Bookish Butch – Page 88

How PBS & company maintain my pinkness

Everything I know about-

pretty much,

anything,

I learned from books.

Well,

there are exceptions.

Hockey,

dad and grandpapa,

swagger,

Steve McQueen,

kick ass butchness,

k.d,

how to make a woman swoon,

still working on it:-)

But, I digress,

don’t I always!

PBS and CBC Radio, NPR,

Radio Canada,

your basic liberal pinko media,

have kept me thinking,

since I got out of college,

oh so many moons ago.

Books let me,

dream, aspire, add texture to ideas,

but,

PBS et compagnie,

they shake me up,

my preconceptions, my prejudices,

my cobwebs.

My non-fiction reading is limited,

I tend to consume it,

through pictures and sounds.

What would I really know about,

Architecture if I didn’t watch PBS?

Not much.

I might never make it to the real live,

Lincoln Center or The Met,

but, still I go regularly through TV.

There is a lot of crap on TV,

much useless talk on radio,

but,

there is American Masters and American Experience,

and Q and the Current and The Independent Lens.

I watch crap like everyone,

Family Jewels, Castle,

whatever.

But, when I need them,

my pinkos are always ready to explain,

the situation in Afghanistan,

the depth of American musical theatre,

and why Leonard Cohen is in fact,

a genius.

How the cold and snow,

have shaped our national character,

the reading of Hart Crane’s poems,

over pictures of the Brooklyn Bridge,

Billie Holiday singing,

Karen Kain dancing.

The Congressional compromise about health care.

Information and beauty,

fun and analysis.

Where would I be without them,

where would we be,

awash in a sea of Fox News,

of Survivor and American Idol?

Let’s hear it for the PINKOS.

Later girls

**inspiration Feral Geographer’s comment**

This Butch can’t cry

I feel better,

the hormonal horror,

has rescinded.

They can be hard to deal with,

the hormones,

the wanting to crawl out of your skin,

the urge to get it out,

cry,

whatever.

Pre-Menopause or,

whatever the hell it is,

killer.

If I could cry,

I know I would feel better.

I can’t,

not from frustration,

not from pain.

I can cry during,

Hallmark Hall Of Fame production commercials,

like the guy who learns how to read in his fifties,

so he can read the birthday and father’s day cards,

his little girl sent him over the years,

that I can cry buckets,

also kittens, puppies and,

Canada gold medal ceremonies.

But, any real emotion in my life,

nope,

stoic,

my normally talkative, gregarious,

butch personality,

clams up.

I feel the emotion,

it just doesn’t show.

It makes me appear cold or emotionless,

it makes me defensive,

it makes the people I love,

and care about think,

I don’t.

It’s disturbing and hindering.

Why?

Beats me.

I feel things intensely,

and it doesn’t show,

or it manifests itself inappropriately.

Spontaneous eruptions.

Maybe, I should stick to writing it,

although that hasn’t always been a success,

perhaps what I need is a soft woman to spoon,

or talk it out of me.

Lucky her:-)

I guess my blog is my virtual wailing wall.

Sorry you have to put up with it,

But….

I appreciate it.

Later girls

Cryptic Post :-)

These are my boots.

Well,

mine are smaller and cleaner,

but,

you get the gist.

I haven’t mentioned them in a while,

I thought you might have missed them:-)

I was cleaning and polishing them tonight,

a weekly ritual,

it reminds me of my dad.

and…

I was thinking,

Taking care of my Boots,

helps me think,

Also doing the dishes,

don’t ask,

I can’t explain it,

one of life’s mysteries,

I guess.

I was thinking ….

I’m not going to tell you what I was thinking,

it’s private:-)

But, …

wish me luck:-)

Later girls

Stoner by John Williams-Impressions

I have a weakness for books,

with colleges or universities as settings.

Ditto for,

all boys schools and all girl schools.

Goodbye Mr Chips, The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie,

A Separate Peace, Tea and Sympathy,

a total sucker for them.

I love teachers and academic types.

Perhaps in the heart of BB lies a dormant teacher?

We will never know:-)

So,

Stoner by John Williams,

a touching and inspiring book.

I don’t mean sappy or uplifting,

I mean touching.

William Stoner, is a Midwestern farmer’s son,

he goes to the University Of Missouri,

to study agriculture.

His father and the county agent,

think it’s a good idea,

the land isn’t what it used to be,

and perhaps these new scientific ways,

will help.

William is a dutiful son,

a quiet man,

if his father thinks he should,

he should.

William works hard on a cousin’s farm and,

studies hard,

soil chemistry and such.

In his second year,

something happens,

he falls in love with,

Literature.

He changes his course of study,

he is not tortured about it,

he just does it,

he must.

He goes on to get his graduate degrees,

and becomes an assistant professor.

He marries a woman he loves,

but,

it is not a happy marriage,

his wife is deeply troubled.

He stays with her, she needs him.

He has a daughter who he adores.

He teaches for forty years,

without great success or fanfair.

He retires and soon after passes away.

I realise this makes it sound grim or even boring.

But, it’s not.

William, is an inspiring character.

He does nothing really out of the ordinary,

no heroics or Everest climbs,

but,

he follows his bliss.

Something we should all aspire to.

There is no rebellion or dramatics,

he just lives for his passion.

His is a quiet success,

a personal success.

A life of the mind.

What is utterly fascinating about William,

is that on appearance,

he is a square, conventional man.

He isn’t,

he loves classical and medieval literature,

and spends his life exploring and teaching it.

A conventional man would have,

gotten a degree in agriculture,

returned to the family farm,

and married the neighbor’s daughter.

He has an imperfect life,

we all do,

there are glitches and jealousies and rivalries,

there is a passionate love affair that must end,

and yet he is happy,

he does what he loves.

Deeply moving and masterfully written.

NYRB Classics are right to include it in their series,

I love Orwell

Today is a late day,

I start late, I finish late.

Mom minds the store in the mornings,

Thursdays and Fridays.

I get my morning to myself.

At this time of year it’s quiet,

the windows are closed,

the snow or rather,

close city facsimile,

muffles sounds.

It’s good,

just me,

my thoughts,

and a snoring cat,

The Dude,

is turning into a snorer,

advancing age,

I guess.

On the weekend I was re-reading parts of,

George Orwell’s,

Books v. Cigarettes,

a series of essays.

On the importance one attaches to books,

on working in a used bookshop,

on writing book reviews.

It is a slim and small volume,

published by Penguin,

in it’s Great Ideas collection.

I love Orwell.

I read Animal Farm and 1984 in college.

Strong political and social commentary.

I also read,

Down And Out In Paris And London,

an unforgettable journey,

through the lives of the working poor,

the new immigrant and the homeless.

Stark, hard, and true,

still pertinent today.

Orwell, to me, is a sort of a naive cynic.

An observer of human nature and,

how cruel man can be.

He sees things as they are,

they haven’t changed much,

corrupt power,

the rich getting richer,

the poor getting poorer.

But, he also,

volunteered to help the Republican side,

in the Spanish civil war,

his injuries left him with precarious health,

for the rest of his days.

Talk about putting up or shutting up.

The man believed,

you could and must change the world.

Orwell deserves to be read.

His fiction, prophetic.

His journalism, hauntingly beautiful.

Journalism as Art,

how often can you say that?

Check out this site http://orwelldiaries.wordpress.com/,

they publish Orwell’s diaries as a blog,

I have just discovered it and will be exploring.

Orwell was also a cranky guy,

I like cranky people with attitude,

they move the world forward.

They also believe in truth not rectitude.

Here is an excerpt from Bookshop Memories,

one of the essays in the previously mentioned collection,

a good example of truth and crankiness:

When I worked in a second-hand bookshop–

so easily pictured, if you don’t work in one,

as a kind of paradise where charming old gentlemen

browse eternally among calf-bound folios-the thing that

that chiefly struck me was the rarity of really bookish people.

Later girls

Polar bears, a vanishing breed?

The sky is gray and it looks cold.

Some mornings, I look out the window,

and I know,

cold.

The Habs won last night,

they seem to be getting their rhythm back,

Yesss!

Yesterday was a tough one,

I’m optimistic about today

well,

I’m trying.

You’ve heard of the Dog Days Of August,

these are the Polar Bear days of winter.

January and February,

not for the weak,

a time when,

a heavy coat and an extra layer of fat,

are handy.

Also,

snarling is good,

survival wise,

as in,

don’t mess with me it’s,

f****ing cold,

polar bear style:-)

Mind you,

with climate change,

one hesitates to say,

global warming,

on such a day,

us Polar Bears,

may all turn into pussycats.

Perhaps that is,

the “up” side of climate change,

mellow cats,

replace snarling polar bears,

Canada may never be the same again,

oh well,

we can always b**** about the heat.

Later girls

The need to read

One of my favourite authors, Somerset Maugham,

in one of my favourite short stories,

The Book Bag, describes his,

well, the character’s,

need to read,

this way:

Some people read for instruction,which is praiseworthy,

and some for pleasure,which is innocent,but, not a few read from habit,

and I suppose that this is neither innocent nor praiseworthy.

Of that lamentable company am I. Conversation after a time bores

me, games tire me, and my own thoughts,which we are told are the

unfailing resource of a sensible man,have a tendency to run dry.

Then I fly to my book as the opium smoker to his pipe…

and like a dope-fiend who cannot move from place to place without taking a

plentiful supply of his deadly balm I never venture far without a sufficiency of

reading matter.

I don’t see reading, quite like that but,

close.

I always have a book, a newspaper or a magazine with me.

Sunday laundromat visits,

I bring a book.

Riding the subway on my own,

a book.

Go away for a few days,

several books.

If I owned an e-reader,

I would still bring a book,

for possible emergencies.

Sometimes I travel with another person,

and wish I could read,

manners prevent me.

Waiting and life are so much better with books.

I like people,

I like conversation,

I even like television,

but reading and books,

they are my fall back,

my safe place,

the beginning and end of each day.

Sort of explains the bookish moniker,

I guess.

Later girls

Library Visit, Midwestern week

Last night, although I was tired,

I decided to watch the hockey game.

The Habs have been on a loosing streak,

so I figured I might get bummed.

Oh me of little faith!

With a little over two minutes to go,

they tied the game,

and won,

in overtime,

against The Bruins,

Wow.

OK, I know some of you are thinking,

hockey, opera, … what’s next?

You know girls,

BB is a complexe woman,

more than one thing going on.

We will now desist from using the royal we,

and recount our library visit.

I enjoyed my recent reads.

The Tenants and Brideshead Revisited,

both excellent.

I figured I would only pick up a few,

on today’s library visit,

since I’m waiting on,

The Price Of Salt and Parnassus on Wheels,

both on reserve.

For some time,

I have been wanting to explore some of the,

New York Review Books Classics.

Thomas at, My Porch,

an excellent book blog,

enjoyed Stoner by John Williams.

I trust Thomas’ taste.

It is the story of William Stoner,

bet you thought it was about pot smokers, huh?

a midwestern farmer’s son,

who falls in love with literature,

while studying agriculture,

at the University Of Missouri.

The second book I took out,

is The Library Of America’s,

Willa Cather: Later Novels,

it includes The Professor’s House,

also a Thomas favourite,

So, apparently,

it will be an all Midwestern week here at,

Bookish Butch.

Later girls

Brideshead Revisited, impressions

I finished Brideshead Revisited.

This is my first Evelyn Waugh,

apparently his stuff is usually,

biting and satirical.

Brideshead, is a sweeping novel,

and deals with multiple themes.

The downfall of British aristocracy,

the influence of faith in our lives,

the nature of sin,

love in all it’s forms,

the powerlessness of man in the face of war.

A book that must be read,

slowly and with attention,

no throw away trash.

It took the better part of a week to get through,

not because I didn’t like it,

or contemplated giving up,

I didn’t,

it was the complexity of the themes,

and of the characters.

I really don’t think this novel is for everyone,

but I am glad I read it.

I enjoyed the layers and trying to figure it out.

The narrator is Charles Ryder.

At the start of the novel,

Ryder is a captain in the army,

his unit is moved to an estate and,

he realises that it is,

Brideshead,

the estate of his friends the Flytes.

In the second part,

which is flashback,

Charles meets Sebastian Flyte at Oxford.

They become friends,

almost more than friends.

Sebastian is a strange and intriguing man,

he carries around a teddy bear named Aloysius,

he has a love/hate relationship with his mother,

and with his church,

the Catholic Church,

he drinks way too much.

Charles and Sebastian,

share a special love for each other,

they are not lovers,

but,

there is a strong homoerotic feeling.

In the final part,

Charles becomes involved with Julia,

Sebastian’s sister.

I hesitate to say more,

about the plot,

actually there isn’t much plot,

it’s more about feeling and atmosphere,

ideas and theology,

a representation of a world that no longer exists.

Brideshead, should be a slow read,

a savoured one,

for a sunday afternoon when you have time and,

are in the mood for something,

deep.

Worth your time,

if you are interested in British society,

as it was between the wars,

and in the nature and meaning of sin.

I think I will be grappling with it’s meaning for some time.

Maybe a re-read candidate for next year.

Later girls

A succession of pretty sounds

I am almost finished Brideshead Revisited,

review probably on the weekend.

I am not even going to mention The Habs!!!

Except to say this,

a loosing team,

while a bummer,

is part of what makes you stronger!!!!

In the, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, category.

It’s easy to root for winners.

I have had a suggestion,

for the sixth book in my GLBT Q Challenge.

A good friend,

who usually steers my right,

has suggested Girl Unwrapped by Gabriella Goliger,

apparently it meets the Q requirement.

So, that’s my list complete. (complete list under Challenge)

Today’s post is inspired by a comment,

and is about wait for it……

Opera.

Yes, Opera.

I like Opera.

I don’t go to the Opera or even the symphony,

I always found that plaid clashes with silk,

but,

deep in the recesses of my CD collection,

there lurks some opera.

I grew up listening to all kinds of music,

my dad was a music freak.

In the family record pile,

yes, we had records,

there were many opera excerpts,

famous aria collections,

or great tenors of the 20 Th century,

that kind of stuff.

I never liked the German stuff,

too loud and guttural for my taste,

but, the Italian opera,

Bellisima.

I don’t speak Italian,

and I think that adds to the pleasure.

Once, and only once,

I read what the words to one of my favorite airs,

meant,

something which had been magical,

became ordinary, mundane.

I never did that again,

I’d rather pretend.

Weirdly, it works with French opera as well,

and I speak French!!

But, you can’t really make out the words.

Opera to me,

is a succession of pretty sounds,

to which I attach no real meaning.

I like a little mystery,

in my books, in my music, in my friends,

and mostly in my,

women:-)

Later girls

**one thing I would like for 2011, more comments and less Spam of the cheap Viagra variety**