The view from my roof

This is the view from my roof yesterday evening. What follows are more views from my roof. The clouds were lovely, though I wish I could get the buildings to come out better. I suppose I need a tripod for that, yes? Is that correct, photogs out there in TV land?

Fallout

I love etymologies.

I'm working on my company's profile of Boeing right now, and I wrote a heading for one section, "September 11 fallout," and began to wonder: does the term fallout date from the nuclear age, or somewhen before? If the former, isn't it weird how quickly it became an established word to mean any number of things, and really how, when we use it, we don't really even think of its nuclear origins?

So I looked it up:

fall (v.)

O.E. feallan (class VII strong verb; past tense feoll, pp. feallen), from P.Gmc. *fallanan (cf. O.N. falla, O.H.G. fallan), from PIE base *phol- "to fall" (cf. Armenian p'ul "downfall," Lith. puola "to fall," O.Prus. aupallai "finds," lit. "falls upon"). Noun sense of "autumn" (now only in U.S.) is 1664, short for fall of the leaf (1545). That of "cascade, waterfall" is from 1579. Most of the figurative senses had developed in M.E. Meaning "to be reduced" (as temperature) is from 1658. To fall in love is attested from 1530; to fall asleep is 1393. Fall guy is from 1906. Fallout "radioactive particles" is from 1950. Fallen "morally ruined" is from 1628.

Turns out it is from the 1950s. Also interesting is the fact that the phrase "fall in love" dates from 1530. What did people say before that? Did people not fall in love before then? Surely they did, but how did they describe it to their friends, or to the person with whom they were falling in love?

Also: how strange — and strangely appropriate — that we often talk of fallout from a relationship gone bad, one into which we may have originally gotten by — that's right — falling in love.

Stradivarious

This morning I've had two encounters with violins. The first came when, as has become something of a morning ritual, I was watching a bit of Saved By the Bell. It was the one where Bayside was having a beauty pageant, and Jessie was up in arms about the sexist nature of pageants. Lisa Turtle, though, had no such qualms. Eventually, everybody got in on the act - Screech entered, then Jessie, deciding that if a Screech was in the pageant then it was a step in the right direction for gender equality (was Showgirls also a step in that direction?), and Kelly and then Slater.

Anyway, at one point in the show the "gang" was rehearsing for the talent portion, and Lisa played the violin. Not well, but competently. Which reminded me of when I was a kid and I played the violin, at recitals and etc. Violin #1.

Violin #2 was a lot more unique. I recently took a new job in a new building. This morning when I came to work, I got on the elevator and hit 5. Another guy hit 2. When the doors opened at 2, they opened onto a shop full of violins.

If Violin #3 happens today, I'll know it's a sign and that I should pick the instrument back up.

This time Paul Newman's gone too far

From the label of Newman's Own Oldstyle Picture Show Popcorn:

"The popcorn in this jar is the top of the crop – the top 20% of the crop of hybrid all-natural corn especially grown for Paul Newman."

What does he think he is, some sort of terrible Aztec god, some latter-day Quetzlcoatl? This time he's gone too far.

THE AMERICAN PRINCES @ Mercury Lounge

Attenzione, attenzione!

Calling all rock 'n' rollers... THE AMERICAN PRINCES, Little Rock, Arkansas's finest indie rock band (emphasis on the rock), will be playing at 7:30pm Wednesday night at New York City's famed MERCURY LOUNGE. Tix are just $8, and three other bands are playing after THE AMERICAN PRINCES so it's worth your hard-earned dolla bills!

Rumor has it that ROLLING STONE magazine will be in attendance to see THE AMERICAN PRINCES... as such, all who've ever loved this band should come out to represent. Also, other people who as yet haven't loved this band should come, because soon you'll love them, too.

For details call (917/405-5956) or email (hunterslaton at gmail dot com) HUNTER R.S.

About a Bill

So I was reading an article about Gore in New York magazine, and
there's this part where the author is discussing what might happen in
Gore v. Hillary for the Dem nom, and the writer brings up Bill, and
how he might affect the match-up.

"Think about Bill," an old Clinton hand says, half-jokingly.  "You can
see him talking to Hillary one minute, then ducking into his study to
take Gore's call and advise him on how to beat her.  He's Clinton, you
know – he just can't help himself."

Hilarious – and totally true.  There's something just so likable about
Clinton, for that reason; he just obviously loves the game of it all,
loves being alive and a player in things.

Streetlife

Walking up 1st Avenue yesterday evening, on my way to the L train and home, I had a funny encounter.

I was walking just behind a guy and a girl, together, and the guy was on his cell talking to someone else.

"We're going to Tile Bar?" he asked into the phone. "Where's Tile Bar?"

I piped up behind him - "1st Ave and 7th Street" - and the guy on the phone turned towards me, seemed to size me up, and said, "1st and 7th, says the mustachioed man behind me."

As I passed the couple, I caught the still-on-the-phone guy's eye and pointed up the street to Tile Bar, which was within view. I sped up walking and began to pull away from them when I heard the guy ask into his phone, "Is there food there?"

"No!" I shouted back.

The guy looked again at me and said into the phone, "Goddamn, this guy ahead of me is so on point...."

Keep it Vaulted

Though I usually try to keep this blog not-me-centered, today I have a bit of good news.

Reposted from Planworld:

Today I accepted a new job, as an editor at a company called Vault. I hadn't heard of it before I applied, but apparently it's pretty big with non-publishing types, especially in areas like law. It's a career information/business guide publishing company, and they do guides on everything from the Top 100 Law Firms to How to Get a Career in TV Writing.

It pays 16 percent more than I'm making now; has full benefits and 401k; and for vacation I get 15 days in my first year and 20 in my second! Also it's totally casual and growing and is located in a laid-back office in Chelsea, just north of where I work now. I'm very excited about this, and can't wait to start (and get PAID). My first day there will be the 5th of June.

Hooray (said in a Dave Chappelle voice) for me!

A Tree Grew in Brooklyn...

...but it doesn't anymore.

I spent most of Saturday cutting down trees in Diana and her neighbors' backyards. The reason we were cutting down trees (a rarity in New York) in backyards (double rarity) was that these trees were mulberry trees - a.k.a. "trash trees." All last summer they produced these awful berries in numbers that were truly staggering. I mean, we're talking a two-inch thick carpet of rotting, stinky, staining berries that attracted flies and all manner of bug from miles (or at least it seemed) away.

So this weekend, after a death row reprieve of a couple of weeks due to rain, the mulberrys came down - with a crash. We had a pruner chainsaw on a long pole, a reciprocating saw to dispose of the "bodies," a very tall extension ladder, some rope, and a makeshift grappling hook - a garden implement tied onto the end of the rope. We went up top of the ladder, trimmed down, and only really ran into problems with the last major chunk of the biggest tree.

We tried everything: we cut, we grappled, we pulled, we hit - from all angles. Eventually with a big heave-ho in the right direction the beast came crashing down, only to lodge itself on the severed stump of its other fork. It's a wonder none of us got hit, broke an arm, etc. We split up the remaining pieces with the pole chainsaw and quit to watch the Kentucky Derby, which my roommate and one of the guys cutting trees with us won - a five-dollar bet on Barbaro, which went off at 6-to-1.

A planner

For NYC-area residents or visitors, the following's a next-two-weeks planner. All shows listed below come with the official Hunter "seal of approval" - which is rubber stamp mark of a fish, bearing the inscription, "Sealed with a fish."

Monday, April 10th - Wolf Parade w/ The French Kicks at Webster Hall - SOLD OUT, tho' tix can always be had on the street
Tuesday, April 11th - The American Princes w/ Midstates at Maxwell's - tix just $7!
Thursday, April 13th - The American Princes w/ Midstates at Northsix - tix just $10!
Tuesday, April 18th - TV on the Radio w/ Celebration at The Bowery Ballroom - SOLD OUT, tho' again, tix can always be had
Wednesday, April 19th - Lucero w/ Langhorne Slim at Northsix - tix just $12!

Come one come all - a good time's guaranteed!

A show I watched, a show I'd like to be on

The former item of this post's title refers to the second episode of the sixth season of the The Sopranos, which I saw last Sunday night. Such dread. For those who don't know what's happened so far (and don't want to know), stop reading now.

So Tony's nearly dead, or he's in between, in purgatory, which is represented by a couple of massive, glossy, anonymous hotels, one called the "Omni," which seems to hint at the directional uncertainty of his life and (possible) death. And then there's just these little hints at what might come: the flame-lick of a forest fire on the horizon, a commercial on TV (this was a bit over-blatant, but whatever) featuring a cross - and James Gandolfini, this is how good he is, you know he knows somewhere within himself exactly what's going on here, and he expresses it with the slightest of facial expressions, just the very slightest. That's always been a highlight of the show, I think: reading Tony Soprano's mind via James Gandolfini's face.

The latter item of the post's title refers to a reality TV show I'm applying to be on. Wait, wait - don't click "X" in disgust just yet; it's actually pretty cool, and totally For Me. It's going to be on MTV, and it's basically an Apprentice-type show, but instead of The Donald, it's Jann Wenner - meaning instead of the Trump Company, it's Rolling Stone. And, though I probably won't get on - I imagine they'll be very careful not to pick too many New Yorkers, so my already long odds are even longer - it's still a cool process, and is based on valid things like writing ability (they ask for samples), favorite journalists, stories you would pitch to your RS editor, stories you wish you'd written, things like that. The only thing I lack is a DV video camera.

If ever

If ever you're writing and at a loss for a good character name, check your email's spam folder. It's a freakin' goldmine:

Harland Brocious
Rabab Lettieri
Ignacio Love
Chance McLeod
Bradley Popp
Stefano Allis
Chelsea Winters
Katherine Fischer
Maiara Genao
Hippolytos Chery
Amelia Rossi
Edmond Sircy
Sally Rutledge

Also in Arkansas, at the U of A in Fayetteville, on the sidewalks they have the names of all the graduates listed by year. You can just walk around and imagine stories for the names to your heart's content. My favorite:

Beulah Laughinghouse

(I added the Beulah, but the Laughinghouse I found... what a fantastic last name.)

More Accurate Titles for Various Seasons of MTV’s The Real World

Real World: Girls Gone Wild
Real World: American Stereotypes in Paris
Real World: I Totally Went to School with that One Chick
Real World: VH1’s The Surreal Life Casting Call
Real World: My First “African-American”
Real World: Learning to Love a Gay Guy, but Not In That Way, Man
Real World: Some Bars and Jails*

* applies to most seasons

The Windy Apple

Today's been amazing weather in New York: started out this morning extremely windy and blustery, with rain shooting sideways and everyone's umbrellas being turned inside out. Now it's chilled off and maybe will snow this evening.

Eat the movie, drink the steak, watch the wine.

Springlike weather in New York, the bus runs by my window, the Empire above.

Watched, the last three nights, the PBS Country Boys documentary, by David Sutherland. Very good, and the title song, by Ray Riddle, has been stuck in my head since.

This weekend's a long weekend, due to MLK Day, and I think I might paint my living room. We never had MLK Day in high school, Catholic High School for Boys, because Father Tribou said,

"Boys, we won't be off on Monday for Martin Luther King Day because I think if Dr. King were alive today he'd want you in school and not sitting on your butts at home."

If you'd like to observe MLK Day with a little reading, I'd suggest his Letter from a Birmingham Jail, or "Why We Can't Wait." It's really amazing and stirring and call-to-arms.

Enough for this evenin'.

Yesterday looking out my window in the morning I saw a clutch of birds wheeling in the wind. They flipped like a snapping, whipping flag that's black on one side and white on the other, all together, about twenty birds or so, above a church.

I saw a movie last night called Rize, by David LaChapelle (not Dave Chapelle), who usually takes fashion photos for mags like Rolling Stone. It's about the ghettos in LA, and this new style of dance called "krumping." It was really poignant and beautiful and cool - the dancing is amazing - and I was surprised that LaChapelle displayed such empathy and a deft touch.

I haven't posted here in awhile because I don't want to write things on this blog if they're totally me-centered & pedestrian.

Maya wrote:

"there's something i like about the crazy shit that
happens in this city. there's such a sense of "suck it up together" that i
like about times like this. seeing the throngs walking and hitch
hiking...it's kind of cool."

I totally agree. I started walking from my crib at 8:30 this morning,
headed toward the Williamsburg Bridge, and on my way a car with two women in
it called out to me, "Manhattan?" I said yeah and they said hop in, so I
did. Later we snagged another girl - making the total of four per car
necessary to enter the city - and had a great time talking and listening to
the news about the strike. Then, when they let me out, the driver,
Valiance, said if I wanted a ride tomorrow that she was picking up her
friend at 8am on the corner of Graham & Metro, right near where I live.

And it was funny, waiting in traffic to cross the bridge, to see all the
random collection of people in all the cars: black, white, Asian, Mexican,
doesn't matter at all. Everybody's a New Yorker and's gotta get to work!

December 16, 2005

Joe Levy & James Kaminsky
Rolling Stone
1290 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10104-0298

Dear Mr. Levy & Mr. Kaminsky,

My name is Hunter Slaton, and I’m writing today to apply for the music editorial assistant position I heard might soon be open at your magazine. Here’s why:

• I thought it odd that Zadie Smith was quoted in the recent feature on Jay-Z. However, I loved the bit where Jay-Z teases Beyoncé about Houston not being ghetto.
• A couple years back, I really enjoyed the mock-serious piece on mascot assault.
• I know David Fricke by sight. (Not especially difficult, but still.)
• Tucked away, I have a few favorite issues of Rolling Stone, including the one with the cast of Seinfeld in Wizard of Oz get-up, and the one after 9/11, with Jann’s American flag pin on the cover.
• Two pieces I’ve been tempted to pitch: the annual IceStock rock concert at McMurdo Station, on Antarctica (where I worked last winter), and a camp-out/weekend-long show by Apollo Sunshine at their home outside of Boston.
• The piece David Foster Wallace wrote about the McCain campaign was brilliant and fearless.
• I keep an immaculate workspace, so Mr. Wenner’s desk inspections would pose no threat to me.
• Rolling Stone is the only US music magazine that covers the whole scene and everything in between, from American Idol to alt-country.

Herewith, please find a copy of my resume. I’ve worked in editorial at the Rough Guides for the past few years, but it’s always been a dream – as I hope is evidenced by the above – to work for Rolling Stone.

All the best,

Hunter R. Slaton

Watching TV last night I came across The Wizard of Oz, which was playing on TBS.

I remember back when I was a kid that The Wizard of Oz only came on once a year, and it was sort of a big deal. One year - the first I remember, actually - my mom, my dad, my brother and I were at Sears on some family errand, buying an appliance or something similar. And the Wizard of Oz was starting soon but we weren't finished with our errand so our mom started telling me and my brother the story of the movie, so that when we got home we'd be caught up to speed. We got home and parked ourselves (my brother and I) in front of the TV on the shag carpet, chins in hands, elbows on the carpet, in that way only little kids watching TV sit, and watched it. I don't remember watching much of the movie then, just mainly being at Sears with my family beforehand, and my mom beginning to tell us the story. Or maybe it was on TV at Sears and she told us what we were missing as we drove home, between TVs, between Sears and the house. Either way.

And so today The Wizard of Oz is still kind of a big signpost for me, an important thing. Same with the Grinch (which, coincidentally, was also on last night). I wonder if this is true for others of my rough age. And I wonder if it will remain true as the 2000s continue to tick far-too-quickly on by (what's weirder than being 26: it being 2006). Similarly, I wonder if, 50 years from now, we'll still be listening to Billie Holiday and Frank Sinatra in scarred-wood bars, all the old ephemera of the Thirties and Forties bars still intact and resonant. I'd like to think so; I'd like to think that that music and time period are somehow special - and they must be: otherwise why should I, who lived nowhere near those decades, still feel some weird nostalgia when those tunes come on the juke at a bar and still feel some weird affinity for bars and places that feel like they existed then: McHale's Tavern, the tile bars, Peter Luger's, and so on and so forth.

"With the thoughts that I'd be thinking, I could be another Lincoln, if I only had a brain."

New York is full of lunatics. From the random person moaning/screaming in the subway to the guy who, when I pass him, mutters "I'm the best motherfucker there is," this city is really just one big raisin parade.

Still, though, I love it. New York will stress you the fuck out and also lift you up to the highest heights. The suburbs, however, in which I was this past weekend, will do neither. The suburbs are like tepid bathwater. Just kind of eh.