Saturday, May 24, 2003

Pasta Growers Unite Across Decades
The BBC's April Fool's Day 1957 report covering the spaghetti harvest in Switzerland, sadly, is not the true antecedent to this site. However, the possibilities of a pasta farm are not lost on one California guy. An Italian food / BBQ roadhouse / wine bar in Sonoma for bikers and pikers alike? Load up the truck, ma. This farmer's heading West.

Friday, May 23, 2003

One Pill Makes You Larger
One problem with being on the far fringes of the New York editorial world -- in my case, that's several rungs below the server of shrimp canopies at Stephen Brill's last co-op board meeting -- with your nose pressed against the glass, is that there is no pharmaceutical remedy for self-hatred. (Well, of course there is, but who among us could afford it?) C'mon! Who needs it anyway? The real remedy is what it always has been: poking fun at those shaky Chihuahuas who cling to tenuous positions of power. Tina Brown's latest column made my gloomy Memorial Day weekend with its visions of post-911 angst among New York elite. Highlights follow.

Regarding one "power chick" at a NY law firm: “'I was coping horribly,' she told me. 'I’d never sat in meetings before where I felt irrelevant. I have high-maintenance issues, yes, but I was never not relevant. Then I got a prescription for Meridia for weight loss and immediately everything felt great! Now I go to meetings and smile all the time.'”

On fear of flying: "Before she discovered Zoloft, a mother at my daughter’s school had a panic attack at JFK airport just as she and her kids were about to board a plane to Florida for spring break. She called her husband and made him leave the office immediately to do the two-day drive with her from New York to South Beach. On his return he was fired. So it’s just as well he was already on Paxil."

On medicated power couples: "One of my former magazine colleagues, who is on Zoloft to diminish her sense of panic, is married to a man who takes Wellbutrin to dampen his inner rage. For a union of rage and panic they looked preternaturally serene the last time we met."

Wasn't it Bob Dylan who said, "When you ain't got nothing, you've got nothing to lose."?




Wednesday, May 21, 2003

This Time's It's Personal
Yes, someone beat you to Saadam Hussein's personal banjo.
But Where Can I Park the Econoline?
Converted municipal building? Lodging accomodations named for French postmodernist? Rock shows? Wi-fi access? Ironic manifesto? Could The Department of Safety be the first indie rock hostel? Uh, i guess.

Tuesday, May 20, 2003

The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter
Hunter S. Thompson occupies a sweet, neglected corner in our hearts. It's a corner best visited infrequently, midway between nostalgia (e.g., baseball's "hot corner") and intolerable pretense (e.g., Miles Davis' 70s funk album "Down on the Corner"), lest we suffer the sting of youthful folly on our somewhat weathered cheeks. (It's the same corner in which Jim Morrison, Neal Peart, and Trent Reznor reside.) Most of us drawn to Hunter S. in our formative years did so by both tropism -- the drugs, chaos and insanity he portrayed called our ultraist's tune -- and awe -- he was a damn good, thoughtful writer with keen eyes and ears and a rebellious streak you could ride a 1952 Vincent Black Shadow through. But we dwelt on the former over the latter.

As sure as I'm sitting here in my half-height cubicle I can still remember what kind of pot I was smoking the first time someone said to me, "Dude, you have to read 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.'" Later on, during the 1992 election season, I burned through 1972's "Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail," seething with post-adolescent indignation for what I believed to be my own era's lack of equivalent social upheaval. I recall with disgust some of the conversations I had with equally self-rightous clods.

Although smart and compelling and witty and angry and dirty and fearless as a 16-year-old with a juvie card, keys to dad's Buick Le Sabre, and a case of Cutty Sark, Thompson was not the voice of my generation. But oh how I wanted him to be.

Paul Theroux reviews Thompson's "Kingdom of Fear: Loathsome Secrets of a Star-Crossed Child in the Final Days of the American Century" in The Guardian UK

Monday, May 19, 2003

Where Have You Seen Shots?
Cooper Square, Monday 19, 2003: Law & Order SVU. Full-scale operation here. Tons for trucks and big dudes loafing around eating sandwiches.

Let us know what you saw shot GoToGuy@lasagnafarm.com
Who Does The Times Think Jimmy Kimmel Is?
The Grey Lady poses the question, Who is Jimmy Kimmel and how did he get his show? I pose the question, Anyone remember Carson Daily's late-night abomination? (Full disclosure: I went to a taping once. Insert laughing at me here.) To be honest, I think Kimmel is pretty funny. Not Sarah Silverman funny, but funny. He was always "Porky's" to Adam Carolla's "Porky's II: The Next Day" and "Porky's Revenge."

Anyhow, what the hell is The Times doing giving Kimmel his own section in the paper? The guy is a barely a blip on Letterman's radar.
An Assignment
E-mail Mike Topp and tell him he's a genius.
1. Exhibit one: Poems
2. Exhibit two: Letters
Paris as Daisy
How cool would this be? Paris Hilton as Daisy Buchanan in a remake of "The Great Gatsby" -- third item Who cares if she can or cannot act; the casting is stunninly brilliant.
Paul Collins tells you where to find books.
He is editor of The Collins Library, an author, and now an overseas tour guide to all things literary. Three cheers, hurrah.