Fretting (As Usual) And Strumming July 14, 2008
Posted by glabwrites in Ben Joravsky, Big Mike, Chicago Reader, Coping With The Cubs, Cubs, Joe Satriani, Keith Richards, Michael G. Glab, Milo Samardzija, Richard M. Daley, Schoolboy.2 comments
I’ve been too busy to rant in these precincts the last few days mainly because I’m hustling to accomplish a couple of other things right now.
I’m Learning!
My family’s picnic is coming up on August 3rd. I hope to have the book, “Coping With The Cubs: A Life of Depression, A Year of Hope” completed and published online before then so I can crow about it to all my kin. Also, I’ve been working on getting down the main guitar part for “Brown Sugar,” perhaps my favorite pop song of all time, so I can play it for my nephew Doug, the aspiring musician of the clan. Doug loves the acrobatic-fingered virtuosos like Joe Satriani, whereas I prefer rhythmic kings like Keith Richards.
I bought my first guitar in January and have been teaching myself how to play. My pal Skip Frank, the trombonist and former Louisville-area high school music teacher, has given me a few theory pointers but mainly I’ve depended on instructional books and You Tube vids. It’s a slow learning process but I’m taking tiny steps forward all the time. One obstacle is that my fingers are sausage-like and I have the genetic misfortune to have been born with spatulated digits, meaning my fingertips are abnormally flat and rounded. That makes it only slightly easier for me to master a musical instrument than for an arthritic butcher to become a neurosurgeon.
A Normal Human Hand Over A Big Mike Hand
Still, I’m pretty proud of myself for taking on the challenge in my 50s.
As for the book, my feelings about it are baffling. I love it and hate it. Sometimes I read what I’ve written and think I’m one of the finest scribes who’s ever trod the Earth. Other times I fear my mother won’t even take the time to read it. I suppose that’s the emotional lot of all writers. Then again, I saw Joyce Carol Oates on a panel discussion yesterday and wondered why I couldn’t be more like her. Oates has written 49 complete novels and eight novellas and has published 32 short story collections, at least eight plays, and countless essays, poems, young adult books and children’s stories. What the hell kind of coffee does that woman drink?
Books Written By Oates Last Week
Oates has been quoted as saying, “I’m drawn to failure. I feel that I’m contending with it constantly in my own life.” My response, with all due respect, is “Joyce, shut up.” I can give her lessons in failure.
Failure, oddly enough, has been missing from the Wrigley Field world this season. We go into the mid-season all-star break with the Cubs tied with the Los Angeles Angels for the best record in baseball. The team is clicking on most cylinders and has about 47 players on the all-star team. How weird and unlikely would it be for the Cubs to end their World Series victory drought precisely at the one-hundred-year mark? Not that I’m betting on it, of course. As I’ve moaned here previously, the Tampa Bay Goddamned Rays will win the Fall Classic this year, defeating the North Side boys. It’s only fitting.
“Apres moi…,”
Ben Joravsky continues to lambaste the Farouk of the Fifth Floor (aka: Mayor Richard M. Daley) in the Chicago Reader. If you’re not up on Bennie’s work on the Mayor’s power grabs and tax-financed war chest you’re missing some of the finest muckraking journalism in the country today.
I understand the Immortal Milo Samardzija has just about completed yet another novel, this one with a science fiction tinge. Sheesh, he must be drinking Joyce Carol Oates’ brand of coffee. Anyway, get on “Schoolboy” right now so you can read this new tome when it comes out. The guy sure knows how to splotch a piece of paper with ink.
Oh, and keep a block of time open for “Coping With The Cubs.”
Big Mike
Shootin’ Irons, Sputnik, and Lunacy July 3, 2008
Posted by glabwrites in Ben Joravsky, Big Mike, Cubs, Dementia, Guns, Michael G. Glab, Milo Samardzija, Schoolboy, Sputnikfest, US Supreme Court.2 comments
So, with recession slamming us, gas prices rocketing toward the moon, the housing market flopping, and the very real possibility that the US will elect a (somewhat) black man as President this fall, the Supreme Court issues a death blow to municipal firearms bans. Yikes!
The Real American Girl
The five black-robed Solomons (all nominated by Ronnie Reagan and the Bush Dynasty) who signed off on the majority opinion last week are essentially telling the American public that its right to keep, cherish, and rub shootin’ irons all over their bodies is, well, sacred. Great. Just what we need in a time of economic malaise and jarring social change.
~ This turn of events might have made me depressed (or at least even more so than I usually am) if I hadn’t discovered that the lovely town of Manitowoc, Wisconsin is holding Sputnikfest on Friday and Saturday, September 5th and 6th.
The First Sputnik
It seems a chunk of Sputnik IV crashed onto the streets of said burgh back in 1962. Now a bunch of awfully cool people have come up with this first annual gala to mark the historic event. It’ll be a combination art fair, music fest, food orgy, beer bash, and overall hoot.
Manitowoc is on the way to Door County from Milwaukee and Chicago, so I’d suggest heading there for the weekend (organizers promise to name a Miss Sputnikfest, as if you needed more encouragement) and then driving up to Wisconsin’s thumb for fish boils, fab scenery, and cherry pie.
~ My pal Ben Joravsky tells me my recent post on the Cubs is prima facie evidence that I’m fairly well along on the road to psychosis. I predicted that the Cubs will break my heart this fall by losing the World Series to the Tampa Bay Rays. Here’s an excerpt of his response:
…and you’re doing this fretting in june, mind you, months before the post season begins. the cubs haven’t even made it to the playoffs — much less the world series — and you’re already worrying about losing the series to the rays. it’s like you’ve conjured up the worst of all possible endings to a wonderful season and convinced yourself that it will come true. i love you dearly, big feller, but when it comes to the cubs, you’re nuttier than a fruit cake….
Yeah. Wonderful season. And he tells me I’m crazy.
The Rays Win! The Rays Win!
~ Hey, have you bought Milo Samardzija’s book, “Schoolboy,” yet? If not, why not?
Big Mike
Catch up, Baby! June 12, 2008
Posted by glabwrites in Ben Joravsky, Big Mike, Coping With The Cubs, Karen Roszkowski, Michael G. Glab, Milo Samardzija, Nelson Algren, Philip Roth, Schoolboy.1 comment so far
I’ve been a long time gone from these precincts. Since April 5th, actually. Been finishing the Cubs book and trying to keep my head above the waters of melancholia (such timely imagery!)
The book finally has a title: “Coping With The Cubs: A life of depression – a year of hope.” Sent some excerpts out to Ben Joravsky and Karen Roszkowski. These children of the former Eastern Block turned in excellent critiques. Based on Joravsky’s take, I’ve been adding a lot more personal info. Karen, on the other hand, would like nothing better than for me to get the damned thing out there. I’m trying to satisfy both of them.
While you’re waiting for my tome to crash your hard drive, try this: “Schoolboy.” It’s a novel about a kid who tries to shoot the moon as a poker player. Written by Milo Samardzija (no relation to Cubs minor league phenom Jeff,) “Schoolboy” is right out of the noir world that gave us “The Man With The Golden Arm.”
I ain’t sayin’ Samardzija is the next Nelson Algren. No more than I’m the next Philip Roth. But Milo (believe me, it’s exhausting to keep typing Samardzija) spins a fascinating tale. “Schoolboy” costs $7.99. Loosen the death grip you have on your wallet and buy it. Hey, the book costs a penny less than one adult admission to “You Don’t Mess With the Zohan.” If you can drop your good, hard-earned scratch on that bomb then you ought to spend some on a book that’s worth your while.
Big Mike
The City Of Green Shoulders April 1, 2008
Posted by glabwrites in 1968 Democratic National Convention, Ben Joravsky, Big Mike, Chicago Reader, Chicago Sun-Times, City of Chicago, Earth Hour, Green Roofs, Michael G. Glab, Richard J. Daley, Richard M. Daley, The Bright One, Vanity Fair.add a comment
~ Richard J. Daley of Chicago (above); the chip off the old block (below, right) expressing himself at the 1968 Democratic National Convention
How about a round of applause for my home town, Chicago? The Windy City skyline went noticeably dark Saturday evening during Earth Hour. Neither New York nor Los Angeles could say the same.
Thumb through the photo gallery on the Earth Hour link for terrific pix of the lights going out in the spectacular skyline .
Say what you will about the sins of Mayor Richard M. Daley (and my good pal Ben Joravsky will oblige each week in the Chicago Reader,) he has been a champion for environmentalism. The Windy City has more green roofs than any other metropolis in the nation. Daley insisted that City Hall (the actual structure) lead the way in that effort.
Little Richie even had his portrait taken for Vanity Fair’s inaugural green issue (May 2006) along with several other like-minded metro chief executives. It was implied that Daley leads the way among big-city mayors in terms of the environment.
During my years in the tourism industry in Chicago, the most common comment visitors would make was that the city was the cleanest they’d ever seen.
Richie Daley has made it a top priority to clean Chicago’s streets and sidewalks of litter as well as ensuring its air and water are something less than toxic.
As a teenager making my first forays into the Loop, I’d stroll down the LaSalle Street canyon, craning my neck and gawking at all the skyscrapers like a rube from Lebanon, Kentucky. The venerable Northern Trust Bank building always caught my eye because it was clad in black stone.
I’d wonder why its designers chose black stone. I also tried to guess what that stone might be. Slate? Some exotic mineral I’d never heard of?
One day, workers began to erect scaffolding around the building. A few days later, I read in The Bright One that the Northern Trust was preparing to scrub some eight decades of soot and grime off the facade of its then-headquarters. The job took a long time. To the best of my recollection, it lasted throughout the spring and summer.
When the scrubbing was finished, I was amazed. The stone on the Northern Trust building wasn’t black at all. In fact, its external cladding was pink-flecked granite.
Since the place had been built in 1905 until the last couple of decades of the 20th Century, the Northern Trust’s facade had been turned ebony by the smoke from thousands of soft-coal burning downtown furnaces as well as the belching exhaust of countless lead-gas burning cars.
That revelation was key in the development of my environmental awareness.
I wonder if Richie Daley noticed the same thing when he passed the old Northern Trust Building back in the 1980s.
Next time,
Big Mike
