Cloister Commentary, Day 261: English Teacher’s Nightmare

A dream with COVID nuances, so it’s relevant.

I was invited back to my old school to be a guest speaker (I thought). Turns out I was invited back to guide and introduce the guest speaker, who turned out to be the very last person on Earth for whom I would want to do those honors. I didn’t find that out until I was already on-site and walking down the hallway to meet him. His security detail was the actor Tom Hardy. I led them to the auditorium, but as we were about to enter, the guest grunted, “I have to take a dump.” He and Agent Hardy went into the bathroom and, figuring it would be awhile, I went on out into the auditorium, which was packed with students in groups of 10-15, but maskless.

Immediately one of the students ran up to me and said, “There is a big problem and you need to figure it out before the speaker speaks!” I asked him, “Are you in Literacy Seminar, because the key will be in that room.” He said, “Yeah, it’s right over here,” and pointed to an open classroom and bookcase situated in the front right corner of the auditorium. I hurried over, looking for my long-time colleague Jessica, but instead there were three very robotic co-teachers teaching the class.

I told them with great urgency, “I need to find a specific book that always worked with my kids, but I can’t remember the title, the main character’s name, or the plot–if I can see the title it’ll come right back to me.” My frustration with my own memory was vividly palpable in the dream, since I’ve been experiencing it while awake.

One of the robots said, “Well, sir, that’ll be a problem,” and gestured toward the bookcase: all the books were shelved with their spines facing toward the back of the bookcase.

I burst out, “How the hell do you find a book around here?”

The robot replied, “You have to know exactly where it is. We haven’t read a book this semester,” then giggled and rolled her eyes.

I craned my neck and saw The Guest and Agent Hardy emerging from the hallway, both with toilet paper trailing a shoe.

At that point, I broke out of the dream and sat bolt upright in bed, trying to remember the protagonist’s name, but finally realizing there was no actual book. In the dream, I remember thinking the author was Corey Hayden, but dismissing that; all I know is the hero was a young girl who had powers of divination. But I am so grateful I awakened when I did.

Dreams are boring-ass boring, but this one was so Kafkaesque I had to share it. It was my second return-to-Hickman dream in a week. I dedicate this post to my friends Rex Harris and, of course, Mrs. Lucas.

Streaming for Strivers:

When I think of dreams and music, I often think of this plectrist.

Cloister Commentary, Day 260: Rituals To Be Continued

I have come to love a COVID ritual that I will probably extend into the next world (if we ever get there). I drove Nicole to the grocery store ultra-early for provisions, before it got too crowded, and just sat in the truck cab meditating and thinking (those aren’t always the same thing). I know it looks like I’m lazing there blissfully while she’s endangering herself, but it’s not what it seems. My spouse would probably agree.

The blower–the telly-phone, as Elvis once sang (he stole the phrasing from Jackie Wilson)–has become a welcome alternative to Zoom for many lately, I just read in The Week. I spoke to two loved ones who are suffering via that technology myself yesterday, and I definitely understand.

I don’t mean to torture readers with constant reports of my good fortune due to my wife being an incredible cook, but she spent the afternoon preparing delicious black bean-stuffed poblano peppers with queso fresco and they delivered serious satisfaction. We bought some fresh tortillas from the Tortilleria ” EL PATRÓN ” Group and, as is my wont, I spied an improvisational opportunity to combine the stuffed peppers and the lettuce, onion, and avocado salad she’d also prepared into a scrumptious soft taco. I am not completely culinarily worthless!

You no doubt have heard of Steve McQueen’s limited series on Amazon Prime, Small Axe. If not, you’re hearing about it now. How many of you learned about the lives of black men and women in England when you were in school? I didn’t, either, and you can catch up here. The second installment, titled “Lovers Rock” (after the warm and romantic strain of golden-age reggae of the same name), is simply beautiful. There is no plot; it’s one night in the life of a group of (mostly) young black youth at a blues dance. The performances, soundtrack, and cinematographical brilliance of the episode will dazzle and inspire you, possibly to joyful tears. That’s what we watched last night; it was just a shade better than dinner.

Streaming for Strivers:

Up for sampling some lover’s rock?

Cloister Commentary, Day 259: Check-Ups and Check-Ins

I can definitely understand anyone in our current situation choosing not to visit a doctor’s office or clinic if at all possible. I’ve now been to four different such facilities within the last month, most of them on routine missions because I’m getting older and that and the events of this year are making me more vigilant. I’ve been reluctant, because masks are not completely preventative, but I’m glad I went, because I’ve found out things I’ve really needed to know. I encourage you, if you’ve been holding out on check-ups and such, to visit your health professionals soon.

The capper to our week, especially Nicole’s working week, was a dinner of Parmesan portobello mushrooms, fresh spinach, and sweet taters with cinnamon and brown sugar. Hard to beat! We had a glass of wine and sat down to a wide-ranging Zoom conversation with our friends Rebecca and Frank Pisano. We discussed excellent Zoom teachers, Jessco White and Jimi Hendrix, Hillbilly Elegy and Mangrove, English vs. American Black Panthers, J. K. Rowling and Lee Smith, middle-schoolers and elementary humans, and much more. We were so drained from the rich talk we were asleep about 10 minutes after the Zoom concluded.

Streaming for Strivers:

I, too, am a free-born man. It’s after birth that’s the hard part of the bargain.

Cloister Commentary, Day 258: My Own Devices

Nicole was working in her office during the day, so I was left to my own devices: swept the basement, organized the recycling, finished that danged Basquiat biography (it ended up being pretty good), finally sampled a few minutes of the Hendrix DVD that came in the new “Live in Maui” set to see it was more for solo or duo viewing (verdict: not just for Jimi junkies!), did research on high PSA levels since two straight blood panels indicated that was my story, and took a nap. The best I can do, really, with a free day in COVIDland.

It was our movie night, so we picked up a veggie Zeus at Tony’s Pizza Palace-Columbia and tried out Netflix’s Wu Assassins on a tip from The Week. Two episodes in: B+. Perfect for simple entertainment and martial arts satisfaction.

Streaming for Strivers:

A terrific trio.

Cloister Commentary, Day 257: Past-Tense Verbs Galore

Ended my semester tutoring at Stephens. Didn’t do any sessions in person, but it was encouraging that we did not have a decrease in tutoring requests but did have one in cancelled appointments. My only in-person interaction with students was to notarize a few absentee and mail-in ballots. I miss students, but I’ve stayed healthy and so have most on Stephens’ campus. Looks like more of the same next semester; I hope my on-line comp class makes.

Had to get another blood panel run (nothing major). The poor intern tasked with drawing my blood might have been too distracted by my kitten mask (made by my mom), since she couldn’t draw blood in three sticks. The head nurse got the needle in and blood drawn while I was still explaining the mask to the intern.

Made a decent effort to curb a few habits. Kept myself to one small cup of coffee and no unhealthy snacks. Nicole prepared an Indian dish with butter sauce that was scrumptious and found some good pre-packaged garlic naan at the store.

Spent the evening continuing to bury my nose in Lee Smith‘s Saving Grace. If you need a high-quality page-turner that is sure to beat the pants off Hillbilly Elegy, check it out. Also, listened to some VINTAGE Western swing from the Thirties. That stuff never gets old, and it’s got serious juice.

Dreamed I was substituting at Hickman. The hallways were realistic, but when I entered my room, first it was shoebox-size with 35 students (I counted), then it elasticized to the size of a lecture hall, with the students suddenly very socially distanced. There was a foosball table a few juvenile delinquent types claimed the teacher let them play every day (BS, but why the table?); the ten students that had to sign out to go to tutoring just left without my signature; the remaining students laughed at me for saying reading could save them, but then were surprised not only that I was going to teach the lesson plan but knew my sh*t. Then a cat woke me up.

I miss students.

Streaming for Strivers:

Wills and his Playboys in autumn.

Cloister Commentary, Day 255: Cold, Cold, Cold

Yesterday was the first realllllly cold morning of the pandemic, and I don’t know about you, but it felt much different than past first-cold-mornings. In some ways, one would expect this experience has toughened us up; however, the isolation–especially if one bit the bullet and stayed put this Thanksgiving–adds a new dimension to meeting wintery weather.

Work was slow for me. Few of Stephens’ students are on campus for finals, and neither of those facts held out the promise of a tutoring appointment. Also, the Success Center and library warriors–the only folks IN the library other than wee ones and their teachers on the top floor–are still sticking to their offices (though we don’t have to at this point, I’m keeping my door shut so I can comfortably work without a mask). Maybe that, too, made the cold colder.

I’ve mentioned this before, but The New York Times Magazine’s THE DECAMERON PROJECT collects pandemic stories from 23 of the world’s best writers (even more are featured on line). If you’re one who believes the only thing coming out of newspapers is “fake news,” I have news for you: the motto of the collection is “When reality is surreal, only fiction can make sense of it,” and these aces fully realize that motto. Names you might recognize? Margaret Atwood, Edwidge Danticat, David Mitchell, Tommy Orange, Karen Russell, Rachel Kushner, and Victor LaValle. It’s now in book form, but you can also read it on-line. I recommend Russell’s “Line 19 Woodstock / Glisen” as a teaser; Nicole and I both loved it.

Streaming for Strivers:

Hearkening back to my eight-track days–I played the pee-waddin’ out of this one.

Cloister Commentary, Day 254: Boogie Breakout

Yesterday was a standard COVID Sunday.

Meditation.
CBS Sunday Morning and reading the papers.
A hearty breakfast (peppers ‘n’ eggs with Uprise Bakery’s Ancient Grain bread, toasted).
A Bloody Mary.
Two Zooms, one with family and one with friends.
Piddling around.
Some interesting viewing (we’re sniffing at Orange is the New Black).

The only thing that wasn’t standard?

DANCING!

It might have had something to do with the strength of the Bloody Mary, but while Nicole was in the shower, I put Stevie Ray Vaughan’s last studio album, In Step (hear below), on the turntable and turned it up pretty significantly. I believe the rhythms penetrated into the rain room, because when she emerged cleaned up and dressed, she came out boogieing! We never plan to dance in our house–it just breaks out. That was the day’s definite highlight.

Streaming for Survivors:

If the house is rockin’, don’t bother knocking.

Cloister Commentary, Day 253: Fabulous Finds

Nicole and I made some fabulous finds yesterday. In the world of pages, Jenny Slate’s Little Weirds is a quirky and surprisingly enlightening delight; she writes like she seems to be, and so far she earns George Saunders’ blurb. She is a fine humorist, but more is going on than that in her work.

We had been eagerly waiting for an opening to begin Steve McQueen’s perfectly-titled limited series Small Axe, and yesterday one presented itself. If the remaining episodes are as great as “Mangrove,” it will be a landmark that stands the test of time. Stories of black resistance to systematic British racism have been rarely told on the screen, and in this case one is told with pure fire. Can’t wait for “Lover’s Rock.”

Nicole tried her hand at vegetarian moussaka out of the Moosewood Cookbook, which has been a culinary presence during our entire time together. She’d made it before, but this time she nailed it. I had thirds if you count me scraping sauce and mushrooms out of the pan before she put it up.

We are happy to report that our Russian blue feline Smoky, who is a bit of a basement recluse, has been gingerly extending her perimeter into the upstairs. She is fearful for no reason, but she’s struck up a sunbathing friendship with her elder, Miss Cleo.

Streaming for Strivers:

One of the great strivers in political music, whose work I fully expect to appear in Small Axe.

Cloister Commentary, Day 252: A Day

Nicole worked on kitchen projects and I kept her entertained by playing records by some of our favorite artists. I wasn’t quite so ambitious, but I did clean up the basement a bit, finish one book, and start another. I can’t believe November’s already almost gone, but in many ways I am relieved.

We Zoomed in the evening with Vance and Liz Downing, two of our youngest and most cherished friends. I was the officiant at their wedding, and they are quite well-matched. We teased out the many ways COVID has affected our lives and occasionally broached other topics.

That is all.

Streaming for Survivors:

The music doesn’t perfectly match the title–there is much discipline and focus in it–but it is aggressively great.

Cloister Commentary, Day 251: Turkey Day Top Ten

My Top 10 Favorite Things about Thanksgiving 2020, in random order:

We played a lot of records! A LOT!
Nicole’s Lasagnazilla was better than any turkey’s turkey.
I received well wishes from a varied group of former students, plus expert libation advice (Rado, Ryan, Theo, stand up and be counted!).
The sun was out most of the day, and it was bracingly chilly (my favorite chilly).
We meditated and walked the neighborhood.
We Zoomed with our besties the Wright family.
I edged ever closer to the finale of James Lee Burke’s thrilling yet deep The New Iberia Blues.
We did not turn on the TV.
I learned that Harlan Howard wrote both “God May Forgive You (But I Won’t)” AND “How Far Down Can I Go?” DAMN.
Nicole did not beat me in chess (it helped that we did not play).

Only bad thing was we couldn’t be with our fam in anything but spirit. But spirit counts.

Streaming for Strivers (and for my friend the Wild Yankee Rover):

One of rap’s best kept secrets.