Writing a Novel on My Blog: #2

Click here for the beginning of the novel.

“Mr. Andrews, could I write a sidebar to the cover story? I dug up a pretty interesting scoop – at least I’m 95 percent sure it hasn’t been reported – about Rory. He liked to tell a story about how he ate ham sandwiches with Mama Cass after performing a duet with her on stage in London in 1974. One night before she died! Now, I know that Mama Cass actually died of a heart attack in her sleep after the next night’s show. Sold-out show, mind you. She was very popular. But the legend is that she died eating a ham sandwich! That’s a pretty interesting little nugget, isn’t is?”

“Hmmm. While we’re talking trivia, did you know that Mama Cass died in the exact same hotel room as Keith Moon?" I paused. "I think your blurb might fit in somewhere. I can probably get a good source for you to double confirm it. I’ll say, off-the-record, that Rory liked to tell that story and he told me at least a few times over the years. The legend of Mama's ham sandwich definitely captures the public's imagination."

"Yeah, it's totally newsworthy!"

Starla’s youthful excitability is a pleasure to have around. I have two kids, a boy and a girl, who are both a little older than her, so I suppose she plays a little bit of the role of those two, both off at college now.

As I mentioned, she reminds me of myself at her age. When I met Rory in 1973, he was 24 and I was 13. He was the main reason I was a music writer, and he always drove me. I’m not sure exactly how Starla became similar to what I was at age 18. She must just be more of a natural. Rory also was a natural. Music was always easy for him. It was part of him. And although his death at age 53 has me somewhat shocked, he certainly accomplished a lot of good for the world.

Let the Novel Begin: #1

I've been outlining a novel since last summer. With the outline of more than 100 chapters in place, I need motivation to keep going on the writing. I've been stuck for a couple of months, but if I'm forced to continue writing publicly here on my blog, I may be able to finish it this year. We'll see. Anyway, I plan to unveil a few paragraphs at a time, about 4 or 5 times a week, right here. Feel free to tell me what you think. Who knows, if you've got good enough ideas, maybe we'll co-write it.

Here is the start of my as-yet-untitled novel. Enjoy ...

PART ONE

Chapter 1

Rory Cocksure was deeper, more conflicted, and more regular than any of his biographers made him out to be. He was also deeper, more conflicted, and more regular than the stage name handed to him by the rock gods made him out to be. He never would have let me say this to him, but he would have agreed. And another thing about Rory: He taught me lots about how to live, and how to think about living.

Rory wasn’t all leather all the time. If that were it, I would have surely bored of his schtick. I’ve written hundreds of features on musicians for Rolling Earwax – the legendary magazine that I’m proud (and lucky) to work at as a senior editor – and it’s true what they say about rock stars viewed up close and personal: 90 percent of them are as dumb and affecting as a pet rock.

I could say the same about many of the young “writers” who have come in (and mostly right back out) the doors of the magazine at our offices in the Village. But Starla Matthews, like Rory Cocksure, is different. She’s one of the good ones, which is almost always difficult to say about an 18-year-old intern who, for all I know, may work only another month in the music-rag biz and disappear onto Wall Street or some other job that I would consider more soul-sucking.

In my view, Rolling Earwax is the greatest gig possible. It helps that my seniority allows me to do the jobs I love – reporting and writing – rather than dealing with the politics. I see Starla as a young me. How she got the internship I have no idea. But, modesty aside, she’s a natural at this, and has a nose for what readers want and also for what matters.

She looks like an outsider at Rory’s funeral. It’s hot in Woodlawn Cemetery on this July 2002 early afternoon, and she’s wearing a black jumpsuit more Hillary Clinton than Janis Joplin. While I’ve decided to go a little crazy and bust out my Tom Wolfe-like seersucker, I’m dressed conservatively by the standards of the hundreds of mourners in attendance. The hippies are here. The glam rockers. The indie rockers. Everyone loved Rory, even if most only knew him through his popular persona, most typified as the brilliant life-long rocker able to switch genres with the winds of fad but always with a great hook.

“You know this dump is where Irving Berlin and Louie Armstrong are buried. Not bad company for your friend,” Starla said, a little too loudly, as she approached me.

The Hurt Locker a Worthy Contender for Year's Best Movie

Well, tonight's the big Oscar night. I've been trying to see as many of the contenders as possible. I finally got to The Hurt Locker and it is deserving of the hype.

One could reduce the Oscar race for best picture down to left vs. right, Democrats vs. Republican. The environmental world under attack by an evil and militaristic corporation in Avatar will square off against the grim reality of war and what seems to be an ultra-realistic snapshot of Iraq in The Hurt Locker.

But really, there's no need to get political. Both films are worthy of the award, in what has been an unusually strong year for movies. If it were up to me, I would pick The Hangover as best movie, but seeing as comedy is ridiculously out-of-bounds for the Academy, that could never happen.

Suspense is the greatest attribute of The Hurt Locker. As the kids from Bravo Company work to diffuse bombs, Jeremy Renner as Sergeant First Class William James recklessly leads his crew. Death is, of course, all around, but he's the only one who doesn't seem to mind. This kind of work takes its toll on his fellow soldiers, such as the psychologically damaged Anthony Mackie and the physically shot Brian Geraghty. Renner is nominated for best actor and is wonderful for a relative newcomer (the only other film I've seen with him is 28 Days Later, in which he also plays a sergeant).

When Renner returns home, he admits to his infant son that there is only one thing he loves. Being on the battlefield diffusing bombs in his oversize space suit. And it's not long before he is back where he loves, in a situation where many soldiers become unhinged.

Curiously, the big stars (Ralph Fiennes, Guy Pearce, and Lost's Evangeline Lilly) all play unassuming bit parts.

While I'll be cheering on Avatar tonight, it will be reasonable if The Hurt Locker wins best picture.

****1/2 out of ***** stars

The New Age Military ... And Goats

For a while into this movie, I thought The Men Who Stare at Goats was going to be a stone-cold classic.

The acting and actors were especially snappy, tight, and hilarious. George Clooney is a perfect mix of his whiskery and slick characters ala Three Kings and Ocean's Eleven. Ewan McGregor is a young "Jedi warrior" journalist on a mission to Iraq to prove to his ex-girlfriend that he's a real man. Jeff Bridges follows a strong line of movie-character gurus like Tom Cruise in Magnolia and Mike Myers in The Love Guru. Kevin Spacey is the only big star here who doesn't offer much.

An excellent McGregor finds his way into the middle of the war by sneaking into Iraq with Clooney, who has served for years under the New Age troop leader Bridges (who invented the slogan "Be all that you can be"). The soldiers in this troop learn the spiritual arts of mind control, and Clooney's powers are so strong that, at one point, he kills a goat just by out-staring it.

Although the three main stars keep this movie captivating throughout, and the dialog and social commentary on the true-life adventures of the U.S. military's explorations into parapsychology is truly fascinating and wacky, the script becomes a little tiring. By the end, it seems a little too silly, even by my low standards in this category.

**** out of ***** stars

Pavement Reunites!!!

They're back, playing their first show down under. Now we just have to wait until September to see them in New York. Photos courtesy of Spiral Stairs' blog.

Government Subsidies Could Return Journalism to Golden Era

Senator John Kerry (D-Mass.) convened a hearing in Spring 2009 on the crisis of the current media landscape. And while it's encouraging that there are early signs of a political awakening, the loss of sheer numbers of reporters, enterprising investigation, and deep journalistic thought has clearly entered crisis mode.

"For the first time in modern American history, it is entirely plausible that we will not have even minimally sufficient resources dedicated to reporting and editing the news and distributing the information and informed analysis that citizens require."

These are the words near the opening of a new book by Robert McChesney, host of the Media Matters radio show, and John Nichols, The Nation's D.C. reporter, two writers I've respected since reading their media-theory books in graduate school and seen present their reformist theories a few years ago at Busboys and Poets.

But despite what sounds like a plea for the nostalgia of ink-stained newspapers, The Death and Life of American Journalism: The Media Revolution That Will Begin the World Again makes the call for government subsidies to save the media.

Interestingly, "the entire press system of the U.S. was built on a foundation of massive federal postal and printing subsidies that were provided to newspapers during the many decades that forged the American experiment. The purpose of the subsidies was not to enrich publishers but to broaden the marketplace of ideas and to provide a journalistic check and balance on those who might threaten fragile freedoms."

The authors give the example of public universities drawing subsidies without political interference of academic freedoms. They rightfully blame journalism's problems on media owners, with their emphasis on entertainment over civic value. Thankfully, they don't blame a simple scapegoat like the Internet.

Subsidies is certainly something that would be interesting to explore. With health care, global warming, wars and the obstructionist partisan bickerings of Congress on President Obama's plate, it's probably something that will unfortunately have to wait. Good thing for my blog, eh?

Precious: The Urban Antidote to the Suburban Blind Side

Precious: Based on the Novel "Push" by Sapphire is the second consecutive movie I've seen about a poor African-American kid who is mercilessly abused but goes on to lead a relatively happy existence.

And it's very good, with the benefit of being a lot less Hollywood syrupy than The Blind Side. Mo'Nique is pure evil as the domineering and extremely abusive mother of 16-year-old Precious. She chucks her daughter's babies aside like old rags. Babies that are the product of her boyfriend's rapes of her daughter! Then everyone gets HIV.

Yeah, fun stuff. The supposedly uplifting moments of the film examine the day-dreaming Precious imagining that her high-school teacher is in love with her and that she is a famous pop singer. A lot of these moments seem to cater to the American Idol masses, and they aren't very interesting.

The great thing about the movie is the characterization. Precious and her friends are fascinating, and singers Mariah Carey and Lenny Kravitz do nice jobs in supporting roles as a social worker and male nurse.

It will be interesting to see how many prizes Precious claims at the Academy Awards, where it's nominated in six major categories. My guess is that nothing about the movie is major enough other than Mo'Nique's face-melting scene at the end when she rationalizes her life to social worker Carey. She should be a lock for best supporting actress, if only for these five minutes.

**** out of ***** stars

Palm-Lined Beaches of Dominican Republic: Here We Come!

With my first trip to the Dominican Republic three weeks from today, I took a look at The Lonely Planet's excellent coffee-table tome called The Travel Book: A Journey Through Every Country in the World.

When buddies Tim and Dan and I stay at Puerta Plata on the northern Atlantic side, it appears there will be no shortage of activities to keep us busy for four days of sun and fun.

Some notable highlights:

-- "Rugged mountain interior with world-class rafting, trekking, hiking, and bird watching in the national parks"

-- "Windsurfing in Caberete, the DR's hippest beach town," and whale watching

-- Drinking rum and the DR's Presidente beer

-- Eating sancocho, a "hearty soup with manioc, plantain, and seven types of meat"

-- Since I've already read the excellent The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, by Junot Diaz, next up should be Dominican contemporary classics, In the Time of Butterflies by Julia Alvarez and Feast of the Goat by Mario Vargas Llosa

-- What to say?: "Que chulo" means great!

-- "Trademarks: Palm-lined beaches, plantains, merengue music, rum, cigars that are better but not as famous as those from Cuba, Sammy Sosa, parties"

-- The people?: "Dominicans are amazingly polite and tend to dress quite formally

The Blind Side Enters My List of Top 2009 Movies

Michael Oher went from nothing to making Old Miss's honor roll twice, graduating with a degree in criminal justice, and getting drafted in the first round of the 2009 NFL draft by the Baltimore Ravens.

His story along the way is a touching one, and detailed in The Blind Side, based on a book by Michael Lewis of Moneyball fame. Sandra Bullock is said to be a front-runner for the Academy Award for best actress in her role as Leigh Anne Tuohy, the Republican socialite who took in young "Big Mike." This later results in NCAA investigations into whether Tuohy and her husband (played by a likable Tim McGraw) shaped Oher (played by an even more likable Quinton Aaron) into bringing glory to their beloved Old Miss team.

This movie has floated under the radar somewhat, but it's a quality addition to the best movies I've seen this year: Avatar, Inglourious Basterds, Julie and Julia, Drag Me to Hell, Up in the Air, Adventureland, Crazy Heart, Funny People, Bruno, Star Trek, Away We Go, and The Hangover (I still haven't seen Precious, A Single Man, Invictus, Where the Wild Things Are, Sherlock Holmes, Zombieland, The Informant!, Fantastic Mr. Fox, An Education, The Men Who Stare at Goats, State of Play, The Messenger, and The Hurt Locker).

**** out of ***** stars

Look for my own Academy Awards after the real ones are announced March 7.

Music Reviews in 3 Words or Less: Volume 16

Guided by Voices - Isolation Drills (2001)
Huge chiming crunch
Touchstones: The Who meets Cheap Trick
***** out of ***** stars

Ulysses - Ulysses (2004)
Perfectly melodic nuggets
Touchstones: Apples in Stereo meet XTC
****1/2 out of ***** stars

Trash Can Sinatras - I've Seen Everything (1993)
Sad morning sunshine
Touchstones: New Order meets The Style Council
**** out of ***** stars

The Mary Onettes - Islands (2009)
Jangly Swedish drama
Touchstones: The Smiths meet Shout Out Louds
**** out of ***** stars

The Flaming Lips - At War With the Mystics (2006)
Psychedelic symphonic cosmos
Touchstones: T. Rex meets Syd Barrett
**** out of ***** stars

Cornershop - Judy Sucks a Lemon for Breakfast (2010)
Groovy Indian indierock
Touchstones: Ravi Shankar meets The Beatles
**** out of ***** stars

The Kinks - The Kink Kontroversy (1966)
Invasion's abrasive rollick-ers
Touchstones: Herman's Hermits meet The Animals
***1/2 out of ***** stars

U2 - The Unforgettable Fire (1984)
Dramatic arena wave
Touchstones: Late-era Replacements meet Roxy Music
***1/2 out of ***** stars

Ugly Casanova - Sharpen Your Teeth (2002)
Experimental country punk
Touchstones: Modest Mouse meets Red Red Meat
*** out of ***** stars