“A Glimpse Of The Evil Queen”

“Sleeping Beauty described her childhood as idyllic. She said that she lived the life of a fairy-tale princess; an only child, the darling of both parents. But that all changed when she hit adolescence. Her stepmother’s attitude changed from trust to deep distrust, and they began the fights that continually characterized their relationship from then on (she was in her early thirties when I met her). The problem of sex had reared its ugly head. The stepmother responded by acting as if her innocent child had been replaced by a corrupt imposter; the stepdaughter responded by dating a series of ne’er-do-wells whom at one level she probably thought she deserved (having lost the perfect innocence of the child princess) and at another constituted the perfect punishment for her mother.”

JBP – LINK

“Gentlemen”

Reviewing Gentlemen in March 1994 for The Village VoiceRobert Christgau applauded the raw recording quality and wrote:

Those conflicted guitars are a direct function of the singer-writer-producer-guitarist’s agonized self-exposure/-examination. If the album wears down into covers and instrumentals, that’s only to signify its spiritual exhaustion. No reason to trust him–just his brain selling his ass at a higher convolution. But anyone susceptible to simpler lines, as fisherman or prey, can learn plenty. And the jaded can appreciate the clean, snakelike trajectory of the cast.

The album was included in the book 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die (2010)

Right before I went into Basic Training, I bought this and Alice In Chains’ “Jar Of Flies” on cassette sound unheard. I just went into Plan 9 on Cary Street and paid for two that looked promising.

I had a Walkman type cassette player and listened to the music on the ride to the airport in Richmond, then on the flight to Atlanta, then during the layover while we waited for our bus to arrive to take us to Fort Benning.

Upon arrival there they line you up and yell at you and tell you to turn over all “contraband,” including cigarettes, drugs, gum, lighters, cassette tape players and recorded music. Then they warned you about what happened if they

I really didn’t feel like turning my tunes in so I kept them and hoped for the best. When we finally got to the barracks where we’d train and live for three months, I found an old metal and fake wood sock drawer and shoved them way back in the space between where the drawer stopped and where the back of the piece of furniture began. And there they stayed for three months, until the week we were to graduate we were told we could retrieve our personal belongings in preparation for moving out of the barracks.

My bed was the very last one in the barracks bay and was near the showers. I used that to my advantage many a time when a Drill Sergeant would burst into the bay and demand we do pushups. He usually stayed near the front of the barracks bay and really couldn’t see me all the way down at the far end.

So while everyone else was doing actual pushups, me and the recruit across from me would get on our hands and knees and pretend to do full pushups while making exaggerated groaning noises and grimacing faces. Occasionally, when the Drill Sergeant’s back was turned, we’d throw each other a wink and begin cracking up.

That final week, I’d hide near my wall locker and sit down against the wall, before putting on the black foam headphones to my cassette player and I’d listen to my two cassettes over and over, enjoying the music of which I had been so long deprived.

“The Graduate”

From Wikipedia:

The Graduate is a 1963 novella by Charles Webb, who wrote it shortly after graduating from Williams College. It tells the story of Benjamin Braddock, who, while pondering his future after his graduation, has an affair with the older Mrs. Robinson, the wife of his father’s business partner, before falling in love with her daughter Elaine.

On the episode of the AMC television series “Movies That Shook the World” devoted to the film adaptation, Webb revealed the identity of the real-life inspiration for Mrs. Robinson: Jane Ericson (exact spelling unknown), the wife of an associate of Webb’s father. However, that was the extent of any similarity with the novel; Webb denied having a relationship with her.”

From Literary Hub:

Born in San Francisco in 1939, [Charles] Webb was raised in Southern California’s old-money Pasadena, where his father was a socially prominent heart specialist. Young Charles attended Midland School, a small Santa Barbara–area boarding school that taught self-reliance and independent thinking, then was accepted into the class of 1961 at venerable Williams College in Williamstown, Massachusetts. Dating back to 1793, Williams has been hailed as one of America’s top liberal arts institutions. Though in Webb’s day the student body was exclusively male (female students were admitted beginning in 1970), the young man didn’t lack for female companionship. In his junior year he met Eve Rudd, a Bennington sophomore whose parents were on the faculty of a Connecticut prep school. The legend (one of many surrounding the pair) is that Charles and Eve’s first date took place in a local graveyard. In any case, both were totally smitten, and before long Eve was pregnant. They decided to marry, but soon changed their minds. That’s when Eve’s parents whisked her off for an abortion, then enrolled their errant daughter in a Baptist college out West, the better to keep her from Webb’s embrace.

After graduation, a restless Webb returned to his home state. He audited a chemistry course through the University of California, Berkeley, toying with the idea of becoming a doctor like his father. In the Bay Area, he would eventually reunite with Eve, who’d come to San Francisco to study painting. But a postgraduate fellowship from Williams (akin to the Halpingham award won by Benjamin in his novel) allowed Webb to pursue his dream of a writing career. While pining for Eve, he’d been dabbling in short fiction. Then, newly home from college, he chanced upon a bridge game in his parents’ living room. One player, the alluring wife of one of his father’s medical colleagues, sparked his imagination. As Webb told an interviewer years later, “at the sight of her my fantasy life became super-charged.” Few words passed between them, and certainly there was nothing resembling a liaison, but off he went to the Pasadena Public Library and “wrote a short plot outline to get that person out of my system. My purpose in writing has always been to work things out of me.”

Albuquerque, New Mexico (2013)

We were in El Paso working an investigation conducting interviews and we had to drive up to Albuquerque to interview the alleged perpetrators, who, as I suspected, were actually the victims.

We passed through the pecan fields outside of Las Cruces and had a real New Mexico lunch in an old west town where Billy the Kid had passed through and then continued north on I-25 until we were on the outskirts of town.

Since we had an extra 15 minutes before we were supposed to meet our interview subjects, I asked my partner if we could swing by the now defunct Desert Sands Motel, which is where our putative hero from “No Country For Old Men,” Llewelyn Moss, is killed by Mexican gangsters in room 114 in one of the most shocking twists in recent cinematic history.

(It wasn’t for me as I’d read the book (twice) before the movie even came out.)

I asked my partner to take a picture of me in my typical formal interview attire and I used to show this picture to my students to show what a cool job this could be, except for the fact that my tie knot is slightly askew, which really bothers me.

On the way back to El Paso we got pulled over for speeding by a New Mexico State Trooper who let us go with a wave as soon as we told him who we were. I wasn’t driving.

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