Rich in Ideas

Okay, in THAT AWFUL MESS ON THE VIA MERULANA, Gadda also mentions a "decoy owl on a stick," by which he means, I think, the same object to which both Charles Portis and Sam Shepard referred as a "dummy owl" ("click" here and here for details) and Larry Brown called an "owl decoy" (subtle difference). I don't know exactly what Stephen King called it because I didn't directly quote him regarding that aspect when the occasion arose. Most of all, I feel sure you will want to know that while King, Portis, Shepard, and Brown are talking about literal, physical decoy owls, Gadda's decoy owl is figurative, a way of describing the actions of a certain kind of person. You must take all of these factors into consideration when contemplating owls and plastic owls! When you think about it, Gadda has used owls three different ways. That's what we like to call real old-fashioned owl versatility. But the main thing I am noticing is the sandwiches. As you may recall, Dr. Theresa and I get distracted lately - haunted, really - by the sandwiches presented to us in arts and entertainment. I am going to describe some of Gadda's sandwiches from memory now, because the book is downstairs and I'm extremely lazy. One sandwich has three slabs of prime rib on it as big as terra cotta roof tiles, on a roll of bread "like a carpet slipper" might be a quotation. Well, it's close, if not. Another sandwich has alternating slices of mortadella and roast beef. As I lay in bed reading, I offered the sandwich descriptions aloud to Dr. Theresa. I thought about the sandwiches a lot! I kept picturing a roast beef sandwich I could have sworn we used to get at Alon's Bakery in Atlanta, but I looked it up... that's just how sad I am! And I am not sure it's the same sandwich. Well! I had a doctor's appointment today, so I brought along QUINCAS BORBA, which I have taken out of regular rotation - just temporarily! - because of pressing Million Dollar Book Club business. Let me first say that I was correct! De Assis has attempted no further reflections from a dog's point of view. But! As I sat there in the waiting room, it so happened that the author started a couple of roses talking to each other. Talking roses! But he did it in a way that lets us know he's just pulling our legs... whereas William Maxwell's dog stuff groaned (howled?) with a pathos that would have made Charlie Chaplin himself die of embarrassment. Besides, de Assis once again provides a wonderful justification: "a stretch of wall, a bench, a carpet, an umbrella, are all rich in ideas and feelings, when, that is, we are, too, and this exchange of ideas between men and things is one of the most interesting phenomena on earth."

Clean Shoe

What do you eat on the night before Thanksgiving? It's a perplexing conundrum! Or maybe not. Because I have certainly eaten on all the nights before all the Thanksgivings of my life and it has never seemed like a big deal, no, I have never thought about it even once. But for some reason it seemed like a hard decision last night. Dr. Theresa and I were driving around on unrelated errands. We thought about Snackbar, but neither of us felt quite spiffy enough. Dr. Theresa had, in fact, left the house in her slippers. I was supposed to dash in places and get things done while she kept the car running. Like a gangster! That was the first plan. See how complicated eating is? I told you! Across the street from Snackbar is Handy Andy's. A lunch joint, or so I have always thought, and no more! I don't suppose anyone would take it amiss if I said, with affection, "a greasy spoon." Dr. Theresa insisted that Handy Andy's stayed open at night, to my initial disbelief. Especially not on the night before Thanksgiving! Not Handy Andy's! So continued my scoffing. Ha ha, this is a long story, I love it. "How do you know?" "I've heard people say it." The conversation went on and on. And there they were: cars parked right there in front of Handy Andy's. So Dr. Theresa kept the engine running and I went in and got two double cheeseburgers in a sack to go. That's the right thing to eat the night before Thanksgiving. Also, it's technically "Handy Andy," not "Handy Andy's." But I can't stop myself. I chased my double cheeseburger with a fine old port that tasted like a clean shoe studded with cloves.

Please, No Applause

Just watched the movie BRIGHT LEAF as research for my cigarette lighter book and I know you don't care and I got some good stuff but here's part I'm not going to use in the book because why would I? Jack Carson is in a starry wizard robe selling snake oil, and at the end of a triumphant chorus of "Golden Slippers" the crowd looks at him with silent, stony-eyed disdain and he says, "Please, no applause." Jack Carson! It's like I've always said, old Jack Carson could really put it over.

"Blog"trospective 13: When Megan Lived Here

Well, it really happened. Megan Abbott moved back to New York. Now what are we supposed to do? Besides vomit and weep I mean. I guess we will attempt to cope by constructing a "blog"trospective of everything Megan did while she lived here (this is not everything Megan did while she lived here): almost made John Currence break his neck---appeared on Anthony Bourdain's television program---appreciated Marlene Dietrich's talent for playing the musical saw---arrived at the record store just as David was putting up the new sign---attended a party where a little girl did that thing where you rapidly stab a knife between your splayed fingers---brought up Sigmund Freud a lot---by example, had me drinking negronis for a spell---called BUFFALO '66 "a child's fantasy" (not in a bad way!)---compared me to Cathy in WUTHERING HEIGHTS---considered a dance called "the mumbly peg"---contemplated the travails of Lucille Ball as a woman in Hollywood---declared intent to be meaningless---defined wildness---discussed Philip Roth a lot---displayed a cheery and tasteful novelty item---drank moonshine (twice... that I know of!)---during a visit by Kent Osborne she witnessed Kent eating chicken wings, which failed to be noted at the time---emailed me about Hank Worden---emailed me about orgone boxes---endured rude scoffing at a ghost story she repeated---expressed a correct opinion about THE GLASS KEY that I undermined with ignorant hyperbole---found a lone pom-pom (this happened more than once)---got scared by a creepy tree---guaranteed weeping---had her first belt of rye---heard Ace's master spoiler for the entire Travis McGee series---helped Dr. Theresa and me avoid trick-or-treaters---hosted a Jerry Lewis double feature---likened something to Poe---loaned me a pen---looked up "querulous" in her dictionary---meeting time at the bar was 4:02---met me at a bar after I improvised some iambic pentameter---participated in an ecstatic roar---pined for some oysters---planned to watch an Elizabeth Taylor movie---pointed a gun at me---professed a generalized affection for wax museums---read Claudia Roth Pierpont's book about Philip Roth---read my tarot cards via cell phone---received a visit from her parents---reminded me of an anecdote about Billy Wilder---researched "friendship clubs"---said something about Mary Steenburgen's accordion---sent me a picture of Bob Hope and Doris Day and Santa---sent me Dick Shawn's obituary---shared her knowledge about an illustrator who drew women with "impossibly long feet"---spent the last warm evening of the year on the balcony of the City Grocery Bar---spoiled a bat attack---started reading the new John Wayne bio---strolled past Robert Mitchum's house from HOME FROM THE HILL---studied the racy cover of UNCLE GOOD'S WEEK-END PARTY, a novel by Faulkner's brother---told a story I misheard about a Depression-era Shirley Temple cream pitcher (and she actually gave us a Depression-era Shirley Temple cream pitcher last night as a goodbye present)---took a picture of a bubble house---took a walk with me while I was wearing a hat (and bedroom slippers, not pictured)---used the old-fashioned term "smoker" to refer to a gathering of rowdy males (she was talking about Bill and Jimmy and me)---visited Elvis's birthplace---visited Faulkner's house with Laraine Newman---was followed on twitter by the manufacturers of a gross-sounding vodka---was harassed by an inflated Batman---was supposed to be on a panel with Adrienne Barbeau (the panel happened but Barbeau canceled)---watched a Norman Mailer movie---watched BARRY LYNDON with Kent Osborne---we possibly left some dvds at her apartment---went to a hobo festival---wondered about tight pants---wowed 'em at "Noir at the Bar."

Neighborly Times at the Old Homestead

Out there in the yard in a pink neon t-shirt and seersucker shorts - DON'T ASK! - (the latter of which I later ascertained to be improperly fastened - again, DON'T ASK!) and white socks pulled way up befitting the rube that I am and blue felt slippers watering my cashew tree (which is fairly thriving! thanks for asking!) when a nice dude in a fine hat and moustahce and sunglasses walked up to inquire what kind of tree I was watering and to tell me about a little magnolia he's trying to get going in his own yard. Pleasant times, though I'm going to start thinking about what I wear out in the yard.

Jerry's Velvet Slippers

My friend Chicken sends in this nice long interview with Jerry Lewis from GQ magazine. Included: a Martin Scorsese quotation about the French loving Jerry Lewis, and you know how I usually feel about that, but from him I'll take it. Say whatever you want, Martin Scorsese! Besides, he's using it to make a larger point about... oh, who cares? He's Martin Scorsese! Jerry is interviewed wearing "red velvet slippers embroidered with those iconic faces of Comedy and Tragedy." As we have seen, Jerry loves his velvet slippers. Like previous interviewers, Amy Wallace (who I believe wrote yesterday's New York Times article about the wah-wah pedal!) also notes how organized Jerry's candy dish is.

Literary Matters

Welcome once again to our most dispiriting regular feature, "Literary Matters." Literary matters are horrible! But today's literary matters are barely literary at all, so I think we will be fine. 1) I dug out my copy of THE COMPLETE DIRECTORY TO PRIME TIME NETWORK TV SHOWS 1946-PRESENT by Tim Brooks and Earle Marsh, hoping for some juicy tidbits about the sitcom version of SEMI-TOUGH. But the joke was on me, because the "present" when I bought that book was 1979. That's right, kids! My "present" used to be 1979! That's what I thought the "present" was! And as I am sure you are aware, the sitcom version of SEMI-TOUGH came out in 1980, or as we thought of it then, "the future." BUT I remembered that Mr. Ward had a copy of that book, too, only an updated edition, updated to what year I could not recall, but well past 1980. So I wrote him, hoping for some of the aforementioned tidbits. Friends, it turns out that Mr. Ward's copy of THE COMPLETE DIRECTORY TO PRIME TIME NETWORK TV SHOWS 1946-PRESENT was STOLEN FROM HIS CAR several years ago! Now, you may ask yourself why Mr. Ward was driving around with a copy of THE COMPLETE DIRECTORY TO PRIME TIME NETWORK TV SHOWS 1946-PRESENT in his car. Because he is the greatest person ever, that's why. He obligingly poked around on the "internet" for me, but sadly reports "there's not much info about this show. How is that possible?!" 2) I have been thinking about that comic book cover where O.G. Whiz is sitting on Abraham Lincoln's lap. It is puzzling to me. Is the intended tone some kind of Richie Richian grotesquely privileged winsomeness? We see that O.G. Whiz has a nice big pillow and teddy bear and alarm clock and slippers and pajamas and possibly a smoking jacket, as well as a preferred spot of sorts - he is in a "VIP area" if you will. Yet sleeping at the Lincoln Memorial suggests vagrancy, a cruel chill in the night air, a possible lack of other options, a nagging sense of loss. Mixed messages, O.G. Whiz!

Furniture and Clothes

Mr. Ward alerts us to an interview with Jerry Lewis in Entertainment Weekly. Here's his office: "Everything is hermetically clean, superstitiously orderly, and most important, red: the carpet, his old-school IBM Selectric typewriter, the telephone, even the bowl of hard candy on the coffee table." Here's Jerry: "He wears a pair of black velvet slippers with gold filigree." I think this backs up every laudatory thing we have said in the past about Jerry's furniture and clothes. (Pictured, from THE NUTTY PROFESSOR, the infamous Purple Pit.)

Today's Weather: Experts Predict Rise In Flannel Use

Hi, everybody! I have some new slippers. Unlike my old slippers, they are not deadly dangerous. But are they warm? Why, they couldn't be warmer. Sometimes I think they might be TOO warm! Ha ha ha! Seriously. Sometimes I have to take them off for a second because they're too warm. Speaking of things that are warm, people keep writing in to ask when I think I'll take the legendary and beloved flannel pants out of storage. Chat rooms have been founded to discuss the issue. All I can say is, keep reading the "blog"! This evening our neighbor brought over a bouquet of flowers from her magnificent garden, upon which I have the good fortune to gaze as I write in the attic every day. She's predicting a cold snap tonight - possibly even a freeze - and she was kind enough to make us the beneficiaries of the impending botanical disaster. Well, this has been another edition of our continuing regular feature "Today's Weather." In keeping with my promise, I include here a picture of Mr. Spock playing his guitar.

Death Slippers

Hey, remember those slippers of mine? The ones that cause lots of sparks? Well, the other night there were some cookies on a cookie sheet. They had just been pulled from the oven, and they were sitting on top of the gas stove. When I reached for a cookie, I was given a tremendous static shock from the metallic cookie sheet! It's the slippers! Nobody believes me. What if somehow those slippers had ignited something? Something gaseous? Like gas? Okay, now THIS is "blogging" the way it should be done.

These Slippers

Whenever I wear these slippers I accrue way, way more than the normal amount of static electricity. A possibly dangerous amount! But I like the slippers.