Category: Lopsided Observations

I way I understand it Pete set his phone down on a table next to where he was giving a talk. Richard was walking about the room taking photos of the crowd while Pete talked. Near the end of the track Richard set his phone down on the same table. And then picked it up again. But he didn’t pick up the right phone. Pete put what he thought was his phone in his pocket and went home.

Richard could not get into his phone so drove out to the Apple Store. They wiped Pete’s phone clean and and restored Richard’s phone account. Sometime later Richard got a cal and Pete’s phone rang. It was a call for Richard. Neither of these two are thieves so they both went out to the Apple Store and straightened it out.

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I ran into Daniel Armbruster, Joywave’s lead singer, in the Bop Shop while I was previewing 45s on the turntable. I told him we really liked the two songs from their new lp that were pre-released a few days before. That lp is out now and if this commercial doesn’t get you to click the “Buy” button nothing will.

Joywave premiers a short film in Little Theatre 1 tonight. We’d love to be there but Margaret Explosion is performing in the Café at the same time – 7pm. As it happens we are also premiering a short film today as well. Stephen Black created this gem with one of one of our shortest songs (under two minutes).

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“There is a sour tendency in cultural politics today — a growing gap between speaking about the world and acting in it.

In the domain of rhetoric, everyone has grown gifted at pulling back the curtain. An elegant museum gallery is actually a record of imperial violence; a symphony orchestra is a site of elitism and exploitation: these critiques we can now deliver without trying. But when it comes to making anything new, we are gripped by near-total inertia. We are losing faith with so many institutions of culture and society — the museum, the market, and, especially this week, the university — but cannot imagine an exit from them. We throw bricks with abandon, we lay them with difficulty, if at all. We engage in perpetual protest, but seem unable to channel it into anything concrete.

So we spin around. We circle. And, maybe, we start going backward.” – Jason Farago

I’m guessing Jason Farago worked on this opening passage to his NYT review of the Venice Biennale for a bit or more likely it just crystalized for him after x number of wall tags. Even Pope Francis stopped by the “Foreigners Everywhere” (probably titled as a poke at Italy’s rightwing) Biennale to celebrate its message of inclusivity toward marginalized people. The show’s curators include L.G.B.T.Q. people as “foreigners,” and even the Indigenous peoples of Brazil and Mexico, of Australia and New Zealand as “foreigners.”

When I was growing up there were just a few Little League coaches who took their best players out after three innings and let the second string play the last three. It was inclusive but sort of hard to watch. I am a big fan of the long overdue Title 9 provisions and women soccer players being paid on par with the men – equal playing field etc. But pleasing the senses

This trends has shaped many local shows as well. And so, ok, it didn’t delight the senses. That is not what it set out to do. But it was inclusive. It makes me feel like a straniero.

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“I will stop the killing, I will stop the bloodshed, I will end the agony of our people, the plunder of our cities, the sacking of our towns, the violation of our citizens and the conquest of our country.” – DT on the campaign trail

His jeans are slung low. He wears a white t-shirt and a red bandana. He’s a bit beyond middle age with a scruffy beard. He looks like one of those guys that stormed the Capitol. He started working on this roof during the pandemic. Back then he had two other signs in his windshield and he was cranking right wing radio while he worked. The roof was never fished. Scaffolding and bundles of roofing sat on the roof through two winters. We thought Covid had killed him but he’s back – with one of his signs.

Fetal Voting Rights!

No Borders!

Stop Government!

Mandatory Carry!

Make America Pray Again!

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We caught up with two phenoms this morning by watching a highlight reel of Caitlin Clark from Iowa’s victory over LSU. I love her. And then the new Beyonce album, the whole album. It is a monster although at the hour mark I reached overload on the multitracked vocals.

Woodchuck Tree Service has been working at this house for five days! They toppled of this giant. We’re guessing the trunk is headed to a mill. We were headed into the park to looking for a good spot to view the eclipse. We found a perfect spot in the empty lot across the street from Bruce’s house. I was thinking I could stop by the House of Guitars and ask. Last time we were in there Armand, Bruce’s brother, was pacing up and down the aisles while his radio show was playing through the sound system. He was saying “the name of the place is I like it like that” over and over. I assumed we had just missed that classic. Armand sounds really great on the radio. His show airs at these times .

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“Boil-water notice issued after body found in Highland Park Reservoir.” Now they are going to have to put a cover over the highlight of Olmsted’s park to protect the drinking water.

The blossoming fruit trees, forsythia and Cornus Mas had a dusting of snow when left for our walk this morning. On Log Cabin Road the sun came out and it was a spectacular sight. I pulled my camera out of my pocket and the lens wouldn’t open. It had been so long since we walked and the battery had drained. We were caught up in the early spring and got ourselves into a few projects in the yard, the kind that leave you exhausted at the end of the day. But what a treat being outside all day. I think this is the longest since Ive been away from my blog.

As seen above, we had gig somewhere other than the Little Theatre Café (where we can be found every four weeks) – a memorial celebration of Dave Ripton at Skylark Lounge with three bands. Frying Pan played first, Margaret Explosion was in the middle and the great Nod played last. It was quite an experience playing through a PA, even the amps were miced and the open vocal mics picked up the stage sound. We had no soundcheck I used Brian’s drum set. Ken played his electric bass rather than the double bass. We did a version of “Floating at the Bug Jar” for Casey, Skylark’s owner. He used to own the Bug Jar when we played happy hours back in the day.

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As many times as we have been up and down Culver Road I never get tired of it. It is one of the city’s main arteries between downtown and the lake. We lived just two block off Culver in the city and we’re just two off it here. I road my bike from one end of it to the other and photographed some of the highlights. I always liked the house above. It reminded me of a house in the old section of Beverly Hills.

The new owners have been making some changes (i.e. wrecking it). So with the temperatures in the seventies yesterday, I rode my bike over to the house to take an updated picture. Nothing Lasts Forever.

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February’s bonus day brought a brief but welcome reappearance of winter weather. We walked to the end of Hoffman Road in a snow squall. The red winged blackbirds that we’ve been listening to for the last few weeks were nowhere to be found. The marsh looked like a Tarkovsky still. Twenty-four hours later the sky is blue and the temperature is fifty degrees.

Since my father first identified the yellow flower pushing its way through the snow on our hillside I’ve noted the date. They were out on February 14 this year, the earliest date since I started keeping track. Jared spotted a groundhog in the garden a few weeks ago so he already has the electric fence on to protect the lettuce that wintered over. The cherry blossoms in the park are worrisome. It is good to see the chipmunks are out of hibernation but I miss winter.

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I don’t watch enough football to know what the red zone is but there was an awful lot of red in last night. Enough red in both of the teams’ uniforms for me to keep getting them mixed up in the opening half. And then there is the red in Taylor’s lipstick. The 3D ‘s Super Bowl LVIII graphics, painted on the center of the field were so distracting I couldn’t follow the plays. Going in, Peggi and I sort of thought we were for Kansas City, having watched a few minutes of game earlier in the season while at our neighbors.’ But everyone else in the room, three of my brothers, both of my sisters and our brother-in-law were routing for San Francisco so we had to watch it. It turns out they had all had enough of Mahomes, Kelce and especially Taylor before the game even started.

The lead switched a few times and it was a great game by other Super Bowl standards but we watch so much European football that it was really hard to keep our focus on the game. The US game all happens in snippets, incremental movements of the ball with heroic force by armies of players, with ads between every play. The European version, by contrast, is fluid, 45 minutes without commercials, a fifteen minute break and 45 more. Last night was a five hour proposition with fantastic food and good company.

I didn’t like seeing Kelce slam his helmet on the field and scream at the coach. I worry about Taylor.

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Horseshoe Road, the neglected, long closed-to-traffic road through Durand Eastman Park, is as pretty in the winter as it is in summer. We skied up it today, by the clubhouse, and across Kings Highway. There is another half of the park over there, most of it undeveloped, that we rarely see. The hill leading down to the valley was too windswept to provide a soft landing so we turned around.

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I took the photo above one week ago, just before the snow. The northeast corner of Main and Clinton was looking especially sad. When I was kid I thought this was the four corners of our city. It was where all the actions was, the Roasted Peanut store, Fanny Farmer, Jay’s Record Ranch and the gag gift store. Only later did my father set me straight. The real four corners is blocks away on the other side of the river and it too was once the center of downtown.

When I photographed Main and Clinton in the seventies I was thinking the same thing, about how run-down and seedy the stores looked. But at least there were people out on the streets.

Saint John’s on Humboldt Street had neither a gym or a ballfield. We had recess in the parking lot. We would get on a city bus after school, get off downtown, and work our way to the CYO, now home to Garth Fagan Dance, where they had a gymnasium and pool. There were so many people in the streets back then. I don’t like this trajectory.

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So it finally snowed. We waxed our skis and tried to ski for the first time this year. We got most of the way up to the lake before the snow started sticking so we trudged back. Not complaining. It was pretty. Supposed to go back in the forties this week. In my New Year’s Eve post I noted the ultra fragrant (butterscotch like) witch hazel in the park, that usually blossoms in February, was in full bloom already. I’m sure it will be fine but this cherry tree is not so hardy. What is it doing blossoming in January?

The Members Show opening at RoCo was so crowded we couldn’t see the art. We made a point of revisiting over the weekend. It is always a good one. So many familiar names on the wall, most of whom you recognize before reading the tag. I was happy to see my “Cord in Corner” sold, 100% to RoCo.

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I remember going downtown with my mother, driving through the old Can of Worms when she said, “I wish they could get rid of these billboards. They are such an eyesore.” I laughed and told her I like them. I can see them getting out of hand but I still like them. They are a great distraction while you’re driving. I remember first being wowed by them behind the home run fence at Red Wing Stadium on Norton.

When we lived in city we had what I thought of as minor league billboards. At the end of our street. They were small and positioned on buildings with only moderate traffic out front. I assume the business owners rented their rooftop or wall space. How many extra cans of Dinty Moore Stew do think Wegmans sold after this campaign?

I took these photos more than twenty years ago. I wish I had taken more. It was always a treat when they changed them. I remember calling the Virgin’s 800 number back then and I took a chance that that would still be active today. I didn’t get to hear the Virgin but someone promised they would send materials about sightings of the Virgin if I left my name and number.

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I’m following up yesterday’s love letter to Spain with a small dose of reality. Franco can still draw a crowd. Just like in the US, the conservatives have captured the flag. The colors hanging from balconies denote “the “patriots,” the anti immigrant crowd, the ones who have no tolerance for the separatist movements.

We were sitting in the window of a café in Madrid last Sunday when this couple walked by. They paused for a minute, right in front of us and said something to one another. I fumbled for my camera as fast as I could but I missed getting the front of this guy’s cap. The big white letters read ESPAÑA and it looked just like a MAGA hat. There was a guy sitting next to us at the counter. He was reading El País but apparently watching me as well. He said, “there’s still people like that here,” and he chuckled.

We woke up at five thirty this morning. Still mostly on Spanish time. We couldn’t wait to take a walk in the leaves, it was so beautiful out. They moved our polling location to the Transfiguration Church on Culver. We really liked our old place, the Point Pleasant Fire House. They have a bar in the building that they rent out and we always imagined Margaret Explosion playing there.

At Transfiguration there was a guy with an American Flag shirt on getting out of his car, a button collar, long sleeve shirt with the stars and stripes. The church gloms onto election day to host a bake sale so we checked out the cookies on the way in. The man who handed us our paper ballots was wearing a tie that had “Jesus” printed on it along with a quote from scripture. We cast our votes and bought two peanut butter chocolate chip cookies on the way out.

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It takes a long time for civilizations to develop into higher life forms. That word, civilization, or at least my understanding of it, is the first thing that comes to mind when we land in Spain.

Walking the Camino across Spain through all those small towns and villages we were struck by how little sprawl there is. People like to live on top of one another. They are out in the street, the cafés and bars. They sit in parks and gather on the sidewalks to talk. When people walk into a café they say “Buenos Dias,” to everybody. It is rude not to. In big cities the metro is just as crowded as it is in New York but it is clean and orderly. People are polite. There are far fewer ads screaming at you.

Fresh loaves of bread are in every small grocery and on every table in restaurants. You will often get a free tapa or a plate of olives with a beer. And the tempting tapas and pinchos are always out on display. It’s good for business. It is only sociable. They are often artfully constructed. Cod and potato, atún, anchovies or jamón wrapped around an olive nestled on roasted peppers. You can make a meal out of them if you wish. This is the home of the Mediterranean Diet.

It is surely all older people who buy newspapers but there are enough of them in Spain to keep the regional presses rolling and the three national papers, El País, El Mundo and ABC are everywhere. The cafés still have copies sitting at the end of the bar for you skim over coffee. We watched a Real Madrid match last night that started at 9PM and then read two articles about the match in this morning’s paper!

The government supports the arts. Together with large corporations (Fundaciones) they underwrite museum quality shows that are free to the public. Cities have statues and sculptures in every plaza. The generations spend much more time together. Children are more mature and better behaved as a result.  Sidewalks along the water have no guard rails or fences. Many people still pause at midday for a big meal. Shops close for two hours.

The streets are named after poets and saints. They have a national health plan. People live longer. They have a socialist for a Prime Minister. I better stop.

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Up to the eighth century All Saints Day was celebrated in May. Pope Gregory III moved the holy day, the feast day of all the saints at once, to November 1st in order to dampen the popular pagan celebrations surrounding Halloween. It is a major holiday in Spain. Families fill the streets and pay respects to their dead relatives. The restaurants are packed and the diners lining the sidewalks make the streets look like a great big dining hall.

We strolled by the Palace of San Telmo, built in 1682 on property belonging to the Tribunal of the Holy Office, the institution responsible for the Spanish Inquisition. Across the bridge in Triana we walked through the old Jewish Quarter, down Callejón de La Inquisición where they converted or died. We looked for a pastelería to buy one of the almond pastries they make just for All Saints Day. We found a shop and Peggi asked the woman if she had any of those. She explained that we were in an Arabic bakery so we bought a Moorish pastry. This is a holy day of obligation so there were masses going on in the churches but we noticed a lot of people were just stopping in. We did the same.

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We have packed so many adventures into this trip I forgot to catalog the Atleti/Alaves contest. The Metro ride to the stadium was too easy. We arrived more than an hour before the match with plenty of time for a big glass of beer and a visit to the Atlético store. Peggi picked out a red cotton t shirt and I put it on over my sweater.

Our seats were better than we imagined, just over the tunnel, between the two benches. My watch alerted me to dangerous sound levels before the match had even started. Our first impression was how much faster the game seemed in person and rough. We could hear the up close collisions. It was indeed a fast paced opening, a wide open match with lots of turnovers. I got a great shot of El Cholo well outside his box, both feet on the playing field, animated as ever in all black. But I’m posting this one of one our favorite players, Angel Corea, getting subbed in for Morata in the 64th minute.

Atleti won despite giving up a careless goal in overtime. We fans were happy.

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We have been on somewhat of a news fast here. Our neighbor, Sue, is enjoying our newspaper subscription while we’re gone. We’ve gathered the Israel/Hamas war plays differently here in the Basque region. We watched a huge demonstration in support of Palestine, thousands of people in San Sebastián. Most of them were wearing the stickers that organizers were handing out. The sticker used imagery from Picasso’s Guernica along with a Basque slogan offering support for Palestine. Many were carrying the Palestinian flag and some were waving flags with the Star of David with a Nazi sign inside of it. We are in Bilbao now, only 34 miles from Guernica and we just saw Picasso’s masterpiece last week at Museo de Reina Sofia in Madrid.

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Years ago we saw a performance of a Lorca piece in a bookstore near Plaza Santa Ana. They closed that location during the pandemic but kept their other store on Calle de Magdelana open. We stopped in that store and learned this location would soon close as we because the owner of the building planned to turn into a disco-tech.. While in the Embajadores area of Madrid we stumbled on an exhibit at Filmoteca Espanola entitled “El siglo de Margarita Alexandre, Lola Flores y Ana Mariscal.” The three women ruled Spanish cinema in the middle part of the twentieth century. Lola Flores was a revelation!

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