Java Joints in Space

Today’s WordPress prompt says: NASA is building a new Voyager spacecraft that will carry the best of modern human culture. What belongs onboard?

That spacecraft must have onboard a small independent coffee house.  In this coffee house, the menu should be handwritten, few of the wooden chairs and tables can match, and the room must be oddly shaped, with  unexpected nooks and cubbies. There should be local art on the walls (photographs by astronauts?). There may sometimes be live music or other performances.

Interior of the Espresso Bar, Pasadena, CA. Photo by Maury Cohen.

Interior of the Espresso Bar, Pasadena, CA. This wonderful photo by Maury Cohen really captures some of the essence of that place.

Certain tables will be consistently occupied by regulars: an assortment of neighborhood oddballs, artists, teens, activists, and seekers. It will be easy to join the conversations of strangers, and even easier to dissolve into the woodwork if that is what you prefer. The music will be obscure, worth hearing, and too loud. At least one of the workers will become your instant sibling; however, another must be haughty enough to make you rethink a tip.

In some ways, this java joint will be like thousands of others, and yet deeply distinctive.  In fact, I can easily picture all the coffee houses I’ve loved over the years. Despite so many features in common, each is unique, with its own culture, look, and attitude.

Motto at the Unurban, Santa Monica, CA.

Motto at the Unurban, Santa Monica, CA. They did, in fact, serve me decaf, and quite graciously, too.

In coffee houses I’ve written and rewritten novels, fallen in and out of love, dreamed my biggest dreams, escaped my worst problems. I’ve changed my attitude about many a town based on the quality or absence of its coffee houses. Where I live and work nowadays, I’m sorry to report I’ve got nothing but Starbucks and Peet’s. Hey, I like those places – and Starbucks has more than once been an oasis while traveling – but they aren’t coffee houses. They’re predictable, staged, repetitive. Not coffee houses.

Entrance to the Espresso Bar, Pasadena. Brilliant photo by Ted Soqui.

Entrance to the Espresso Bar, Pasadena. Brilliant photo by Ted Soqui.

Let me know if you’ve got a coffee house in your neck of the woods. If I’m ever in the neighborhood, I will want to stop by!

Images from:

Book Review: Who I Am by Pete Townshend

5 STARS. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.

Today’s Daily Post wants to hear about the blog post I was most nervous to publish. I don’t have a particular post in that category, but always feel discomfort when I let a post reveal something deeply true about me.  I’ll post it anyway – in between the cat pictures –  because I so respect blogs and conversations that go beyond the superficial.  And because, when I make a list of important attributes, honesty is always at the top.

Which brings me to Pete Townshend’s memoir, Who I Am. This book mesmerized me and a big part of that was Townshend’s honesty. What separates this from the tawdry “tell alls” of so many celebrities? (Hmm I notice I have strong opinions of such celebrity books without ever having read one. Okay. Disclosure made. Reader beware.) Well. Everything, really. Townshend doesn’t gossip or confide. He shares secrets and bares soul.  I have so much respect for his willingness to make himself look bad in the interest of telling it like it was. Reading this book, I learned not just about Townshend. I also gained insights into topics as varied as myself, addiction, and the collective unconscious.

A few scattershot reactions:

  • Ironic that he had to end his marriage to get into a monogamous relationship.
  • Amazing how similar addictive mindsets can be from person to person, substance to substance.
  • The most fun part of the book are the chapters about the early days of the British rock scene, centered around an art school an Ealing.  One of those times when so much talent and energy magically converged. (I was lucky enough to live through such a time in Los Angeles in the late 1970s.)  Ealing in the early 60s had the Stones and Kinks in clubs, John Marshall developing his amplifiers, John McLaughlin as a local salesman! And of course school chums Daltrey, Townshend, and Entwistle happening to form a band.

You don’t have to be a Townshend or Who fanatic to enjoy this book. I loved classic rock back in its day but don’t listen to it now.  I always liked the Who’s attitude and enjoy their music but they were never one of my bands and I only saw them once (and that time, mainly because the Clash were on the same bill). I never got into Townshend’s solo work.

Book jacket publicity writing usually makes me twitch, but this time I agree with the cover blurb, which reads in part: “With eloquence, fierce intelligence, and brutal honesty, Pete Townshend has written a deeply personal book that also stands as a primary source for popular music’s greatest epoch. Readers will be confronted by a man laying bare who he is, an artist who has asked for nearly sixty years: Who are you?”

Okay, I might need to debate the greatest epoch part, but otherwise that description is spot on.

P.S. Also, he’s funny and there are laugh-out-loud lines throughout.

 

Book Review: “Dirty Work” by Reid Farrel Coleman

3 STARS

Nothing overtly wrong with this book – potentially interesting characters including a detective who is a midget with a chip on his shoulder, okay story. But the writing is far too spare and simple for my tastes. I prefer mysteries with atmosphere and complexity.

This is a very thin book part of a series called Rapid Reads. Apparently the idea is that you can knock it off in one sitting.

I got this book for free in exchange for an honest review.

Can You Guess Where I Am?

I’ve left my home in California to attend a family reunion in one of the other States of the U.S. Another State and another state! I’m definitely not in California anymore. Now I’m wondering whether the curiosities of this visit are unique, or can be found many places that are not-California. So – does this sound like lots of places you’ve been? Or can you easily identify this new State by the descriptions below? (If so, its features may be unique.)

Here are some local sights that you won’t see in California:

  • The nature preserve has a special section for hunters.
  • A popular Elvis CD is a collection of Gospel songs.
  • There are many lakes and most of them started as sinkholes.
  • The terrain varies from totally flat to really flat.
  • Outside it is wall-to-wall sky.
  • There are amazing thunderclouds more often than not.
  • The sign “Condominium Complex” points to a mobile home park.
  • None of the public bathrooms provide paper toilet seat covers.

Based on these features, what’s your guess? Where am I?

Sorry: family members are not eligible to participate.

Book Review: “Andrew’s Brain” by E. L. Doctorow

4 Stars

Andrew is a cognitive scientist and academic with a lifelong history of unintentional destruction. The narrative is a conversation between Andrew and — someone. He is — somewhere. At a time that is at —- some point in the future, after the events he relates. He talks about the death of his first child, the courtship then death of his second wife, and other milestones of his life.

I like this book. I’ve vacillated between 3 stars or 4 stars, and am opting higher because I can feel that this book will settle well over time. It took me a long time to care about Andrew, the main character. Caring about the characters is essential for me, and the whole first half of the book I didn’t. Yet I kept going along for the ride because Doctorow’s writing is such a pleasure. Every page has subtly wonderful insights, perspective, turns of phrase, without ever getting flashy for its own sake.

About the time I developed sympathy for Andrew (and not coincidentally) the story takes a sharp left turn. WTF!?! What the hell is this book really about? Hmmm… Okay. You’ve still got my attention…

This book managed to get me to care about events and people I had sworn to think about, nevermore. It’s not perfect and it’s probably not Doctorow’s best work (this is my first time reading him so I can’t say for sure). But it is worth a read.

Note: I read an advance copy from Librarything in exchange for an honest review. Random House will publish this in Jan 2014.

A Lurid End of Day and a Prizeless Contest

Every once in a while there is a dazzling treat of a sunset that makes me think the painter Maxfield Parrish was a realist.

For all you competitors out there, a contest: guess where this photo was taken and win the satisfaction of being right!

Hint to Dorothy: We’re not in Kansas.

Where was this photo taken?

Where was this photo taken?

(This Weekly Photo Challenge wants to see “saturated”.)

Wisdom From An Unexpected Corner

I’m moving like a pinball – behind as always getting ready for a week out of town – and thinking about chickens without heads. The last thing I need or intend today is an 11-minute video by some shock-talk comedian.

Cut to: Sue finishes second viewing of the clip and thinks, I need to share this.

Inspiration always trumps packing.

P.S. The clip thinks it is 18 mins long but it is not.

RAT is online! P.S. I Know Who Got the Design Genes

Cover art by Lars Huston.

Cover art by Lars Huston.

At last (yee haw!) I have finished retyping Was It A Rat I Saw, my psychological thriller involving split brain research, animal rights, and a love quadrangle. It is now available in serial on this blog and as an ebook in various formats at Smashwords. FREE FOR THE NEXT WEEK!

For the first few hours of its e-publication, I used a cover that I made all by myself. I liked it when full size, but as a thumbnail image on Smashwords, it was murky and uninviting. Previously, my son has made my e-book covers, and I love his artwork. But I felt like I was railroading him into making the covers, so this time I resolved to do it myself. Fortunately, as he watched me struggle with a new and alien version of Illustrator, he offered to take over.

Here’s my original effort:

My version of the cover. Looked like mush at thumbnail size.

My version of the cover. Looked like mush at thumbnail size.

And then there’s the artist’s cover from the Bantam-Doubleday-Dell edition. She put a lot of effort into capturing the book’s details, which I much appreciated:

Cover of "Rat"

Jacket from the original hardcover edition.

Creepy-Sweet

A few millennia ago, by internet time – that is, earlier this year – there was social media hoopla about a great Reddit poll which collected the creepiest sayings of kids. I suppose every parent has contributions to that list. I know I do!

When my son was oh, I dunno, maybe 4, he went through a phase of making ridiculous demands early Saturday morning.  Sure enough, early one weekend morning as I tried to catch up on maybe 4 years of sleep, he wanted something. I don’t remember what, exactly. Perhaps that was the week he wanted to climb out his window and sit on the second story roof. Anyway, I said no, as I did each time, and he threw a tantrum, as he did each time. He went back to his room to fuss.

Laying there, pretending I would fall asleep again, I realized the house had grown quiet. This was so unusual I had to worry. I called softly to my son. Maybe he had fallen asleep?!? Nope.

“What, Mom?” he replied. The mystery deepened. He sounded downright cheerful.

“Everything okay in there?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. Good. Whatcha’ doin’?”

“Oh, I was just thinking about a bear eating you.”

Discipline is always more difficult when they make you laugh.

**************

When my twins were young, I would occasionally suggest that when they went off to college I would come with them so we could stay together. They thought this was a great idea until they hit about 10. After that, there were a couple years when they reacted guardedly, unsure whether I was kidding. After that, they reacted like teenagers.

Back when they wanted us to stay together, my son developed a long-term plan that he shared with gusto. When he was grown, he would build a house behind his own house, and that would be the house where I lived. Then, after I died, he would bury me in the walls so that I could stay there forever.

He has always been a thoughtful person.

**************

Surprised to say, I can’t recall any creepy sayings from my daughter.  However, I will never forget – and am eternally uplifted – by one thing she said to me. She was 3 or 4 at the time: “If ever you fall low I will raise you up.”

And that has proved true ever since.

Experience, Strength, Hope as of 2013

A recent Daily Prompt asked for reactions about public speaking. Overall, I enjoy it – provided I get to think about what I will say, and test it aloud in advance. Recently I gave a short talk that was important to me.

If you’ve read my blog for a while, you know that last spring I had numerous posts about SILD, Someone I Love Dearly who is a heroin addict. Confronting SILD’s condition has sent SILD and me on related journeys of self-discovery. As part of mine, I have joined Al-Anon, an ill-named organization for the loved ones of addicts of all flavors. (Al-Anon originated as an offshoot of Alcoholics Anonymous, which slightly explains the name.) As part of Al-Anon, I took my turn leading a meeting recently, which meant I was supposed to talk for 10 minutes about my “experience, strength and hope.” (Al-Anon has many buzz phrases. That’s one of them. The idea is that when you share what you have gone through and how you have improved things, you might help someone else.) Below is approximately what I said.

I am an advanced beginner in Al-Anon. I started attending meetings maybe last April. That period of my life is so blurry I will never be one of those members who knows precisely when they first arrived.

I am the xxx of a heroin addict, now 6 months sober. SILD’s drug use is my motivator and qualifier to be here. But also, watching SILD’s evolution over the last few months has been an inspiration to me to get a sponsor and practice the steps myself.

My recollections of last spring become blurry from the moment when, doing online banking, I found a succession of $40 checks I didn’t recognize. I pulled them up to view and found checks on my account, made out to SILD, written in SILD’s handwriting. When I confronted SILD about this, I learned the money had been used to buy heroin. I learned SILD had begun using heroin two years before, but had been almost continuously high for a few years before that, an omni-addict who used whatever was available. The first time SILD tried heroin, all the other highs became irrelevant.

Looking back now I see so many signs, but I was in a spectacular state of denial – which surprised me. Usually I’m the one who points out the emperor has no clothes. But not this time. SILD had convinced me odd behaviors resulted from daily heavy use of strong varieties of weed. I didn’t like that but there was nothing I could do to stop it. (I convinced myself of that by making many and varied attempts!)

When I discovered the checks, SILD said “I’ve stopped using, it’s been a few days since I used heroin, I want to stop.” Shortly thereafter, SILD snuck away to get high, then spent the evening pretending to be in withdrawal, and expressing relief to be stopping.

I went on fast fact-finding missions by phone and internet and started to learn about addiction. By the next afternoon SILD was in detox at a hospital, and from there a few days later went into treatment. For a month SILD was in treatment wall-to-wall waking hours (with some very scary free time, nights and weekends). SILD had many rocky periods, where it seemed that SILD would leave treatment or relapse. But the general progress was forward and up.

During that time, on the advice of counselors at the treatment center and internet sites, I went to Al-Anon meetings. I was put off by the bleak stories: years of relapse; terrible choices to come, like ceasing to provide the help that only enables drug use, then watching loved ones disappear to prison, or life on the streets. Or the morgue. I wasn’t ready to hear those things.

My own healing began in meetings for codependents. It was a revelation to learn that I am a codependent, with SILD and in many other situations. I learned about enabling and detachment and setting boundaries. Initially I could only manage detachment with anger, then with exhaustion, then with numbness.

The concept of setting boundaries was huge for me. It led to my saying no sometimes. Saying no reduced resentments about being pushed and manipulated, and that has made detachment with love seem possible.

A pivotal moment for me was understanding that when someone you love lies and manipulates you over time, it is a form of mental abuse. SILD is a master manipulator. But you already knew that because I told you SILD is an addict.

I had been thinking and acting like an abuse victim. This explained so much! I could see those changes in myself: the meekness, the uncertainty, the sense that I didn’t deserve – anything, that I had no right to good treatment. I had gotten to the point where I couldn’t ask for help in a store. Didn’t want to bother the clerk.

Another revelation was coming to this Al-Anon meeting. At SILD’s treatment center, during the breaks, the addicts were so lively: talking,laughing, charismatic, vivid. Their loved ones were off in corners alone, dull and shut down and closed off, stooped, hunched over. Oh god was that who I was? I felt like an appendage, a parasite that had to suck  color from my addict. Then I came here and I discovered that what I had witnessed were loved ones caught up in the addiction. I got here and found that the loved ones in Al Anon can be every bit as vivid and lively and interesting as the addicts.

Nowadays SILD has become a big book thumper – meaning the AA Big Book. For a while SILD was doing so well I stalled out in my recovery – I lost my sense of urgency. But now the changes in SILD have inspired me to seek that kind of transformation. SILD is a sponsor now and when I catch SILD’s conversations with sponsees, I am so impressed. SILD is so wise and insightful. I want more of that for myself. I want to be that comfortable in my own skin. In our disagreements nowadays SILD is the one who leads us away from bickering and back to the high road.

I have a lot of work to do. I still don’t trust SILD much and of course relapse is always a possibility, forever. When events remind me of the Old Days those are triggers that really set me spiraling. I know Al Anon can help me work through such triggers, yet I’ve been resistant to Al Anon. I have many reasons. I am not a joiner, I’m 100% agnostic, everyone using the same slogans and jargon gives me the creeps, doing Step 4 sounds scary. I fear getting involved and joining a cult. Even more, I fear joining the cult and finding it can’t help me after all. Also I hate reading non fiction. I am especially proud of that last excuse, I think it’s an original one.

But you know sometimes you just have to jump off the cliff and not think about where you might land. So that is what I’ve done. I now attend meetings regularly, have a sponsor and am working on Step 1.

From meetings, what has helped me most so far has been the “Dos and Donts” list and the concept NO IS A COMPLETE SENTENCE.

Over the last few months I’ve kept returning to a quote by the great playwright Eugene O’Neil (who by the way came from a family of alcoholics):

Man is born broken. He lives by mending. The grace of God is glue.

I’ve been thinking about what breaks and what mends. Me. SILD. At home. At work. And I see that Al Anon and AA give a lot of glue.