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  • ODDS and ENDS: Worst Week, Worster Week, Worstist Week, and I Quit

    So, the week started off bad with the Cowboys choking, but at least the Eagles collapse was a much bigger story. One might say that there was little solace in that fact, but they would be wrong – I really enjoyed watching the Eagles lose to Tampa Bay. I am pissed about the Cowboys, but this will be the last I write about it. Just can’t believe that no one showed up to play on that team. Sure, every year I think they will win the Super Bowl (that’s how I was raised) yet in a realistic sense, I thought for sure they would make it to the Conference Championship, and then lose to San Francisco or Detroit; whoever made it there. But enough of that.

    Then my wife hurt her back on Monday.  Now, she is one tough woman, and I have been doing my best to comfort her, but there is nothing I can do to take her pain away. It’s a pretty helpless situation to be in, and that goes for both of us. Slowly she’s been getting her mobility back, but it has been rough going. The whole week got shot to hell for both of us, so it feels like we are running behind, too. I know she will be better soon, and we will get thing back on track, but it’s just frustrating.

    And then the kid had a big test at school that she was positive that she wasn’t going to do well on. It’s a reading and writing test, and she’s not wrong, she is having trouble with writing her thoughts down. Part of this is left over effects from Covid causing school closings, and this is the educational crack she fell into. And unfortunately, many other kids did as well. I helped her prep for the test this week, and she can comprehend and do the work, but she just doesn’t have much confidence in herself when it comes to the test. This was another place that I felt very helpless this week. I was trying to encourage her, build up her confidence, and I even used sports metaphors about how you have to believe and expect to win first, then put in the hard work to be successful. I don’t know… We haven’t got the results yet on the test, so it’s agonizing waiting to hear how she did.

    Finally, to shit out my week, I learned yesterday that a good friend of mine from college died suddenly the night before. There was no warning… they were here and then they weren’t. Logically, it’s been twenty years since I was in college, and unfortunately these things will happen now. That’s a meaningless thing to say because logic in these situations never makes anyone feel better. I hadn’t seen them in close to eighteen years. I hadn’t spoken to them in, like, fifteen years. Hadn’t communicated with them in five, and the last interaction we had was about five months ago when we “liked” each other’s pictures. Just thought there would be one more chance. Like the next time I was in Texas, I would head out to the theatre they worked at, and I would see them. And they would be friendly and kind, and hug, because they were kind. The kindest. They were especially kind to me when I was new in the theatre department, and didn’t know anything. They were kind to help me then, and as I see the tributes on social media, I am hearing again about their kindness, and how wonderful they were to everyone.

  • Short Story Review: “Chance the Cat” by David Means

    (The short story “Chance the Cat” by David Means appeared in the January 22nd, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Bobby Beasley for The New Yorker

    (Edited and Updated on 2/5/24)

    I’m guessing here, but I’ve written close to 100 reviews for my blog. And when I write one, I try to come up with some catchy opening, or hook, or gimmick in the first paragraph to get you, the reader, interested in reading further. The reason I do this is mainly because that’s how I was taught to write essays and critical papers in high school and college. Effective? Yeah, sure. Original? Not really. (Now, watch how I do this.) “Chance the Cat” is such a story that has a hook, a gimmick as one would say, that David Means employees to tell his story.

    What “Chance the Cat” really is, is a deconstructed bittersweet rom-com with a cat and a Secret Service agent, which employees the gimmick of starting each section/paragraph by asking “Does it matter…” or stating “What mattered was…” or some other variant of the aforementioned questions/statement. Of the 49 section/paragraphs, only 5 do not use this hook. There must be a reason for this, right? Those 5 parts must contain some weight to them, because dramatically, when a pattern is created in the narrative, inevitable it will be broken for effect. I am not faulting Means for this structure in his storytelling, merely identifying it.

    I bring all of this up because, as I said earlier, the story is a com-com. There is a meet cute, a budding relationship, a jointly cared for cat, a break up, and then the melancholy remembrance of the time shared. There are jumps in time, as the story doesn’t follow a linear format, which works well with the bittersweet tone of the story. I enjoyed how the story played with how disparate people come together, the crutch they use to stay together, in this story the cat, and how as time passes, it still isn’t clear how one should deal with those emotions from that time together. Using the “Does it matter…” “What mattered…” gimmick plays very well into that theme.

    Did I mention the Secret Service agent? Yeah… this is the only issue I had with the story. (Well, it was a little long in parts…) You see, this couple lives down the street from the Obama’s in Chicago, and as such, there are Secret Service agents on the block checking people who live there as they come and go. Being that this information is essential to the breakup and the climax to the story, I found it an odd decision to share this with us about 2/3 way through the piece. A good amount of time is spent on this agent, whose purpose in the narrative is only to annoy the guy so he loses the cat. That’s it. The agent doesn’t weigh on the girl’s mind years later, nor is there some sort of connection between the girl and the agent, which I thought would happen as it would play into the complication of the central relationship. That was just me hoping for something to justify the agents existence.

    I try very hard not to impose what I want to see happen in a story, but only to analyze and critically examine what the writer has presented to the reader. I kind’a fudged this one. In my defense, except for one character choice, I did enjoy “Chance the Cat.” I enjoyed the structure David Means created to tell this story, and there are many details that layered and deepened the central characters. But that agent…

    (And then I got an anonymous comment this morning telling me that the story was about race, and how it was mind boggling that I could miss that. At first I left a quip about boggling minds, thanked the person for their comment, and asked what they thought the Agent represented.

    I went about my day, but that comment kept poking at the back of my head. Was the story all about race? Could that be right? And if that was true, did I honestly completely miss that?

    So, I went back and reread the story… and I took a whiff on this one.

    And I’m embarrassed by that.

    Rereading the piece, I now see what I missed and glossed over. Especially William’s reaction to the agent stopping him.

    Something still doesn’t sit right with me when it comes to this story. I will stick with my original reaction of the Obama’s being down the street, along with the introduction of the Agent, 2/3rds of the way through the story. That Agent and all of his passages still feel odd to me; not fitting in with the rest of the flow of the story.

    But I think the bigger question in all of this, is why did I whiff so hard on this piece? What I wrote in the last paragraph of my original review reveals everything, and shows my mistake. As I reread the piece, I began to discover how I had errored; I didn’t critically analyze what David Means presented, but started to impose in my mind what I wanted the story to be and glossed over what didn’t fit in with my judgement. I got caught up in thinking I knew better. That was my mistake. I want to own up to, and promise to do better.

    Also, I want to thank the anonymous commenter who did an appropriate job of smacking me upside the head.)

  • Hey! Snow! Which Doesn’t Happen Anymore!

    Up where I live in Harlem, we got little over an inch of snow overnight and this morning. Besides the fact that snow is fun, the other big story with the snow is that this storm snapped the 701-day streak of New York City not receiving at least an inch of snow. Seriously, we have nearly gone two years without any real snow in New York. You know, because the climate is changing.

    It’s funny how in my twenty years in New York, I have witnessed the climate of this place turned on it’s head. Maybe not “funny,” but like “ironic-sad?” No, that’s not correct either. More like, “Depressing-Tears-of-a-Clown” kind’a funny. There we go; that’s accurate.

    When I moved up here, there was snow in November. That first winter, it sleeted on Valentine’s Day, and was so cold that the sleet froze and iced the City for five days. We’d get snow like rain showers, and added on top of that, at least two blizzards a season. And it would be cold enough that snow/ice wouldn’t melt for weeks. That feels like a million years ago, and fairy tale of Winters-Gone-By.

    It’s also true when it comes to Spring and Fall. May used to be an amazing month in the City. It would only get up to 70 at the warmest, nothing below the 50’s at night, and each day of the month it would incrementally get warmer. Everything would start blooming, grass came back to life, and the skies would be just the bluest. September was equally amazing; just like May but in reverse. A slow slide into Fall – You would start the month in shorts and end in a sweater. Now, May and September are bi-polar, raging between too hot and too cold. The gradualness of these months are gone.

    Sure, you could dismiss me as the old guy yelling at a cloud, but the weather facts back me up. It’s warmer and the inclement weather is more erratic. The world is changing, and I at least have enough faith that humanity will be able to adapt, but I’m not so sure on solving this problem. I fear we may never go back to the way it was.

    Ung…

    This went a little darker than I wanted.

    Look I wanted to end with the idea that most likely, I’m going to go sledding with the kid after school, because snow is still fun. Especially to kids and middle-aged men who grew up in Texas and never had any winter weather to play in.

  • Ode to the Cowboy Fan

    Did you see that game yesterday? That humiliating game where Dallas shit the bed to the Green Bay Packers? That game? Yeah, that was awful, and embarrassing.

    Ung… here comes another few years of rebuilding. Possibly a new quarterback and a new head coach. Which sucks.

    I get why all other NFL football fans hate Cowboy fans. Yes, we are cocky with nothing really to show since 1996. But we sure act like we will win the Super Bowl every year, and there is an endless joy in watching us Cowboy fans break down in tears in the first round of the playoffs, year after year, after year, after year…

    And I was angry at that Cowboy team yesterday. I sat through 18 weeks of a season, with solid play from the defense and uneven play from the offense. But through all of it, at least that team didn’t lose at home. Home field advantage meant something, and coming into the playoffs in ranked 2nd, all of their games, save possibly one, would be at home. No, nope, not at all… they choked. Time came to show up, and they all ran away…

    My friend had the best line last night; “Green Bay better go on to win the Super Bowl, proving that no team stood a chance.”

    I can respect that logic.

    But here I am, Monday morning after the worst loss in Dallas Cowboy Playoff history, and I am forced to muster the energy to mutter, “Next year… We’ll get ‘em next year.”

  • ODDS and ENDS: Gym, Dallas Cowboys, and Being a Bad Drummer

    (In case you haven’t heard… Joe Walsh is my Spirit Animal.)

    Made it to the gym today. That would be my first gym visit for 2024. I know that I wanted to go, like, on January 1st, but I am rather lazy. So, making it in the joint by the 12th is like a win. I didn’t do anything crazy, just ran on the treadmill for thirty minutes. Also, I went later in the day, and not at the crack of dawn, as I wanted to miss the “Getting Back in Shape for the New Year” crowd. Yeah… most of these people will be gone by March. I’m not perfect either, but I do at least hang in there until June. I’m back in the gym by September, and then when it’s November, I’m done for the year. So, I really only work out seven months, and skip five. Now this year, I plan on being in the gym for eight months, and out for four.

    Hey! The Dallas Cowboys play on Sunday, against the Green Bay Packers. It’s the first round of the playoffs, and I am ready with hopes to be dashed! Dallas plays great at home, so it is conceivable that they will win this game and the next. Then for the NFC Championship, odds are that could be in San Francisco, which is just trouble. But it is the Cowboys, so there could be a meltdown, and dreams crashed before that. In the end, I picked the wrong month to quit drinking.

    I don’t think about this often, but today was a day when I had the overwhelming feeling of missing being a bad drummer in a not so great band. I don’t think we ever thought that we were going to be a huge rich and famous band, but we did like being loud and obnoxious. I did have trouble keeping in time, and I never mastered a stutter-step on the bass drum, but smashing the hell out of a kit was therapeutic. Lot of aggression got worked out. Another wonderful side effect of being in a not so great band was that we did listen to so much music; different artist, forms, styles, genres, ages, everything… I don’t listen to as much music as I used to. It was worth being in a garage band.