For the fourth consecutive year, I'll be participating in November's National Blog Posting Month, a blogging alternative to National Novel Writing Month. Although there is no official theme for the month, SPCHQ's unofficial theme will be SEQUENTIAL ART, a.k.a. comics.
Unfortunately, I am not a sequential artist. (Of course, I've never tried, either. Perhaps I'm still traumatized by those elementary school art teachers praising my table partner's work while dismissing mine as "that's not good". Gah. It still pains me to think how much of my burgeoning creativity was reduced to dust by years of public and Cat-lik schools. But I digress.)
Since I can't really draw well (and don't have the time right now to complete Abel & Madden's awesome self-directed course in Drawing Words, Writing Pictures), I'll be posting commentary, resources, and (finally) reviews of comics and books I've picked up at this year's Small Press Expo (SPX), as well as a few things from other cons. The focus will be on indie, small press, mini, and alternative comics. (In simplest terms, no Marvel, no DC, no Dark Horse, no Image.)
What I really need are some cool logos that I can use in the sidebar and on posts, as opposed to the craptacular text-only masterpieces I slammed together. Anyone interested in doing a little logo with the phrases "NaBloPoMo 2009" and "A Month of (mostly indie) Sequential Art", let me know or just send it along as a jpeg to the e-mail address in the sidebar. If I use it, I'll link it up to your own site. Any takers?
+ Have you been reading The Pekar Project at Smith Magazine? It's a new weekly webcomic series written my Harvey Pekar, and illustrated by a variety of artists. Also check out the collection of Harvey Heads drawn by more than 70 different artists in honor of his recent birthday! (I'm secretly hoping that Smith Mag will make them into a poster; pictured is head by Laura Park.)
+ I really don't need more t-shirts, but if I did, I'd buy them from the Exploded Store, featuring design drawings of the Atari 2600, boomboxes, and more.
+ When the 2010 IKEA catalog was released a few weeks ago, many purists were shocked and dismayed to find that the font used in the catalog had changed from a tweeked Futura (called "Ikea Sans") to Verdana (a screen-based font). Console yourself with photos of the 1965 IKEA Catalog.
+ Often disturbing WWII propaganda posters from all fronts, Allied and Axis. This one, "While You Were Away" from Germany, implies that US troops are sleeping with UK wives while their husbands are off fighting.
Overall, Top Chef remains a high quality reality competition, not an easy feat after five seasons. True, there still needs to be fewer gimmicky challenges (such as cooking in the desert or creating "deconstructed" dishes), and more focus on making good, quality food that doesn't require transport and completion elsewhere (in bags and containers from the Glad family of products). The two best challenges this season were Episode 4's French cuisine challenge and Episode 8's pig and pinot noir pairing. In the upcoming episode "Restaurant Wars", two teams of four create an entire mini-restaurant in the span of a day. This challenge has become stale after five seasons. Hopefully the producers will come up with an interesting variation for the Las Vegas crew (but probably not).
In the past eight weeks, the weakest chefs have been booted from the competition, and none of these eliminations were surprising. The stuffed pepper Jen (not Jennifer) made the first week was gross looking, and apparently tasted even worse. Eve was bland the following week. Preeti couldn't clean clams or make pasta salad. Jesse was always quick to explain to the judges that she knew what she did wrong, but never improved. Hector, Mattin, and Ron were clearly out of their league compared to the rest of the group. Ashley had some good dishes in her, but was always just a bit off. Recently eliminated Ash never understood why he was constantly in the bottom.
The remaining eight chefs, with two exceptions, possess an amazing amount of talent and skill. My opinions, from least to most talented: Bottom Tier
Robin: By being consistently not terrible, not exceptional, and not unlucky, the annoying Robin has not been booted yet. However, she has managed to be downright annoying. While this may just be the editing process, there may be some truth in the shrewness that remains. She's not a very strong chef. Unlike last season's Carla who was stealthily good and really impressed the judges in the latter half, Robin does not have the skills, or even the redeeming quality of niceness, to go further. There always seems to be one of these types in every season, annoying but able to hang on because other people suck more. Please, please, Robin, just shut up and leave. Let the door hit you in ass on the way out.
Laurine: Laurine should also be booted soon. She's been on the bottom three times in Elimination Challenges, and one Quickfire. Her food just looks - and tastes - bland, under-seasoned, and the culinary equivalent of beige. Snore. Middle Tier
Eli: While I admit to having a bit of a crush on Eli in the first few episodes, his whining, complaining personality took care of that. He was also a bit of a dick for insinuating that Robin played the "cancer card" to win immunity in Episode 6. He's got good skills, and the mustard potato salad he made for the "Thunderbirds" episode was incredibly tasty (and I can speak from experience from eating it in real life - it is awesome), but he's just acts too immature and lacks the grace and poise necessary to make it to the final three.
Mike (Isabella): In our house, Mike was immediately nicknamed "B.O.D." or "bag of dicks" as in "eat a bag of dicks" after the first two episodes. He's an annoying North Jersey guy down to the attitude and accent, but he does possess a decent skill set that could take him to the final three. (If he doesn't hit someone before then.) Top Tier (a really stellar collection of chef this season)
Jennifer: I have loved local Philadelphia chef Jennifer (nicknamed "Ten Jen" because she works at 10 Arts (warning, automatic music)) since episode one. She has skills, a palate, composure, and the ability to run a kitchen (as demonstrated in the "Thunderbirds" episode where she assumed the role of executive chef). Some bloggers have been labeling Jennifer as a bit of a bitch, which is completely untrue. (To pull out the feminist card, if she was a man, no one would label her as difficult.) I can't wait to eat at 10 Arts when this is all done.
Kevin: Santa Claus! (Sorry, had to get that out of the way.) Kevin has presented himself as an extremely solid, good-hearted, graceful person. He hasn't ragged on other contestants, even keeping his mouth shut during Robin pile-ons. He presents as wise beyond his years (only 26, one year older than Eli, and the second youngest of the remaining chefs), and does amazing creations with pork. If it weren't for that Santa/gnome-like beard, I'd be crushing on him hard.
The Voltaggio Brothers: I prefer the classic style of older brother Bryan rather than Michael's experiments in molecular gastronomy. Although he's only three years older than Michael, Bryan has more experience and composure in the kitchen. (Bryan worked for chef Charlie Palmer for nearly ten years, Michael seems to have bounced around more, racking up more unusual cooking experiences.) If the producers decide to keep one brother in the final three, it should be Bryan. However, I have a suspicion that the producers will keep both brothers in the final three, and play up the "sibling rivalry" angle until the bitter end.
My ideal final three: Jennifer, Kevin, and Bryan. Of these three, any would be an excellent champion.
Below, a clip from "Thunderbirds" with Jen in charge of the kitchen:
+ This is either gross or brilliant: Fancy Fast Food, where people create fancy looking (but probably not tasting) meals using regular fast food restaurant items as ingredients. These seems like a lot of work for little results, but the Tiramisu di Timio made from Tim Horton's donuts and Timbits (donut holes) looks kind of tasty.
+ Nifty collection of vintage Seed Catalogs at the Smithsonian Institution. Search by vegetable, flower, or fruit!
+ Exactly what it sounds like: Scanwiches. Yum, bahn mi (pictured).
Yesterday at work I came across this silver-colored binder clip that had the words "Morning Glory" embossed on it. I'm not sure where it came from, and it's certainly not from the office supply cabinet. It was a nice little surprise to find.
As usual, the media coverage of the Roman Polanski Debacle is more interesting to me than the actual Debacle itself. After all, the actual Debacle is a rather open-and-shut case: in 1977 Polanski drugged and raped a 13-year-old girl, an act that should be punished as proscribed by the law.
However, the shitstorm that developed around it is fascinating. The blog Jezebel has turned into a central hub for many discussions and issues surrounding the case. For example, if you go see the films made by actors and directors who are vocally supporting Polanski, does that make you a "rape apologist"? What is the definition of "rape"? Can you date a man who finds Polanski's films to be among the best ever made and is willing to overlook that he drugged and raped a 13-year-old?
By far the best commentary I've read about the supporters of Polanski was written by The Nation's Katha Pollitt, who said:
The widespread support for Polanski shows the liberal cultural elite at its preening, fatuous worst. They may make great movies, write great books, and design beautiful things, they may have lots of noble humanitarian ideas and care, in the abstract, about all the right principles: equality under the law, for example. But in this case, they're just the white culture-class counterpart of hip-hop fans who stood by R. Kelly and Chris Brown and of sports fans who automatically support their favorite athletes when they're accused of beating their wives and raping hotel workers.
I've been wanting to write something about the Roman Polanski Debacle since I saw the documentary Wanted and Desired last year, posing the question "Can you respect and admire the work of an artist if that artist is a reprehensible human being and has committed illegal and unsavory acts?" I never wrote that entry for one reason or another. It seemed pointless. If I only chose to read/listen to/watch art and media created by people with a one hundred percent clean moral slate, the choices would be few. Everyone's personal definition of morality is different. Charles M. Schulz had an affair with a woman less than half his age while he was married to his first wife, but I haven't given up reading and collecting Peanuts comics. Paul Westerberg was likely an alcoholic at his artistic peak, but I still listen to his music. If I stopped reading novels and essays by anyone with a substance abuse problem, my bookshelf would be empty. Everyone has secrets, and that's one of the reasons you probably shouldn't meet your idols. (Or read their biographies.)
Truthfully, I've only seen three of Polanski's films: Chinatown, Bitter Moon, and The Pianist. Chinatown was awesome, but Polanski can't take all the credit - the script and performances were a large part of its greatness. Bitter Moon was just plain weird. I enjoyed The Pianist, but again the source material and performances made it compelling, not Polanski's direction alone.
Here's the one detail about the Roman Polanski Debacle that blows my mind. Note that I am not "slut shaming" or "blaming the victim" or "blaming the mother" with this observation/question, because I'm sure someone will accuse me of that. It's a legitimate question, one that isn't being asked.
In the past week I've seen ads for a front door lock with a keypad where kids have to enter a passcode, which sends a message to mom's phone that the kid is home safe. There are covert GPS units for teenager's cars. Apparently on the playgrounds in Brooklyn, kids are now wearing kneepads while playing. Cell phones are the world's longest umbilical cords. Parents are demanding "opt out" forms to keep photos of their kids taken during school activities off of school websites. Kids are being raised like veal.
So I ask: In what era did a mother think it's fine to drop off her 13-year-old daughter at Jack Nicholson's house, leaving her alone with a 43-year-old Roman Polanski to take test photos for French Vogue? Did everyone want to be Brooke Shields so badly? Did 1970s Southern California exist on another planet, in some other universe? Am I alone in being confused by this? (And I ask this as someone who was a kid in the 70s and remembers the Pretty Baby controversy.)
And a followup question: How the hell did parenting go from allowing your child to have unsupervised photo sessions with Roman Polanski to wrapping them in protective padding and implanting them with a homing device?
In general, I don't consider SPCHQ to be a "personal" blog in the sense that I write about me-me-me and the mundane details of everyday life constantly. There are plenty of personal blogs that do that much better than I can, and many, many others that do it a lot worse than I can (cough, cough, product placement-laden blogs, you know who you are, cough). I try not to whine, bitch, complain, kvetch, piss-and-moan, and so forth about details of my personal life. Sure, I can write a diatribe about the latest episode of TOP CHEF or the new Yo La Tengo album, but for the most part, I try to keep a modicum of dignity on this blog.
However.
The past week has just been a bit out of control. It started last Wednesday with a trip to the emergency vet, and didn't let up for about five days. One case of mild food poisoning (me), multiple messes of bloody urine outside the litter box (cat), two nails in two different tires (car), emergency surgery to remove a kidney stone (cat), two days in the vet hospital (cat), guilt over not realizing cat was really sick sooner (me), more stomach distress (me), and having to administer meds in pill and oral form for the next two weeks (cat done by me), have left me all strung out, wrung out, and worn out. Really, I think I'm more upset than the cat, and he's the one who got his belly and legs shaved and went through surgery. I've been monitoring his every move, and maybe that's freaking him out a bit.
Really, I think it was the full moon over the weekend that effed things up. Anyone else have a strange couple of days?
Hopefully, things will quietly return to normal, and I can start writing and posting again about some of the wonderful books I picked up at the SPX, the new television season, and the backlog of links collecting dust.
Until then, a low resolution picture of a shaved cat leg that had an IV. (And it's taking all of my self-restraint not to make the obvious joke.)
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