Wednesday, November 23, 2011

The Imitation of Christ by Thomas à Kempis

I kept thinking about etiquette books while reading this book, sort of "Rules for Proper Behavior Befitting Monks in the Middle Ages."  Not in the "You shan't pick up your salad fork until the abbot tastes the dressing" sort of way.  But more in the sense that it is exhortations and encouragements on how a Christian ought to live, where their mind ought to be focused, and the fruit to look for from said behavior.  It is an exposition on proper human deportment in light of the Gospel.  In spite of the vastly different age in which it was written, I felt that most of the lessons translate well to modern times.

As a quick side note, these 2011 eyes are continually surprised and delighted by Dr. Eliot's painstaking attention to cultivating the moral fiber of the readers of this series.  In an age where testing, results, and a dermatillomaniacal attention to one's own navel have become the focus of Western education, I find this educational view inclining toward the goal of producing a society whose reigns are held by good human beings a refreshing view.  Although refreshing like Frank Capra films, which always leave me melancholic over how far reality is from the optimism of what's flashing across the screen.

I would hasten to add that I feel that this book may not be for everyone.  It was originally written for his fellow monastics in the early 15th century or thereabouts.  There are a few passages, for instance instructions on giving the Eucharist, which will not apply to most of the blessed, contemporary, literate, chosen few.  There are also passages which I found astonishingly Catholic (we are 1400 years into the evolution of the religion at this point.)  Specifically, Purgatory makes a palpable appearance and the Eucharist is hinted at having spiritually meritorious effects.  It was not exactly meant for the laity and certainly not for the Non-Christian.  Not that I feel that it is any less of a great book.  I am just uncertain that the book would have much practical application for those outside of the sphere of Christian belief.  It is, after all, mainly a treatise on the effects of Christian doctrine on the thoughts and behaviors of the believer.

Indeed, much like Socrates (right down to phrases like "If you think that you know many things and have great learning, then know for certain that there are many more things you do not know"), some of the super-objective of the book seems to be an exploration on what exactly is a good life, that is to say a life well-lived. 

Humility, anti-materialism, enduring temptations, immovable truth, refraining from judging others, choosing poverty, finding peace within as an act of peace toward the external world, patience, and even a rather Eastern argument for letting go of all desire in order to find enlightenment, are all covered.  I look over that list and I think about so many contemporary issues we hear about daily at this particular junction in space-time.  Corrupt and unfettered bankers leading directly to peaceful, angelic youths being pepper-sprayed.  Foreclosures, unemployment, rampant debt, while the cake-eaters come into our homes through our standard-issue lighted squawk-boxes to make millions off of 72 day long marriages and tell people frantic about not being able to get a job to "get a job."  A culture of polarization, the decay of civility, the death of compromise, all heralding economic collapse.  Rage over the disproportions in the distribution of wealth.  All of which I feel could be addressed by some of the service based (read: Slave Morality) behavior encouraged in this book.  The message is not "there'll be pie in the sky when you die" but rather "love one another" and, perhaps more to the point, "If when you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God. For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps."

I would also like to say that I found the voice of the author to be pleasant and humble.  I liked Thomas à Kempis quite a bit.  He lived a very quiet life and it shows in his writing. 

Upon reflection, I may dial back my earlier statement about recommended audiences.  I would recommend that every Christian run, not walk, to the nearest location of a copy of this book accessible to them if they haven't had the pleasure of reading it yet.  Every Christian ought to read this book.  But I also feel like the book will, at the very least, provide occasion for a great deal of thought and self-assessment for anyone.  I also put forth without reservation that the life outlined in this book is "the good life."

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Christmas Wish List 2011

After many exhortations and prompts and cues from my mother, today I publish my Christmas wish list for this year.


1. Bad As Me- by Tom Waits: I still don't have the new Tom Waits album.  Life has a way of getting away from me.


2. The Journals of Spalding Gray: As soon as I learned this book existed, I knew I must own it.  From about ages 15 through 26ish, if asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, my stock answer was "the next Spalding Gray."



3. The Anatomy of Melancholy by Robert Burton: Laurie and I have been fascinated by the existence of this book and are amazed that we don't already own it.  It's not as grim as the title might suggestion, but rather a book of medical theory from the early 1600s.  Reviews lead me to believe that the New York Review Book Classics edition is the one to get. 


4. a bicycle- I plan on riding to my new job, which is in biking distance.  I shall become all lean and lissom and no longer sweat while I eat.  You'll hardly know me.


5. Last and certainly not least: The Exegesis of Philip K. Dick-  A book which I've waited over a decade to see the light of day.


I should probably also add that Laurie very much wants me to get a laptop and I am not objecting to the suggestion.


Speaking of bigger ticket items, I also wouldn't turn down a Kindle.


Or the entire Harvard Classics Library.

I thank you for your attention.
Ta and bisous!

Friday, November 11, 2011

15 Things To Do In This Life

My friend Megan asked, out of the blue, on Twitter the other day to tell her 15 things we, her followers, should like to do in our lifetime so as not to be the martyred slaves of time.  Much like New Year's Resolutions, she mentioned how clicking off a "bucket list" seems kind of horrible and, I would add, might leave one at the end feeling a bit like Alexander (weeping over the dearth of worlds left to conquer at almost precisely my own age, by the way.)

So, I thought it might be an interesting thought experiment to explore what sprung to mind in my own skull.  I find it interesting that so few of my choices revolved around things having little to do with virtue per se.  Rather than that pointing to a bad direction, I found it indicative of moving in directions in my personal life that speak to a life being well lived.  These are "frosting."  I am fairly content with the current state of my life and the seeming future direction thereof.

A few words on do-ability: my experience has been that the experiment mutates rapidly.  So much of my biography has shifted in ways I never would have imagined.  I consider nothing on this list outside of the realm of possibility and, as is so often true in life, may offer a few of those much needed fences in further life choices. 

But, enough.  On with the list.



1. Visit India- I have a deep love for India and its people.  I think it is a beautiful culture.  I also have friends I should very much like to see.  This was an easy #1 choice for me.

2. Attend the Bayreuth Festival- The Mecca for Wagnerites.  Wagner himself supervised the design and construction of the theater.  To see a Ring Cycle at Bayreuth would be near to one of the peak experiences possible for me on this planet.

3. Tour the Vatican- As an art lover, a theology and church history student, and an aesthete, I would love to tour the Vatican.  I know Laurie would too.

4.  See one of my plays produced- Strictly speaking, this has already happened, but not in a profit making environment and only with a one-man show.  I would love to have the play I am currently writing be produced by a professional theater company.

5.  Finish the Harvard Classics Library- which will happen if I simply live long enough to make it through.  I am working on it.  I would hazard a guess that I still have years in front of me to go, but if Augustine didn't stall the project, nothing shall.

6. Meet - One of my living heroes and, I think, one of the more fascinating people alive.

7.  Also would like to visit Athens- Having already trod the streets where Shakespeare, Wilde, and countless others had trod, I can only imagine the hallowed feeling of the truly ancient beneath one's feet. 

8.  Master Greek and Latin- I don't know about mastering, but this is another project that I am working on.  I am currently at a very stumbly level of Latin.  Laurie and I plan on learning Greek together one of these days.  She has some experience in that classic language.  I have none.  One of these days we will take it up.

9.  Create a mixed drink- Wouldn't it be fun to have a signature drink?  Or having a dessert or sandwich named after one's self?  Maybe it's gauche to think so, but I think it would be a hoot!

10.  Have a poem of mine in the Norton Anthology- Yes, I'll admit vestigial and highly unlikely wishes to join the immortals of literature.

11.  Name a star or asteroid after Laurie- While there is no permanence in this universe, I have plans to buy a high-powered telescope when Ezekiel gets a little older to take out into the wild and look out at the wonder of the macro.  I would love to be able to find Laurie Mathers in the heavens.  In case you haven't guess by now, I am a silly and romantic marshmallow of a man.

12.  Have a rose garden- We should always have roses.

13.  Own an Irish Wolfhound- Such majestic canines!  I am drawn to their temperament as well as their stunning presence. 

14.  Reconcile with everyone- Life is short.  The Living are just the Dead on vacation.  People should live gently and be quick to forgive.

15.  Die before Dementia- Ending on a characteristically dark note, my vocation has taught me the horror of Dementia/Alzheimer's.  It is an awful disease and I should like to go without experiencing it firsthand.  I encourage everyone to get informed about it and, where they can, search and see if there is some place in the world where they can improve life for another.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Chronicle Books' Happy Haul-idays Contest

As you may remember from last year, Chronicle Books hosted one of the more exciting contests of the holiday season.  They are hosting an even more enhanced version of the contest this year.  If one has a blog, one posts on that blog $500 worth of items they would like from the Chronicle Books catalog.  One fortunate blogger who does so shall win their wish list!  One commenter on that blog entry also wins the blogger in question's list as well (see, you're in this too.  All you have to do is comment on this post to have a chance to win the $500 worth of books I am about to list.)  Apparently I get to choose which commenter wins, so dress nice for your user photo.

This year, they've added an additional winner: the charity/library of your choice.  The charity gets to choose their own $500 worth (which is probably wise.  While I love my library, I'm not sure they would share my first choices.)  My choice for a charity is, most likely not surprisingly, the Chico Public Library.  I love the Chico Library, spend a great deal of my free time there, and worry about them in these days of rampant defunding.  I should like to be the champion of lending libraries whenever I can.

And so, here is my Chronicle Books wish list for this year.  I am trying not to simply duplicate last years list and, in fact, this year we have a grandchild coming in December, which opens a Narnian wardrobe door of interest in children's literature for me.

As a side note, I have provided links to the Chronicle Books page on each of the listings.  I usually like to zazz these kind of posts up a bit with photos of the items in question, but I'm having a devil of a time with blogger today.  So, please do check out the books in question.  Don't just take my word for it that they look lovely.

1. Dante's Divine Comedy- Illustrated
Boxed Set
By Sandow Birk,and Marcus Sanders
$100.00


Be that as it may, I start with the book set in their catalog that I still covet one year later.  A beautiful adaptation that proves that Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot are not the last two humans to have read the second two volumes of the Divine Comedy.

2.  MoMA: My Museum-
$19.99

Little Ezekiel will need to learn about modern art and begin making his own.

3. The Domaine Chandon Cookbook
Recipes from étoile Restaurant
By Jeff Morgan,Photographs by France Ruffenach
$40.00

Epicurean cookbooks orbiting around wine are some of my favorite things.

4. Nests
Fifty Nests and the Birds that Built Them
By Sharon Beals
$29.95

This looks to be an absolutely gorgeous photography book.  I would add that it is also a beautiful idea for a photography book.


5. Bixology
Cocktails, Culture, and a Guide to the Good Life
By Eve O'Neill,and Doug "Bix" Biederbeck,Photographs by Sheri Giblin
$16.95

Oh dear me, who doesn't love a charming mixology book, filled with guideposts for the bon vivant.  I have an alley.  You will find this book right up it.

6.  Andy Warhol's Colors
By Susan Goldman Rubin
$6.99

This is how I would choose to teach a small child about color.

7. My Milk Toof
The Adventures of ickle and Lardee
By Inhae Lee
$15.95


A book from a delightful and creative blog that I have enjoyed for some time now.  It is a charming "photo-comic" series.

8.  The Architectural Detail
By Edward R. Ford
$40.00

A work on what a "detail" is in architecture, which rather reminds me of the long discussions I've had over what "an action" is in acting.


9. Le Corbusier, Homme de Lettres
By M. Christine Boyer
$70.00

A book about one of the most fascinating people in recent history and a major force in the world of architecture.

10.  Edie: Girl on Fire
By Melissa Painter,and David Weisman
$29.95

Edie Sedgwick is, to me, one of the most captivating figures of the 20th century.

11. The Vatican and Saint Peter's Basilica of Rome
By Paul Letarouilly
$125.00

Oh my goodness, I can't tell you how much Laurie and I would love to have this book in our home!

So, there you go! Comment away for your chance to win this list along with me!  And thank you to Chronicle Books!

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

The Confessions of St. Augustine

This was by far the book that took me longest to read in this series so far and also almost as long as any book I can remember.  Walden took me a few months as well, but that was because I loathed Thoreau.  I found a lot to love about St. Augustine, but it was still a long haul.

This morning to Laurie  I likened it to the first time I saw Casablanca.  I think I was about 18 at the time, and I had heard so often what a great film it was, one of the best ever made, by many people whose opinions I trusted on such matters.  I then saw the film and thought, "Huh.  I don't get it.  It was just an average 1940s noirish film, the likes of which I've seen dozens of times."  It was a revisit years later, viewed with the benefit of a modicum of maturity, in which I realized the perfection encapsulated in that film as well as it being the source and inspiration of so much other great material in popular culture.  I realized in reading St. Augustine that I had been reading St. Augustine for years, although through the filter of many other minds, some of which may not have even realized the wellspring of their thought.  He is so ingrained in my religious path and in our culture as to possess the attributes of invisibility and postulation.  Indeed, much like reading Dante and Milton, I came to understand how much of reality has been formed by this man's thinking.  I came to understand through my reading that he served to mold a great deal of Christianity, and this wasn't even City of God.


Before I go any further, I should probably elaborate on what specifically I found.  Augustine came out of the Gnostic religious path called Manichaeism.  Manichaeism was a Gnostic religion and was, in fact, one of the most popular religious paths of the day.  It followed the teachings of the Persian Gnostic Mani.  Augustine reacted very strongly against Manichaeism after his conversion and there is an argument one can make about perhaps going a bit beyond the call of duty with his objections.

I am inclined to agree with Augustine's rejection of the Gnostic sort of "salvation through knowledge, learning, or wisdom."  I might suggest that Augustine's rather severe doctrine of Hell might stem both from coming out of dualism and also a reaction to the "ebb and flow" view of good and evil in Manichaeism.  But, to be honest with my own reaction, I also have to lay my Annihilationist cards on the table.  I would also mention at this point Augustine's admitted heavy influence by the writings of Plato (a heavy influence which I share), with the specific intention of recalling my reaction to Socrates' view of the afterlife and how much it resembles the popular Christian view of Hell (which was, in essence, Augustine's as well.  Yeah, I said it.)
 
I should probably also state that I am not saying that Augustine formed early Christianity in his own image, rather that he monkeyed with the hues a bit.

As for the difficulty with the text itself, I find it difficult to express why it took me four months to read 300 pages (except that I was also reading other things in the meantime including Proust and the Diaries of Andy Warhol.)  Augustine did have a cyclical style of writing, possibly a translation glitch, which ground me down a bit.  I also found myself disagreeing with the man, again more in matters of hues than with specific points.  At the risk of an ad hominem explanation and speaking as one who sets up camp in the grey area of radical grace which often gives off the appearance of antinomianism, Augustine could and did smack a bit of the Pharisaical at times.  He also made a few moves that made me uncomfortable.  I thought his expulsion of his mistress (and mother of his son) was a bit callous.  Still, being faced with such moments gave occasion to check my judgmentalism, so there may have been some profitable humility exercises to be mined from the work.  Although I would hasten to add that it wasn't that I didn't like Augustine as a person.  I liked him quite a bit.  I just suspect that he would have grossly disliked me.

The biographical section was the easier part of the text.  The real challenge came in the last three Books where Augustine mainly talked around and about Creation.  This could also be a bit excruciating to me at times, especially as one who has no problem reconciling contemporary science with his religious path.  For example, Augustine talked about time for what seemed like an eternity, and his pre-Einsteinian, pre-quantum, heck, pre-Newtonian and pre-Copernican view of time and the universe I found to be some of the most challenging wading of the entire project.

Of course, there was a lot to love about Augustine as well.  His early but solid Trinitarian view I found quite lovely and engaging.  I especially loved how his expressions were so steeped in scripture.  He spends a great deal of his work "praying the scriptures" to God.  His example in that regard may have been one of the greatest lessons I gained from reading Augustine.

Would I recommend Augustine?  Do I think Dr. Eliot was correct in including the work in this series?  I would recommend it with a few provisos.  I would not recommend it to a non-Christian, nor would I recommend it to the sort of young zealous types who are captivated by The Law.  I would recommend it as an important work in Christian history.  It was an exceptionally challenging read and clearly one of the most influential works in Christian history, ranking it high as one of the most influential works in human civilization.  I would speculate that this was Dr. Eliot's reasoning.  I, however, was more joyful back when I was basking in William Penn.



Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Dream Roles, Types, and Drama Lit 101




“A Chinaman of the T'ang Dynasty—and, by which definition, a philosopher—dreamed he was a butterfly, and from that moment he was never quite sure that he was not a butterfly dreaming it was a Chinese philosopher. Envy him; in his two-fold security.”

-Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead



One of the better features of the internet culture is the abreviated, expedited interaction with people one admires but who live in high castles.  When I was growing up, there were these things called fan letters which were wonderful.  You would write your thoughts out on paper and send it by post to the person you admired.  The person would eventually read the note and possible send a response or at least they would sign one that their assistant wrote.  Or have their assistant use the stamp with their signature.  You would hear the stories of famous people corresponding with normals like the gods descending Olympus to mess with the humans. 

I've always felt that it is a good thing to write to people who one admires.  First of all, it's nice to tell people that you admire them and explain why.  You are a better person for being the type of person who takes the time to actually do that.  It is its own reward, but it is also nice to have a response.  On the internet, such interactions are usually far more brief and less substantial, which is why I am still an ardent advocate for the dying art of letter writing. But I will also say that on the internet, in my experience, such interactions are more commonplace than trying to wring a letter from a celebrity.

Still, in the past week I've had two such brushes with people I admire, one of which inspired this blog post with a call for inspiration.  Naturally, I follow fashion icon Michael Kors on Twitter and the other morning he asked what music people were listening to that morning.  I responded "I opened Spotify, typed "Sondheim" into the search bar, put it on random, and am letting it play all morning."  Mr. Kors expressed that he loved that response.

Heartened by approbation from so revered a source, I've been listening to a lot of Sondheim over the past few days.  I adore Sondheim and it always reminds me of my first love: the theater.  I majored in Theater in college with the intention of becoming a playwright.  That didn't happen (or, rather, it may happen while I have another job throughout my life or happen after I'm dead) but the exchange and subsequent music reminded me of dream roles.

I think anyone who has been on stage has probably had roles which they would love to play.  I imagine it has something to do with appreciation for the art and point of view which the character expresses.  I am increasingly aware that I am on the far end of the portion of my life in which I could play The Dane (although there are still arguments to be made from the text for my potential in that role.  I submit to you Gertrude's reaction to Hamlet's early poor performance in the fencing match: "He's fat, and scant of breath."  I know!  Sounds just like me, right?!!?)  In about 20 years, I would love to play both Falstaff and Lear.

But I could talk about the history of theater and my favorite roles for... well, I imagine I could start a whole separate blog on that topic (I should like to ask Emily Post how many blogs are too many for one person.  Perhaps I'll just pop down to the Underworld for a moment and see... Okay.  No more blogs for me.)

So, as brevity is the soul of wit, let's get back to Sondheim, I was never cast in leads.  I was always the slightly dark, slightly mad character who comes in at a point in the show and spices up the narrative, then leaves.  I think I may be too dark for Pseudolus or The Baker but too light for Sweeney Todd or anyone in Assassins.  My body reflects my fondness for the taste of hops too much to ever be cast as Seurat. 

One of my favorite works by Sondheim is one of his less performed.  He wrote a musical based on/rebooting The Frogs by Aristophanes.  In the original, Dionysus descends into Hades to bring back the world's greatest playwright, Euripides, to the world of the living to solve the problems of modern life but, after a battle of wits between two dead playwrights, decides to bring back Aeschylus instead.  In Sondheim's, Dionysus descends into Hades to bring back the world's greatest playwright, Shaw, to the world of the living to solve the problems of modern life but, after a battle of wits between two dead playwrights, decides to bring back Shakespeare instead.  It is a wonderful play and if you've never seen it or heard the music from it before, I advise you to seek it out with all speed.  Someday I would love to play Pluto.  He has a number which is rip-roaring fun even while posing some serious philosophical and theological questions.  How ought we live and why?  What's stopping us?  What is the meaning of life?  What is the meaning of afterlife?:


As a final thought in what's turning out to be a buckshot blog post topically speaking, I am rather chomping at the bit to get through the early Christian writing in the Harvard Classics because next is a volume of ancient Greek drama.

Plays are some of my favorite forms of literature to read.  Much like poetry, they allow the reader to engage in the literary conversation so deeply.  One gets to build the sets, cast the characters, and play all of the parts within one's own mind, free from any budgetary restraints.  More importantly, one also gets to interact with the ideas expressed in the script, imagining ways to interpret, express, and possibly even subvert the material.

As a man whose dream life is that of a playwright and a man who is working toward a lively posthumous career as one, I encourage everyone to read more plays.

Friday, October 7, 2011

True Story




I had an unusual form of disappointment this afternoon.  On my lunch break, I caught a few moments of a local NPR show called Nancy's Bookshelf.  Nancy Wiegman interviews authors who either live in the area (usually having written things like The Conifers of Bidwell Park) or who are passing through (authors who are squeezing in an extra book tour stop between Sacramento and Portland.)

This week's guest was Professor Jonathan Steinberg who has written a 600 page biography of Otto von Bismark.  It is not a subject I would normally have pursued left to my own devices, but the author was passionately informative during the interview and I love furthering my education.  In short, he really sold it, at least as far as I was concerned.  Then came the point in the interview where Nancy asked Professor Steinberg what brought him to Chico and he replied that he was here to do a book signing.  I suddenly became very excited realizing that I had off this evening.  I rushed home to Google the details of the time and place of the book signing, only to find that the interview had been recorded in April.  It was as though the radio said, "Hey, Paul, here's something you really would have enjoyed but missed a long time ago on account of not knowing it was going to happen."

But that's not really what I came here to write about.  I came to write about a thought experiment sparked by a comment from Professor Steinberg on the Genesis of his biography.  He said that he was approached and asked who he would write a biography about had he the opportunity.  He instantly responded "Bismark" who seems to have been a figure of some fascination for him throughout his life.  The difference between me and the professor is that he then went on to be permitted to write a biography which was published by a major publishing house with the expected admirable remuneration for such an effort.

The hypothetical in my mind and kicked around at our dinner table this evening is "How would I respond were I asked that question?"  My initial immediate response was "Glenn Gould" although it strikes me that there are already an awful lot of books available on that subject.  Which lead me to think about biography in general.

My experiences with biography have given occasion to note the vast array of types and styles of biography.  Some are highly academic, some are highly popular (both of which I've found can turn off readers if they oscillate too far in either direction.)  Some raise the subject to heroic, godlike proportions while others are nothing more than character assassinations (again, both of which blah blahdy blah.)  Some offer a unique perspective from the biographer (longtime readers of this blog will remember my review of Detmar Blow's biography of his wife Isabella Blow.)

Some of the more sucessful and engaging focus on a specific attribute.  I recall a wonderful biography of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec which posited the thesis that Lautrec's work was highly political in spite of our modern perception of it being all dancing girls and circuses.  Some other successful biographies I've found focus on a figure involved in a notable historical instance, but who for one reason or another have not been in the forefront enough to have previously thought to merit a whole biography.  I remember being highly moved by a biography of Lord Alfred Douglas.

Another form of biography I enjoy depends on the skill and verisimilitude of the author.  That is to say when a biographer seeks to explore a figure in history about whom we know very little.  I have a whole shelf in the other room devoted to such books about William Shakespeare.  I thought perhaps I would like to write a biography of Socrates.

And there are the great tomes which become widely viewed as "The Authoritative."  One of my favorites is one which perfectly balances the academic with readability.  Michael Schumacher wrote an 800 page stepstool of a biography about poet Allen Ginsberg called Dharma Lion which is among the most enriching experiences I have ever had in reading a biography.  I cannot recommend it highly enough.  The only criticism I could possibly imagine to level against it is that it was written before the subject died and therefore leaves off the inevitable ending to all true stories.

Occasionally, but worthy of making the distinction, there also comes along "The One To Read" which can differ from "The Authoritative" or not.  The obvious example is James Gleick's incomparable biography of Richard Feynman, simply and appropriately titled Genius.  I do make the distinction because there are so many books by, about, and surrounding Feynman that are must reads.  This is the one that you buy a case of and hand out to everyone you know.

As Plutarch wrote, "To be ignorant of the lives of the most celebrated men of antiquity is to continue in a state of childhood all our days."  The impulse to read biography or historical accounts seems to stem from the human urge of seeking wisdom, learning from lessons that others have learned, and an attempt to glean the well-spring of greatness (or, in some cases, the cautionary tales) contained within the life of a world-historical figure.  Therefore, I feel that there is a sort of nobility and, indeed, hope in the popularity of biography.

As a fun diversion, how would you answer that question given the offer to research and pen a biography?

Oh, and by the way, you can listen to the full interview with Professor Steinberg here.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Digging Deeper

I've just had the most remarkable experience which may be difficult to express the enormity in simple words and pictures.  I was driving home from a weekend trip to pick some things up at my place of work.  I work in a neighboring town and I normally commute to it by means of a highway that runs through orchards of some kind (I'm not even sure what they are growing but I do know that almonds are a very common crop in our area.)  Most of my commute looks like this:

And I am usually driving with either the time constraint of clocking in or the time constraint of wanting to get home.  Today, as Laurie was teaching a class, I had no such time constraints and I remembered my friend Matt Raley telling me about the River Road.  While living in that neighboring town, he would often have occasion to drive to the town in which I live, and he told me that he would sometimes take the River Road.  It served no practical purpose and, in fact, added time to the trip, but it boasts a stunning view and takes you right by the Sacramento River.  I was told that it makes a sort of loop from Highway 32 back to Highway 32 after a time.  Which, upon arriving home, I found a map on http://www.chicovelo.org to illustrate:

I had no idea how it worked at the time, but when I saw the sign on 32, I turned.  First of all, it is a country road, which meant that I had the road to myself (even to the point where I could stop and take photographs.)  Second, it would wind around and there would be these startling spots of something simple, lovely, but unexpected coming into view:


Unfortunately, I was unable to take photos at the majestic Sacramento River.  There was also the moment of exhilaration at realizing that I was only half convinced that I would be able to find my way back home and the subsequent delight of reaching familiar landmarks. 

So often in life I find that simple acts of re-examining the ordinary through different perspectives to be some of the most rewarding and joyful acts in life.  Anticipating life continuing in a similar vein for some time, I have the option of taking a different path now and seeing entirely different views.  But even if I choose not to at the end of a long day, now as I drive I shall at least know that that is there.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Bouts-Rimés project poem the third: Christopher

My friend Christopher sent me several eclectic lists of rhymes for my Bouts-Rimés project.  I decided to do something a little different.  Rather than choose one list, I cobbled together a few of the lists to create three sets of four rhymes and a final set of two, which as far as I know is not an established form, but rather feels like one.

What emerged was a set of words which, to me, seemed to paint a span of time and space.  A few languages and one specific dead city suggested themselves.  Initially I thought of a person who had been alive far longer than a human ought to be, but when it came time to put pen to paper (which, believe it or not, I always actually do in the poem writing process.  I don't know why.  It just feels more written to me when I do that.) I found a rare love poem coming out of me, in some repressive, ragamuffin world.

I feel that the end result is one of my stranger efforts, but I found the creative process to be highly satisfying with this one. 

The Reach
by Paul Mathers

She and I were a digraph.
Leaving 'twas my life's great gaffe.
All action since, not much chaff.
Like Tantalus or a giraffe,
I reach back to those days in Edo.
We kept our love so incognito.
Her grandson called me 'abuelito.'
Oh, those scornful looks from Padrecito.
He caused all hospitableness to pickle.
Goaded the gossip's ears to tickle.
This sailor's dollars weren't worth a nickle.
We lived off tossed out pumpernickle.
I fled by night on my tricycle.
Was ever love so farcical?

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Podcast Roundup!

Here is yet another look at some of the exciting podcasts I have recently discovered. As usual, all of the podcasts mentioned are available on iTunes:

APM's Dinner Party Download- The Dinner Party Download is the pinnacle of slick, hip, and urban American Public Media.  I, myself, am about as urban as they come.  I recall a recent dinner party where three of the other gentlemen were remarking on the trend of survivalism, which is to say people going into the wilderness with nothing but a mustache cup and a compass, and remarking that I think I would shrivel up and die after two days without my French Press coffee maker.

But I digress.  The Dinner Party Download claims to be a guide for people to "win" their next dinner party.  The format starts with an "icebreaker" (in other words, a joke), small talk (an offbeat or interesting news story from the preceding week which probably did not get the attention of most), cocktails (which takes a "This Date In History" event and applies a drink recipe to it), and a short interview with a famous person or something like that.  It ends with an eclectic song to listen to on the way to or on the way back from the party. 

My only issue with the podcast previously (I understand that it's très gauche to complain about free entertainment, so don't take this too seriously) was the length.  Having a long commute, there is a slight annoyance in listening to a podcast less than 20 minutes.  However, I am given to understand that they intend to expand the podcast to closer to an hour starting with the next installment.  So, this is a great time to jump onboard.


In Our Time with Melvyn Bragg- My recent discovery of this program was like tapping into an ocean.  It has years of backlog and it is an intense experience.  One way I've described it is that it is to Stuff You Should Know what a steak dinner with mashed potatoes and asparagus is to a Payday candy bar (both will give you protein, but one is far more nourishing.)

In essence, Melvyn has assembled a panel of some of the smartest humans on the planet to talk about a subject.  They will talk about anything in the human experience.  They will talk about things like Abelard and Heloise or Sparta or rhetoric or happiness and what function it serves and so forth.  It really is like an autodidact graduate degree.  Along with that, you have to pay VERY close attention to what they are talking about because they do not slow down and the labyrinthine lines of conversation often lead away from the topic.  Bragg has a sort of genius for being able to discern when this has happened and shepherd the talk back to the question at hand. 

I cannot recommend this podcast highly enough.  I will spend a very long time catching up on it, but those who know me probably realize that I like the sensation of being hit by a tidal wave, not knowing where it shall take me. 

The White House audio-  Some may consider this sort of a cheat, but it has recently come to my attention that one of the most prolific podcasters on iTunes is President Obama.  The White House podcasts not only every speech given by the president (which is a daily occurance) but also every cultural event held at the White House (I recently downloaded a whole Blind Boys of Alabama concert from this source.) 

While having mixed feelings about our current president (as I've had for all previous presidents), so often I have found in life that one gets a fuller and more accurate picture of information by going to the source.  We get so much of our news from highly edited, often highly opinionated sources.  I like to hear the man speak for himself.

Also, I find the daily download painting a very different picture of my nation than the one so often presented me.  First of all, a ridiculous amount of the president's job is public speaking.  Second, in the midst of the soundbites about "passing this jobs bill," we miss the president decorating a soldier who showed tremendous courage in the course of duty.  I feel that this skewed focus robs me of some of my awareness of the beauty of America. 

Time simply does not permit me to listen to every speech that Mr. Obama makes, especially with Melvyn Bragg turning my head.  But I find this to be a valuable and informative resource, a glimpse into the inner workings of our government, and, I would add, yet another service of our government available for our use.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

A Tour of My Office


Subvestment Investments

We are embarking on yet another project which has been a long time coming.  I am of the school of thought that clothes, largely, make the man in so much as that people believe what they see (including the person wearing the clothes.)  I also feel that a male dressing nicely is a counter-cultural act in this day.  We live in the age of the t-shirt.  I should like to be one vote for a more beautiful world.  I think I reflect that in my interests.  I feel it is high time I attempt to reflect that in my appearance as well.

I've lived for some time now with a scattershot wardrobe.  A good deal of it remains from my college years in which I too was a jeans and t-shirt man.  I have a few articles for more formal occasions as the need has arisen over the past decade.  I have a few articles from my intense working out period in which I needed to buy smaller clothes.  They remain in my closet as a testimony that I do retain some capacity for optimism.

So, a lot of the time I find myself dressed like this:



Which shows a light spirit and isn't quite so Death In Venice as continuing to wear band t-shirts into my mid-30s.  But, as I've said before, Jeeves is my spirit animal and I know what my inner Jeeves thinks when I dress in this manner. 

Ideally, I would like to wear a suit at any time in which I am not in pajamas with possibly a few articles for gardening or hiking.  I would like to unleash my inner dandy.  But how does one get from Comic Con to the Literary Establishment?  How does one get from dress of the students in the ivy covered lecture hall to the dress of they who stand at the lecturn?

I know that throwing piles of cash around is one answer, but I am hardly in a position to effect that outcome.  However, just because one is of limited means is not an excuse for allowing one's surroundings to go to pot.  One can brighten any corner of the world that they are given with a bit of care and attention to loveliness.  My marriage to Laurie has largely broadened me in this way.  Before we were married, I understood this concept, but lived like "the crazy used bookseller" which is to say amidst stacks of books with paths to the kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom.  Laurie and I both value the house beautiful.  Laurie just happens to be the one in our pair with the tools to bring that value into realization. 

I am learning though.

My road to this shift started very young.  There was a high school chum of mine who always wore a suit and tie and I've always thought that there was a wisdom in that.  He had a seriousness without sacrificing the natural rebellion of the adolescent (although he came at it in a very fresh way.)  One can wear a suit anywhere and the idea of being dressed appropriately for any situation appeals to me.  This has been in the back of my mind for decades.

Right on the heels of my discovery of the musical genre known as chap-hop (see example below),



Laurie discovered an online television show which has rather turned my head.  It's called Put This On, with the subheading "A Web Series About Dressing Like A Grownup."  It was not so subtle of a hint, but certainly one which I was completely primed to run with.  I think Laurie's words were "it's time for you to start geeking out on all the right things."

Of course, there has also been the influence of our fashion blog.  I wasn't wired to watch nine hours of Austin Scarlett without coming away with a desire to dress better.  I think our field trip to the designer end of South Coast Plaza this past July also got my sartorial salivary glands watering.



Inspired by the webseries, I went out and got the book Dressing The Man by Alan Flusser, which deals with what he refers to as "permanent fashion."  Mr. Flusser teaches on gaining the look of "seasoned simplicity," the emergence of the peacock in the previous century (beginning with the ubiquitous suits up to the second World War, to the rigid conformity demanded by the era of the grey flannel suit, through the 1960s gift of personal expression in dress, to the modern man of style), by mainly giving instruction on the foundation of understanding proper color and proportion.

Hopefully arming myself with these lessons, I am about to embark on a journey.  I was recently telling Laurie about my spiritual path and the shattered remains thereof.  I told her that it was as if I knew what I was supposed to do, but I wasn't doing it.  Likewise, or perhaps as a reflection of same, I intend to now become the man that I intend to be inside and out.  More on this soon.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Bouts-Rimés project: Poem the Second: Poem Girl

Poem Girl left a charming list of rhyme in response to my call for help with this Bouts-Rimés project and I hoped to do it justice with a retelling of the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice.  If you're not familiar with the myth, here's the dumbshow, a lovely little shadow puppet student project adaptation I found on Youtube:

Or you can read the story for yourself here. You'll notice that the original ends rather more brutally than this shadow play.  Or, better yet, seek out one of the hundred or so operas based on this myth. 

Mythology is a rich source of material for the arts and the Greeks contributions have abided for good reasons.  They strike at universals.  Here we have love, loss, death, art, and in one act a major lesson in faith.  So here now is my modest contribution to the grand tradition of retelling the Orpheus myth:

Sight Regained
by Paul Mathers

I remember my song of her grace
and her anguished connubial face
when the Underworld stretched out its lace,
drew her to the Erinyes' mace.
So I forfeir my rights in this race
to the banks of the dead gave my chase.
At Persephone's feet made my case,
Calliope's inheritance my ace,
I was called upon my steps back to trace,
return from existence's base.
As I turned, Hades claimed my embrace
and my flower returned to his vase.
Now through savage woodlands I pace.
In severance, returned to my place.






Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Let's All Write Bouts-rimés: Poem the First- The Ardingers

As I said before, Bouts-rimés is a collaborative form in which one gets a series of rhymes from another person and crafts a poem from them.  Alexandre Dumas, père, compiled a whole book from famous poets of the day with the same set of rhymes.  It can be both a delightful and extremely tricky form.

I am finding a natural tendency toward poems for a precocious but dark child.

I sent out the call to my readers for a set of rhymes and found myself crippled by the choices.  I instead have chosen to do all of them.  Here is the first in the series from the set of rhymes sent by my good friends The Ardingers :

The Dissolute's Dirge
by Paul Mathers

My liver I keep in a sog
for my pneuma's in a bit of a bog,
a condition that circumstance fathered,
to ammend it I shan't be bothered.
Existence is best viewed through fog
to keep horrors from filling your log.
Savoir faire one can glean from my story:
Be the amaurotic in the observatory.
For in a world where the dog eats the dog,
I would sooner make camp with the frog
who on trifles and pests will grow fatter
and not give a rip towards the matter.
So exhausting the state of agog.
To the alehouse for a measure of grog!

August was a drag

Something that may not be abundantly clear to readers of this blog is the great mass of cobbled together neuroses which comprise Paul Mathers. 

I was thinking about my hypochondria last night and how it's actually worse to be aware of my own hypochondria because I have one track running that says "I think I'm getting sick" while another plays simultaneously which says "But I always think that.  But is this the time it's for real or am I just doing it again?"  Which is like the magic shell on the scoop of ice cream which is my constant illness panic, a scoop which is in amongst one of those sundaes where you win free t-shirts for your whole family if you can eat it in one sitting. 

In short, I'm a bit of a mess. 

This past month has been a mammoth case of the mulligrubs for me.  I have every intention of resurrecting this September.  I am not seeking to make excuses or elicit sympathy.  Just stating the fact.

Out of the ashes comes the muffled cackle of the phoenix.  I give my solemn pledge as a doctor of divinity to be more consistent in my blog posting.  The good news is that I've crawled out from behind the couch and picked up pen to finally begin composing the long promised Bouts-rimés project of which I took on a Herculean amount.  I shall begin to post them at (hopefully) regular intervals starting immediately after I finish writing this post.

Thank you to the people I am supposing exist for your understanding.  Life does have a way of slipping through one's fingers.  As does love, empires, and mercury.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Some Quick Housekeeping

1) The bouts-rimés poems are coming.  Patience please.  I did no writing over our vacation.  I am self-imposing a deadline of the end of next weekend since I've chosen 5 poems to write.  They are coming.

2) Please do check out Laurie and my new blogging project.  It is barking mad.  We are discussing existence through the filter of watching every episode ever made of Project Runway.  If you like what I do here, you will very likely enjoy it.  You may also enjoy it if you feel otherwise.
http://runawayprojectrunwayproject.blogspot.com/

Monday, August 1, 2011

Fin de Vacances

So it goes. Jiggity jog and so forth.

I feel as if I've turned a corner this week.  More soon.

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Days 7 & 8: Pastime With Good Company

It took one week before people told me that I looked relaxed.  I slept for most of Friday, got up, went out to the armchair, and fell back to sleep with a book on my lap that I had intended to read.

Laurie's friends, and my new friends (hereafter shall be known as "our friends"), Robin and David had invited us to dine with them at Primitivo Wine Bistro in Venice, CA.  Past the line of gourmet food trucks, Primitivo is a chic little tapas restaurant (the bacon wrapped medjool dates were transcendent.)  I am given to understand that it has been over 25 years since Laurie and Robin had seen one another, so, in a sense, we were all catching one another up with a lifetime. 

We rose early on Saturday and drove to the South Los Angeles neighborhood of Watts.  A high school chum of Laurie's is the proprietor of the acclaimed Watts Coffee House.  Gathered were six or so friends.  The conversation was lively and delightful.  The food was some of the best of the entire trip.  I had chicken sausage, lightly spiced, eggs which I doused with the Louisiana Rooster Sauce provided at each table, and waffles.  The waffles did not need butter.  We tarried, enjoying the food and company, well beyond the time in which the establishment closed. 

The Backhaus Dance Company was formed in the early 2000s by a handful of dancers who went to Chapman University at the same time as I.  I knew several of them and The Facebook has been ablaze for the past several weeks with news of their recital from other friends from my graduating class.  The preeminent New York dance venue Joyce SoHo has numbered the Backhaus Dance Company as one of the seven emerging North American dance companies to watch.  Needless to say, I had been eagerly anticipating taking in their performance for some time.

And the performance exceeded our expectations.  It was a wonderful night of dance, very smartly infused with commentary and choreographic exposition by Jennifer Backhaus.  These interludes served to draw us deeper into the performances and, much like the brilliant decision to have the dancers warm up to the performance onstage in full view of the audience from the moment the doors opened, gave a tour of the clockwork behind such a performance.  I especially remembered their Disintegration piece which, if memory serves, was performed at the Kennedy Center back when I lived down here (and which I believe I saw in a student recital.)  The Pink Martini piece Love and Other Impossibilites was delightful.  Capping the evening, however, was their new piece (performed by long term members of the company, rather than Backhaus Dance Intensive graduates who, I think, comprised the other pieces) Duet(s).  We were stunned by the perfectly bridled mastery and emotion of the piece.  It was a meditation on love, the accompanying pain, separation, and I would go so far as to say what it is to be human, all expressed in dance.

Oh, guess what.  God bless the internet, because here the entire piece is on Vimeo!

http://vimeo.com/26395085

If you ever have the chance to see their work, do everything in your power to see them.

As a personal aside, the performance took place in the Waltmar Theater which used to house Shakespeare Orange County.  I spent hundreds of hours in that theater in my 20s.  Of supreme sentimental value to me, when I went upstairs to use the restroom, I saw the doorway to a room which housed props and leads to the catwalk far above the audience.  I used to live there, occasionally literally.

It was a week of epiphanies.  Boy oh boy, I miss the theater.

Day 6: At The Getty

One rainy morning in 1777, a fifty year old man walked into the parlor of a lush, opulent, and one might daresay stately home in Chesterfield.  It had been a long, rainy journey from London and the man worried about a slight tickle that was gnawing at the back of his throat, developing into a sniffle.  He began to set up his canvas.

The Count walked bruskly into the room with a train of men, functionaries of the Royal Society (the so-called "Invisible College") precariously holding stacks of papers in their arms, one or two trying to direct the Count's attention to the matter they found important.  The Count's eyes locked onto the painter and said, "Ah, so you made it through the deluge, Gainsborough.  Very good.  You're early.  Anne shall be down when she's finished with her morning prayers."

Thomas did not look up from his work.  He lifted the nine foot tall canvas and placed it between two grips which he tightened.  "I thank you, sir.  I shall be ready."

The Count cleared his throat and continued out of the room, his retinue in tow.

Thomas thought briefly about Johann Christian, the composer's son, whose portrait he'd recently completed. Such a warm and intelligent man, so earnest and devout, salt of the Earth.  He thought of Mary and dear Margaret so patiently posing for him with his gamble, his promise to them that once he was satisfied with his exhibit for the Royal Academy they would all quit the city and their life with galling deference to the vapid upper-classes.  No more of setting ruddy old tool merchant's children posing in lavish blue suits for a few week's worth of rent and pub money.  They would retire to the country, buy a modest cottage.  Thomas thought of that dip in the road, about 20 miles south on his way up, that fell into a dark, wooded valley, with mottled sunlight speckling the dark brown, moist leaves.  For the rest of his life, he would remember whenever life became difficult that that place existed somewhere.

In July of 2011, Paul Mathers walked into a room in an art gallery in Los Angeles and saw the Portrait of Anne, Countess of Chesterfield by Thomas Gainsborough.  His first thought on reading the plaque was of a verse from a Noël Coward song about the stately homes of England and their tendency to house portraits by Gainsborough.  He also thought of how this was painted when his nation was but a fledgling making it's first unsteady trip out of the nest and how Gainsborough, as a patriotic Englishman (with somewhat of an American view towards social class), probably did not have a favorable view of the colonists revolting for tax purposes.  He also thought that where he was standing was Junipero Serra country in those days, almost as far removed from all of that as Paul Mathers in 2011.

The plaque mentioned Gainsborough's frustration with his great and immediately recognized talent for portraiture and his desire for a pastoral life of painting pastoral scenes.  Paul thought of poor Franz Schubert who thought his great talent was as an operatic composer but, indeed, was actually in everything but that.  He thought of J. Paul Getty's own description of art collectors as those who have all of the eye and love of beauty of an artist, but lack the skill to create their own artwork.  And, indeed, Paul thought of Paul.

He sat in front of the grand canvas on the sort of round red ottoman provided by the museum in the middle of each of their major rooms.  He found it to be stunningly beautiful, the fast dashes of oil resolving into a gorgeous portrait of a graceful young lady when one stood a good six feet away from it.  He wondered about the young lady in the portrait, a hint of mad, instant love tugging at his heart, and resolved to see if he could find any biographical information on the subject, perhaps for a blog entry.  He thought about his life, wondered what it's going to amount to in the end.  A group of five young college students walked into the room and stood between him and the canvas, blocking his view.





Laurie and I took far too many pictures at the Getty Center to post here, but I did make a photo album of them on Facebook.  You can find it here:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150275228202340.354007.519217339&l=63f40fa096&type=1

Friday, July 29, 2011

Days 4 & 5: Bijou, Bijou!

Laurie and I spent a day shopping.  Window antiquing mainly.  Above is a photograph I surreptitiously snapped in the yard of an antique complex in the city of Orange.  I was especially interested in the castle doors.  I joked that we could replace the entire front of our house with them.

Naturally, we went used booking as well.  Picked up a copy of Collector's Choice:The Chronicle of an Artistic Odyssey through Europe by Ethel LeVane & J. Paul Getty.  It's a biographical (and, in parts, autobiographical) account of Getty's art collecting.  The section I'm reading right now reminds me quite a bit of Rudolf Bing's account of his years with the New York Metropolitan Opera House, 5,000 Nights At The Opera, especially the accounts of John Christie's Glyndebourne and how problematic the political climate around the second world war made operating in the world of the arts, especially those arts historically dominated by the Germanic and Italian.  Laurie purchased a few books on the Inquisition.

Next to the bookshop was an indoor reptilian zoological garden.


Then to Downtown Orange and the many antique stores thereabouts.  Laurie and I window shop here in the same way we did at South Coast Plaza, which is to say with an eye toward sparking creative ideas that we might create on our own budget.  Outside of George Antiques I saw that a simpatico graffito scribe had also passed those hallowed byways.


The next day I spent with my father. He took me to the LA County Fire Dispatch complex where he works and I was given a grand tour.  The building sits on shock absorbers, rather than any traditional foundation, which are able to withstand at least an 8.5 earthquake.  I was taken to the basement where I was able to see them (photography in such an environment, however, seemed like it would be frowned upon, so I refrained from asking.)  The dispatch room looks like something out of an action film and, indeed, I am told has recently undergone a $4 million renovation.  LA County is, in my estimation, in very good hands.  I was honored to find that my father has two of my paintings in his office.

We then went to the movies, which is something both of us, in our respective lives, rarely ever gets to do.  We saw a satirical film about a super-hero in World War II.  It starred Stanley Tucci and Toby Jones.  Or, at least, it did for me.  My father came out of it having seen a film about motorcycles.

That night we went out to dinner with members of Laurie's family.  A splendid time was had by all.  We tried (and failed) to get to bed early as the next day was our day at the Getty Museum.  More soon!