set sail for pegboy island!

Had a nice dinner tonight with salome_st_john who is my future ex-girlfriend although she doesn’t know it. Ate throbbing meat. Was able to present her with a panda-related gift, which was nice. Yes, eyeteeth, she greeted me hopping and waving her hand as instructed!

I went to D’s for a bit and it felt like the fucking Arctic. I know it was only 52F with a mild wind but I wanted to die. So I went to Tower Records. I’d like to confirm for all of you that the music industry is dead. There was nothing new there that anyone would want to buy. The clerks were playing some generic numetal/emo shit that they obviously liked not much more than I did. Nothing there was worth the $18.99 they charge for CDs. It’s kind of sad. This whole industry is dead but still ambulatory.

The Lido Diner’s hearts of romaine salad is awesome.

A friend of mine is getting married this summer and I got a pre-invitation in the mail which was a fridge magnet. Ever get the feeling that the world is accelerating very, very fast?

Westwood Memory (I may have posted this before)

Some time in the late 1980s I was in Westwood Village, which is the part of L.A. just south of UCLA. It had been a big entertainment district, the place to be on Friday and Saturday Night, but was in a steep decline. Most of the fancy stores and restaurants had gone, things were dirty, and most of the pedestrians were lost souls. I was among them, since I was taking the bus from my unsuccessful psychotherapist back to my grimy Hollywood apartment.

It was maybe 9 pm, cold and blustery, and the first drops of rain were moistening the blowing trash so it stuck to people and objects unpleasantly. Coming up towards the bus stop, I came upon this scene:

In the doorway to an office building, one of the local homeless poor had set up camp. He was about 35, dressed in what had once been a decent suit which was torn and stained and shedding buttons. He himself had a mop of blonde hair and a dirty face wreathed in a joyous smile. He had a boom box going full blast and was singing along lustily, with a cap on the ground in hopes that someone would reward this piece of impromptu street karaoke.

The song he was performing? Barry Manilow’s 1976 hit “Looks Like We Made It“.

I still wonder about that guy. He certainly wasn’t seeing the dingy, damp, urban failure in front of him, or the RTD bus or the other bums or me in my jeans & jacket & backpack looking at him in horror. He was in heaven, maybe onstage in Vegas. Maybe he even was Barry. Looks like we maaaaaaaade it! I wonder what happened to him?

Elliot Valenstein, the history of lobotomy, and more

“Physicians get neither name nor fame by the pricking of wheals or the picking out thistles, or by laying of plaisters to the scratch of a pin; every old woman can do this. But if they would have a name and a fame, if they will have it quickly, they must do some great and desperate cures.” —John Bunyan

Great and Desperate Cures: The Rise and Decline of Psychosurgery and Other Radical Treatments for Mental Illness

Interview with Elliot Valenstein on the History of Lobotomy

Elliot Valenstein’s page at umich

The War of the Soups and Sparks, The Discovery of Neurotransmitters and the Dispute Over How Nerves Communicate, by Elliot Valenstein.

hurray for springheel_jack!

I just got in the mail from him two books: Graham Greene’s Journey Without Maps and Tim O’Brien’s Going After Cacciato.

The Greene is wonderfully gloomy. Mr. G heads off to Liberia in the late thirties and wallows in the horrors of colonialism. Not only are things completely fucked-up, but reading it now I know how much worse they got. All of the gloom is worth it, though, for his prose.

Going After Cacciato is a wonderful novel that I read when it came out. I haven’t had my own copy (I read my dad’s) and hadn’t re-read it since, although I have recommended it to others. It’s a picaresque journey/magic realist fantasy set during the Vietnam war, but that doesn’t do it justice at all.

Thanks Nat! That was really cool of you!