I mentioned that I went to First Friday on Paseo and that IonOKmag.com took our photo, but I was too lazy to upload it. Here it is, since I misidentified where to look for it.

About the most interesting thing to happen to me since I last blogged was that MCARP and I intentionally went to see a bad movie. Previously, we had seen Season of the Witch with Nick Cage which was a real bow wow. This time, we went to see “Insidious”, a things that go bump in the night bad movie. I kept repeating as the film unwound: “Poltergeist called and wants its plot back.” Every directorial hack trick in the book crammed into 90 minutes of 35mm film. All the storytelling power of a four year old. Dumber than a box of rocks. Incomprehensible plot holes. At least Poltergeist had a midget to keep John X occupied. I enjoyed the hell out of it, but you have to be in one of those moods or don’t even bother to rent it.

At home, I had the pleasure of putting together a double feature of “Black Dahlia” and “L.A. Confidential”, two 1940s Los Angeles noir films adapting novels by Ellroy, the former directed by Brian DePalma. The books are richly dense with historical figures and materials, but neither have much to do with the central (and real) crimes portrayed because they are mostly character-driven novels about fictional characters with the historical time as backdrop. In other words, both are historical fictions. You can well recognize the books from the films, but the movies don’t even try to follow the novels like Peter Jackson did with Lord of the Rings. They are both just works based on the novels, but both capture the feel and much of the goodness of the books. A great movie evening, for my taste, getting to compare/contrast both the movies and the books back and forth. I recommend both the movies and the books.

I’m not happy with Obama leaving Gitmo open for more years, but I enjoyed listening to him spank Rep. Paul Ryan’s truly awful budget plan. When seniors find out that the GOP intends to not just put their hands on Medicare, but to destroy it as we presently know it, and when independents are reminded that only Democratic Party President Clinton managed to provide a surplus, promptly pissed away by Bush, I’m not so sure that 2012 will be the resurgence of the GOP they presently imagine.

By the way, just like U.S. Sen. Jon Kyle (R-AZ) who trumpeted the statement that 90% of Planned Parenthood is abortions and was confronted by the fact that it’s really only 3%, Nothing in Blogblah is intended as a factual statement. KO’s “Worst Person in the World”, Jon Kyle is being lampooned by Colbert on Twitter over this posture to great comic effect, if you happen to be on Twitter. Funny man, Colbert. Kyle, one supposes, is only elected by Arizonans to the Senate to make McCain seem less like a grumpy and idiotic old white guy.

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Every once in awhile, the internet crowdsources a kind of genius. In this case, on Reddit appeared a science story about evolution of human sexuality and it became a comment thread of genius. I thought I’d share:
I like big butts
I was thoroughly amused and I hope you are as well.

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Watch to the end, it just gets better

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I just can’t make myself join Facebook with the 77 million of you that are already there. I’m really sorry, sister and daughter and son and all the others who’ve invited me. I know for a certain fact that if I were to join Facebook, it would be all that I ever did for the rest of my life. It’s like television, alcohol and heroin. There are just some things I’d best avoid. However, I do know that MCARP posts there and has an ouevre of putting in photos of his feet. This is my homage to him, since most of my posts nowadays seem to include or respond to him. When the jazz gets going sometime after 9 p.m., you never know what’ll happen. Often it’s OK, but just OK. However, every once in awhile, it’s a real treat. The mix of musicians and crowd and the selection of music just goes magical. I go most Mondays for those magical moments that can’t be captured. It’s emphemeral art that must be experienced. Cami Stimpson, a chanteuse who just returned from a major gig in North Carolina with Mark Conner, is the organizer and doyenne and has such a lovely voice. She a beautiful blonde woman and is so very pleasant to be around. I’m a big, big fan. Ah, to be 30 again. Oh, well.

Just to remind you, there were some cool nights lately that reined in my convertible joys and I understand Monday will also cool off substantially from the 90 degrees we enjoyed Sunday afternoon. Spring has definitely come to mi casa:

I went out to get my mail midweek and as I turned to go into the house, I spotted a bit of unexpected pink. The buds covered the three or four bushes of azaleas I have left and they are already beautiful. I can’t claim credit; it was mother nature all the way. I took my mail into the bedroom I use as a studio and office in the back of the house and looked out the window into the back yard and what to my wondering eyes did appear but lush pastel purples and blues.

Then, Thursday morning as I sat in my breakfast nook having coffee, I gazed out into the front courtyard and was greeted by little dots of yellow:

There are other little yellow flowers in my yards, but I’m told they are NOT in any way shape or form lovely to my neighbors who keep immaculate yards. I’ve hired a yard boy to mow and edge and I’ll have to find out what he will charge to spread poison into the watershed or I will face angry villagers with pitchforks, or so I’ve been led to believe by the lady across the street who has a yard that is a full time job at no pay. It’s her son that’s doing my mowing, btw.

Friday, April Fool’s Day, was also First Friday on the Paseo and I went there hoping to see my buddies, even though I was late to the party. Had dinner at Picasso’s with 4-5 of my AA friends and set out to see the art and artists. I wish I’d taken a short note and a photo of the work in JRB Gallery’s front room. I LOVED the bright palette of colors, but I don’t know the artist and haven’t gone back to look at Joy Reed’s invite email. I also was charmed by the micro sculptures in the side room. The crowds seem larger this year and some of the art seems a bit less boring than sometimes in the past. I finally caught up with Oz and the lovely Debster and we even had our pictures taken. You can look that up yourself at www.ionokmag.com, click photo gallery and go to town, I think it’s gallery #2.

I mostly did AA stuff over the weekend. I have new sponsees and I met with them and heard their tales of woe and lined them out with instructions for the next three months. It’s very rewarding to help people get sober and I consider it me paying back a debt that can never be fully repaid. Someone helped me and now it’s my turn. I also watched a packet of movies, the most interesting one was a foreign film, Hong Kong, named “2046”. If you get a Netflix chance, I recommend it. It’s not a martial arts movie, by the way, it’s sort of an erotic thriller, character sketch, I don’t know exactly how to describe it. I can say I liked it and will watch it again. Other than that, it was pretty much classic movies: Philadelphia Story with Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart and Katherine Hepburn is one of my all time favorites; Treasure of the Sierra Madre with Bogart, Tim Holt and Walter Huston directed by his son, John, another great old movie; and, The Lady Vanishes, an early Hitchcock English film.

Last but not least, I had lunch Friday with my Mom and an old high school buddy, Richard Robinson of Robinson and Hoover law firm. We debated together in the way back days and he went on to Yale, marriage to a high school sweetheart, and a lovely home in Crown Heights. I adore this guy. He’s smart and kind and funny. If you ever need someone to collect a debt, he is the MAN in Oklahoma. His wife, Linna, was just about the most beautiful woman in Oklahoma City when we were young and she still is, in my humble opinion. I look forward to our next lunch, especially since Mr. Robinson made me laugh and remember the good old days.

I’m a pretty happy camper these days.

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I’ve been waiting for MCARP to blog about his Santa Fe trip, but I’ve given up waiting.

First thing you need to know is that it was HIS trip and I was only along for the ride, for which I am grateful since I really needed to get out of town. However, it’ll be awhile before I take a long car ride again. The bouncing, etc., was physically very difficult for me and I was out of action for a couple of days after we got back. In any case, I don’t feel too bad about blogging Santa Fe, even though it’s mainly MCARP’s story to tell, because he and I had very different experiences. He had his focus and I had mine and we didn’t spend all that much time together once we got out of the car. I’m perfectly content to let him tell his story in his way, but I do think his story is more interesting than mine. This is a blog entry about my own experiences and has not much to do with his story.

As we got on the road and before we’d driven even the first hour out of Oklahoma City, we had to stop for road food. One thing about the trip that stands out for me was that MCARP and I both like to stop frequently and dither. It made for us being good road companions. MCARP, in this thumbnail, is taking a picture of a frosty rootbeer. You see, when you tweet, facebook, blog and text, everything has to be documented. So, MCARP had to get this shot. It’s only half of his road food diet, though. The other half is beef jerky.

Because I’m careful about my health these days, I couldn’t imagine a road diet of root beer and beef jerky. No No No. I had a MUCH more healthy road diet. Salted peanuts poured into a bottle of Coca-Cola, just like God intended. Also coffee. Lots of coffee. We may have set a land speed record for getting to and coming home from Santa Fe. I think it took us about 8.5 hours to get there and about 9.5 hours for the drive back. We stopped and ate, for goodness sake!

We had great weather, I thought. The highs were in the mid 60s and that’s just fine because there’s lots of walking to do in Santa Fe between the plaza and Canyon Road, where all the galleries gather. Sunshine, but a bit of a brisk wind in the evenings. We stayed at Garrett’s Motel, which I believe The Debster found for a trip a few years ago. I loved the place. Good rooms only a block from the plaza and a price point of about $80 per night. I think the front desk crew was a little taken aback when MCARP and I burst out into an a capella version of “Oklahoma!” as we checked in, but we were a bit giddy from the ride and happy to be back on solid ground.

Once we arrived in Santa Fe, we mostly split up. Mike went to the sculpture garden and visited Taos, for example, while I stuck around the plaza. We met for meals and did some things together, of course, but, as I say, he had his focus and I had my own. While he was gadding about, I walked to the plaza to see the craziness that goes on there.

One of the places I keep going back to for a meal is The Ore House on the plaza. I love to sit up on the second floor patio and watch the action going on at street level. On this day, there were a couple of guys singing, guitar playing, horn playing, etc., while we ate and they did covers of standards, lots of 50s-80s music, that kind of thing. I splurged for a filet of beef dinner and ate it all every bit. A very happy plate. Between the food, the music and the view I was perfectly happy with the price. Your mileage may vary.

These girls were dancing to the theme song of a Japanese cartoon, doing the same dance routine as the characters. If you don’t recognize the characters they represent, then your children and/or grandchildren aren’t the right age and you can go out and get some of your own. I never quite figured out if they were raising money for Japan tsunami relief or for their own trip to Japan, but they had tip jars out they passed around every time the theme song came to an end. They were very energetic and posed for photos with other kids/tourists.

I got a little fascinated with this young woman who was sitting at the center of the plaza reading “War and Peace”. I kept wondering if she intentionally turned herself into a cliche or if it was just that she was a cliche and didn’t know it or what. About three or four young men stopped to ask her what she was reading while I watched. None of them lasted very much longer than the answer. I wrote a short story about her in my mind while I watched, but I’d really like to know what was going on in her head. I never asked because I’d rather have my fantasy than the torpid and pedestrian reality answer.

Saturday night was the night of the so-called “supermoon”. Once every 18 years, the moon comes to its perigee, the closest to Earth portion of its orbit, and that full moon rising this year was dubbed supermoon. Not only did I catch a photo of the moon rising over the cathedral just off the plaza, but as you can see, there were quite a few amateur photogs trying for the same shot before dark clouds hid the brightness.

Although I wandered in and out of about 100 different shops and passed by dozens and dozens of street vendors, I really wasn’t in much of a buying mood. I think the only thing I bought in Santa Fe was a hat and that only because the sun was really bright at the altitude. The hat I bought will be indistinguishable from my other hats to almost everyone. It’s black and brimmed and soft and a westernized fedora. I think the price was $30. Oh, and I bought some clusters of sage, pinon and cedar that supposedly makes the world smell like Santa Fe and I’ll be dropping them into the fire this cool weekend here in Oklahoma City. From a chamber of commerce point of view, I’m not much of a tourist, I suppose, but I really don’t have much use for tourquoise jewelry and woven blankets and my walls are already full of original oil paintings.

As to meals, I have a special thank you to send out to Soartstar for turning me on to Pascal’s, just off the plaza, where I had breakfast. Lots of locals and good food. I also had coffee about midway between Garrett’s and the plaza at an Italian coffee and glace place called “Pronto”, where I had the odd experience of being in an Italian eatery seated next to three Germans who had a conversation in English with a Japanese couple. I believe they were trying to re-establish the mid-century Axis powers, but I’m not sure since it was in code and about art galleries.

Our last dinner in Santa Fe was at The Pink Adobe, which for some reason had several oil paintings of roosters up on the wall. It’s about a block from our hotel and VERY good. I had a blue corn chicken enchilada that was paired with spiced hominey as a side and the hominey was darned delicious.

About the time we hit Amarillo on the way back, my right kidney surgical site began to hurt like the devil and I was exhausted when I got back to my own bed. Nevertheless, well worth it. Over to you, MCARP. This is my story and I’m sticking to it.

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You guys do know, don’t you, that you can click on the photos and get full size? Try it, you’ll like it. Or not.

All you gals hoping to diet your way into being a stick figure, take a look at a real woman with real curves. Va Va and Voom, folks, she was money and grabbed off six husbands along the way. A tireless AIDS campaigner and a real movie star, she died today. Those violet eyes still make me feel as nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof, even though I’ve never once been afraid of Virginia Woolf. Her films will never die.
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“Everybody Plays The Fool” is the title of a popular song written by J.R. Bailey, Rudy Clark and Ken Williams. The first recording of the song to reach the Top 40 was by the R&B/soul group The Main Ingredient, a trio consisting at the time of Cuba Gooding, Sr., Tony Silvester and Luther Simmons, Jr. Their version of “Everybody Plays The Fool” rose to #3 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart in the fall of 1972 and was certified gold by the RIAA.