Superstructure vs. The Loved Brown Owl

Thumbing through Schoenbaum's "compact documentary life" of Shakespeare I come upon a description quoted from another book: "Because of its associations, the house has not wanted fanciful appreciation. 'Shadows and weird noises are in the rafters, the wind is in the chimneys, crickets are on the hearth, fairies glisten in the light of the dying fire, through leaded windows shines the moon, without is the to-wit to-whoo of the loved brown owl.'" Schoenbaum makes me laugh by drily adding "However this may be" - ha ha ha! - "the dwelling consists of a stone groundsill, or low foundation wall, upon which rests a sturdy oak superstructure." Though I have ceased "blogging" I still have to tell you every time I read a book with an owl in it, and every book I read has an owl in it so we'll be seeing each other a lot, I guess.

Bejeweled Woman Descending From the Chimney

My sister, who is interested in Casanova as a historical figure, probably already knows this, but according to a movie review I read in the New York Times today, Casanova claimed that his first memory was of "being locked in a chest by a witch to treat childhood nosebleeds and hallucinating a bejeweled woman descending from the chimney."

Foodstuffs!

Welcome once again to our regular feature "Foodstuffs!" - the only place on the "internet" where you can read about food! Whoops, it has been about two years since the last "Foodstuffs!", sorry. So I keep listening to this sea chantey over and over, all about a happy cod fisherman. Here (pictured) is the very fellow who sings it! It sounds as if the refrain is "this is a snakesman's life at sea," but I looked up "snakesman" and that seems to be a little skinny burglar who can fit into tight places the better to rob you... like chimneys? I don't know, I wasn't paying attention. The "internet" tells me this guy is singing "smacksman," not "snakesman." Sure sounds like "snakesman." I don't know what a "smacksman" is, except that it seems less interesting than a "snakesman." In one startling part of the ballad, our friend describes how the townspeople enjoy gathering "to see us get our fish on deck/ and crack their skulls with a little short stick." Take your entertainment where you can get it! I suppose you are disappointed because this was not a continuation of our recent discussion of Melba toast. WRONG! I looked up toast in my OXFORD COMPANION TO FOOD, and the author is practically fainting from how stoked he is to come from England, which has the greatest toast traditions, according to his swooning rhapsodies on the subject. He does mention that the romantic creation tale of Melba toast is thought by toast scholars to be "appealing but questionable." I ask you, is there any real truth in life? I guess not! The article is sprinkled - I should say "spread," ha ha! - with irresistible sentences like, "Meat toppings for toast became fashionable during the 16th century." Now, this has nothing to do with food, but we're all here so what the hell: This Norman Mailer bio wastes no time - page 11! - in saying Mailer's father looked owlish, making it a book with an owl in it. Yes, that counts! "Click" here and here if you don't believe me. Ha, I know you won't "click." You never do! It's what makes our relationship so volatile and passionate. I've never felt closer to you.

Elongated Lunch

Long lunch with Tom Franklin. All our lunches are long. We talked about the Jerry Lewis/Dean Martin movie THAT'S MY BOY (not to be confused with the current Adam Sandler movie of the same title), Tom's favorite. He said it came on unexpectedly one morning when (as a kid) he was supposed to be in church. "Worth more than all the sermons I ever heard," he said. Then we talked a lot about superheroes, including The Elongated Man. Tom couldn't stop laughing about The Elongated Man sticking his elongated ear down a chimney to hear the bad guys' plans. "Look! An ear in the chimney!" Tom recalled the bad guys saying. That's what made Tom laugh so much he could barely tell me.

The Haunted Bacon

Another ghost story from John Aubrey. This one comes in the form of a letter from "the Reverend Mr. Andrew Paschal, B.D., Rector of Chedzoy in Somerset." It's all about a fellow named Francis Fry, who met a "Man-Spectre" with a "Pole in his Hand" and a ghostly "Gentlewoman" who sometimes appeared "in shapes more horrid, as of a Dog belching Fire." Boy, did these two cause Francis Fry some trouble! For example, they tore his "best Periwig... all to flitters... I should have told you the Fate of his Shoe-strings, one of which a Gentlewoman greater than all exception, assured me that she saw it come out of his Shoe, without any visible Hand, and fling itself to the farther end of the room." A maid grabbed the other shoelace, "which crisp'd and curl'd about her Hand like a living Eel... other fantastical Freeks have been very frequent... two Flitches of Bacon descending from the Chimney where they hung..." Finally poor Fry "was caught by the Woman Spectre by the Skirts of his Doublet, and carried into the Air... half an Hour after, Fry was heard Whistling and Singing in a kind of Quagmire."

Obscure Commerce

Don't you want to hear about a commercial I saw in the wee hours when I couldn't sleep? As I have noted before, commercials at that hour are obscurer. This one was for a jewelry store, which is not as obscure as the time I saw the one for the chimney sweep. And I seem to recall a birdseed commercial I saw back in Atlanta one time. Ah yes, I love to sit back and nostalgically consider commercials I have seen. Last night's scene was set in a family garage. Dad was under the car, tinkering away! You know how he is! He rolled out to retrieve something and his son surprised him by asking advice on the subject of marriage proposal. "You need to get down to Riddles Jewelry Store. They have great bargains and the finest quality merchandise. She's worth it," the dad suggested. I am paraphrasing, but that's pretty close. I believe that was the name of the store: Riddles. At the close of his advice, the dad rolled back under the car and called for a wrench. When he rolled back out, his son did not hand him the wrench, for the son had already scooted off to Riddles! The dad looked around, amazed. Then, as the announcer drove home the message about Riddles, we were treated to a pantomime scene of the son at the ring counter, his face aglow with happiness. He was holding the wrench aloft! That's where the wrench went! The son ran so fast to the store that he forgot he was holding the wrench! I could almost hear the director: "Hold it higher! Higher! We have to see the wrench! That's the payoff!" The result was somewhat unnatural for the poor actor required to display the wrench. He probably said, "Why would I be holding the wrench like this?" And the director was like, "You're so excited, you forgot you have it!" And the kid said, "Okay, I guess that could happen, but in that case wouldn't it just be held loosely at my side like this?" And the director said, "Then there's no payoff! The jewelry counter is blocking the shot!" And they argued a little, and the director said, "What are you, John Cassevetes? I can get a hundred other kids in here who will hold the wrench. Just do it!" The unintended consequence was that the final scene in the commercial looked like a jewel store robbery in progress! If the man didn't hand over the goods, the kid was going to slug him with a wrench! That was the general impression. Of course the kid had a big goofy smile plastered on his mug, but maybe he was one of those grinning psychopaths you hear about.

New Hampshire's Largest Hearth Retailer

I was up at four in the morning and couldn't go back to sleep. Do you know who pays for 30 seconds of local airtime at four in the morning to run their commercial during an episode of CHEERS? Chimney sweeps! There were shots of the interiors of clean chimneys, and a voiceover guy telling you why it is important to keep your chimney clean (a dirty chimney can start a fire, maybe? I believe that was one of the selling points). The name of the company is "Ash Ridders" and their motto is "We Will Get Rid of Your Ash." I couldn't find a "web" site for them, although their address and contact information can be found in a helpfully alphabetized nationwide list on the site of "Fireplace Village," which bills itself as "New Hampshire's Largest Hearth Retailer." Chimneys and chimney-related products and services on the "internet"! It's as if I have entered another world, like when those kids went up on the roof with Dick Van Dyke in MARY POPPINS, except instead of doing that I am wasting time on the "internet." For example, did you know that New Hampshire's Largest Hearth Retailer also has a "blog"? As long as we are on the subject, check out this "hot" entry (ha ha! Because fires are hot!) about how to choose a chimney sweep. Somehow I believe I have glossed over my favorite part of the experience, which is that the admirably focused motto of "Ash Ridders" is "We Will Get Rid of Your Ash."

I Am Not a Naturalist

After the reading last night, I went over to City Grocery Bar to meet up with John Currence and Joe York. Several other people who were at the reading ended up there as well, including Bill Boyle (whom you may remember as the man who once attended a lecture about frogs) and his wife (whose name I won't give because I don't have permission) who works for the Audubon Society, which may explain the lecture about frogs. And SHE told me that crows understand the meaning and purpose of traffic lights! More evidence that we need to be worried about what the crows are planning. She also told me that chimney swifts - even ones who are not related - will rush into a burning tree to save baby chimney swifts. The nature stories were just beginning! And some of them would happen to me in person, yes, that very night. It was just a little after eight when I got a phone call at the bar from Theresa. She advised me to use the front door when I got home because there was a possum on the back porch and it wouldn't leave. It had been there for an hour, she said. She had intervened in a developing altercation between the possum and a neighborhood cat (shades of the cat who entered the groundhog's lair!), which had consisted, before Theresa stepped in to save the day, of some mild hissing and wary curiosity about one another - the curiosity being mostly on the part of the cat, verifying the old legend. I got home at about 11 (time flies!) and assumed that the coast was clear by then, so I came around the back as usual. There was the possum, on the card table on the back porch, lying on a tote bag filled with tubes of acrylic paint, looking mainly indifferent yet full of assumptions. Was it "playing possum" (pretending to be dead) as possums are reputed to do? It wasn't moving much, that's all I can tell you. I tried reasoning with it ("I already tried that," Theresa explained). I tried scaring it away with noisemaking that annoyed Theresa more than the possum. I shook the table (long distance, via broom handle). I threw a shoe at it (as Theresa had done earlier in the evening). Maybe it WAS playing possum. I walked off the porch and confronted it from the other side of the screen, which it was facing, by rattling a large bush. Oh, the possum hated that! Yes, my rattling of the bush finally got a rise out of it and caused another round of mild hissing. And the possum hissed too. Ha ha! No, really it was just the possum hissing. We stared at each other a long time through the screen and the bush and I started to like the possum. I learned some things about possums. 1) They are stubborn and patient. 2) When they yawn, their mouths open REALLY WIDE, wider even than you might expect. 3) Their paws are freaky. 4) They have (this one did, anyway; I am not a naturalist!) really long fangs that show even when their mouths are closed. I didn't expect that, based on my lifelong reading of Walt Kelly's POGO (pictured), of which comic strip Caroline Young has given me a number of vintage promotional figurines. Finally we just watched the possum through the window on the back door. It didn't do much, though at one point it sniffed the air vigorously. "It senses something," I observed wisely. And then A RACCOON WADDLED ONTO THE PORCH! DOES THIS KIND OF STUFF GO ON EVERY NIGHT AND WE JUST DON'T KNOW ABOUT IT? IS OUR BACK PORCH SOME KIND OF NIGHTCLUB FOR WILD ANIMALS? The raccoon (perhaps tempted because we had propped open the porch door so the possum could escape) didn't find anything interesting about our porch, not even the possum, so it turned around and waddled back down the steps. A little after midnight, I decided to check on the possum again and witnessed it lowering itself very slowly and eerily off the table, using its tail, it seemed to me, in the prehensile manner for which it is so justly famous. Then it left the porch. In other nature news, McNeil just called as I was typing this to tell me about developments with the large hadron collider which interests him so, you know, the machine that is going to end the world, and yes, this is a nature story, because McNeil said a bird dropped a bread crumb on the large hadron collider and broke it! I am not kidding! That's the way McNeil described the story on cnn.com, which I have not yet read. I like McNeil's version the best anyway. A BIRD DROPPED A BREAD CRUMB ON THE COLLIDER AND BROKE IT! Sounds like a fairy tale. And the bird dropped the crumb, claims McNeil, in the ONLY SPOT WHERE A BREAD CRUMB COULD POSSIBLY BREAK THE COLLIDER! According to the story, says McNeil, some scientists believe that the collider IS BEING SABOTAGED FROM THE FUTURE! Maybe the crows are doing it! The bird and the bread crumb tipped me off. McNeil says it is a "great story" with "a lot of weird stuff in it."