Month: November 2006

  • Semi-precious stones are my best friend

    This month, we paid homage to all the fabulous, Minnesota-made jewelry that’s available. Now you can see ‘n touch it for yourself. One of my favorite boutiques in all of Minneapolis is throwing a jewelry trunk show this evening. Between five and eight p.m., you’ll be able to check out necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and rings off local labels like Farahbean, Bella Designs, and La Belle Bijou. As I understand it, there’ll be an opportunity to swig some champagne and snag a couple bonbons, too.

  • Night Comes In, Crawling

    grandfather goat.jpg

    I don’t know who these people are, have absolutely no idea what they’re saying. Every day, every day, every day some fresh confusion.

    Fog, I guess, a gray shroud I hunch my way under and through. These weird, fuzzed lights emerging, gauzy red and yellow blobs blooming above me. A sinking plane emerges, the underbelly, apparitional and floating through the clouds, coming down.

    Equilibrium is never going to be my thing. Every moment I inhabit seems to be a time bomb.

    I hear dripping from somewhere, and the sound of a television in a dark room, the loneliest sound on the planet. I remember being wide awake in the middle of the night, holed up in a bedroom and listening to a television on the other side of the house, the voices and canned laughter and applause carrying, sound creeping down the hallway and through walls, an absolutely unique sound pulled from the sky above the house, those voices and images drifting all night in the darkness, looking for entry.

    I have no idea how a television works. If I actually try to think about it in any kind of hard and concentrated way I can still convince myself that I’m dreaming this entire life, this room, these books, the additional miraculous puzzle of phonograph records, the wonder of this pen, these ink trails and odd symbols representing some inexplicably agreed upon meaning. All of it –every last thing I can see and hear and touch and remember– nothing more than the confused dream of a fat gob of matter lost in a muddy puddle somewhere.

    grandmother goat.jpg

  • Five Alive?

    wine.JPG

    Hot off the presses, this release from the kids who rep the public relations for Five Restaurant & Street Lounge:

    David Parson Capaccioli is the new Exec Head Chef and Mary Beth Mueller is the new GM.

    Capaccioli is a former instructor at the Art Institute of Minneapolis Culinary Arts School, was once Executive Chef at Cafe Un Deaux Trois and is a “close associate of Vincent Francoual”.

    Mueller has been a manager at JD Hoyt’s, Dixie’s Calhoun, and the St. Paul Grill.

    Apparently Five “will be re-emerging as the restaurant to discover great finger food” and “savor comforting bistro fare”. They will also be “adding a baby grand piano for live ‘lounge tinklings’ Thursday through Saturday”.

    So is that it? Is that the best Plan B for a cutting edge restaurant? Bring in the B-Squad and a piano for “lounge tinklings”? Trust me, I know that restaurants need to make money to survive. But if you’re going to dumb it down to be more palatable to the masses and the investors, I think you have to let the name die. It never was their restaurant, it was Woodman’s.

  • End Times-era Moviemaking

    I never could bring myself to watch Mel Gibson’s Passion of the Christ. And I’m afraid that now, after doing just a hair of research, I feel much the same about Gibson’s latest project, Apocalypto. No Fin de los Tiempos for me, thanks. A short history of my apocalypse fears: As a little Catholic kid, steeped in the traditions of mysticism (and unquestioning faith), I feared for the world based upon one of my older cousin’s prediction that Ronald Wilson Regan was the anti-Christ. Note that there are six letters in each of his three names, said the cousin. Ronald Reagan was to bring about the end of the world on the sixth day of the sixth month of the sixth year of his presidency. My math might have been a little off, but I recall that I was quaking in my Roos on June 6, 1986. And years later, I all but hid on my closet in New Year’s Eve 2000.

    In any case, this latest Gibson flick takes inspiration from the fact that various biblical texts are in agreement with the old Mayan belief that the big end-all will take place on December 21, 2012, when, coincidentally, the earth and sun will align with the center of the Milky Way galaxy. There’s a free preview of Apocalypto tonight at Oak Street Cinema, if you’re into this sort of thing.

  • Ode to Sun Country

    I have flown six times in the past year – three times on Sun Country and three on the “major” airlines. The experience on the the two is so different it is almost laughable.

    Apparently, Sun Country lost money last year. For some reason I thought it was making money. It is not hard to see why it would. Every flight I have taken has been on time in both directions this year. On the major airlines, conversly, I have had minimum delays of two hours on 5 out of the six flights I took. Two hour delay 85% of the time – it is absurd. And while I was waiting I could tell I was one of the lucky ones on the major airlines – I actually got on the flight I was scheduled to be on. I could not believe the amount of people around me that had been at the airport all day.

    Sun Country’s free meal is about what you’d expect on a flight, but compared to the $5 snack box on NWA it is a king’s feast.

    On my most recent flight – which was before the holiday weekend – I boarded a major airline exactly two hours late. While waiting I thought about Sun Country’s recent announcement of expansion. I hope it doesn’t lead to the same problems. Right now before I check any other flights I check if Sun Country goes to my destination. I’d like to keep it that way.

  • Attempting to Fly While Muslim

    I had a hard time deciding whether to write about the “Imam Incident” or the “Bleskachek Blunder“. They both offer up the easy target of political correctness run amok. Everyone’s upset about Muslims being put off the plane, and everyone should be upset about Mayor Rybak appointing someone to a top city job who would have been disqualified if even a cursory investigation had been done.

    Ok, one crack before moving on to the main event: If Bleskachek is magnanimously offering to take a demotion after costing the city hundreds of thousands of dollars because of her misconduct–a demotion to the same rank she had when she sexually harassed and discriminated against her subordinates, with all back pay and her lawyer’s fees covered–can we ask the same of the person who appointed her?

    But, the Imam idiocy gets my attention, if only because it has garnered national publicity. You might put me down as a right wing crank after reading this, but those Imams would have been put off my plane, too. If a story in the Washington Times is to be believed, these guys were intentionally acting to fit the profile of a hijacker. To wit:

    It was an Arabic speaker who helped bring them to the attention of the crew. Presumably the Arabic speaker was not prejudiced against Muslims, yet knew what was being said.

    Three of them requested unneeded seat belt extenders, to draw attention to themselves, yet did not use them. Seat belt extenders can be used as weapons.

    They sat in other than their assigned seats spread through the plane, to draw attention to themselves, and also, as noted in the story, to cover exits.

    They did this in an airport in the constituency of the only Muslim congressman-elect.

    These guys were obviously trolling for an incident. They got it, and they deserved what they got, which was the inconvenience of having to take a later flight, something I have had to do on occasion, including the last time I flew from New York, because the TSA had a problem with my wife’s nail polish remover in her carry-on.

    If they were actually trying to hijack the plane, they would have tried, presumably, to remain as inconspicuous as possible. They were trying to either set up big publicity or a lawsuit against the airline. They got the first, and does anyone doubt the second will follow soon?

    Thousands of Muslims fly every day in this country without incident. These guys could have done so, too, if they’d wanted to.

  • In the spirit of the season

    Assuming you do not have tickets to tonight’s Bob Seger concert, and because plenty of us are plenty stressed about holiday shopping, you might consider focusing your energies on two important going-out-of-business sales. The pink palace of local luxury retailers, Alfred’s Grand Petit Magasin, is closing its doors on or about Christmas Eve. The seminal clothing boutique, Josi Wert, is shuttering up too, but God knows when. What’s important to know is that, for now, both stores have redlined everything. However, shopping will require of you a long lunch or sick time, as neither store is open past the evening rush hour.

  • Sleep the clock around

    What’d I do with the days off? I slept. I slept through the After-Thanksgiving sales, slept through my friend Sam’s birthday party. The weird thing about getting enough sleep, and finally chipping away at that sleep deficit, is that it actually makes you feel more tired than ever. How’m I gonna drag my butt out of bed and to the Brazilian Girls show tonight?

    If you don’t already know of this band, you can get a little taste at their website. It’s good, catchy music, but not exactly the sort of stuff that keeps sleepy heads on straight.

  • Best Car Chases

    Over thanksgiving my wife and I were accosted in front of the Edina Lunds and asked about the “cute shoes” my wife was wearing. This happened as I was about to contribute to the Salvation Army and caused me to reflect for a moment on the true meaning of the holidays.

    Then I lost my train of thought.

    But heh, that’s no reason for glossing over a meaningful discussion of the greatest car chases in movie history.

    As you may know, “the list” is fixed and not open to argument amongst those in the know. Trust me, I constantly tabulate and cross reference this across the 14 or so automobile related magazines and websites I track on a bi-weekly basis (I do, its a sickness.)

    Basically that list looks like this:

    1) Bullitt*
    2) French Connection/Ronin (tie) movies both directed by William Friedkin.
    4) Vanishing Point
    5) (open) Some say the recent car chase in The Bourne Identity but its too short.

    * There is also an arcane French movie called The Chase (I believe) which was illegally shot in the early hours of the morning in the streets of Paris. Its a short 15 minute movie. The director placed a camera under the front bumper of his car and drove like a madman around the city. I will get more information on this. This is apparently even more impressive than Bullitt.

    I promise to track down more details on that short French film and get you some video clips in the remaining hours of this all-to-brief holiday. In the meantime why not drive off some of that fat you’ve all accumulated over Thanksgiving and remember that cars can run on all kinds of fuel.

    Yes, even salad dressing and turkey fat.

  • Make 'Em Laugh and You Will Live Forever

    It’s simple, really: when I’m feeling intolerably blue, when the skies cannot seem to shed that husk of gray and the sun is merely a dim memory, and when all of life feels hollow and miserable, I turn to movies. And one in particular, one that conjures up better days and reminds me of people that I love, like my Grandmother Schilling, my father, friends, and the three transvesitites I sat behind, who, at the Oak Street Cinema, wept with joy at the close of this favorite. These people all laughed with me and our spirits were saved when Gene Kelley and Donald O’Connor sang:

    Moses supposes his toeses are roses
    but Moses supposes erroneously
    and Moses he knowses his toeses aren’t roses
    as Moses supposes his toeses to be…

    and danced circles around Bobby Watson, the fussbudget diction coach while yelling “Hupidubidu! “

    Of course, that movie is Singin’ in the Rain.

    It is nearly impossible not to laugh at that scene, or Jean Hagen trying to say “I cann stann ’em” to her diction coach. Or O’Connor’s “Make ‘Em Laugh” sequence (and his terrifying backflips, which don’t work on mattresses turned on their sides… trust me on that one). Or Kelley’s Don Lockwood earnestly going on about ‘Dignity”, when we know better… Or any number of the moments in this beautiful film.

    Betty Comden, who with Adolph Green, wrote this silly and sublime masterpiece, died on Thanksgiving Day. Apparently, they enjoyed an amazing career, writing a string of muscial hits for MGM and Broadway, collaborating for nearly six decades. But if they never did anything but write Singin’ in the Rain, well, it goes without saying that they gave us a present that will last as long as there are movies.

    For that gift of laughter, for the gift of making the people I care for laugh, I am eternally grateful.