“I can pinpoint the exact moment when I first thought I could write a novel. It was around 1:30 in the afternoon of April 1, 1978. I was at Jingu Stadium that day, alone in the outfield drinking beer and watching the game.” -Haruki Murakami
This sounded well worth a shot, so I tried it myself. A couple summers ago I bought a bleacher ticket to watch a Mariners game. It was a reasonably sunny Seattle day, and I had a section of Safeco Field all to myself. I drank a Manny’s Pale Ale, but the only epiphany I had was that when clouds cover the sun, it can get a bit chilly.
Last May Day, though, serendipity visited me over a pint at a local pub where, in a copy of the Boston Globe, I found Adolphous Bullock’s obituary. This, I was certain, was a life worth sharing with my students. Then it occurred to me that there must be countless other lives worthy of introduction as well. And that’s how my obituary project got started.
I’m sure Arne Duncan’s office is fine and all, but I bet it’s not lined with gold leaf. And in France the top education job is apparently “a prestigious position held by monumental figures,” too. Secretary Duncan may, alas, have better luck installing gold leaf in his office than commensurately elevating its status.
More happily, I like how Madame le (la?) ministre’s mom said, “Don’t worry, life has more imagination than you.” It’s the glass-half-full version of “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.”
Singer on Dick Clark’s Caravan of Stars, co-founder of the American Basketball Association, knighted by Pope Paul VI for humanitarian work in Nigeria…
And that was before his campaign for president, or his talk show. This is one of the more intriguing obituaries I’ve ever read.
(Due to vocabulary and “alignment” issues, I won’t be sharing it in class.)
So asks this article. Apparently it’s a problem.
John Paul Jones noted it a few years back, too:
“Every other name is taken,” Mr. Jones explains. “Think of a great band name and Google it, and you’ll find a French-Canadian jam band with a MySpace page.”
Well, anyone who knows me knows that I am always ready to lend a helping hand, unless said loan would present the risk of even mild inconvenience to me. But it’s no trouble, really, to offer some band names I’ve come up with.
For, alas, I shall never use them. My dream of being the unassuming but overmuchly talented rhythm guitarist in an esteemed indie band, who on tour strolls cities anonymously by day, for he has none of the burdens of celebrity that befall the singer and lead guitarist, but who does have a devoted and distinctively female fanbase worldwide, who… uh, right, the names. Below. Continue reading “Are We Running Out of Band Names?”
The tale of this first year teacher has been haunting me since I heard it last month, not least because he was fourteen.
It’s from BBC’s Witness program. If my podcast ration were reduced to one, this would be it: nine minute gems, often diamonds.
Let me know when I can bring the kids over.
This NPR story on meetings introduced me to the term “weapon of mass interruption,” as well as to lawmaker Cyril Northcote Parkinson:
(Meetings don’t make me mad, Cyril…. just bummed.)
My sinology is not what it should be, so I found this Q&A with the excellently-named Roderick MacFarquhar very interesting. My close reading and litotes skills got a workout from this statement, though:
He’s not yet a figure that so terrifies his colleagues that they couldn’t dream of suggesting to a comrade, “Let’s ally against him,” because they don’t know that that comrade would not report him.
That four-bagger reminded me of one of my all-time favorite bits of writing, Aubrey Buffing’s speech in The Bonfire of the Vanities, which contains this extra base hit:
“But one can scarcely help being aware of the marvelous friendship and hospitality of you and Inez, and thank goodness I don’t have to pretend for a moment to be otherwise.”