise sees as sustenance, the hare hops past unwittingly.

I’m lucky to be cloistered with my soul mate–it is our 28th wedding anniversary today. We have always liked spending time with each other and have hardly been averse to seclusion, so we seem to be well-equipped for the task at hand. Reading together in silence we both find exciting, we share music and viewing preferences (reggae and Rickles roasting yesterday), and we are immune to each other’s imperfections (#snorers). But the first 7-10 days of this adjustment have brought us to the necessity of rituals–not just exercising, but writing, meditating, working (new kinds of work), and especially helping. We’ve joined a local Facebook group that is networking concerned citizens in order to help each other and wrestle with COVID-19, and a crowd-funded effort to keep our local healthcare heroes well-fed seems to be in the offing. I’ve volunteered to mentor local students (kids or adults) who need reading or writing help, because I am not sure classes will ever resume in person before summer.

One of my biggest worries is if, as a nation, we are equal to the level of personal discipline required to arrest this virus as quickly as possible. All I can do is make sure I’m trying and succeeding.

From Mary Oliver, some worthy words:

Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last! / What a task / to ask / of anything, or anyone, / yet it is ours, / and not by the century or the year, but by the hours.

And: Streaming for Shut-Ins.