Irwin
Courterly
Fall 1999
Volume IV Issue
3
In this issue:
- Notes from the editor
- Two rock stars and an opera
- Poem
- LuluBelle's Debut
- The New Child
- Readings and poetry:
- Car misplacement stories
- Email aliases
- Robin Report
Editors
Jennie Abbott
Robin Brooks
Contributors
Dianne Brooks for LuluBelle
Steven Dreyer
Jolene Ronsley
Submissions
The Irwin Courterly publishes original articles and illustrations. We edit them as appropriate. You retain copyright but grant every Irwin Courterly Productions publication royalty-free permission to reproduce the article or illustration in print or any other medium. Please send submissions at least one month in advance so that the editors can read, edit, and format the submission.
Editorial
As you may have noticed on the welcome page, the Irwin Courterly seems to have been instrumental in getting General Mills to create their cereal of the century, Millenios, though to date the IC has not received response of any kind from General Mills. Also, we find it curious that the "famed" Millenios so far have never appeared on a grocery store shelf! Is eBay now the only place to find them? If you locate a box, please let us know! We want to eat them for breakfast on January 1, 2000.
O's seem to be very popular, not only in their cheery form. You're probably familiar with Spaghetti O's, but have you ever seen Circus-O's? O's generally appear in some kind of food, whether or not they are truly in the shape of an O.
Food is the theme of the Irwin Courterly's Winter 1999 issue, which should be out at the end of December. We look forward to sharing with you--and you sharing with us-- stories about favorite foods, recipes, cooking and dining experiences, restaurant recommendations, nutrition preferences, and more. If you'd like to participate, copy the questions of the Irwin Courterly Food Questionnaire and email your answers to irwincourterly@bigfoot.com.
For this issue I'd like to thank Ida and Lis for their stories (and for sharing their wedding adventure with my mother and me), Tom Clement for his poem recommendations, Josh Kimbrough for his car-related web site URLs, and Robin for her stories from Bulgaria.
- Jennie
Two rock stars and an opera
I enjoyed both of your Alanis-Morissette-inspired pieces in the Spring 1999 issue. One of the best things about Alanis is that she plays the harmonica. Not too many artists since Bob Dylan include the strains of the harp, but Alanis pulls it off.
I saw her concert in San Jose on April 1. her fans seem to be quite diverse, the audience was much less of young "teeny-bopper" girls and more groups and couples in their 20's, 30's, and even 40's than I'd expected. All participated in doing "the wave" around the stadium between opening act Garbage and Alanis Morissette.
Alanis, in her clumsy and sometimes spinning performance frenzy, rocked out with her heavy-metal band, getting the worst songs from the new album overwith early. She interspersed the hits from Jagged Little Pill, her first album, and the audience was happy to sing along to "One hand in my pocket" and Alanis' signature, angry tune "You oughta know."While I've listened to Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie, her newest album, many times, I still didn't know the words well enough to sing along when I couldn't really hear Alanis on the lyrics. My favorite part was her 2nd encore when she and her band pulled up to the front of the stage for a 3-song acoustic session. If I were her that's how I would have done the whole show, but maybe Alanis is really a rocker deep down, and doesn't want to fit the folk role in the footsteps of Sarah McLachlan and Paula Cole. Alanis has a following regardless of her genre, and whether or not her style and music is unique, she stands out for me by being a harmonica-playing poet and songstress.
Sincerely,
Mau
Tharp
P.S. Check out large-scale Alanis! Plus, details on her bio, etc. (see Biography)
| Alanis played
the SF Bay Area again in September, paired, oddly enough, with
Tori Amos (almost as weird as the Ani DiFranco/Joan Osborne
Concert in the Park in NYC in the summer of '95). Even stranger to
Tori fans, Tori opened for Alanis! Indeed, they were
double-billed, but whatever happened to seniority in show biz?
They were a peculiar mix, and did not sing any tunes together, but
each seemed to have an audience at the Concord Pavilion.
Those who have seen (or even just heard) Tori Amos know of her piano-playing prowess, and even though Mau Tharp (above) was impressed with Alanis' skill on the harmonica, Tori wins for instrumental ability and musical talent--even if she's behind on the pop charts. Her performance at the end of September was stellar; she played songs from various eras, including several from her first well-known album Little Earthquakes. She didn't simply play the studio version of the cut, she changed the pace, or the phrasing, the chords or the band support to present a refreshing and still powerful rendition of each song. Starting out with a rocked up version of "God" she played through old favorites giving them a polish and a twist, and for good measure she crooned the Fleetwod Mac love-song "Landslide," which may never have been more sensually portrayed. After Tori left her fans in a delicious stupor, Alanis whirled like a Dervish and ran through a set not unlike her performance in Oakland, CA, earlier this year, but without the charm of the acoustic finale Mau Tharp mentioned. After the satiation Tori provided, Alanis was a little annoying and her more raucous music overwhelming, but her fans knew how to enjoy it, and danced in the aisles, singing along with the familiar lyrics, venting their frustrations. Is the piano more powerful than the harmonica? Is the pen mightier than the sword? Each has its own strengths and appeal, but sends a much different message. Instruments aside, Tori's performance out-did Alanis on that clear, crisp evening on Concord. |
|
I wake to the thought of you
you are more than a dream
though you fill mine each time
I close my eyes-
seduction implied by sweet, sublime
sensuality it seems.....
My body wakes to the thought of youby Jolene Ronsley
In stark contrast to the more rowdy rock concerts, the French opera Louise was pretty as could be. After finding the San Francisco Opera's rendition of Streetcar Named Desire to be rather dreary and much better suited to a drama stage of the spoken word, and Madame Butterfly both sad and barren, Louise was a welcome flower in the middle of an operatic desert. Charpentier's story of a seamstress falling in love with a local artiste her parents did not approve of is filled with lovely scenes and music and obvious socialist leanings (which only became overbearing in the too-long last section). He made his political point without preaching too much, which is quite impressive; in the process he also undermined parental control and, perhaps, honored a woman's right to make her own decisions. See also The Essential Louise for more on the Charpentier and the opera, which was first performed in Paris in 1900.
LuluBelle's Debut
LuluBelle is the dark spot atop the pillow, looking longingly at her Uncle Bongo who, wallowing in his grief at the recent loss of two dogs due to unfortunate accidents, refuses to pay any attention to Lulu beyond an occasional growl. Here Lulu blends in with the leaves on the brand new backyard grass. LuluBelle's stats:
Birthday: July 20
Weight: ~4.6 lbs.
Kind: ½ Schnauzer ½ WestieLike Uncle Bongo, Dianne still feels terrible about the demise of poor Pepée and Bandit, but unlike Bongo, she is not currently on a strict weight-loss diet, so she is coping better with her grief and is falling in love with Lulu. Next time you visit Pueblo maybe you can meet Ms. Belle.
The New Child by Steven DreyerThere is a subdivision that can be found in middle America and it keeps a house. This house is identical to all the others on its street. A rustic wood fence surrounds its backyard just like all the others. The fence keeps people--as well as their eyes--out of the backyard . In the front yard trees and shrubbery are well-kept for the voyeuristic neighbors who are watching from their picture windows. In the backyard however, the grass is a bit longer and in need of a trim.
On this new summer morning, the sun hasn't quite reached the dew that lingers in the shade of trees and underneath patio furniture. At the back of the house, a glass door slides open. Out bounds a little girl, no more than four years old, with blond curls an dwearing bright red overalls. she runs into the backyard and laughs a silly laugh as the tall grass tickles her bare feet.
She dashes to the left corner of the yard and kneels down amongst a clutter of toys that have been neglected since the day before. She grabs one toy made of wood and painted blue and sets it upright. The toy is similar to a peg and hole game, except this has but one hole and it is in the center. She reaches into her pocket, pulls out a square wooden peg and tries to put it into the round hole. The corners of the peg prevent if from going through. She tries again and it still will not fit. She becomes frustrated and tries one more time, but with all of her might the peg will still not go.
The little girl pouts, contemplating the peg for a bit. Then, as her bottom lip recedes, she sets the red square peg next to her in the grass and without hesitation she reaches behind her and lifts up a large electric power drill with an inch-and-a-half bit attached. Two of her small fingers pull the trigger, her eyes become wide and a slightly sinister grin appears on her face as the drill gives out a high-pitched whine. With one hand she grabs the blue toy to steady it and points the drill at the hole. Quickly the drill finds its way through the painted wood and now the hole is bigger. She retracts the drill and sets it down next to her. She fills her tiny cheeks with a breath and blows away the wood shavings then she picks up her red peg and gently slides it into the new hole. Satisfied with the fit, she gives it a pat and off she runs across the yard, giggling as the long grass tickles the bottom of her feet.
Readings and poetryBack to top
On Waldorf education The September issue of the Atlantic Monthly included an article on Waldorf education, using an uncommon example of a pilot program in Yuba County, CA, but covering the basic facts about Waldorf education and making it accessible to a wide audience. Jennie, a Waldorf school graduate, said "it's everything I've been explaining for years when people ask me about my education. Now I can simply hand them the article and they'll know all I could say and more--except for the personal-experience part."
One of the few people who responded to Jennie's request for comments on the article, Amanda found it well-written and a quick read, though it never seemed to state specifically that "instead of teaching facts and figures, Waldorf education seems to be more geared toward teaching the students both how to learn and how to think, both of which tend to cultivate a joy in learning and discovering not often cultivated in typical schools unless the student's soil is so fertile that it will grow just about anything."
Amanda also noted that "mental math" is certainly not limited to Waldorf classrooms, and that she and her sister taught themselves to read before even starting school. Learning to read, Steiner believes, is not something to be rushed. "I can't imagine trying to stifle a child's own initiative," Jennie said, though she is occasionally prone to glorifying the Waldorf experience because of how well-suited it was for her. However, Steiner's teachings may recommend encouraging children to go outside and play rather than stay inside and read, which, hopefully, would give them more time to develop their imagination and creativity before it is bound by more formal words and print.
In conclusion, Amanda offered: "Joy of learning leads to a life-long desire to learn, which leads to a greater knowledge base, more of an open mind, and the ability for creative problem solving -- in whatever subject is of interest." Happy learning, everyone!
[If you haven't read the Atlantic Monthly article and you're wondering what Waldorf education is, check it out if you can still find it. The IC discussed Waldorf schooling in the September 1997 education-theme issue.]
Merging the subtle thread of a poetry theme in this issue with the next IC theme of food, Eating Poetry devours words and spits them back out. While many of Strand's lines exhibit exquisite phrases, the image portrayed is nothing calm or pretty--rather an intense reaction to the consumption of poetry.
"I liked Eating Poetry," Tom says, "because it reminds me of people I know who have such a voracious appetite for it. In a way, reading it suggests that I too might have the capacity to be so gluttonous." Bon appetit!
by Mark Strand (1968)
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.I am a new man.
I snarl at her and bark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.Feeling unable to remember minor (or even major) details resonates with people of all ages. Contemplating the existential consequences, Szymborska offers possibilities for what might have happened on one particular day and that without memory of it, the day may never have occurred.
by Wislawa Szymborska, 1993
One of those many dates
that no longer ring a bell.Where I was going that day,
what I was going--I don't know.Whom I met, what we talked about,
I can't recall.If a crime had been committed nearby,
I wouldn't have had an alibi.The sun flared and died
beyond my horizons.
The earth rotated
unnoted in my notebooks.I'd rather think
that I'd temporarily died
than that I kept on living
and can't remember a thing.I wasn't a ghost, after all.
I breathed, I ate,
I walked.My steps were audible,
my fingers surely left
their prints on doorknobs.Mirrors caught my reflection.
I wore something or other in such-and-such a color.
Somebody must have seen me.Maybe I found something that day
that had been lost.
Maybe I lost something that turned up later.I was filled with feelings and sensations.
Now all that's like
a line of dots in parentheses.Where was I hiding out,
where did I bury myself?
Not a bad trick
to vanish before my own eyes.I shake my memory.
Maybe something in its branches
that has been asleep for years
will start up with a flutter.
No.
Clearly I'm asking too much.
Nothing less than one whole second.
Crying wolf? Car misplacement stories
by Otto Gonn
A few weeks ago the Palo Alto Daily police blotter mentioned that a family from out of town had reported their car missing. They had left it parked near Noah's bagels, then walked around and at 10pm could not locate it. Then the police looked around the vicinity for 2 more hours and couldn't find it, so drove them to their Redwood City hotel. Then a graveyard shift police officer found the car near the other Noah's bagels in town. Apparently the family had walked around the Stanford campus and exited at a different place, and located a different Noah's.
Upon further investigation, other reports of cars reported stolen turned out to be false alarms, and in addition, some people misplace not only cars, but apartments. Some friends, we'll call them Susan and Kate, were in NYC to get the stuff from Susan's apartment to take it back to their new home. As told with much laughter, first Susan mixed up the street where her school was with where her apartment was (she'd been away for a year), and then they got to her apartment building and tried all the keys on her keyring and none would open the front door! Finally a guy and his girlfriend came out and let them in, and the friendly guy offered to help them with all their suitcases, and asked which apartment.
Susan said 3C, and the guy said "that's my apartment!" In retelling, she said, "you should have seen the look on his girlfriend's face! She didn't ever think it was funny." And we were all laughing really hard.So they talked about 3C for a while, and then it turned out it was the wrong building, so they went to the right building, two doors down, and tried all the keys again for the front door and none worked, but it turned out that you just had to push the door open, it wasn't locked! Susan went on to tell how she had parked her car in Manhattan at a school which has a high school and lower school on different streets, but near each other, and she went to find her car and it was gone so she reported it stolen. Later she or the police found it, but the sad part is that later the car really was stolen, but she couldn't really believe it, she thought maybe she had just forgotten where she'd parked it.
However, Susan and the family visiting Palo Alto are not the only victims of car misplacement situations. Just recently another car was missing, and turned up just a few blocks away! The owners believe that it was indeed stolen, perhaps for a drug run, but the jury is still out on what actually happened. So please park your car carefully, and note where you left it. Too many complaints of missing cars that reappear suddenly may discourage police from taking car-theft reports seriously!
If you're in the market for a car to replace a missing one or just for a change of pace, these car-shopping links might come in handy:
- Consumer Reports
- Shopping for wheels on the web (Source: PC World Online) It's appealing to imagine that buying a car is as easy as ordering a pizza, but anyone who's been through the process knows that it's anything but simple.
- Shopping on-line for cars
Email aliases
by Gabe Notiss
Editor's note: This information is dated. Using email aliases is a great idea, but free forwarding services may change, so choose carefully.As emailers prepare to leave one job to move on to the next, or to temporarily exit from the wired world, frequently they send an email announcement. They send a message to everyone in their address book announcing that after such-and-such a date not to send email to the current work address, and in the meantime to send messages to http://www.hotmail.com/. Founded in 1995, Hotmail is one of the most well-known providers of free, Internet email, but it is not the best. At the end of 1997 Microsoft bought Hotmail, which is now inextricably linked to MSN, and once again, more slaves entered Bill's gates.
Yahoo! also offers free email, it is not owned by Microsoft, and it has valuable capabilities that Hotmail does not. The most valuable function is forwarding, a service that lets you forward messages sent to your Yahoo account to another email account, so you don't have check your messages in more than one place (unless, of course, you want to, in which case you can simply use Yahoo! as a separate email server). Both Yahoo! and Hotmail let you check POP accounts (email on other servers).
In addition to free email servers for Internet email, you could also set up a life-time alias email so you never need to announce where you are moving and which email your friends should use to reach you. Bigfoot is an excellent email alias service that also gives you a life-time URL to that when you change ISPs or free web site servers your URL will not go out of commission or break links from other sites. Other email alias services include colleges and universities that let you keep an email with the name of your alma mater after the @ sign.
Yahoo! is the best alternative because it can keep your email messages there, forward them to wherever you are, or check external email servers from your Yahoo! account. Check it out, sign up, and spare your friends all the regular announcements whenever you decide to change your email address--or keep them from knowing exactly where you are!
(Once you have a Yahoo! email account, select Options, then Pop Access & Forwarding. Set up your preferences and you're ready to go!)
Hotmail does have an interesting new feature called "Passport," that lets you log in to one part of MSN and then have password-access to other parts of MSN, as well as retaining your site preferences within MSN.
Robin Report
News from foreign correspondent Xip - Sofia, Bulgaria
The city is really different than even only last year. For anyone who really is visiting, you will be pleased to note that people are less surly here and that the streets have been cleaned up a bit, they are fixing a lot of the pot-hole-y streets and turning on the street lights, there is a new fountain in the central square, and all the fountains have water in them for the first time I've ever seen. But boy have prices shot out of control! I easily spent $3.50 on dinner last night! (ok, that was with rakia and wine, and a pretty big dinner, but still...).
Abigail was right--fashion is indeed fleeting! There are fewer super short skirts, and I don't even feel out of place in my cargo pants. However, the bright orange hair o Maja's landlady is evidence that not all fashions are fleeting. Capri pants are not popular here--I haven't seen any at all. There are still some short skirts, but they are not as ubiquitous. And pants are still pretty tight, although girls are wearing some blue jeans, while in the past they only wore colored ones that weren't necessarily denim. I have seen some cargo pants and some corduroys, too. I guess the main change is that there is some diversity for the first time. Instead of only one acceptable fashion, there are different fashions for different people--there are suddenly a few tomboys, a few hip kids, and a few super-sophisticates, as well as the trashy short-skirted high-platformed people. And boys are better dressed--not quite so many track suits.
Another observation is that more women are driving cars. Until now Margarita was the only woman I ever saw behind the wheel here.
One day I had about 2 hours to myself and I walked around a little and sat and read a little. For lunch I had a doner kebab (yum!) at the other branch of a little restaurant I went to a few times in the past two summers, and even though it was the other branch, the same guy made my doner! He does a funny thing where he hands it to you and takes it back to add something to it about four times before you finally get it. It was very yummy, though I felt bad eating it outside and the little stand-up counter on the sidewalk while an old man was patiently waiting for people to move so that he could steal the coke bottles to recycle and get the deposit. I tried to help him get the crate out from under the counter discreetly, and even still it was hard for him. Finally I quietly gave him 2000 leva and went on my way. It was weird.
A doner kebab is chicken that they stack up on the rotisserie and then shave off with a long knife and put into a plate with all kinds of delicious stuff like garlic sauce, pickles, french fries, and various other items. It is delicious.
After the tasty snack I went to NDK and sat outside reading for a while, until the bagpipe player who had been playing and dancing nearby came and sat down right next to me and asked what I was reading. I talked to him for a while, and he was nice, but I had been trying not to look right at him before, precisely because I did not want him to come talk to me. Anyway, it was fine. He said he is going to London soon for the first time to play in a bagpipe competition there. He is the same guy we met in Shiroka Laka two years ago.
...Today I saw the bagpiper again and he stopped me on the street and dropped his bagpipe on the ground to tell me that he was thinking about me and he knows someone in the ministerial advisory council whom he thinks I should meet and he can arrange the meeting, except that while he was at the sea for a couple weeks he didn't pay his phone bill and they cut off his phone. So I am supposed to look for the bagpiper on the streets in the next few days and see whether he has been able to contact the advisor. He also tried to take me out for coffee, but I told him I was in a hurry, which in fact I was because I went to see Run Lola Run which was at 11:30 this morning. When I arrived they thought they wouldn't show it because I was the only one who wanted it, but then one other woman showed up (with a super short miniskirt and totally thick glitter for eyeshadow--I don't mean glittery eyeshadow, I mean thick glitter covering her entire eye lid) and begged and they showed it to us. Glitter girl (Nevena) had seen it before. She must be a film student. We talked a bit afterwards and she was nice. I was glad she was there to make them show the film.
Stay tuned for more stories of Robin's adventures in Bulgaria.
