Today as I rummaged through my room I found a creative writing folder from third grade. My memories of third grade are sketchy-- I remember that my teacher was Ms. Naomi H. Bethea, and she demanded that we speak with "boldness, confidence, and strenth." I remember that when she said this she never pronounced the "g" in "strength." I remember not being particularly well lked, and I remember that this was because I was a horrible kissass. Naomi H. Bethea adored me, and seemed to let me do whatever I wanted. I vividly remember her giving me M&M's for knowing what "U.S.S.R." stood for.
I remember that one day at recess, with Ms. Bethea looking on, I organized a skit about the assassination of John F. Kennedy. Four chairs represented the Lincoln convertible. A little boy named Frankie stood on a chair representing the Texas book depository and yelled "BANG BANG," at which point a little boy named Ronyell slumped over in the fake car, and a girl named Tianca exclaimed "Oh my husband!"
Another skit about Richard Nixon was less successful.
Back to my folder.
In my third grade creative writing folder is a 6 page booklet titled "Icebergs are Dangerous," complete with illustrations and the story of the Titanic:
"Soon they hit an iceberg. At first people weren't scared. But soon they were. More than 1,500 people died.
There is also a story about two of my classmates, Lionel and Jerrmy, who save Ronald Reagan from a witch carrying a shotgun. Another tells of a scuba diver who is caught by a giant fish with a hamburger on a line.
There is a one page essay on negative peer pressure, including the line:
"Say no to negative peer pressure. I can kill you." (This was not a mistake. I know it isn't because I found three drafts all worded exactly the same way.)
But I think my favorite is the following story, told exclusively through dialogue and based on numerous real conversations with my mother, none of which ended this way.
The Food Problem, by Andy E.
"Mother I'm hungry."
"Sorry. We're all out of food."
"Why can't we buy some?"
"We don't have any money."
"I have some."
"I'm too busy. I have to do this paper. You know I'm trying to get that exam."
"But I'm hungry!"
"Well tough luck."
"Why do you have to go to college."
"Because I'm trying to become a librarian, which will give us money so we can pay for the house and buy you food."
"Mother. I will not wait for two years to eat."
"I don't like being broke either. But we are and I have to get this exam."
"Mother. Read my lips. I am hungry [this was 1988, the year that George Bush ran for president]."
"For the 100th time we have no money!"
"So. You have a checking account."
"With no money in it!"
"You have a credit card!"
"I'm sick of this. Go get your little sister we are going to Shoney's."
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Three National Figures of No Importance
Amber Frey
Witness: For the Prosecution of Scott Peterson hit bookstores everywhere last week, and is sure to become a bestseller. For anyone unaware, and I have the deepest respect for those of you who are, this is the story of Amber Frey, a young woman who briefly dated Scott Peterson and later served as a Witness: For the Prosecution at his trial. I haven't read the thing, but apparently she was very brave, and very concerned about Laci Peterson and Laci's unborn child, and she feels some kind of bond with her even though they never met. This bond, if I remember correctly, stems from the fact that they are both women. Also, at one point Ms. Frey apparently drew strength from her faith.
I was working the customer service booth at Barnes and Noble on the day Witness was released, and put copies in the hands of at least a dozen middle-aged women before noon. Around noon a young man who looked like he might work construction came in, probably on his lunch break. I can't remember what he asked me for, but when he saw the big stack of Witness, he pulled one down to examine it. The examination lasted roughly thirty seconds, after which he pushed it back across the counter to me.
"Nope," he said. "She's just not classy," and walked away.
Randy Moss
Similarly not classy is Randy Moss, star wide receiver for the Minnesota Vikings. Mr. Moss caused an uproar in the National Football League last week when he walked off the field with three seconds left on the time clock. Angry at his teammates, frustrated by losing, under the mistaken impression that he would not be going to the playoffs, Moss headed for the locker room on national television while his team remanined on the field to make a last ditch effort. He could be seen walking off the field over and over again for the rest of the week, as different football commentators weighed in with their opinions, every one of them damning.
"He's immature and conceited. It was a terrible decision."
"He needs to learn to control his emotions and grow up."
"He acted with no concern for anyone but himself. It was the most selfish thing I'd ever seen."
Selfish, overly emotional, immature, reckless, it is bizarre to me that these qualities, so offensive in a black football player, are so popular in a white chief executive. Each acts without thought, responding unwisely to the situation in which he finds himself-- one walks out on a football game, the other murders innocent citizens of third world nations. And we get upset about the football game, beause after all, there were playoff implications, and you just don't do that to 56 other guys who have worked hard all year. You just don't.
Paris Hilton
I am told that Ms. Hilton thinks she invented the hip new catch phrase, "That's hot."
Clearly she didn't, and I think that's all that need be said.
Witness: For the Prosecution of Scott Peterson hit bookstores everywhere last week, and is sure to become a bestseller. For anyone unaware, and I have the deepest respect for those of you who are, this is the story of Amber Frey, a young woman who briefly dated Scott Peterson and later served as a Witness: For the Prosecution at his trial. I haven't read the thing, but apparently she was very brave, and very concerned about Laci Peterson and Laci's unborn child, and she feels some kind of bond with her even though they never met. This bond, if I remember correctly, stems from the fact that they are both women. Also, at one point Ms. Frey apparently drew strength from her faith.
I was working the customer service booth at Barnes and Noble on the day Witness was released, and put copies in the hands of at least a dozen middle-aged women before noon. Around noon a young man who looked like he might work construction came in, probably on his lunch break. I can't remember what he asked me for, but when he saw the big stack of Witness, he pulled one down to examine it. The examination lasted roughly thirty seconds, after which he pushed it back across the counter to me.
"Nope," he said. "She's just not classy," and walked away.
Randy Moss
Similarly not classy is Randy Moss, star wide receiver for the Minnesota Vikings. Mr. Moss caused an uproar in the National Football League last week when he walked off the field with three seconds left on the time clock. Angry at his teammates, frustrated by losing, under the mistaken impression that he would not be going to the playoffs, Moss headed for the locker room on national television while his team remanined on the field to make a last ditch effort. He could be seen walking off the field over and over again for the rest of the week, as different football commentators weighed in with their opinions, every one of them damning.
"He's immature and conceited. It was a terrible decision."
"He needs to learn to control his emotions and grow up."
"He acted with no concern for anyone but himself. It was the most selfish thing I'd ever seen."
Selfish, overly emotional, immature, reckless, it is bizarre to me that these qualities, so offensive in a black football player, are so popular in a white chief executive. Each acts without thought, responding unwisely to the situation in which he finds himself-- one walks out on a football game, the other murders innocent citizens of third world nations. And we get upset about the football game, beause after all, there were playoff implications, and you just don't do that to 56 other guys who have worked hard all year. You just don't.
Paris Hilton
I am told that Ms. Hilton thinks she invented the hip new catch phrase, "That's hot."
Clearly she didn't, and I think that's all that need be said.
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Playing Scrabble at Ipanema
Last night I hung out with Mandy Dunn and a few of her friends.
"We're going to play Scrabble at Ipanema," she told me when I called her. "Meet us there in 20-30 minutes, okay?"
A word about Ipanema-
Ipanema is a bar where I don't feel comfortable. I'm told that I imagine it, I even believe that I imagine it, but when I'm in the place it seems like people all look up at you to see who you are and then roll their eyes in disappointment. I am a sad little person who needs for everyone to like me, and though the greater part of me knows it's silly, the lesser part of me gets really uncomfortable seeing a lot of vegans with gauged out ears roll their eyes. This lesser part shook when it considered the amount of eye rolling that would take place when someone challenged me for using the word "qat" (an alternate spelling of "kat", an African evergreen shrub that acts as a narcotic when chewed).
A word about Scrabble-
I am crazy when I play board games, particularly when the game seems to depend on skill or intelligence. A few years ago my friend Nick got really into Scrabble, and I ended up playing a lot of games with him, always losing by at least fifty points. The competitive part of me took this as proof that Nick was at least temporarily smarter than me, and my frail ego decided that if I could not beat Nick at least I would never lose to anyone else. That's when Nick taught me about the word "qat." He also gave me the two letter word list. There are over ninety words in the English language that are spelled with two letters, and memorizing these, or a fair number of them, dramatically increases your score (knowing xi and xu alone is worth a good twenty points).
So I'm in this scenester bar playing Scrabble, torn between a competitive nature that wants to play "ef" and get a triple word score, and overpowering self-consciousness that wants to avoid any situation that would require the dictionary being read aloud. Of course, that's a silly problem and not important at all. It wouldn't even be worth mentioning, except that it gives you an idea of my state of mind when Mandy's friend Sara pointed to the emblem on my chest and asked me "What's on your shirt?"
"Haha, Andrew's always wearing school t-shirts," said Mandy.
I laughed, relieved at the opportunity to tell a funny story. "Actually, I didn't get this t-shirt from school, I got it at a thrift store. I found an MWC Catholic Student Association t-shirt at the thrift store. It's got the top ten reasons to be Catholic on the back."
The table was quiet.
"I'm not Catholic," I told them so they would know it's okay to laugh. Several of them did.
"Well get up so we can see the back," said Sara.
"Nah, then I'd have to get up."
"Oh come on, why would you tell us about it and then not let us see it?" asked Mandy, who had a good point.
So I got up awkwardly, almost knocking several drinks over, and turned, hands in pockets, to show them my back.
"I don't see anything," someone said.
"Yeah," said Sara, "There's nothing there."
That's when I looked down at my shirt and remembered that I had changed it earlier that afternoon.
"Oh yeah," I grinned, my face bright red, "I forgot I changed."
"Hilarious! " said Mandy. "Okay, mortify. That's 50 for using all my letters, and it's a double word score, so 50 plus 3,4,5,6,7, 4 and 4 make eight, so that's 15, so 65, times two makes 130. Awesome!"
"Wow Mandy, that's great!"
"Woo, good job Mandy!"
I could feel the eyes everywhere. They were on me, and they were thinking, "Why is that loser so red? Who plays scrabble in a bar? And what's with him standing up for no reason and then sitting back down? I totally hate that guy. JEEZ."
"We're going to play Scrabble at Ipanema," she told me when I called her. "Meet us there in 20-30 minutes, okay?"
A word about Ipanema-
Ipanema is a bar where I don't feel comfortable. I'm told that I imagine it, I even believe that I imagine it, but when I'm in the place it seems like people all look up at you to see who you are and then roll their eyes in disappointment. I am a sad little person who needs for everyone to like me, and though the greater part of me knows it's silly, the lesser part of me gets really uncomfortable seeing a lot of vegans with gauged out ears roll their eyes. This lesser part shook when it considered the amount of eye rolling that would take place when someone challenged me for using the word "qat" (an alternate spelling of "kat", an African evergreen shrub that acts as a narcotic when chewed).
A word about Scrabble-
I am crazy when I play board games, particularly when the game seems to depend on skill or intelligence. A few years ago my friend Nick got really into Scrabble, and I ended up playing a lot of games with him, always losing by at least fifty points. The competitive part of me took this as proof that Nick was at least temporarily smarter than me, and my frail ego decided that if I could not beat Nick at least I would never lose to anyone else. That's when Nick taught me about the word "qat." He also gave me the two letter word list. There are over ninety words in the English language that are spelled with two letters, and memorizing these, or a fair number of them, dramatically increases your score (knowing xi and xu alone is worth a good twenty points).
So I'm in this scenester bar playing Scrabble, torn between a competitive nature that wants to play "ef" and get a triple word score, and overpowering self-consciousness that wants to avoid any situation that would require the dictionary being read aloud. Of course, that's a silly problem and not important at all. It wouldn't even be worth mentioning, except that it gives you an idea of my state of mind when Mandy's friend Sara pointed to the emblem on my chest and asked me "What's on your shirt?"
"Haha, Andrew's always wearing school t-shirts," said Mandy.
I laughed, relieved at the opportunity to tell a funny story. "Actually, I didn't get this t-shirt from school, I got it at a thrift store. I found an MWC Catholic Student Association t-shirt at the thrift store. It's got the top ten reasons to be Catholic on the back."
The table was quiet.
"I'm not Catholic," I told them so they would know it's okay to laugh. Several of them did.
"Well get up so we can see the back," said Sara.
"Nah, then I'd have to get up."
"Oh come on, why would you tell us about it and then not let us see it?" asked Mandy, who had a good point.
So I got up awkwardly, almost knocking several drinks over, and turned, hands in pockets, to show them my back.
"I don't see anything," someone said.
"Yeah," said Sara, "There's nothing there."
That's when I looked down at my shirt and remembered that I had changed it earlier that afternoon.
"Oh yeah," I grinned, my face bright red, "I forgot I changed."
"Hilarious! " said Mandy. "Okay, mortify. That's 50 for using all my letters, and it's a double word score, so 50 plus 3,4,5,6,7, 4 and 4 make eight, so that's 15, so 65, times two makes 130. Awesome!"
"Wow Mandy, that's great!"
"Woo, good job Mandy!"
I could feel the eyes everywhere. They were on me, and they were thinking, "Why is that loser so red? Who plays scrabble in a bar? And what's with him standing up for no reason and then sitting back down? I totally hate that guy. JEEZ."
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
Tony Kushner on Idealism
Tony Kushner is the author of Angels in America, a play that HBO made into a movie last year. I love Angels in America, and just now while I was bored and couldn't think of anything to do I googled Tony Kushner. Google turned up the following interview, and I thought it was interesting enough to share it.
I voted for Ralph Nader in 2000, and was one of few people I knew to argue on his behalf when he decided to run in 2004. I still don't blame him for what happened in 2000 or 2004, but what Mr. Kushner had to say here gave me pause.
Tony Kushner: Listen, here's the thing about politics: It's not an expression of your moral purity and your ethics and your probity and your fond dreams of some utopian future. Progressive people constantly fail to get this.
You're saying progressives are undone by their own idealism?
Tony Kushner: The system isn't about ideals. The country doesn't elect great leaders. It elects fucked-up people who for reasons of ego want to run the world. Then the citizenry makes them become great. FDR was a plutocrat. In a certain sense he wasn't so different from George W. Bush, and he could have easily been Herbert Hoover, Part II. But he was a smart man, and the working class of America told him that he had to be the person who saved this country. It happened with Lyndon Johnson, too, and it could have happened with Bill Clinton, but we were so relieved after 12 years of Reagan and Bush that we sat back and carped.
See the entire interview here.
Postscript, 1/5/05
I googled Tony Kushner again, and this time I found a scene from a play. It's wonderful.
Only We Who Guard the Mystery Shall Be Unhappy
I voted for Ralph Nader in 2000, and was one of few people I knew to argue on his behalf when he decided to run in 2004. I still don't blame him for what happened in 2000 or 2004, but what Mr. Kushner had to say here gave me pause.
Tony Kushner: Listen, here's the thing about politics: It's not an expression of your moral purity and your ethics and your probity and your fond dreams of some utopian future. Progressive people constantly fail to get this.
You're saying progressives are undone by their own idealism?
Tony Kushner: The system isn't about ideals. The country doesn't elect great leaders. It elects fucked-up people who for reasons of ego want to run the world. Then the citizenry makes them become great. FDR was a plutocrat. In a certain sense he wasn't so different from George W. Bush, and he could have easily been Herbert Hoover, Part II. But he was a smart man, and the working class of America told him that he had to be the person who saved this country. It happened with Lyndon Johnson, too, and it could have happened with Bill Clinton, but we were so relieved after 12 years of Reagan and Bush that we sat back and carped.
See the entire interview here.
Postscript, 1/5/05
I googled Tony Kushner again, and this time I found a scene from a play. It's wonderful.
Only We Who Guard the Mystery Shall Be Unhappy
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