Ten More Statements

Refute, support, disregard, disparage?

1. If you need more than three consecutive tweets to say something on Twitter, then you should not be saying it on Twitter. Get a blog.

2. People who romanticize or look forward to business travel do not do much business travel.

3. Uriah Heep are a far more entertaining rock band than whoever your cool friends are listening to right now.

4. Not being able to wear a hoodie or a chunky knit sweater comfortably in October is a very, very bad thing.

5. Whenever you hear an airplane, you are required to look up until you spot it. Bonus nerd points if you can identify it.

6. If you curse in a song and then issue a “clean version” to get popular radio or television play, then your cursing was superfluous and didn’t need to be there in the first place. Stand by your profanity, dammit, if it’s integral your art!

7. Human Sexual Response were the most unique, unusual and thrilling American band of the early ’80s, and their two albums would be more than enough for you if you were to be stranded on a desert island with them.

8. Paul Gauguin is not all that.

9. If you don’t like Elvis Presley, and you don’t like gospel music, then you need to listen to Elvis Presley singing gospel music. Right now. Go on. I’ll be here when you get back.

10. Every food can be improved with butter, while every food will be ruined with mayonnaise.

Dance of the Cobras

1. One of my favorite things to do while traveling abroad is to visit non-chain record stores and ask the clerks for recent music by local artists that I would not likely be able to find back in the States. I’ve had wonderful success in finding amazing music from the 12 Tonar store in Reykjavik (twice) and at Discos Revolver in Barcelona, to cite two examples, bringing home great music from those trips that still earns regular spins around our apartment. So while we were in Amsterdam last month, I blocked out an afternoon and identified four record stores that seemed promising based on the online reviews I had found. Unfortunately, here’s what I found in each store, with varying degrees of disarray in evidence:

The re-emergence of a vintage vinyl obsession among aging record nerds and wannabe hipsters seems to have forced up-and-coming artists to peddle their wares online and at shows, while moldering crap and arcana from decades ago fills up the available retail space in brick-and-mortar outlets. I saw the same thing in Florence, Italy last year . . . and it’s also endemic among most of the record stores in my home city of Chicago. That’s a real pity, I think. There’s value to a music scene in having your local record store serve as a point of focus for your music community, with knowledgeable clerks standing as great arbiters and champions for the regional specialties. While I suppose I could go to the Google Box and search for “best new music from Florence or Amsterdam,” that’s just going to return results based on how good the local musicians are at search engine optimization, not how good their actual music is.

2. We visited about a dozen museums and ancillary attractions in the Netherlands and Belgium, seeing some really great exhibitions there. One of the nice things about living in Chicago is knowing that the opportunity to do does not end with the last day of vacation, and Marcia and I enjoyed getting to see Takashi Murakami’s The Octopus Eats Its Own Leg at the wonderful Museum of Contemporary Art a mile or so from our apartment last week. It’s a big show in every sense of that word: a major artist, showing a lot of works, many of them physically massive, including breath-taking new pieces commissioned specifically for MCA Chicago as part of the exhibition. Well worth a peek if you’re in the City. Holla if you do, as I’ll be happy to go see it again. For a sense of scale, here’s a snap of Marcia with one of the featured works:

3. Two weeks from tomorrow, I will be headed to Washington, DC for my third (and the 25th Anniversary) STIHL Tour des Trees, joining ~70 other riders and support volunteers over seven days and 500+ miles on our bicycles, raising funds and awareness for arboriculture and urban forestry research and education. For those unfamiliar with the Tour, here are some action shots (courtesy Jeannette Martin) from last year’s event to give you a sense of what it’s all about:

We don’t just ride for the sake of riding, but also make numerous stops en route to spread the good word to audiences of all ages about the importance of research to sustaining our communities’ tree canopies around the country, while also ensuring that the dedicated professionals who work in the field have the best and most current information at their disposal. (And, yes, that’s me cutting the ribbon with a chainsaw!)

The fundraising deadline for Tour riders is July 24, and I would be honored and humbled if you’d be willing to support my campaign before then, by clicking here. 100% of funds pledged/paid to Tour riders go to research, either in the form of grants made in the following year, or (if donors so designate) by adding to our endowment to support research in perpetuity. As CEO of TREE Fund, I’ve made significant structural, operational, and fundraising changes over the past two years, resulting in record-setting levels of grants awarded in 2016 . . . but that, of course, means we also need record-setting levels of revenue to sustain that growth in the years ahead.

I appreciate your consideration of this request . . . and if you’re able and willing to share it with your own social networks, that would be wonderful! Feel free to shoot me a note if you have any questions about the Tour, my work with TREE Fund, or anything else on your mind! It’s always good to connect, even if via a blog post like this one.

(My) Best Book of the 21st Century

Having written about the best films and albums of our nascent century, it seems apt to turn my attention to literature, which is ostensibly the third leg beneath my personal stool of modern culture, which would tip precariously without each of its two fellows.

My 21st Century Film List contained 25 entries. My 21st Century Albums List contained 64 entries. And my 21st Century Books List? At the moment, it contains one entry that stands head and shoulders above all others in terms of my enjoyment and engagement . . . and that entry is A Book With No Title.

Allow me to explain my choice, please. Almost two years ago this month, I posted a blog item about how much I was enjoying Thoughts On The Dead. It was a funny website, for sure, written by a very good writer, cleverly exploring cultural themes I enjoyed exploring, with laughs to be had, for those willing to laugh about arcana of the most arcane variety. Good stuff! Ha ha ha!

But some time between then and now, a standalone story line emerged on ToTD about a Neighborhood in America called Little Aleppo. That story line was anchored upon a truly robust substrate of universe building . . . where the place in which the story was framed emerged almost as a character in its own right, as rich as the human/physical characters with which it was populated. Think Gormenghast. Think Middle Earth. Think Upstate Wasted/Ether. Place matters, right? Right!

This week, that very sublime and well-crafted Little Aleppo story wound to its narrative close after 70 chapters, and I am saddened and pleased in equal measure by this turn of events. Saddened, because I loved getting new stories every couple of days, usually reading them during my morning train rides between Chicago and Naperville. Pleased (on behalf of the author), because I know, as a writer, how satisfying it is to reach a point of closure on a long-term writing project like this one, be it for commercial purposes, or just because it feels good to write, by God, purpose be damned.

I have truly enjoyed reading The Book With No Title episodically, in real time, classic 19th Century Dickens-style. And you can read it that way, too, if you want, as all 70 chapters are independently referenced and linked for now on a single reference page. Once you start, or when you finish, or somewhere in between those points, I hope you will acknowledge the author’s awesome undertaking by hitting the “Donate” button on his site.

Because writing this good deserves to be paid for and purchased. It has both intellectual and emotional value, and we, all of us, should acknowledge and honor that fact by paying for it, when and where we can. I can certainly tell you, straight up, that Little Aleppo provided me with far more enjoyment than the vast majority of traditional/digital books I’ve purchased in recent years, so making a donation to support the work was good value for money from where I sit.

Lest you think I’m shilling for any nefarious personal/nepotistic benefit here, I want to note for the record that I have absolutely no clue who the author of Thoughts on the Dead is, in the  real world, despite the fact that I interact with him regularly in the social media world, and relish his blog postings, daily.  As a “longtime online” guy, I accept the fact that I often have digital friends and collaborative colleagues with whom I rarely/never cross paths in a real/physical world. See here for an intense personal example of that.

Marcia affectionately refers to these online relationships as my “imaginary internet friends,” and I have to admit that I probably have more of those than I do real world friends at this point in my life. So, yeah, that’s real, but not real. And that’s imaginary, but not imaginary. See also: it’s complicated. But at bottom line, genius is genius, whether we know who creates it or not in our real day-to-day lives. I’m happy to interact with such creative folks in the ways that they choose to make themselves available to me. They fuel my own creative energy as they entertain me, and I am very grateful for that.

And that’s a big part of why I confidently assert that the The Book With No Title is the best work of narrative fiction I’ve read in a long, long time. I think all of my readers here, friends real and imaginary, need to get on it too, and read it, and share it, and pay for it, soon. Or now. If you take my advice, then once The Book With No Title becomes the popular print hit it deserves to be in the years ahead, you can get mad props with your peeps by telling them all that you read it way back when, before it was cool.

And who doesn’t appreciate being in the know before the know was known, right?