Ciao, Tutti!
Happy Hannukah, Christmas, Kwanza, Solstice, New Years, Chinese New Year, and anything I may have forgotten. Love each other and kiss total strangers. It may help them get through the incredible stress of endless shopping, partying with people you hoped would have moved to Virginia by now, making food, and decorating. 'Tis the season.
My vacation has been exactly that: a vacation. The best part about college is the length of vacations. And yet I feel I should be hard at work. I'm still working on my fantasy trilogy of novels. My original goal was to finish with Book 2 by the end of the break. Ha! That would have been great. Plus I wanted to finish writing all the music for my recital next semester. Now I just feel inadequate. Not to mention my inability to read any or all of the great books I've received this season. Plus wanting to post more short stories on this blog, which hasn't exactly happened yet.
So work never ends. How come no one told me about this?
But today I feel it is my duty - No! My privilege - to post my top ten CD's of 2008. About a month ago I was wondering how I was going to even come up with 10. Now I feel 2008 was a pretty strong year after all for music, much more so than last year.
But first:
Where To Find My Stories
The other stories are in the archives somewhere along the left-hand side of my blog, intermingled with the pictures I took in Europe and shameless self-promotion.
"Sam Fails to Finish a Love Story" is under the post entitled "Sam Fails to Finish a Love Story" (duh) in the month of November.
"The VideoMag Proposal" is under the post entitled "The Day Before November" in October. It's a long post and the story is near the bottom.
"Cliche Central" is under the post entitled "Art Sharing Day" in October.
My brother's sudden fiction, "On The Way To Work," is under the post entitled "On The Way To Work - My Brother, The Storyteller" in November.
Enjoy!
Top 10 CD's of 2008
1) The Dodo's - Visiter Yes, that is spelled correctly. The title of the CD gives this Oakland-based group an apt portrayal of their homemade style, as does their childish album art. The acoustic, wry guitar-drums duo (no, not like the White Stripes or Black Keys) pounds groove and distinctive melodic qualities into the mind in one of the best complete CD's I've heard in ages. Everything's there. Great songs, like "Joe's Waltz" and "Park Song." A feeling of continuity throughout the disc. Innovative rhythm and harmony. Emotional vocals. The only complaint to be had about this CD is the occasional ill-conceived lyric. Otherwise, this is amazing. Please, go buy this CD right now. I'm waiting.
2) Dafnis Prieto Sextet - The Emotions Series: Taking the Soul for a Walk I may be biased here, since I personally know most of the musicians on this project and the leader, drummer Dafis Prieto, is one of the senior faculty at my school. Plus I saw the premier of this suite at the Jazz Gallery in New York City. That said, I've been waiting for this CD for about a year now and it did not disappoint. This is some of the most exciting jazz writing and arranging out there since Dave Holland, conspicuously absent from this list, accidentally relinquished the mantle. A unique fuzzing of Afro-Cuban jazz styles with fusion and traditional jazz, Prieto utilizes the colors of the sextet and his own virtuosic drumming to the extreme. It can be a bit much at times; Prieto's writing, like his playing, has the tendency to be dense. But it's worth it.
Talking to Peter Apfelbaum, saxophonist and melodicaist on the record and lifelong friend of mine, he said that the musicians brought their best to the studio that day. They were so excited about it that they considered not even remastering it. Now, how's that for chemistry? Magic? One of the few good jazz records of the year.
3) TV On The Radio - Dear Science You have to understand this as two CD's: one that starts on track 1 and the other that starts on track 6. If this were the second CD, it would easily be number one. Home of "Love Dog" and "DLZ," two of the best songs released this year, the second half of "Dear Science" is potent, gritty, and exciting. Other than "Dancing Choose," nothing else of the project resembles anything of the originality and drive of their previous records. When listening to "Crying" for the first time I felt like ripping my headphones out. It felt more overproduced than the Black Keys's new CD, produced by Danger Mouse. However, after a few listens I have been able to appreciate all the songs, including the over appreciated single, "Golden Age." If I sound down on the CD, it's only in comparison to TV On The Radio's other work. Compared to the rest of the bands out there, a mainstream, poppy TVOTR CD is still one of the best of the year by far.
After the first three there's a real drop-off. I like all the CD's in the top ten, of course, but these three were by far the best, and depending on your style, can probably be arranged in whatever order you want.
4) Flying Lotus - Los Angeles Add a vocalist and this dub CD would easily be with the top three in terms of quality. More songs like the second-to-last "Testament" would have been appreciated. But it's hard to complain here. Flying Lotus has an obvious niche, and it's not meant to be listened to with the same rapt attention as the music listened above. It's meant to be soothing or in the background. "Los Angeles" has the composition of a great disc, even if a bit long. It functions like a long suite, so listening to the whole project in one sitting is rather fulfilling. Still, if you only have the time for a few singles, "Comet Course," "Riot," "Breathe.something/Stellar Star," and the aforementioned "Testament" eagerly await. Exciting rhythm and bass flow create this well-crafted CD. Now if there were only a melody...
5) Hercules and Love Affair - Hercules and Love Affair If you don't know Antony And The Johnsons, you're in for an adventure. The man can sing, but his voice takes some time getting warmed up to. His falsetto and self-inflicted tremolo fit this band perfectly for two reasons: he doesn't have to sing so slowly that the tremolo gets annoying, and the two weirdnesses complement each other. This dance/techno/electronica/soul/funk/whatever group's sonorities are so distinctive that Antony seems necessary here. And he kicks butt. This perfect-length CD features three different lead singers, violins, brass (including solos!), bass synths, and drum machine beats. Most of the time it rocks, grooves, jams, and gets into your soul, especially "Hercules Theme" and "Blind." Easily interchangeable with Flying Lotus for 4 and 5, but I went with Flying Lotus because its beats are more interesting. Innovative rhythm and harmony won over innovative rhythm and melody. Perhaps the two bands should get together... yeah, no.
6) Deerhunter - Microcastle/Weird Era Continued If I had to choose one CD from this 2-disc set, it would be Microcastle, but there's really no need. This collection of music is not particularly innovative, but the sound of the band and its lead singer is so in sync that they pull off a great project. Using styles ranging narrowly from indie rock to alternative rock to classic rock, everything falls easily into place. "Never Stops" actually had me thinking deeply about tonic/mediant relations in harmony, though now I'd say I like "Saved By Old Times" best on this CD. There's nothing to say about this CD's newness, just that they did everything right, save for the boring segment in the middle of the CD.
7) Fleet Foxes - Fleet Foxes Near the top of everyone's list for 2008, I had to check them out. And they are quite good. Americana, folk rock, a capella, Christmas carol sounding, etc. I was quite excited about them when I first put them in the CD tray. I am a sucker for cool vocal harmony, and they reminded me of a less innovative but fully welcome Crosby Stills Nash and Young. And the too-long CD is solid all the way through. I am particularly fond of the reverb on the singers' voices, giving the whole project a pastoral feel (as do the religious lyrics that are probably there but I don't listen to). But this is the first CD on the list without a single to brag effusively about. The 4th best song on "Dear Science" is better than the best song on this disc, to be honest. This disc is lined with undistinguished song after undistinguished song, all excellent, making up a fairly good unified work. And there is no rhythmic or chordal innovation here at all. The Dodos takes Fleet Foxes to school in terms of creativity, even if they would be grouped together under "acoustic rock."
8) Ambrose Akinmusire - Prelude: To Cora Another biased choice, Sam! While never overlapping with him in high school, we attended the same BHS Jazz Ensemble and know each other from there (okay, I doubt he knows me). The trumpeter cut this album right off his winning of the Thelonius Monk international jazz competition on trumpet, and he deals with the pressure of everyone watching him with the same gusto he had in high school. He plays trumpet, and I normally can't stand the way trumpets sound. Normally. He wrote most of the music, including the scary "M.I.S.T.A.G. (My Inappropriate Soundtrack To A Genocide)," one of my favorite songs to come out this year. Featured throughout most of the CD, giving it a distinctive sound, is a singer who sounds more suited for opera than for jazz, though it oddly meshes well with the trumpet here. She dominates "M.I.S.T.A.G." as well as a few other tracks by sounding out of place at first and dramatic at second. The vibraphonist (yay!) who shares a name with my middle school math teacher also lends his strange sound to the mix with his fast vibrato. The only shortcoming of the disc is its inconsistency. I could delete half of it, especially the superficially covered "Stablemates," and I wouldn't even notice. But try and take the whole CD and you'll have to kill me first.
9) Ben Allison - Little Things Run The World Bassist Ben Allison being Ben Allison at his best. The first track explains it all. "Respiration," one of my favorite tracks of ALL TIME from his record "Buzz," is the opener again for his jazz/rock/fusion quartet Man-Sized Safe. Done differently and featuring a burning trumpet solo that makes the new rendition worth it, the tone is set for Ben Allison the way we've always known him. Like Deerhunter, this CD is nothing new done very well. Especially appreciated is the added play of saxophonist Ted Nash on a few tracks. Ben Allison has, as always, a rock-steady rhythm section and characteristic methods of composing melodies and harmonies that have always distinguished him from his contemporaries. His low rank on this list is almost a competition with himself rather than other CD's of 2008. The composition of this CD is at least as good as Fleet Foxes and probably the best place to start if you don't know his work yet. But still, nothing quite like "Riding the Nuclear Tiger" or the original "Respiration."
10) The Matthew Herbert Big Band - There's Me and There's You This disc is by far the most original of all on the top ten. That made for weird listening the first time through. Perhaps this is why record stores don't know whether to put him in the jazz or electronica section of their stores. May I add a category? Soundtrack, anyone? The lead vocalist sounds plucked from Broadway and shoved into a brassy jazz big band with a sampler running behind them. It was hard to get used to. The tracks sounded like show tunes, though at times like jazz big band pieces, and at others avant-garde dub pieces. I couldn't figure it out. But I figured that any guy who's able to scrounge together 100 musicians (no joke!) for a project deserves a second listen, and I'm glad I gave Matthew Herbert that second chance. The songs are catchy, thanks to their show tune nature; rhythmic, thanks to their electronica nature; and groovy and hip, thanks to their jazz influence. It's got it all thrown together in a hodgepodge of sound. I like it. My mother hates it. It's a personal preference thing. I personally don't like the predilection towards brass, and the singer's voice gets annoying eventually, but songs like the first track, "The Story," show what kind of insane brilliance a man with a vision can come up with. This is recommended just to hear what people are doing with music these days. Wow.
Honorable Mention:
Dave Holland Sextet - Pass It On. Meh. All the playing is good. I've heard it all a million times already. Still, though. Some the best players in jazz playing what I've heard a million times. Why I'd listen to this as opposed to any other Dave Holland record is beyond me, though.
High Places - High Places Short and sweet electronic music that sounds like a forest. It's calming and unique, but they ran out of ideas. 30 minutes and every song sounds the same.
DJ Rupture - Uproot Some of this dub record is really interesting. It works well as a continuous piece, but it gets long and tedious. He's got some great ideas, like with the violins in the middle somewhere, but a lot of it I can do without. People loved this record, though, so I'm giving it another shot.
The Bug - London Zoo "Poison Dart" has a great chorus, and some of the songs rock out. Great beats in general, and I love the political Jamaican rap. But about half of the CD just blows. Such a good idea with choppy execution.
Fucked Up - The Chemistry of Common Life If you don't mind punk rock with a guy screaming into the mic but mixed so low you can't even hear him, this is for you. The first song, "Son The Father," rules. Without it I would have never given the CD a chance. The music is actually pretty good, and they make it clear they have melodic, rhythmic, and harmonic sensibilities throughout the disc with different methods. "Crooked Head" is a good example. But do they have to scream? And do they have to mix it so bad?
Conspicuously Missing: Vampire Weekend
I never thought I'd have to justify not liking this CD to anyone. It's that bad. But here I am, trying to think of technical reasons to trash it. People loved this CD. It got about as much acclaim as "Dear Science." And it didn't deserve it. Every song sounded the same. It was tinny and wiry sounding. The harmonies sucked and the rhythms sucked even more. It was so damn bright I couldn't see a thing. It's not even innovative: The Walkmen are basically the same band (and their new CD was pretty bad, too, but it was better than Vampire Weekend, by a little). I'm sorry, world who likes that CD, but I just don't see it. This doesn't usually happen, but I really just don't understand the allure of that CD. I listen to a CD where people scream into the mic and the mix is awful, but I don't get this CD at all.
Seriously, don't waste your money.
Okay, I need sleep
No, really, I do. If you have any questions about the CD's or are having trouble finding them and need more information, just let me know. Or if you think I left something out and have some suggested listening for me, please please please PLEASE let me know! I love listening to new music! As well as, you know, making it.
Happy New Year.I knew it had to happen sometime.
-sam goldsmith
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Winter Victory Dance - Sudden Fiction
Ciao, Tutti!
What? Sam goldsmith has time to write in the middle of his crazy finals schedule? Well, here's all I have to say about that:
Egyptian History: Check! Big fat check! And with 23 hours to spare, too. Now I don't have to spend all day reading hundreds of pages of boring excavation accounts and compiling them into a semi-coherent argument! I almost shudder to start reading for pleasure again, worrying that I might start instinctively skimming for the important stuff.
Well, now I get to relax a bit before hitting the airplane and heading home. And while I'm relaxing I figured I'd do my winter victory dance. Naked and outside.
Hold on a moment.
Wow. It's cold out there.
Anyway, I'll finally be able to write my novel again, record into garage band, write music, read for fun, and write short stories again! No more having to put off thinking about all the wonderful things I'd rather be doing than hi-lighting a photocopied piece on some papyrus that really doesn't amount to anything more than an icicle in hell.
So, since I'm so happy, I'd like to share some sudden fiction with you. These are all stories that are less than 250 words long, since that's about all I had time to write during my 5 minutes of study-breaking each day. That's an exaggeration. I usually got to take two study breaks per day.
I hope you enjoy!
Where to Find the Other Stories
The other stories are in the archives somewhere along the left-hand side of my blog, intermingled with the pictures I took in Europe and shameless self-promotion.
"Sam Fails to Finish a Love Story" is under the post entitled "Sam Fails to Finish a Love Story" (duh) in the month of November.
"The VideoMag Proposal" is under the post entitled "The Day Before November" in October. It's a long post and the story is near the bottom.
"Cliche Central" is under the post entitled "Art Sharing Day" in October.
My brother's sudden fiction, "On The Way To Work," is under the post entitled "On The Way To Work - My Brother, The Storyteller" in November.
Enjoy!
Step Down
A native Spanish speaking man makes me and hundreds of other students lunch every day in a glass building on Washington Square Park. He is not thrilled about this. He gets irritated if the people in the line don’t step down fast enough once a person receives his order. He let’s us know about his irritation. And it makes sense. He has a long day filled with long lines.
This doesn’t stop him from making a good stir-fry. That’s why I eat there every day. And I always order the same thing. So he knows me, and I wish I could make him less irritated somehow, other than stepping down fast enough.
“Chicken and broccoli, please,” I say firmly so he can hear me easily over the sizzling of the frying pans. He already knows what I want, the tongs already moving towards the chicken, but I like saying please. His expression tells me he doesn’t hear that word enough.
“Sauce?” he asks.
“Sweet and sour, please.”
“Rice? Noodles? Noodles, right?”
I nod and smile. “Yeah, noodles, please.” Sometimes I’ll joke around. “How did you know?”
He puts the food in a box and hands it to me. It smells sweet and sour and it warms my hand.
“Thank you,” I shout over the sounds of the kitchen.
“All right, man. Have a good one.” As I leave the line he turns to the people behind me. “Step down, folks, step down!” he shouts, irritated.
I make my way to the checkout line, regretting that I couldn’t be thankful enough.
The Little Things
I spent almost half a year studying in Italy. It was nice.
In the grocery stores there you have to weight your own fruit. There are machines for this. You place your fruit on the scale, push the according picture, and it prints a price tag for you to stick on the bag.
Everyone’s lives are easier now.
When I came back to the United States I went searching for the fruit scale in my local grocery store. I asked the cashier where I could find it.
She weighed the fruit for me. I felt dejected.
Live With It
They fell in love at first sight. Which sucked dearly.
The man was addicted to underage Asian virgins, and true love was not going to keep him away from the meat he could not resist.
The woman was an overemotional control freak who grew up being scolded by a catholic priest for impure thoughts she hadn’t realized she was thinking.
It didn’t mix. But, oh well. It was love at first sight. What can you do but live with it?
Haiku Man
A skinny black man handed me a slip of paper. I was wearing headphones. People usually don’t hand me fliers while I’m wearing headphones. I thanked him and put it in my pocket.
“No, it’s a haiku,” the man said. He had a bit of a beard. Maybe he could tell I was an artist, too. “I’m trying to make a couple bucks. Read it.”
I read it. It was about balloons or something and it didn’t follow the proper beat scheme. Even so, the imagery was vivid, and the poem was almost memorable. I handed him back the slip.
“I like it,” I said. “It’s very bucolic.”
He didn’t take it. “Hey, man, I’m trying to make a couple bucks here,” he repeated. I realized he wanted to make a couple of bucks from me. I had more than a couple of bucks. I only had a twenty-dollar bill.
“I’m sorry. I don’t have any cash,” I forced, a phrase I usually reserve for Greenpeace, not street artists. I felt bad. I would have liked to give him a couple bucks. I owed it. “But thanks for sharing it with me,” I said with a smile and all the sincerity I could muster.
The man reluctantly took back the card and strode off and I wondered if I had been grateful enough.
Fine
There's another, but I doubt it's appropriate to post online. You know me and my dirty mind...
I haven't had a chance to look at these again yet, but I will. Oh, I will. And then you know what will happen? Editing time!!!!! Woooo, hoooo!!!
Okay, finals season drove me insane. I'll be going now....
Home!!
-Sam goldsmith
What? Sam goldsmith has time to write in the middle of his crazy finals schedule? Well, here's all I have to say about that:
Egyptian History: Check! Big fat check! And with 23 hours to spare, too. Now I don't have to spend all day reading hundreds of pages of boring excavation accounts and compiling them into a semi-coherent argument! I almost shudder to start reading for pleasure again, worrying that I might start instinctively skimming for the important stuff.
Well, now I get to relax a bit before hitting the airplane and heading home. And while I'm relaxing I figured I'd do my winter victory dance. Naked and outside.
Hold on a moment.
Wow. It's cold out there.
Anyway, I'll finally be able to write my novel again, record into garage band, write music, read for fun, and write short stories again! No more having to put off thinking about all the wonderful things I'd rather be doing than hi-lighting a photocopied piece on some papyrus that really doesn't amount to anything more than an icicle in hell.
So, since I'm so happy, I'd like to share some sudden fiction with you. These are all stories that are less than 250 words long, since that's about all I had time to write during my 5 minutes of study-breaking each day. That's an exaggeration. I usually got to take two study breaks per day.
I hope you enjoy!
Where to Find the Other Stories
The other stories are in the archives somewhere along the left-hand side of my blog, intermingled with the pictures I took in Europe and shameless self-promotion.
"Sam Fails to Finish a Love Story" is under the post entitled "Sam Fails to Finish a Love Story" (duh) in the month of November.
"The VideoMag Proposal" is under the post entitled "The Day Before November" in October. It's a long post and the story is near the bottom.
"Cliche Central" is under the post entitled "Art Sharing Day" in October.
My brother's sudden fiction, "On The Way To Work," is under the post entitled "On The Way To Work - My Brother, The Storyteller" in November.
Enjoy!
Step Down
A native Spanish speaking man makes me and hundreds of other students lunch every day in a glass building on Washington Square Park. He is not thrilled about this. He gets irritated if the people in the line don’t step down fast enough once a person receives his order. He let’s us know about his irritation. And it makes sense. He has a long day filled with long lines.
This doesn’t stop him from making a good stir-fry. That’s why I eat there every day. And I always order the same thing. So he knows me, and I wish I could make him less irritated somehow, other than stepping down fast enough.
“Chicken and broccoli, please,” I say firmly so he can hear me easily over the sizzling of the frying pans. He already knows what I want, the tongs already moving towards the chicken, but I like saying please. His expression tells me he doesn’t hear that word enough.
“Sauce?” he asks.
“Sweet and sour, please.”
“Rice? Noodles? Noodles, right?”
I nod and smile. “Yeah, noodles, please.” Sometimes I’ll joke around. “How did you know?”
He puts the food in a box and hands it to me. It smells sweet and sour and it warms my hand.
“Thank you,” I shout over the sounds of the kitchen.
“All right, man. Have a good one.” As I leave the line he turns to the people behind me. “Step down, folks, step down!” he shouts, irritated.
I make my way to the checkout line, regretting that I couldn’t be thankful enough.
The Little Things
I spent almost half a year studying in Italy. It was nice.
In the grocery stores there you have to weight your own fruit. There are machines for this. You place your fruit on the scale, push the according picture, and it prints a price tag for you to stick on the bag.
Everyone’s lives are easier now.
When I came back to the United States I went searching for the fruit scale in my local grocery store. I asked the cashier where I could find it.
She weighed the fruit for me. I felt dejected.
Live With It
They fell in love at first sight. Which sucked dearly.
The man was addicted to underage Asian virgins, and true love was not going to keep him away from the meat he could not resist.
The woman was an overemotional control freak who grew up being scolded by a catholic priest for impure thoughts she hadn’t realized she was thinking.
It didn’t mix. But, oh well. It was love at first sight. What can you do but live with it?
Haiku Man
A skinny black man handed me a slip of paper. I was wearing headphones. People usually don’t hand me fliers while I’m wearing headphones. I thanked him and put it in my pocket.
“No, it’s a haiku,” the man said. He had a bit of a beard. Maybe he could tell I was an artist, too. “I’m trying to make a couple bucks. Read it.”
I read it. It was about balloons or something and it didn’t follow the proper beat scheme. Even so, the imagery was vivid, and the poem was almost memorable. I handed him back the slip.
“I like it,” I said. “It’s very bucolic.”
He didn’t take it. “Hey, man, I’m trying to make a couple bucks here,” he repeated. I realized he wanted to make a couple of bucks from me. I had more than a couple of bucks. I only had a twenty-dollar bill.
“I’m sorry. I don’t have any cash,” I forced, a phrase I usually reserve for Greenpeace, not street artists. I felt bad. I would have liked to give him a couple bucks. I owed it. “But thanks for sharing it with me,” I said with a smile and all the sincerity I could muster.
The man reluctantly took back the card and strode off and I wondered if I had been grateful enough.
Fine
There's another, but I doubt it's appropriate to post online. You know me and my dirty mind...
I haven't had a chance to look at these again yet, but I will. Oh, I will. And then you know what will happen? Editing time!!!!! Woooo, hoooo!!!
Okay, finals season drove me insane. I'll be going now....
Home!!
-Sam goldsmith
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
3 Classes
Ciao, Tutti!
3. Count them. Won, too, three. 3. Threeeee. That's how many classes I finished up with today. Yeah. I know. I'm awesome.
1) Music History 3 final. Check. A ton of memorization of music I've never heard of before plus obscure facts about odd historical tidbits and German names couldn't deter me. I'd be shocked if I got worse than 97 on the 100-question test. Even if I got an 85 I'd still have a solid A in the class. And I didn't even know what Liszt's "Mazeppa" sounded like until this afternoon. Huh.
2) Power and Poverty. Check. My favorite class of the term, as well as the most demanding. I wrote five drafts of this essay, and I have to admit that I'm moderately proud of it. I'm taking a research-themed class with the same instructor next semester, and I'm looking forward to it. I need exactly 39/40 percent on this paper to get an A- in the class, so there's not much pressure or hope for the golden letter. Either way, I think I got a lot out of the class. That's what's important, no? A B+ isn't so bad... I'll be turning in the paper tomorrow morning.
3) Jazz Arranging. Check. One of the worst class experiences of my life. I can say that now that it's over, but Ralph Alessi, my instructor for the ensemble immediately following it, could probably tell from my frequent venting. One of the leading contributors for me to hate classic jazz. I didn't hate it before. Now it just pisses me off. Thanks, Dave Schroeder. So I dug in and finished this chart I never wanted to write in the first place, its form sadly dictated to me by the constrictive assignment. I tried my best to be original, but I don't know... At least it's finished. I'll see Dr. Dave tomorrow and finalize it, print it out, and turn it in so it can be recorded on the 20th.
So what's left? Just one course, but it's a monster. For my uninspiring Egypt course I have to write 2 5-page research papers. Problem is the sources have largely been missing. Long story short, I have both a lot of reading and a lot of writing to do in the next four days to get it in on Monday at 12:00. I've worked out a plan, but I'm really not looking forward to the work, especially because of how bored I am by the subject. We're done with the pyramids, and the professor is not very good at sparking interest. The readings are similarly bland. So I plan on being very bored for about too many hours each until Monday.
And then, I leave. Bye, New York. I'm going home!
I can't wait.
In the meantime, no time to write. I can blog because I'm excited about getting three classes done. But no short stories. I've got two 200-word stories , but I need to edit them. Not happening anytime soon. Maybe on the airplane ride back home, if I'm not too exhausted. Anyway, don't expect much from me until I get home. Tuesday, I'd guess.
And Sam goldsmith has to log off now so he can start his mountain of reading. Yay!
-Sam goldsmith
3. Count them. Won, too, three. 3. Threeeee. That's how many classes I finished up with today. Yeah. I know. I'm awesome.
1) Music History 3 final. Check. A ton of memorization of music I've never heard of before plus obscure facts about odd historical tidbits and German names couldn't deter me. I'd be shocked if I got worse than 97 on the 100-question test. Even if I got an 85 I'd still have a solid A in the class. And I didn't even know what Liszt's "Mazeppa" sounded like until this afternoon. Huh.
2) Power and Poverty. Check. My favorite class of the term, as well as the most demanding. I wrote five drafts of this essay, and I have to admit that I'm moderately proud of it. I'm taking a research-themed class with the same instructor next semester, and I'm looking forward to it. I need exactly 39/40 percent on this paper to get an A- in the class, so there's not much pressure or hope for the golden letter. Either way, I think I got a lot out of the class. That's what's important, no? A B+ isn't so bad... I'll be turning in the paper tomorrow morning.
3) Jazz Arranging. Check. One of the worst class experiences of my life. I can say that now that it's over, but Ralph Alessi, my instructor for the ensemble immediately following it, could probably tell from my frequent venting. One of the leading contributors for me to hate classic jazz. I didn't hate it before. Now it just pisses me off. Thanks, Dave Schroeder. So I dug in and finished this chart I never wanted to write in the first place, its form sadly dictated to me by the constrictive assignment. I tried my best to be original, but I don't know... At least it's finished. I'll see Dr. Dave tomorrow and finalize it, print it out, and turn it in so it can be recorded on the 20th.
So what's left? Just one course, but it's a monster. For my uninspiring Egypt course I have to write 2 5-page research papers. Problem is the sources have largely been missing. Long story short, I have both a lot of reading and a lot of writing to do in the next four days to get it in on Monday at 12:00. I've worked out a plan, but I'm really not looking forward to the work, especially because of how bored I am by the subject. We're done with the pyramids, and the professor is not very good at sparking interest. The readings are similarly bland. So I plan on being very bored for about too many hours each until Monday.
And then, I leave. Bye, New York. I'm going home!
I can't wait.
In the meantime, no time to write. I can blog because I'm excited about getting three classes done. But no short stories. I've got two 200-word stories , but I need to edit them. Not happening anytime soon. Maybe on the airplane ride back home, if I'm not too exhausted. Anyway, don't expect much from me until I get home. Tuesday, I'd guess.
And Sam goldsmith has to log off now so he can start his mountain of reading. Yay!
-Sam goldsmith
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Short - Group Therapy
Ciao, Tutti!
For those of you who don't know, it was Thanksgiving last weekend. The holiday of food and family! Being far away in California all my life, it has mainly been a holiday of food and close friends for me traditionally, although I never really did develop a solid Thanksgiving tradition. However, now that I go to school in New York and I'm not so homesick that I have to waste my parents' money by flying all the way home for each three-day weekend, I was able to take advantage of the cheaper tickets and fly to Detroit for the holiday. And it was wonderful, even if I ate everybody out of house, home, apartment, trailer, or whatever it was they were all living in. Basically I ate. And ate. And ate. Food tastes good, you know?
Now we're back to school, and it's time to think about finals. It won't be time to do anything other than think until the day before, but thinking about them will force me to post less blogs. It's always something, isn't it? Nanowrimo, then schoolwork, all keeping me from writing. And yet I somehow manage to do it. Just don't look at my grades when they come in.
I'm just kidding. You can look at my grades as soon as I've fled the country.
Speaking of writing, I've finally finished my next short piece, the last one I drafted before November. I've had a hard time with this one and I still don't think it's quite done yet, but it's ready for the online community to critique. So here you are! If you're too full from Thanksgiving turkey to digest some more words, I understand entirely. Wait, no I don't. What does "too full" mean, anyway?
Where to find the other stories
The other stories are in the archives somewhere along the left-hand side of my blog, intermingled with the pictures I took in Europe and shameless self-promotion.
"Sam Fails to Finish a Love Story" is under the post entitled "Sam Fails to Finish a Love Story" (duh) in the month of November.
"The VideoMag Proposal" is under the post entitled "The Day Before November" in October. It's a long post and the story is near the bottom.
"Cliche Central" is under the post entitled "Art Sharing Day" in October.
My brother's sudden fiction, "On The Way To Work," is under the post entitled "On The Way To Work - My Brother, The Storyteller" in November.
Warning! This story, while not as vulgar as my brother's, has some potent language in places. Just be sure to note that before you read it out loud to your kids. Since that's what I assume you do as soon as I post a story. Don't deny it.
"Group Therapy" has been removed from the site by me, Sam goldsmith, for copyright reasons. Deal with it.
This is embarrassingly autobiographical. Basically the only thing in here that's not true is the crush on my therapist. I've had therapy before, but the therapist wasn't very attractive. And I never told her anything that personal, so I wasted my folks' money. Again. Damn, I'm getting good at that! Anyway, I've never had a therapy session quite like that before, but I do get hopelessly attracted to women who look like the girl who broke my heart. It kind of sucks. And I talk to myself. I'm doing it right now, in fact.
The important thing I'm trying to get across is the need for real love, not simple attraction, which is why I'm not too into her at the end and I try to use words that make it seem like we're fighting each other rather than in love with each other. Plus I sort of remove myself - the real me - from the picture.
Ha ha! Can you see the real me, doctor? Sorry, inside joke between me and The Who fans.
Anyway, let me know if I did a decent job getting that message across at the end. Did I at least make it clear that I didn't want a relationship with her even though I was hopelessly attracted to her? I didn't? Nooooooooo!!!!!!!
Anyway, time for Andy Milne Ensemble. Catch you all later. Happy finals period and crazy holiday shopping time! Yippee!
-sam goldsmith
For those of you who don't know, it was Thanksgiving last weekend. The holiday of food and family! Being far away in California all my life, it has mainly been a holiday of food and close friends for me traditionally, although I never really did develop a solid Thanksgiving tradition. However, now that I go to school in New York and I'm not so homesick that I have to waste my parents' money by flying all the way home for each three-day weekend, I was able to take advantage of the cheaper tickets and fly to Detroit for the holiday. And it was wonderful, even if I ate everybody out of house, home, apartment, trailer, or whatever it was they were all living in. Basically I ate. And ate. And ate. Food tastes good, you know?
Now we're back to school, and it's time to think about finals. It won't be time to do anything other than think until the day before, but thinking about them will force me to post less blogs. It's always something, isn't it? Nanowrimo, then schoolwork, all keeping me from writing. And yet I somehow manage to do it. Just don't look at my grades when they come in.
I'm just kidding. You can look at my grades as soon as I've fled the country.
Speaking of writing, I've finally finished my next short piece, the last one I drafted before November. I've had a hard time with this one and I still don't think it's quite done yet, but it's ready for the online community to critique. So here you are! If you're too full from Thanksgiving turkey to digest some more words, I understand entirely. Wait, no I don't. What does "too full" mean, anyway?
Where to find the other stories
The other stories are in the archives somewhere along the left-hand side of my blog, intermingled with the pictures I took in Europe and shameless self-promotion.
"Sam Fails to Finish a Love Story" is under the post entitled "Sam Fails to Finish a Love Story" (duh) in the month of November.
"The VideoMag Proposal" is under the post entitled "The Day Before November" in October. It's a long post and the story is near the bottom.
"Cliche Central" is under the post entitled "Art Sharing Day" in October.
My brother's sudden fiction, "On The Way To Work," is under the post entitled "On The Way To Work - My Brother, The Storyteller" in November.
Warning! This story, while not as vulgar as my brother's, has some potent language in places. Just be sure to note that before you read it out loud to your kids. Since that's what I assume you do as soon as I post a story. Don't deny it.
"Group Therapy" has been removed from the site by me, Sam goldsmith, for copyright reasons. Deal with it.
This is embarrassingly autobiographical. Basically the only thing in here that's not true is the crush on my therapist. I've had therapy before, but the therapist wasn't very attractive. And I never told her anything that personal, so I wasted my folks' money. Again. Damn, I'm getting good at that! Anyway, I've never had a therapy session quite like that before, but I do get hopelessly attracted to women who look like the girl who broke my heart. It kind of sucks. And I talk to myself. I'm doing it right now, in fact.
The important thing I'm trying to get across is the need for real love, not simple attraction, which is why I'm not too into her at the end and I try to use words that make it seem like we're fighting each other rather than in love with each other. Plus I sort of remove myself - the real me - from the picture.
Ha ha! Can you see the real me, doctor? Sorry, inside joke between me and The Who fans.
Anyway, let me know if I did a decent job getting that message across at the end. Did I at least make it clear that I didn't want a relationship with her even though I was hopelessly attracted to her? I didn't? Nooooooooo!!!!!!!
Anyway, time for Andy Milne Ensemble. Catch you all later. Happy finals period and crazy holiday shopping time! Yippee!
-sam goldsmith
Sunday, November 23, 2008
NANOWRIMO: A Thing Of The Past!
Ciao, Tutti!
I am excited. After spending nearly 30 hours writing this week I have reached the illustrious 50,000 word goal for National Novel Writing Month, Nanowrimo for short. Not only that, but I think the writing itself has been (gasp!) actually pretty good. I'm not quite finished with the plot of the novel, though, and it is only the second of a trilogy, so my work doesn't end quite yet. But I don't have to worry about writing 1667 words each day anymore. Pressure is off! Plus, I get to enjoy Thanksgiving with my family instead of cooping myself up in a room with a laptop and candy bars to keep me going.
So I'll be discontinuing my use of that column on the left-hand side of the blog about my word count. Since all of you care so much...
Speaking of writing, I want to make sure you all read My Brother, the Storyteller, the post I made only a few days ago. Read my brother's short, page-long story, or I'll sic my elephant on you. Please?
All right, I don't have an elephant. He doesn't fit in my dorm room.
In other news, I've posted a new song on my First Regrets myspace page, which can be accessed by clicking the link on the left under Free streaming samples of my music, or by following the link posted below. Some of you may recognize the new song. I may post another as well. We'll see.
For those of you who don't know, the Pistons, Warriors, and Knicks, the three basketball teams I have legitimate claim to call "home" teams, all suck. The Pistons show spurts after force feeding LA its first loss of the season and snapping Cleveland's 8-game win streak over its knee, but we've also been thoroughly schooled by the Celtics (twice), the Suns, and the Timberwolves, a team that has less wins than I have grandparents. The Knicks are finally watchable, but now their tallest player is David Lee, quickly followed by Nate Robinson. Their average rebound count will be lower than the Timberwolves's current win count. And the Warriors are young, stupid, and inconsistent. At least they're not as bad as last year. I guess I have the most hope for them, but Anthony Morrow will have to put together more 37-point games to make it happen.
The one good thing is that all three teams have been involved in early player movement. That is exciting. The only problem is that the Pistons gave up Mark Stein's #3 in the early MVP race behind Kobe and LeBron, and the Knicks gave up their two top scorers and their only player who even knew what a rebound was. The Warriors, at least, were able to ditch their disgruntled forward, Al Harrington, for Jamal Crawford, who should play well in Nellie's system.
I'm just going to have to get used to teams I don't like winning and teams I like losing. Oh, well.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. If you don't read my brother's story in yesterday's post or listen to the First Regrets songs, then I take it back.
-Sam goldsmith
I am excited. After spending nearly 30 hours writing this week I have reached the illustrious 50,000 word goal for National Novel Writing Month, Nanowrimo for short. Not only that, but I think the writing itself has been (gasp!) actually pretty good. I'm not quite finished with the plot of the novel, though, and it is only the second of a trilogy, so my work doesn't end quite yet. But I don't have to worry about writing 1667 words each day anymore. Pressure is off! Plus, I get to enjoy Thanksgiving with my family instead of cooping myself up in a room with a laptop and candy bars to keep me going.
So I'll be discontinuing my use of that column on the left-hand side of the blog about my word count. Since all of you care so much...
Speaking of writing, I want to make sure you all read My Brother, the Storyteller, the post I made only a few days ago. Read my brother's short, page-long story, or I'll sic my elephant on you. Please?
All right, I don't have an elephant. He doesn't fit in my dorm room.
In other news, I've posted a new song on my First Regrets myspace page, which can be accessed by clicking the link on the left under Free streaming samples of my music, or by following the link posted below. Some of you may recognize the new song. I may post another as well. We'll see.
For those of you who don't know, the Pistons, Warriors, and Knicks, the three basketball teams I have legitimate claim to call "home" teams, all suck. The Pistons show spurts after force feeding LA its first loss of the season and snapping Cleveland's 8-game win streak over its knee, but we've also been thoroughly schooled by the Celtics (twice), the Suns, and the Timberwolves, a team that has less wins than I have grandparents. The Knicks are finally watchable, but now their tallest player is David Lee, quickly followed by Nate Robinson. Their average rebound count will be lower than the Timberwolves's current win count. And the Warriors are young, stupid, and inconsistent. At least they're not as bad as last year. I guess I have the most hope for them, but Anthony Morrow will have to put together more 37-point games to make it happen.
The one good thing is that all three teams have been involved in early player movement. That is exciting. The only problem is that the Pistons gave up Mark Stein's #3 in the early MVP race behind Kobe and LeBron, and the Knicks gave up their two top scorers and their only player who even knew what a rebound was. The Warriors, at least, were able to ditch their disgruntled forward, Al Harrington, for Jamal Crawford, who should play well in Nellie's system.
I'm just going to have to get used to teams I don't like winning and teams I like losing. Oh, well.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. If you don't read my brother's story in yesterday's post or listen to the First Regrets songs, then I take it back.
-Sam goldsmith
Friday, November 21, 2008
"On the Way to Work" - My Brother, the Storyteller
Ciao, Tutti!
I know I haven't written in a while. This is not because nothing has happened in my life. In fact a lot has happened. The Constitutional Law class I have been teaching had its last class a week ago. I am finished with all assignments except the final exams now. My RA was abducted by aliens. I could have easily written about any of these things. But I had a lot of work. Yes, lame excuse, I know, but it's the same excuse you're all using to explain why you don't read my posts.
I kid. I know you read them all so thoroughly that you can find all the spelling errors and everything.
Today I am posting another short fiction, but this time it's not one I wrote. My brother, Joel did. And it's good. It has my endorsement. Then I can get back into writing my novel and putting up missing person signs for my RA.
I really hope you know I'm just kidding. Just thought I'd add that before the Department of Homeland Security raids my dorm.
Where to find the other stories
The other stories are in the archives somewhere along the left-hand side of my blog, intermingled with the pictures I took in Europe and shameless self-promotion.
"Sam Fails to Finish a Love Story" is under the post entitled "Sam Fails to Finish a Love Story" (duh) in the month of November.
"The VideoMag Proposal" is under the post entitled The Day Before November in October. It's a long post and the story is near the bottom.
"Cliche Central" is under the post entitled Art Sharing Day in October.
On the Way to Work
On the Way to Work (3 paragraphs only! Super short.)
By Joel Goldsmith
Boing! Boing! The noise resonated in his dream. Boing! Boing! What the hell is that boinging? He shook himself awake. In a smooth groggy motion, he turned to face his alarm clock that showed 6:36 AM. “Boing…boing…boi-“ “Oh shit, it’s almost time for work.” Hastily he rolled out of bed planting his face neatly on the floor. He took out his uniform and began to dress, almost as if enraged. He packed his bag, in which he threw a carton of orange juice for breakfast, a piece of plastic that reminded him of his ex-girlfriend, his medical equipment, and a lone shoe. As he left his Richmond apartment he remembered one last thing. He went back inside and grabbed a roll of toilet paper.
The station had run out of toilet paper the night before and the young fire fighter paramedic knew that his early morning shit was fast approaching. As he piloted his car down to station three, the smelly, bulging mass built and built until a race car track had formed in his mind. He was in a light blue car, revving his engine while adjacent a blackish, brownish, greenish, slimy car was returning the gesture. He rounded the first corner well ahead of his lurking opponent, but as time passed the opposing vehicle moved farther and farther down the track of his bowels. His face turned red with pressure as he tried to subdue his opponent. The race was a dead tie. And then it happened. The Blackish, brownish, greenish, slimy car passed his and won the race all over the inside of his new pants.
And the lone shoe didn’t help him at all….
Fine
I hope you enjoyed it. He says a few people in his class were grossed out, but everyone had some sort of reaction. I would be very surprised if you didn't react to this story in some way. Which means it must be good.
Short post. Short attention span. Short sentences. Short goodbye.
-Sam goldsmith
P.S. It snowed the other day. For two minutes. It wasn't even enough to get excited about, let alone use to make a snowball, take it into class with you, and throw it at the teacher while he's writing on the blackboard. The only time I ever would have done that would probably have been in Mr. Bye's English class in high school, and there was no snow where I went to high school, so I crashed his computer instead. Horay!
I know I haven't written in a while. This is not because nothing has happened in my life. In fact a lot has happened. The Constitutional Law class I have been teaching had its last class a week ago. I am finished with all assignments except the final exams now. My RA was abducted by aliens. I could have easily written about any of these things. But I had a lot of work. Yes, lame excuse, I know, but it's the same excuse you're all using to explain why you don't read my posts.
I kid. I know you read them all so thoroughly that you can find all the spelling errors and everything.
Today I am posting another short fiction, but this time it's not one I wrote. My brother, Joel did. And it's good. It has my endorsement. Then I can get back into writing my novel and putting up missing person signs for my RA.
I really hope you know I'm just kidding. Just thought I'd add that before the Department of Homeland Security raids my dorm.
Where to find the other stories
The other stories are in the archives somewhere along the left-hand side of my blog, intermingled with the pictures I took in Europe and shameless self-promotion.
"Sam Fails to Finish a Love Story" is under the post entitled "Sam Fails to Finish a Love Story" (duh) in the month of November.
"The VideoMag Proposal" is under the post entitled The Day Before November in October. It's a long post and the story is near the bottom.
"Cliche Central" is under the post entitled Art Sharing Day in October.
On the Way to Work
On the Way to Work (3 paragraphs only! Super short.)
By Joel Goldsmith
Boing! Boing! The noise resonated in his dream. Boing! Boing! What the hell is that boinging? He shook himself awake. In a smooth groggy motion, he turned to face his alarm clock that showed 6:36 AM. “Boing…boing…boi-“ “Oh shit, it’s almost time for work.” Hastily he rolled out of bed planting his face neatly on the floor. He took out his uniform and began to dress, almost as if enraged. He packed his bag, in which he threw a carton of orange juice for breakfast, a piece of plastic that reminded him of his ex-girlfriend, his medical equipment, and a lone shoe. As he left his Richmond apartment he remembered one last thing. He went back inside and grabbed a roll of toilet paper.
The station had run out of toilet paper the night before and the young fire fighter paramedic knew that his early morning shit was fast approaching. As he piloted his car down to station three, the smelly, bulging mass built and built until a race car track had formed in his mind. He was in a light blue car, revving his engine while adjacent a blackish, brownish, greenish, slimy car was returning the gesture. He rounded the first corner well ahead of his lurking opponent, but as time passed the opposing vehicle moved farther and farther down the track of his bowels. His face turned red with pressure as he tried to subdue his opponent. The race was a dead tie. And then it happened. The Blackish, brownish, greenish, slimy car passed his and won the race all over the inside of his new pants.
And the lone shoe didn’t help him at all….
Fine
I hope you enjoyed it. He says a few people in his class were grossed out, but everyone had some sort of reaction. I would be very surprised if you didn't react to this story in some way. Which means it must be good.
Short post. Short attention span. Short sentences. Short goodbye.
-Sam goldsmith
P.S. It snowed the other day. For two minutes. It wasn't even enough to get excited about, let alone use to make a snowball, take it into class with you, and throw it at the teacher while he's writing on the blackboard. The only time I ever would have done that would probably have been in Mr. Bye's English class in high school, and there was no snow where I went to high school, so I crashed his computer instead. Horay!
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Story - Sam Fails To Tell A Love Story
Ciao, Tutti!
The secret's out. Sam goldsmith spends his Saturday nights cooped up in his dorm room writing endlessly while all his friends are at concert or parties or operas and all having a ball of a time. And I know what you are thinking, but it's okay. There's no need to be jealous.
I am doing National Novel Writing Month, in which I am writing the second book in my trilogy that has the angsty working title, "The Nameless Face." I hope to change that working title soon. The point is that I had an amazingly productive day (36 words per minute, obliterating my 25 wpm average) today and I am so pumped up about it that I can't sleep. Yes, I know I can't sleep normally, either, but that's not the point.
Before November started and I was set to begin my novel there were about two weeks when I produced a lot of rough drafts of short fiction, two of which ("The VideoMag Proposal" and "Cliche Central") you have already seen or can find in my archives. So I have been able to post stories even though I am wrapped up in my novel because the material for these stories is already there, in need only of re-writing. When I break from my novel but still find myself with extra time I edit the old works. And, being pumped up as I was about writing over 3,000 words of high-quality writing in under an hour and a half, I figured I'd use the adrenaline to edit another short fiction for you all.
Where to find the other stories
The other stories are in the archives somewhere along the left-hand side of my blog, intermingled with the pictures I took in Europe and shameless self-promotion.
"The VideoMag Proposal" is under the post entitled The Day Before November in October. It's a long post and the story is near the bottom.
"Cliche Central" is under the post entitled Art Sharing Day in October.
From now on I will label story posts with the word "Story" at the beginning. Like I did with this one. Why I didn't think of this earlier I have no idea.
Sam Fails To Tell A Love Story
1590 Words
Everyone cheered as the six friends stood arm in arm at the front of the courtyard, rain falling endlessly on their unprotected heads. All the warriors who had bravely fought in the unending war were finally seeing their dreams of a peaceful world come true. A boy in a wheelchair and his muscular father next to an elegantly dressed man with a goatee hollered gleefully, their open umbrellas forgotten on the cobblestones. Foot soldiers dressed in blue with empty gun holsters clapped enthusiastically, some cheering, some crying. Only Tarah’s parents were still and speechless, unable to believe that their colorblind daughter was one of the best fighters the world had ever seen, forever to be remembered as a national hero. People embraced all around the courtyard, hugging soaked friends who had once been mortal enemies. It was over. The plot had been resolved.
The heroes stepped forward to greet the crowd but Zack was pulled back. Alana was tugging on his sleeve. “Can I talk to you for a second?” she asked, beckoning him away from the scene. They walked off to a deserted wing of the courtyard where no one could disturb them, huddling under the umbrella more closely than they needed to be.
She turned to look at him once she was sure they were alone. “I liked your speech,” she said, smiling sweetly at him.
“Thanks,” he said sheepishly.
“I am so happy today,” she said, her eyes dodging the young soldier. “This war has made the world so hurt and I am so happy to see it all end.”
“I am, too,” said Zack, his eyes planted on her smile. “It’s amazing that we can finally tell people peace is here.”
“I’m so glad this moment has finally come,” she said.
“So let’s share it with our friends,” said Zack, taking her by the hand.
“I mean I’m glad to share this moment with you,” she said, blushing as she made eye contact. She began to lean towards him.
“Alana,” said Zack, closing his eyes, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she whispered. The love-struck pair leaned towards each other, waiting for the passion-engulfed kiss they had been dreaming of. They could smell each other’s skin and knew that their love would finally be sealed, just like the war’s finality had been sealed. They wrapped their arms around each other’s bodies, drawing still nearer, and…
And…
“And?” yelled Alana.
“What’s going on?” asked Zack.
“We should have kissed by now!” she complained, letting go of him. “Seriously, why are we stopping?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, looking at the ground while my hands fiddled nervously behind my back. “I just can’t write love scenes. I’m really bad at them.”
Zack let out a loud, frustrated groan.
“We were so close!” Alana cried. “All you had to do was move us an inch closer and we would have been kissing! It’s really not that hard!”
“It’s hard for me,” I said timidly. “I don’t know how to do a kissing scene. Usually when there’s a kiss I just look away.”
“Oh, so you can have us confess our love for each other but you can’t have us kiss?” demanded Zack.
“Actually I didn’t like that part very much,” I said to the medal collage on his uniform. “Look, I just don’t know how to do this, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay!” exclaimed Zack. “I’ve been waiting to share a kiss with Alana for over a year and now you’re telling me you can’t write it?”
“Look, it’s really simple,” Alana explained. “You have us lean in and kiss in youthful
bliss or something like that. We can wrap our arms around each other and pull ourselves tightly together, the warmth of our bodies pressed against each other making us light-headed. Then we can release our lips and slowly open our eyes to gaze at each other longingly. Then Alex can come in and interrupt us and Zack can open his umbrella between us for privacy as we lean in again.”
“That’s sounds good,” said Zack.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” I said.
“Alana! Zack!” came Alex's voice from around the bend. “Come on! It’s time for Marco's medal ceremony!” He entered the area and screamed dramatically, covering his eyes. He peeked through his fingers. “Wait,” he said, straightening up. “You’re not kissing.”
Alana sighed. “Yes, I know that, genius.”
“Wait, this doesn’t make sense,” said Alex, scratching his head. “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be kissing right now.”
“Yeah, me too,” muttered Zack, glaring in my direction.
“This moron doesn’t know how to write it,” said Alana, jabbing a thumb at me.
“Look, guys,” I said, “I just have a problem with resolving all the plot lines so neatly all at the same time. That’s not how real life works.”
“I don’t care how real life works!” yelled Zack. “I’ve been through too much not to get this kiss right now!”
“What’s with all the shouting over here?” asked Sally, following Alex into the area.
“Sam can’t write a love scene,” said Alex. “Seems like all we can do together is count sheep until he can figure it out.”
“I’ll bet Sam just needs to be kissed himself,” proclaimed Sally. “That way he’d know how to write about it.”
“No, I’m good,” I said, backing away.
“I think Sally's right,” said Alana. “We need to find someone to kiss Sam so that he’ll know how to tell our story the way it was meant to be told.”
“And it can’t be just anyone,” added Zack. “It has to be someone breathtakingly beautiful, almost as beautiful as Alana.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Alex. “I know! Mary Sue!”
“Guys, this isn’t a very good idea,” I stammered.
“Do you really think she’ll come up from South Carolina just like that?” asked Alana, ignoring me.
“I’m sure she wants to see the plot resolve just as much as we do,” responded Alex.
“Okay, maybe not as much as you and Zack, but I’m just saying.”
“That’s enough!” I yelled. Everyone turned to look at me. For a relaxing split second the only sound was the rain. “Look, I’ll just do what Alana said with the mushy passion stuff, okay?” I conceded.
Alana shrugged. “Sounds good.”
“Alex and Sally, can you be back here in a few minutes to interrupt them so Zack can block you off with the umbrella?”
“Sure thing,” smiled Alex. “I’ll go tell them to hold off the medal ceremony for another few minutes to buy us some time.” He and Sally walked out, Sally pecking him on the cheek. Alana let out a frustrated groan.
“What?” I said. “You don’t want a little kiss like that. You want more passion.”
“He’s right,” said Zack.
“I’m not even in the mood anymore,” said Alana flatly.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said, following Alex and Sally into the courtyard.
Zack took hold of Alana’s hand, the feeling of his skin against hers causing her to blush wildly. Their eyes met and they knew the time had come. The love-struck pair leaned towards each other, anticipating the passion-engulfed kiss they had been dreaming of. They could smell each other’s skin and knew that their love would finally be sealed, just like the war’s finality had been sealed. They wrapped their arms around each other’s bodies, drawing still nearer.
“I love you, Alana,” said Zack.
“I love you, too,” whispered Alana.
They pushed their lips together and kissed in youthful bliss, pulling themselves tightly together. The warmth of their bodies pressed against each other and the long-awaited release of passion made them light-headed with elation. Zack cupped Alana's cheek in his palm and a single tear dripped down from her eye onto the back of Zack’s soft, warm hand. They released the contact between their lips and slowly opened their eyes to gaze at each other longingly, remaining close enough to touch noses.
“Alana! Zack!” shouted Alex, marching into the wing with Sally. “Hurry up! It’s time for Marco’s medal ceremony!” He froze in his tracks when his eyes fell upon the two lovers, jaw dropped. The four stared at each other for a moment, then Zack shifted the umbrella to block off the view, leaning in to kiss Alana again as the rain soaked their clothes, their silhouettes melting together behind the thin fabric.
“Okay,” Alex said, turning back to the main courtyard. “That was awkward.”
“I think it was sweet,” said Sally, giving Alex a quick peck on the cheek. “Come on, we have to tell them to hold off the medal ceremony a little longer.”
Sally walked out into the main courtyard to face their friends once again while Alex searched me out, finding me sipping a Thai iced tea with my back against a wall under an overhang.
“How’d it go?” I asked, watching Tarah hug her mother in the courtyard.
“It went perfectly fine,” said Alex. “Everything worked out.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“I decided not to do the dramatic scream, though.”
“That’s probably for the best,” I nodded, offering Alex a sip.
“So, what did you think?”
“I hated it,” I said, shrugging. “It was insincere and cliché. But it’s what they wanted, right?”
“They certainly looked happy,” said Alex, handing me a half empty glass.
“What about you?” I asked. “Do you need an over-the-top mushy love scene to make you happy?”
“Nope. I’m fine with everything as it is.”
“Thank goodness.”
Fine
So there you have it. I can't tell a love story. I love making fun of myself in these stories.
A few notes about this one. I wrote this before I wrote "Cliche Central," but the pair are more or less about the same thing. My mind has been on the status of cliches a lot lately. I've always been overly concerned with how to make myself different without losing touch with the world. Embrace the cliche! NEVER! Personally I like "Cliche Central" a tad more, but I don't really know why. Perhaps because I really can't tell a love story and it's getting to me. Again, I don't know why.
The characters are based off characters I didn't make up, which is a new thing for me. I changed their names and some things about each of them for the story, but someone with an eagle eye can probably pick out where they come from. This means the Alana character is not actually my cousin, just to avoid the confusion there. I actually wrote another story (again, about cliches) with the characters from High School Musical in it because that's just about as cliche as you can get, and it had a wonderful scene where I shout at Morgan Freeman. The rest of it stunk, so you won't be seeing it here.
I hope you enjoyed! Please write me some feedback. I don't ever post a finished work so that you can slash and burn it and I'll still be open to suggestions. Let me know what you think! Now! I mean, please!
Okay, now I think being up late is starting to get to me. Even if I'm pumped up and can write 36 words per minute for an hour and a half without stopping. Even if we just went through the most historic election I've ever lived to see. Even if I finally have a weekend with no/minimal homework. Even if I have good, new music to listen to. There's a lot to get pumped up about, and one of them is the prospect of falling asleep.
-Sam goldsmith
The secret's out. Sam goldsmith spends his Saturday nights cooped up in his dorm room writing endlessly while all his friends are at concert or parties or operas and all having a ball of a time. And I know what you are thinking, but it's okay. There's no need to be jealous.
I am doing National Novel Writing Month, in which I am writing the second book in my trilogy that has the angsty working title, "The Nameless Face." I hope to change that working title soon. The point is that I had an amazingly productive day (36 words per minute, obliterating my 25 wpm average) today and I am so pumped up about it that I can't sleep. Yes, I know I can't sleep normally, either, but that's not the point.
Before November started and I was set to begin my novel there were about two weeks when I produced a lot of rough drafts of short fiction, two of which ("The VideoMag Proposal" and "Cliche Central") you have already seen or can find in my archives. So I have been able to post stories even though I am wrapped up in my novel because the material for these stories is already there, in need only of re-writing. When I break from my novel but still find myself with extra time I edit the old works. And, being pumped up as I was about writing over 3,000 words of high-quality writing in under an hour and a half, I figured I'd use the adrenaline to edit another short fiction for you all.
Where to find the other stories
The other stories are in the archives somewhere along the left-hand side of my blog, intermingled with the pictures I took in Europe and shameless self-promotion.
"The VideoMag Proposal" is under the post entitled The Day Before November in October. It's a long post and the story is near the bottom.
"Cliche Central" is under the post entitled Art Sharing Day in October.
From now on I will label story posts with the word "Story" at the beginning. Like I did with this one. Why I didn't think of this earlier I have no idea.
Sam Fails To Tell A Love Story
1590 Words
Everyone cheered as the six friends stood arm in arm at the front of the courtyard, rain falling endlessly on their unprotected heads. All the warriors who had bravely fought in the unending war were finally seeing their dreams of a peaceful world come true. A boy in a wheelchair and his muscular father next to an elegantly dressed man with a goatee hollered gleefully, their open umbrellas forgotten on the cobblestones. Foot soldiers dressed in blue with empty gun holsters clapped enthusiastically, some cheering, some crying. Only Tarah’s parents were still and speechless, unable to believe that their colorblind daughter was one of the best fighters the world had ever seen, forever to be remembered as a national hero. People embraced all around the courtyard, hugging soaked friends who had once been mortal enemies. It was over. The plot had been resolved.
The heroes stepped forward to greet the crowd but Zack was pulled back. Alana was tugging on his sleeve. “Can I talk to you for a second?” she asked, beckoning him away from the scene. They walked off to a deserted wing of the courtyard where no one could disturb them, huddling under the umbrella more closely than they needed to be.
She turned to look at him once she was sure they were alone. “I liked your speech,” she said, smiling sweetly at him.
“Thanks,” he said sheepishly.
“I am so happy today,” she said, her eyes dodging the young soldier. “This war has made the world so hurt and I am so happy to see it all end.”
“I am, too,” said Zack, his eyes planted on her smile. “It’s amazing that we can finally tell people peace is here.”
“I’m so glad this moment has finally come,” she said.
“So let’s share it with our friends,” said Zack, taking her by the hand.
“I mean I’m glad to share this moment with you,” she said, blushing as she made eye contact. She began to lean towards him.
“Alana,” said Zack, closing his eyes, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she whispered. The love-struck pair leaned towards each other, waiting for the passion-engulfed kiss they had been dreaming of. They could smell each other’s skin and knew that their love would finally be sealed, just like the war’s finality had been sealed. They wrapped their arms around each other’s bodies, drawing still nearer, and…
And…
“And?” yelled Alana.
“What’s going on?” asked Zack.
“We should have kissed by now!” she complained, letting go of him. “Seriously, why are we stopping?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, looking at the ground while my hands fiddled nervously behind my back. “I just can’t write love scenes. I’m really bad at them.”
Zack let out a loud, frustrated groan.
“We were so close!” Alana cried. “All you had to do was move us an inch closer and we would have been kissing! It’s really not that hard!”
“It’s hard for me,” I said timidly. “I don’t know how to do a kissing scene. Usually when there’s a kiss I just look away.”
“Oh, so you can have us confess our love for each other but you can’t have us kiss?” demanded Zack.
“Actually I didn’t like that part very much,” I said to the medal collage on his uniform. “Look, I just don’t know how to do this, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay!” exclaimed Zack. “I’ve been waiting to share a kiss with Alana for over a year and now you’re telling me you can’t write it?”
“Look, it’s really simple,” Alana explained. “You have us lean in and kiss in youthful
bliss or something like that. We can wrap our arms around each other and pull ourselves tightly together, the warmth of our bodies pressed against each other making us light-headed. Then we can release our lips and slowly open our eyes to gaze at each other longingly. Then Alex can come in and interrupt us and Zack can open his umbrella between us for privacy as we lean in again.”
“That’s sounds good,” said Zack.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” I said.
“Alana! Zack!” came Alex's voice from around the bend. “Come on! It’s time for Marco's medal ceremony!” He entered the area and screamed dramatically, covering his eyes. He peeked through his fingers. “Wait,” he said, straightening up. “You’re not kissing.”
Alana sighed. “Yes, I know that, genius.”
“Wait, this doesn’t make sense,” said Alex, scratching his head. “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be kissing right now.”
“Yeah, me too,” muttered Zack, glaring in my direction.
“This moron doesn’t know how to write it,” said Alana, jabbing a thumb at me.
“Look, guys,” I said, “I just have a problem with resolving all the plot lines so neatly all at the same time. That’s not how real life works.”
“I don’t care how real life works!” yelled Zack. “I’ve been through too much not to get this kiss right now!”
“What’s with all the shouting over here?” asked Sally, following Alex into the area.
“Sam can’t write a love scene,” said Alex. “Seems like all we can do together is count sheep until he can figure it out.”
“I’ll bet Sam just needs to be kissed himself,” proclaimed Sally. “That way he’d know how to write about it.”
“No, I’m good,” I said, backing away.
“I think Sally's right,” said Alana. “We need to find someone to kiss Sam so that he’ll know how to tell our story the way it was meant to be told.”
“And it can’t be just anyone,” added Zack. “It has to be someone breathtakingly beautiful, almost as beautiful as Alana.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Alex. “I know! Mary Sue!”
“Guys, this isn’t a very good idea,” I stammered.
“Do you really think she’ll come up from South Carolina just like that?” asked Alana, ignoring me.
“I’m sure she wants to see the plot resolve just as much as we do,” responded Alex.
“Okay, maybe not as much as you and Zack, but I’m just saying.”
“That’s enough!” I yelled. Everyone turned to look at me. For a relaxing split second the only sound was the rain. “Look, I’ll just do what Alana said with the mushy passion stuff, okay?” I conceded.
Alana shrugged. “Sounds good.”
“Alex and Sally, can you be back here in a few minutes to interrupt them so Zack can block you off with the umbrella?”
“Sure thing,” smiled Alex. “I’ll go tell them to hold off the medal ceremony for another few minutes to buy us some time.” He and Sally walked out, Sally pecking him on the cheek. Alana let out a frustrated groan.
“What?” I said. “You don’t want a little kiss like that. You want more passion.”
“He’s right,” said Zack.
“I’m not even in the mood anymore,” said Alana flatly.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said, following Alex and Sally into the courtyard.
Zack took hold of Alana’s hand, the feeling of his skin against hers causing her to blush wildly. Their eyes met and they knew the time had come. The love-struck pair leaned towards each other, anticipating the passion-engulfed kiss they had been dreaming of. They could smell each other’s skin and knew that their love would finally be sealed, just like the war’s finality had been sealed. They wrapped their arms around each other’s bodies, drawing still nearer.
“I love you, Alana,” said Zack.
“I love you, too,” whispered Alana.
They pushed their lips together and kissed in youthful bliss, pulling themselves tightly together. The warmth of their bodies pressed against each other and the long-awaited release of passion made them light-headed with elation. Zack cupped Alana's cheek in his palm and a single tear dripped down from her eye onto the back of Zack’s soft, warm hand. They released the contact between their lips and slowly opened their eyes to gaze at each other longingly, remaining close enough to touch noses.
“Alana! Zack!” shouted Alex, marching into the wing with Sally. “Hurry up! It’s time for Marco’s medal ceremony!” He froze in his tracks when his eyes fell upon the two lovers, jaw dropped. The four stared at each other for a moment, then Zack shifted the umbrella to block off the view, leaning in to kiss Alana again as the rain soaked their clothes, their silhouettes melting together behind the thin fabric.
“Okay,” Alex said, turning back to the main courtyard. “That was awkward.”
“I think it was sweet,” said Sally, giving Alex a quick peck on the cheek. “Come on, we have to tell them to hold off the medal ceremony a little longer.”
Sally walked out into the main courtyard to face their friends once again while Alex searched me out, finding me sipping a Thai iced tea with my back against a wall under an overhang.
“How’d it go?” I asked, watching Tarah hug her mother in the courtyard.
“It went perfectly fine,” said Alex. “Everything worked out.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“I decided not to do the dramatic scream, though.”
“That’s probably for the best,” I nodded, offering Alex a sip.
“So, what did you think?”
“I hated it,” I said, shrugging. “It was insincere and cliché. But it’s what they wanted, right?”
“They certainly looked happy,” said Alex, handing me a half empty glass.
“What about you?” I asked. “Do you need an over-the-top mushy love scene to make you happy?”
“Nope. I’m fine with everything as it is.”
“Thank goodness.”
Fine
So there you have it. I can't tell a love story. I love making fun of myself in these stories.
A few notes about this one. I wrote this before I wrote "Cliche Central," but the pair are more or less about the same thing. My mind has been on the status of cliches a lot lately. I've always been overly concerned with how to make myself different without losing touch with the world. Embrace the cliche! NEVER! Personally I like "Cliche Central" a tad more, but I don't really know why. Perhaps because I really can't tell a love story and it's getting to me. Again, I don't know why.
The characters are based off characters I didn't make up, which is a new thing for me. I changed their names and some things about each of them for the story, but someone with an eagle eye can probably pick out where they come from. This means the Alana character is not actually my cousin, just to avoid the confusion there. I actually wrote another story (again, about cliches) with the characters from High School Musical in it because that's just about as cliche as you can get, and it had a wonderful scene where I shout at Morgan Freeman. The rest of it stunk, so you won't be seeing it here.
I hope you enjoyed! Please write me some feedback. I don't ever post a finished work so that you can slash and burn it and I'll still be open to suggestions. Let me know what you think! Now! I mean, please!
Okay, now I think being up late is starting to get to me. Even if I'm pumped up and can write 36 words per minute for an hour and a half without stopping. Even if we just went through the most historic election I've ever lived to see. Even if I finally have a weekend with no/minimal homework. Even if I have good, new music to listen to. There's a lot to get pumped up about, and one of them is the prospect of falling asleep.
-Sam goldsmith
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
New Single
Ciao, Tutti!
The First Regrets new single, "Silent Steps," is finally ready to be posted on MySpace! If you check the site within the next hour it should be there. Don't be daunted by a 6:30 minute piece of music. Listening to the whole thing will be totally worth it, I promise, and if you feel I've wasted 6:30 minutes of your life you can write angry letters. Then I would have to ask what you're doing reading my blog for however many minutes each time I post.
http://www.myspace.com/firstregrets
The link is also on the left-hand side of the blog.
I wanted to make one more post before the election results come in because if the world ceases to exist on November 5th I wanted to make sure I said all those things that you say when you have the feeling of impending doom. Things like telling that girl you never had the courage to talk to that you love her. Telling a complete jerk you've always wanted to tell off that he's a complete jerk. To his face.
This is also a time of experimentation. If the world blows up before tomorrow, I'll have never:
a) Had a one-night stand
b) Gotten drunk
c) Done any drugs except Tylenol, but that doesn't count
d) Had a three-some
e) Bungee jumped or sky dived
f) Been invited to the Daily Show as a guest
g) Write a screenplay
h) Juggled swords
i) Walked naked through the streets
I could go on. The point is that I have to get all this accomplished by tonight or my life may never be complete! If the world blows up by tomorrow I will forever be remembered by cockroaches as the boring kid who did none of these things in his pathetic life! So I've got roughly 12 hours. I can do this. Take a deep breath.
I hope you all realize I'm kidding. I would never be invited to the Daily Show.
Before I go I would like to say something about National Novel Writing Month. It is hard to write about eight pages of new material each day while dealing with final essays, election doom and gloom, schoolwork, and, wait, I'm a musician, too, aren't I! The point is it's hard to do. But I'm still ahead of the game and I'm actually feeling pretty good about the direction the novel is taking so far. I hope the world doesn't blow up so I can finish it.
If you have a lot of free time, which I don't, then you should give it a try. It's about a two hour investment each day (really more like one for me, but that's because I don't care so much about the words I'm typing, and three or four hours for my friend Aurora who is a great writer who takes things too slow). If you've got nothing else going on but a TV blasting Fox news, then maybe you should take it up. It's a lot of fun, even if it's exhausting.
I'll continue to update my word count on my blog as long as I'm working on it, even after November ends. Don't forget, the goal for November is 50,000 words.
Okay, no more time to waste. Time to strip naked and run through the streets. Chop chop!
-Sam goldsmith
The First Regrets new single, "Silent Steps," is finally ready to be posted on MySpace! If you check the site within the next hour it should be there. Don't be daunted by a 6:30 minute piece of music. Listening to the whole thing will be totally worth it, I promise, and if you feel I've wasted 6:30 minutes of your life you can write angry letters. Then I would have to ask what you're doing reading my blog for however many minutes each time I post.
http://www.myspace.com/firstregrets
The link is also on the left-hand side of the blog.
I wanted to make one more post before the election results come in because if the world ceases to exist on November 5th I wanted to make sure I said all those things that you say when you have the feeling of impending doom. Things like telling that girl you never had the courage to talk to that you love her. Telling a complete jerk you've always wanted to tell off that he's a complete jerk. To his face.
This is also a time of experimentation. If the world blows up before tomorrow, I'll have never:
a) Had a one-night stand
b) Gotten drunk
c) Done any drugs except Tylenol, but that doesn't count
d) Had a three-some
e) Bungee jumped or sky dived
f) Been invited to the Daily Show as a guest
g) Write a screenplay
h) Juggled swords
i) Walked naked through the streets
I could go on. The point is that I have to get all this accomplished by tonight or my life may never be complete! If the world blows up by tomorrow I will forever be remembered by cockroaches as the boring kid who did none of these things in his pathetic life! So I've got roughly 12 hours. I can do this. Take a deep breath.
I hope you all realize I'm kidding. I would never be invited to the Daily Show.
Before I go I would like to say something about National Novel Writing Month. It is hard to write about eight pages of new material each day while dealing with final essays, election doom and gloom, schoolwork, and, wait, I'm a musician, too, aren't I! The point is it's hard to do. But I'm still ahead of the game and I'm actually feeling pretty good about the direction the novel is taking so far. I hope the world doesn't blow up so I can finish it.
If you have a lot of free time, which I don't, then you should give it a try. It's about a two hour investment each day (really more like one for me, but that's because I don't care so much about the words I'm typing, and three or four hours for my friend Aurora who is a great writer who takes things too slow). If you've got nothing else going on but a TV blasting Fox news, then maybe you should take it up. It's a lot of fun, even if it's exhausting.
I'll continue to update my word count on my blog as long as I'm working on it, even after November ends. Don't forget, the goal for November is 50,000 words.
Okay, no more time to waste. Time to strip naked and run through the streets. Chop chop!
-Sam goldsmith
Friday, October 31, 2008
The Day Before November
Ciao, Tutti!
Happy Halloween.
Good, now that’s over with.
This is the last day of October, and therefore the last day I will be posting in a while. I’ll be hard at work on my novel and I don’t really see any time in the foreseeable future when I’ll be able to make a post. At least not a post of this proportion. Possibly on election day. We’ll see. Depends on if I’m on a plane to Florence or not, which depends on who wins.
A Brief Word About The Election
Vote.
That is the brief word. VOTE!!!!!!! Please? If you don’t vote you are conceding your right to complain about problems within the government. If you don’t vote, it’s like saying things are all right no matter what happens, so you’d rather leave the future of the country up to other people. If that’s what you think, okay, but then I don’t want to hear any complaining afterward.
A Freelancer’s World
Thank you so much everybody who has responded so positively to my first posted short story, “Cliché Central.” People have been receiving it very well and I have been so encouraged that I have started to look up places to publish it! The New Yorker might be shooting a little high, but if I’m rejected, I’m rejected. So what. It’s not like it would be the first time. If you haven’t read the story you can find it in my archives under “Art Sharing Day.” Trust me, you’ll like it.
This is a very strange world we live in, much different than it ever was ten, even five years ago. Here is what I mean: I have been a musician for a while and a writer for, well, a while, but not seriously like in music. So now I start writing again and have some pieces I’m getting serious about publishing. So what do I do? I go to Google and search “Publishing short stories.” Bam. First hit, a comprehensive eight-step guide to putting together submissions for literary magazines. Made for people just like me!
I had been toying around with the thought of writing a screen play, that is, before M. Night Shyamalan took the medium I wanted to adapt (Curse you, man with a hard last name to spell! And you better do a good job with that movie!), so I Googled “How to write a screenplay.” Bam. First hit, a comprehensive tutorial for writing in screenplay format, complete with suggestions for how to pitch your idea to a producer.
Some of you know I like to make up games. I made one two summers ago at summer camp and people really liked it. I’ve been thinking about pitching it, but it was more of a fantasy. The other day I figured I’d look online to see if there was a site for people who made up board games and were looking for publishers. Bam. First hit, a comprehensive guide for play testing and development to the point of presentability to a publisher, complete with all sorts of links to sites that would custom make dice, counters, boards, or cards for your game.
Wow.
This is the world of the amateur. Now anyone with an idea, no matter the training or experience, someone like me, could go online and learn the basics of what they need to know to make the idea happen. Think about it. Five years ago I would have to take my stories to people I knew who would know something about publishing, or someone would have to fall in love with my work and produce it, as happened four years ago with my CD, “Summer Victory Dance.” It is so easy to find the information required to make an amateur project, projects I have oodles of, into a real object for serious consideration by professionals. Professionals!
You can see this in music with so many musicians self-producing and recording. The result is strange. There is more music out there than ever at any point in history. And there are more famous groups and people than ever. And they don’t have to be particularly good! This is bizarre. People without formal music training or with a minimal amount can become huge stars! This is much different than back in the day when Chopin was depressed because Liszt could play so much better than him. Folks, we don’t really have many pianists as good as Chopin these days. Now you don’t have to be a master to be recognized.
Before, as in Chopin’s day, musical mastery was a requirement. So was making good ideas. Liszt was an exception in the early part of career since his music wasn’t very innovative, just flashy (reminds me of young pianist Eldar). The point is that musicians in history have needed to have both great ideas and great skills to become more than unknown, and in Bach’s case that wasn’t even enough. Now all you need is one of the two things. A good idea is enough if you know how to use it. Skill without innovation is good enough if you know how to use it. You don’t need both anymore.
It almost makes me feel sad for my old teacher Stefon Harris and my future teacher (fingers crossed!) Kenny Werner. Both of these men are undoubtedly masters at their instruments and they are of a dwindling breed. Stefon demanded mastery out of me and I couldn’t do it. It’s not my way in the world to be a master at any one thing. But I worry at times that people are having such good ideas these days without the skill necessary to execute them. Good musical ideas deserve to be played by those with the skill level of mastery. I will never be able to play my music at the level of mastery. The same is probably the case with the writing and making games or taking photographs. I will always be an amateur at a lot of things, and it’s that kind of person who drives Stefon and Kenny crazy. Kenny wrote a whole book trying to bring people out of mediocrity and into mastery. But this is the age of mediocrity. In the time of YouTube and online communities, production value is not nearly as important as the quality of what is being produced.
In my first lesson with Stefon Harris, he asked me why I was taking vibes lessons from him. He wanted to know what I wanted to get out of playing music. I couldn’t answer him. He told me that was a question I would have to deal with my whole life as a musician, and if I couldn’t answer it I would have no focus and become “mediocre at everything.” Those words stuck to me. “Mediocre at everything.” I think it’s coming true, and I think I don’t mind. Stefon was one of the greatest teachers I ever had, though I never put in the work for him and I came out with a completely different lesson than the one he meant to teach me. Oh, well. I have a reputation for giving my teachers hell. And for that reason I will be one of these anti-masters, one of those people they all say, “He had good ideas, but it’s too bad he wasn’t better at what he did.”
It’s a freelancer’s world. Never before has it been easier to go out on your own and simply do what you feel like. And I plan to take advantage.
Second Story: The VideoMag Proposal
I know this post is becoming epic in proportions. Move over, Homer! If you don’t feel like reading the rest, I understand [wipes away tear].
This is my second installment of short fiction. I decided to go hard on myself and write in a style I’m not used to, and I think it turned out rather well. Again, this is the second draft, so if you have any suggestions for me just go ahead and let me know. I don’t usually write in the first person unless it’s actually me, so I figured I’d try getting out of my comfort zone here. Enjoy!
The VideoMag Proposal (2576 words)
You are funny.
Don’t be modest. You have quite an impressive wit. I admire your sense of humor. I really do.
It’s a shame that you choose to keep it to yourself and your circle of close friends instead of sharing it with the rest of the world.
Actually, it’s quite selfish.
I rubbed my eye with my left hand and lifted my steaming mug of coffee with my right, relieved that it wasn’t burning my tongue anymore still but annoyed at the mark it had left from the first sip.
My cell phone rang. The ring tone was something I had written a few years earlier for a General Motors campaign that turned out rather successful. I plugged it into my phone so that strangers would recognize it when people called me. Someone would surely approach me and we would have a dialogue like this:
“Mr. Jefferson?”
“Hold on for a moment, Mr. Gates. Yes?”
“You’re the fellow who wrote the tune for that GM advertisement.”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“I think that tune is fantastic. A true work of genius.”
“Thank you, good sir. It’s always nice to know my work is appreciated.”
“How would you like to work with me on a feature film? I’ve been looking for a songwriter like you.”
“Who’s the producer?”
“Steven Spielberg.”
“Count me in.”
So far that dialogue hadn’t happened yet. I was starting to feel like this dialogue would be more likely:
“Mr. Jefferson?”
“Hold on a second, Mom. Yes?”
“You’re the guy who wrote that car commercial.”
“Yes, I did.”
The man punches me in the face. “You prick! That tune has been stuck in my head for years! I hate it so goddamn much!”
I wipe blood off my nose. “It’s always nice to know my work is appreciated.”
I looked over to the caller identification and saw Harry’s name. I looked at my watch. 12:37. What Harry was doing calling me at this time of night was a question I didn’t care to answer at the moment.
“Harry, you better have a fucking good reason to be calling me this late.”
“I just knocked up your wife,” he said in his rapid, nasally voice. “Reason good enough?”
“I haven’t had a wife for six months,” I grumbled.
“Right. Sorry,” he said. “It’s about the campaign. I just can’t seem to come up with anything at all.”
“Really?” I said with sarcastic concern. I sipped my coffee loud enough to hear through the receiver. “I’ve got a little something, but I don’t know if I like it.”
“Nice,” said Harry. “Read it out to me really quick.”
I read it out to him really quick.
“I don’t know,” said Harry after a short pause. “We’re not supposed to tell the customers they’re selfish.”
“We’re telling them to not be selfish,” I said.
“Then our slogan should be: ‘VideoMag: Don’t be selfish.’”
“Hey, At least I’m coming up with ideas.”
“I’ve been trying,” yawned Harry. “I just can’t think of anything I like.”
I stared at the computer screen, my fist boring into my forehead, my jaw slack. I could have read everything I had written five times and understood nothing. The coffee wasn’t working.
“Look at us, Alex,” said Harry. “VideoMag does the sort of thing we used to do all the time back in college. This is exactly the kind of product for us and we can’t figure out how to make it look interesting.”
“I don’t think any of our old home movies would have been good enough for an online magazine.”
“That’s not the point,” said Harry. “We would have submitted them anyway and we would have logged on to see the others.”
I sighed and closed my eyes, instantly becoming dizzy with fatigue. I opened them with my fingers. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“I kind of like the thought of a video magazine for everyone, or the people’s short movie theater, or something populist like that, but I can’t ever get it to sound right.”
I yawned, not bothering to exaggerate. “I think we should go to bed. It’s too late to think about anything.”
“We’re two days from the deadline,” said Harry. “And haven’t you been drinking coffee? How are you going to get to sleep?”
“Coffee doesn’t help,” I mumbled. “I’ve been drinking twice as much since the divorce but it feels six times as weak.”
“All right,” sighed Harry. “Get some sleep if you can, but we’re going to need to work on this big time tomorrow. No more three-hour night sleeps, okay? I need you at your best tomorrow.”
“Uh,” I mumbled in consent.
“I mean it, Alex. As long as we don’t fuck up, VideoMag could be our biggest hit since GM.”
“Only hit,” I said sourly.
“And let’s end this negative attitude right now.” Harry yawned.
At 3:23 in the morning my cell phone rang again. I had just fallen asleep. Tossing and turning for hours had been something I had grown used to, and no matter how tired I was during the day I was never able to calm my restless body at night. Too used to another body lying there next to me, I guess.
I couldn’t even speak into the receiver my throat was so groggy. I tried to form words of greeting but only an incoherent growl came out. I felt the instinctual urge to make a pot of coffee.
“David figured it out, Alex,” said Harry faster than I could process at the moment.
“What?”
“He figured it out,” repeated Harry. “We’re saved. He has the perfect idea.”
I kept my eyes closed and turned over. “That’s great. What is it?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“What?”
“It defies words,” said Harry like he was describing a love affair with a Hollywood actress. “That’s what David said, anyway. He has a whole presentation to show us tomorrow at work.”
I groaned. “So why’d you call me?”
Harry laughed and I felt like punching him in the glasses. “I guess I was just so excited. I’ll see you tomorrow. Try and sleep.”
“I’m turning my phone off.”
I nearly forgot to hit the brakes at stop signs on the way to work. Made me glad there weren’t any cops around. My eyes were so watery from yawning that I couldn’t see clearly. I jerked into my parking spot at the office, the jolt sending coffee flying onto me pant leg. It was hot. I would have reacted but instead I shrugged at life and tried to feel thankful that I had worn dark pants. I didn’t feel as thankful when I hit my head on the roof of the car. That was one problem with GM vehicles. They were the wrong size for tall, skinny guys like me.
Harry, as always, looked great.
I mumbled a hello and tried to be a person. He smiled warmly and gave me an unwarranted hug, causing more hot coffee to spill, this time onto my wrist.
“So where’s David?” I asked, scratching at my stubble.
“Called in sick,” said Harry, looking me over. “You look like you went out drinking too long.”
“Thanks. He’s home sick?”
“He was coughing on the phone when I talked to him last night.” said Harry. “I’ll tell you, Alex, when you’re up all night working it can really take a toll.”
“Yeah, it really shows on you,” I said, rubbing my eye.
“I know, but I’ll sleep better tonight,” said Harry, missing the sarcasm entirely. He pulled on his overcoat. “Well, I’m off to David’s house to check out the proposal. See you.”
“Wait, can’t I come?”
“Someone has to look after the office while I’m gone,” said Harry with a wink that made me want to spill coffee on his head. He patted me on the shoulder on his way out. “Take it easy, champ.”
Harry left me at the main desk where I made sloppy paper airplanes out of the documents from the inbox. I was supposed to be waiting for the phone to ring. It never did. About a year after our success with GM it had stopped ringing all together. I was a ceremonial secretary, paid to make paper airplanes out of memos. I tossed the coffee cup into the garbage can and rocked back and forth in the chair. This was my life. And it was boring. If David’s proposal was half as good as Harry said, the phone would be ringing soon enough and important people like Bill Gates and Steven Spielberg would end the boredom.
My cell phone rang, interrupting a game of solitaire. Harry. I had the compulsion to throw it into the wastebasket and waltz out of the office, unannounced and for good.
“Hey, Harry hair ball, what’s up?” I said.
“Alex, this is incredible,” stammered Harry. “Best ad campaign since ‘Just do it’ or
‘Got milk?’ I’m serious, Alex, this is gold!”
“That’s great, Harry,” I yawned.
“It is so perfect,” he went on, even more excited than his usual self. I wondered how his wife could put up with it, but then again I’d never been very good at being able to tell what women can put up with. “It’s just a work of genius. Pure genius! We are going to change the world with this ad campaign!”
“Change the world.“ I said, tossing a paper airplane into the air and watching it fall to the floor. “Sounds like a plan. So what is it?”
“Well, there’s this guy, and there’s a girl, and there’s this hilarious music… I can’t do it justice, Alex. You have to see it yourself, but believe me, this is incredible!”
“Great. Bring it over so I can take a look at it.”
“Sorry,” said Harry unapologetically. “I can’t exactly do that. You see, with David sick and his wife at work he needs me to help take care of his kids until she gets back.”
My head hit the desk. “You’re fucking kidding me. Please tell you me you’re fucking kidding me.”
“Look, now that we’ve worked out the ad campaign we don’t need to do any work for the rest of the day unless that phone rings, so I’ve got some time to take care of David and his family for a bit. You should see little Helen, Alex. She’s just starting to walk and it’s simply adorable.”
“Great,” I grumbled. “While you’re witnessing the miracle of life I’m here making paper airplanes.”
“Hey, don’t waste our paper! It’s not like it grows on trees.”
“Right. Wait, what?”
“When it’s time for lunch you and I can trade places, okay?” reasoned Harry unreasonably. “Just as long as you’re awake enough to take care of David’s kids while you’re here.”
“I’ll see if I can get some sleep while I’m waiting.”
I couldn’t get some sleep while I was waiting. I wondered what this proposal was that would make our phone start ringing again and bring important people like Bill Gates and Steven Spielberg into our office. Then my life wouldn’t be so boring and I would have dialogues like this with strangers on the street:
“Mr. Jefferson?”
“Hold on one second, Mr. Spielberg. Yes?”
“You’re one of the guys who did that VideoMag ad that made them so famous, right?”
“That’s me.”
“I really admire your work.”
“Thank you, good sir. It’s always nice to know my work is appreciated.”
“Listen, I work for Microsoft and we could really use a new ad campaign. You should come over to Mr. Gate’s office with me so we can work out a deal.”
“I’ll see if I can work around the movie deal.”
I had been lying on the floor staring at gum wads on the ceiling for nearly three hours by before lunch. It was dizzying to look at all those spots on the ceiling and to think they had all been in mouths. Mouths that had shared lips and tongues with other human beings at some point. Those pieces of gum had touched one of the most intimate parts of the human body and now they were stuck on the ceiling, chewing gum heaven, looking down on me like guardian angels.
I stepped into the car, nearly hitting my head on the roof again. A fresh cup of coffee sitting in the cup holder, I turned the keys and realized I forgot to hang up the “Out to lunch” sign. I felt like driving on anyway, far away, all the way to Reno where I could take off the invisible ring and pretend I was never been married.
After hanging the sign on the door I drove off to David’s house. This proposal had better bring Bill Gates and Steven Spielberg into the office or I was going to jump out a window. I watched women walk their dogs, children running in parks, men playing basketball on the roadside courts, some wearing sleeveless shirts despite the chilly late fall weather. Watching people took my mind off things I didn’t want to think about. Like the road. I slammed on my brakes and a pedestrian shouted at me through the windshield.
David lived in a mansion. His wife was an oral surgeon. She had been to all the same places as the pieces of chewing gum and she was paid a fortune for it. My apartment could fit in the master bedroom of David’s house. I didn’t have a family. I didn’t need the extra space. I sighed and knocked on the door.
“It’s open!” called Harry’s voice.
I turned the handle and was sprayed by confetti and showered by the sound of party kazoos. Harry and David were in the middle of the room holding a chocolate cake, a candle in the shape of a 35 stuck in the center. Harry’s wife and nine-year-old were on one side and David’s wife and three kids were on the other, all singing Happy Birthday at the top of their lungs, joyously out of tune like an ill-prepared Christmas carol group formed by a college fraternity short on cash.
I jumped back and scalding hot coffee flew into my face. They smiled at me once they had finished singing, showing their perfect white teeth. Coffee dripped all over my burning skin.
“Wait,” I said, trying to stay calm in front of the children. “David’s not sick?”
“I feel fine,” said David cheerily.
“And Harry, you weren’t coming over here to take care of David’s family while he was sick and his wife was working?” I looked over at David’s smiling wife who was definitely not at work.
“I took the day off,” she said amid the giggling of children. “I didn’t want to miss this special day.”
“And what about the ad campaign?” I asked David. “What about this perfect proposal of yours?”
“It was just to get you to come over here,” laughed David.
“So we still don’t have anything for our deadline tomorrow,” I said. The coffee was finally starting to cool down on my face.
Harry shrugged. “Nope.”
I stared at each of them one by one, scowling with all my might. “I think I’m going to shoot you both.”
Fine
So, there you have it. A much more conventional style for me. More of a character portrait than a plot, actually. Which is really not my style, but I think it really came out well here. Let me know what you think and what I should change, other than the length of my posts. Trust me, the posts will get shorter, if they exist, after November starts.
Last Word
VOTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
-Sam goldsmith
Happy Halloween.
Good, now that’s over with.
This is the last day of October, and therefore the last day I will be posting in a while. I’ll be hard at work on my novel and I don’t really see any time in the foreseeable future when I’ll be able to make a post. At least not a post of this proportion. Possibly on election day. We’ll see. Depends on if I’m on a plane to Florence or not, which depends on who wins.
A Brief Word About The Election
Vote.
That is the brief word. VOTE!!!!!!! Please? If you don’t vote you are conceding your right to complain about problems within the government. If you don’t vote, it’s like saying things are all right no matter what happens, so you’d rather leave the future of the country up to other people. If that’s what you think, okay, but then I don’t want to hear any complaining afterward.
A Freelancer’s World
Thank you so much everybody who has responded so positively to my first posted short story, “Cliché Central.” People have been receiving it very well and I have been so encouraged that I have started to look up places to publish it! The New Yorker might be shooting a little high, but if I’m rejected, I’m rejected. So what. It’s not like it would be the first time. If you haven’t read the story you can find it in my archives under “Art Sharing Day.” Trust me, you’ll like it.
This is a very strange world we live in, much different than it ever was ten, even five years ago. Here is what I mean: I have been a musician for a while and a writer for, well, a while, but not seriously like in music. So now I start writing again and have some pieces I’m getting serious about publishing. So what do I do? I go to Google and search “Publishing short stories.” Bam. First hit, a comprehensive eight-step guide to putting together submissions for literary magazines. Made for people just like me!
I had been toying around with the thought of writing a screen play, that is, before M. Night Shyamalan took the medium I wanted to adapt (Curse you, man with a hard last name to spell! And you better do a good job with that movie!), so I Googled “How to write a screenplay.” Bam. First hit, a comprehensive tutorial for writing in screenplay format, complete with suggestions for how to pitch your idea to a producer.
Some of you know I like to make up games. I made one two summers ago at summer camp and people really liked it. I’ve been thinking about pitching it, but it was more of a fantasy. The other day I figured I’d look online to see if there was a site for people who made up board games and were looking for publishers. Bam. First hit, a comprehensive guide for play testing and development to the point of presentability to a publisher, complete with all sorts of links to sites that would custom make dice, counters, boards, or cards for your game.
Wow.
This is the world of the amateur. Now anyone with an idea, no matter the training or experience, someone like me, could go online and learn the basics of what they need to know to make the idea happen. Think about it. Five years ago I would have to take my stories to people I knew who would know something about publishing, or someone would have to fall in love with my work and produce it, as happened four years ago with my CD, “Summer Victory Dance.” It is so easy to find the information required to make an amateur project, projects I have oodles of, into a real object for serious consideration by professionals. Professionals!
You can see this in music with so many musicians self-producing and recording. The result is strange. There is more music out there than ever at any point in history. And there are more famous groups and people than ever. And they don’t have to be particularly good! This is bizarre. People without formal music training or with a minimal amount can become huge stars! This is much different than back in the day when Chopin was depressed because Liszt could play so much better than him. Folks, we don’t really have many pianists as good as Chopin these days. Now you don’t have to be a master to be recognized.
Before, as in Chopin’s day, musical mastery was a requirement. So was making good ideas. Liszt was an exception in the early part of career since his music wasn’t very innovative, just flashy (reminds me of young pianist Eldar). The point is that musicians in history have needed to have both great ideas and great skills to become more than unknown, and in Bach’s case that wasn’t even enough. Now all you need is one of the two things. A good idea is enough if you know how to use it. Skill without innovation is good enough if you know how to use it. You don’t need both anymore.
It almost makes me feel sad for my old teacher Stefon Harris and my future teacher (fingers crossed!) Kenny Werner. Both of these men are undoubtedly masters at their instruments and they are of a dwindling breed. Stefon demanded mastery out of me and I couldn’t do it. It’s not my way in the world to be a master at any one thing. But I worry at times that people are having such good ideas these days without the skill necessary to execute them. Good musical ideas deserve to be played by those with the skill level of mastery. I will never be able to play my music at the level of mastery. The same is probably the case with the writing and making games or taking photographs. I will always be an amateur at a lot of things, and it’s that kind of person who drives Stefon and Kenny crazy. Kenny wrote a whole book trying to bring people out of mediocrity and into mastery. But this is the age of mediocrity. In the time of YouTube and online communities, production value is not nearly as important as the quality of what is being produced.
In my first lesson with Stefon Harris, he asked me why I was taking vibes lessons from him. He wanted to know what I wanted to get out of playing music. I couldn’t answer him. He told me that was a question I would have to deal with my whole life as a musician, and if I couldn’t answer it I would have no focus and become “mediocre at everything.” Those words stuck to me. “Mediocre at everything.” I think it’s coming true, and I think I don’t mind. Stefon was one of the greatest teachers I ever had, though I never put in the work for him and I came out with a completely different lesson than the one he meant to teach me. Oh, well. I have a reputation for giving my teachers hell. And for that reason I will be one of these anti-masters, one of those people they all say, “He had good ideas, but it’s too bad he wasn’t better at what he did.”
It’s a freelancer’s world. Never before has it been easier to go out on your own and simply do what you feel like. And I plan to take advantage.
Second Story: The VideoMag Proposal
I know this post is becoming epic in proportions. Move over, Homer! If you don’t feel like reading the rest, I understand [wipes away tear].
This is my second installment of short fiction. I decided to go hard on myself and write in a style I’m not used to, and I think it turned out rather well. Again, this is the second draft, so if you have any suggestions for me just go ahead and let me know. I don’t usually write in the first person unless it’s actually me, so I figured I’d try getting out of my comfort zone here. Enjoy!
The VideoMag Proposal (2576 words)
You are funny.
Don’t be modest. You have quite an impressive wit. I admire your sense of humor. I really do.
It’s a shame that you choose to keep it to yourself and your circle of close friends instead of sharing it with the rest of the world.
Actually, it’s quite selfish.
I rubbed my eye with my left hand and lifted my steaming mug of coffee with my right, relieved that it wasn’t burning my tongue anymore still but annoyed at the mark it had left from the first sip.
My cell phone rang. The ring tone was something I had written a few years earlier for a General Motors campaign that turned out rather successful. I plugged it into my phone so that strangers would recognize it when people called me. Someone would surely approach me and we would have a dialogue like this:
“Mr. Jefferson?”
“Hold on for a moment, Mr. Gates. Yes?”
“You’re the fellow who wrote the tune for that GM advertisement.”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“I think that tune is fantastic. A true work of genius.”
“Thank you, good sir. It’s always nice to know my work is appreciated.”
“How would you like to work with me on a feature film? I’ve been looking for a songwriter like you.”
“Who’s the producer?”
“Steven Spielberg.”
“Count me in.”
So far that dialogue hadn’t happened yet. I was starting to feel like this dialogue would be more likely:
“Mr. Jefferson?”
“Hold on a second, Mom. Yes?”
“You’re the guy who wrote that car commercial.”
“Yes, I did.”
The man punches me in the face. “You prick! That tune has been stuck in my head for years! I hate it so goddamn much!”
I wipe blood off my nose. “It’s always nice to know my work is appreciated.”
I looked over to the caller identification and saw Harry’s name. I looked at my watch. 12:37. What Harry was doing calling me at this time of night was a question I didn’t care to answer at the moment.
“Harry, you better have a fucking good reason to be calling me this late.”
“I just knocked up your wife,” he said in his rapid, nasally voice. “Reason good enough?”
“I haven’t had a wife for six months,” I grumbled.
“Right. Sorry,” he said. “It’s about the campaign. I just can’t seem to come up with anything at all.”
“Really?” I said with sarcastic concern. I sipped my coffee loud enough to hear through the receiver. “I’ve got a little something, but I don’t know if I like it.”
“Nice,” said Harry. “Read it out to me really quick.”
I read it out to him really quick.
“I don’t know,” said Harry after a short pause. “We’re not supposed to tell the customers they’re selfish.”
“We’re telling them to not be selfish,” I said.
“Then our slogan should be: ‘VideoMag: Don’t be selfish.’”
“Hey, At least I’m coming up with ideas.”
“I’ve been trying,” yawned Harry. “I just can’t think of anything I like.”
I stared at the computer screen, my fist boring into my forehead, my jaw slack. I could have read everything I had written five times and understood nothing. The coffee wasn’t working.
“Look at us, Alex,” said Harry. “VideoMag does the sort of thing we used to do all the time back in college. This is exactly the kind of product for us and we can’t figure out how to make it look interesting.”
“I don’t think any of our old home movies would have been good enough for an online magazine.”
“That’s not the point,” said Harry. “We would have submitted them anyway and we would have logged on to see the others.”
I sighed and closed my eyes, instantly becoming dizzy with fatigue. I opened them with my fingers. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“I kind of like the thought of a video magazine for everyone, or the people’s short movie theater, or something populist like that, but I can’t ever get it to sound right.”
I yawned, not bothering to exaggerate. “I think we should go to bed. It’s too late to think about anything.”
“We’re two days from the deadline,” said Harry. “And haven’t you been drinking coffee? How are you going to get to sleep?”
“Coffee doesn’t help,” I mumbled. “I’ve been drinking twice as much since the divorce but it feels six times as weak.”
“All right,” sighed Harry. “Get some sleep if you can, but we’re going to need to work on this big time tomorrow. No more three-hour night sleeps, okay? I need you at your best tomorrow.”
“Uh,” I mumbled in consent.
“I mean it, Alex. As long as we don’t fuck up, VideoMag could be our biggest hit since GM.”
“Only hit,” I said sourly.
“And let’s end this negative attitude right now.” Harry yawned.
At 3:23 in the morning my cell phone rang again. I had just fallen asleep. Tossing and turning for hours had been something I had grown used to, and no matter how tired I was during the day I was never able to calm my restless body at night. Too used to another body lying there next to me, I guess.
I couldn’t even speak into the receiver my throat was so groggy. I tried to form words of greeting but only an incoherent growl came out. I felt the instinctual urge to make a pot of coffee.
“David figured it out, Alex,” said Harry faster than I could process at the moment.
“What?”
“He figured it out,” repeated Harry. “We’re saved. He has the perfect idea.”
I kept my eyes closed and turned over. “That’s great. What is it?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“What?”
“It defies words,” said Harry like he was describing a love affair with a Hollywood actress. “That’s what David said, anyway. He has a whole presentation to show us tomorrow at work.”
I groaned. “So why’d you call me?”
Harry laughed and I felt like punching him in the glasses. “I guess I was just so excited. I’ll see you tomorrow. Try and sleep.”
“I’m turning my phone off.”
I nearly forgot to hit the brakes at stop signs on the way to work. Made me glad there weren’t any cops around. My eyes were so watery from yawning that I couldn’t see clearly. I jerked into my parking spot at the office, the jolt sending coffee flying onto me pant leg. It was hot. I would have reacted but instead I shrugged at life and tried to feel thankful that I had worn dark pants. I didn’t feel as thankful when I hit my head on the roof of the car. That was one problem with GM vehicles. They were the wrong size for tall, skinny guys like me.
Harry, as always, looked great.
I mumbled a hello and tried to be a person. He smiled warmly and gave me an unwarranted hug, causing more hot coffee to spill, this time onto my wrist.
“So where’s David?” I asked, scratching at my stubble.
“Called in sick,” said Harry, looking me over. “You look like you went out drinking too long.”
“Thanks. He’s home sick?”
“He was coughing on the phone when I talked to him last night.” said Harry. “I’ll tell you, Alex, when you’re up all night working it can really take a toll.”
“Yeah, it really shows on you,” I said, rubbing my eye.
“I know, but I’ll sleep better tonight,” said Harry, missing the sarcasm entirely. He pulled on his overcoat. “Well, I’m off to David’s house to check out the proposal. See you.”
“Wait, can’t I come?”
“Someone has to look after the office while I’m gone,” said Harry with a wink that made me want to spill coffee on his head. He patted me on the shoulder on his way out. “Take it easy, champ.”
Harry left me at the main desk where I made sloppy paper airplanes out of the documents from the inbox. I was supposed to be waiting for the phone to ring. It never did. About a year after our success with GM it had stopped ringing all together. I was a ceremonial secretary, paid to make paper airplanes out of memos. I tossed the coffee cup into the garbage can and rocked back and forth in the chair. This was my life. And it was boring. If David’s proposal was half as good as Harry said, the phone would be ringing soon enough and important people like Bill Gates and Steven Spielberg would end the boredom.
My cell phone rang, interrupting a game of solitaire. Harry. I had the compulsion to throw it into the wastebasket and waltz out of the office, unannounced and for good.
“Hey, Harry hair ball, what’s up?” I said.
“Alex, this is incredible,” stammered Harry. “Best ad campaign since ‘Just do it’ or
‘Got milk?’ I’m serious, Alex, this is gold!”
“That’s great, Harry,” I yawned.
“It is so perfect,” he went on, even more excited than his usual self. I wondered how his wife could put up with it, but then again I’d never been very good at being able to tell what women can put up with. “It’s just a work of genius. Pure genius! We are going to change the world with this ad campaign!”
“Change the world.“ I said, tossing a paper airplane into the air and watching it fall to the floor. “Sounds like a plan. So what is it?”
“Well, there’s this guy, and there’s a girl, and there’s this hilarious music… I can’t do it justice, Alex. You have to see it yourself, but believe me, this is incredible!”
“Great. Bring it over so I can take a look at it.”
“Sorry,” said Harry unapologetically. “I can’t exactly do that. You see, with David sick and his wife at work he needs me to help take care of his kids until she gets back.”
My head hit the desk. “You’re fucking kidding me. Please tell you me you’re fucking kidding me.”
“Look, now that we’ve worked out the ad campaign we don’t need to do any work for the rest of the day unless that phone rings, so I’ve got some time to take care of David and his family for a bit. You should see little Helen, Alex. She’s just starting to walk and it’s simply adorable.”
“Great,” I grumbled. “While you’re witnessing the miracle of life I’m here making paper airplanes.”
“Hey, don’t waste our paper! It’s not like it grows on trees.”
“Right. Wait, what?”
“When it’s time for lunch you and I can trade places, okay?” reasoned Harry unreasonably. “Just as long as you’re awake enough to take care of David’s kids while you’re here.”
“I’ll see if I can get some sleep while I’m waiting.”
I couldn’t get some sleep while I was waiting. I wondered what this proposal was that would make our phone start ringing again and bring important people like Bill Gates and Steven Spielberg into our office. Then my life wouldn’t be so boring and I would have dialogues like this with strangers on the street:
“Mr. Jefferson?”
“Hold on one second, Mr. Spielberg. Yes?”
“You’re one of the guys who did that VideoMag ad that made them so famous, right?”
“That’s me.”
“I really admire your work.”
“Thank you, good sir. It’s always nice to know my work is appreciated.”
“Listen, I work for Microsoft and we could really use a new ad campaign. You should come over to Mr. Gate’s office with me so we can work out a deal.”
“I’ll see if I can work around the movie deal.”
I had been lying on the floor staring at gum wads on the ceiling for nearly three hours by before lunch. It was dizzying to look at all those spots on the ceiling and to think they had all been in mouths. Mouths that had shared lips and tongues with other human beings at some point. Those pieces of gum had touched one of the most intimate parts of the human body and now they were stuck on the ceiling, chewing gum heaven, looking down on me like guardian angels.
I stepped into the car, nearly hitting my head on the roof again. A fresh cup of coffee sitting in the cup holder, I turned the keys and realized I forgot to hang up the “Out to lunch” sign. I felt like driving on anyway, far away, all the way to Reno where I could take off the invisible ring and pretend I was never been married.
After hanging the sign on the door I drove off to David’s house. This proposal had better bring Bill Gates and Steven Spielberg into the office or I was going to jump out a window. I watched women walk their dogs, children running in parks, men playing basketball on the roadside courts, some wearing sleeveless shirts despite the chilly late fall weather. Watching people took my mind off things I didn’t want to think about. Like the road. I slammed on my brakes and a pedestrian shouted at me through the windshield.
David lived in a mansion. His wife was an oral surgeon. She had been to all the same places as the pieces of chewing gum and she was paid a fortune for it. My apartment could fit in the master bedroom of David’s house. I didn’t have a family. I didn’t need the extra space. I sighed and knocked on the door.
“It’s open!” called Harry’s voice.
I turned the handle and was sprayed by confetti and showered by the sound of party kazoos. Harry and David were in the middle of the room holding a chocolate cake, a candle in the shape of a 35 stuck in the center. Harry’s wife and nine-year-old were on one side and David’s wife and three kids were on the other, all singing Happy Birthday at the top of their lungs, joyously out of tune like an ill-prepared Christmas carol group formed by a college fraternity short on cash.
I jumped back and scalding hot coffee flew into my face. They smiled at me once they had finished singing, showing their perfect white teeth. Coffee dripped all over my burning skin.
“Wait,” I said, trying to stay calm in front of the children. “David’s not sick?”
“I feel fine,” said David cheerily.
“And Harry, you weren’t coming over here to take care of David’s family while he was sick and his wife was working?” I looked over at David’s smiling wife who was definitely not at work.
“I took the day off,” she said amid the giggling of children. “I didn’t want to miss this special day.”
“And what about the ad campaign?” I asked David. “What about this perfect proposal of yours?”
“It was just to get you to come over here,” laughed David.
“So we still don’t have anything for our deadline tomorrow,” I said. The coffee was finally starting to cool down on my face.
Harry shrugged. “Nope.”
I stared at each of them one by one, scowling with all my might. “I think I’m going to shoot you both.”
Fine
So, there you have it. A much more conventional style for me. More of a character portrait than a plot, actually. Which is really not my style, but I think it really came out well here. Let me know what you think and what I should change, other than the length of my posts. Trust me, the posts will get shorter, if they exist, after November starts.
Last Word
VOTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
-Sam goldsmith
Monday, October 27, 2008
Some Words About Prop 8
Ciao, Tutti!
So, I don't know if you've heard about it, but we're all on the brink of Armageddon.
It's true.
I read about it in the New York Times. Our values, our way of life, our influence in the world, freedom or religion, and everything that we held sacred are, unbeknown to you, currently threatened.
But there is one easy way for all of you to keep the apocalypse from coming. Folks, we can avoid it. And here's how: Vote yes of prop 8 in California.
That's right. The biggest threat to everyone and everything in the United States and the world is the fact that people can marry other people of the same sex in California. And they must be stopped or else everything we've worked so hard to build in this nation's history will crumble. It's even "more important the presidential election", and I quote: "We've picked bad presidents before, and we've survived as a nation... But we will not survive if we lose the institution of marriage."
So, there you have it. Without prop 8 we will all die. End of story.
Okay, by now you have to realize I'm being completely sarcastic. If you're not, welcome new readers! And I swear if any news source quotes my sarcastic ramblings out of context I promise to bring Armageddon straight to its door.
Even though I was being ridiculously sarcastic in the passage above, other people have said the same things without being sarcastic. I really don't understand how. But here's the link to the New York Times (New York Times! The ultra-liberal news source!) that has the quotes referenced above. Buon'appetite, it's pretty depressing.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/27/us/27right.html?_r=1&ref=us&oref=slogin
I am sick of scare tactics. Did you also know Obama's a socialist radical Muslim who's best friends with terrorists? See, that kind of thing is getting on my nerves.
I had the same problem voting on some of the California propositions. Yes, I voted absentee, and I'm proud of it, though I want my "I voted" sticker to prove it. Anyway, I would read the arguments for and against the different props and some would feature language that was meant to be played out of bassy speakers on Halloween. If you vote yes on prop 5 convicted drug dealers will be set free and rape your children. If we don't fund more police officers gang violence will kill everyone in your family.
Yada yada yada. No offense.
Listen up, everyone. These are not arguments. I formally announce that arguments and political discussion are things of the past. These are, to use a cliche, scare tactics. Scare you into voting one way or the other, either by massive distortion of the facts or by amplifying an unfounded possibility.
I don't mean to disregard people's fears. Actually, that's not entirely true, now that I think of it. I'm pleading to you all not to vote by fear ALONE.
This is pretty funny coming from me, who just the other day told everyone to vote Obama because even if you don't like him you sure as hell don't want Sarah Palin anywhere closer to the White House than Alaska. That's a scare tactic, I guess. I bow in humble apology.
The point is that fear should not dictate our actions by itself. Yes, I admit, I am a hope person. But I am also scared shitless, as I have said in previous blogs. The way people argue, the way they perceive arguments, and the way people make arguments all scare me. Scare tactics scare me! It's too easy to just tell a bunch of people that if you vote no on the bill of victim's rights then you're a baby killer. No. That's unfair. But, hey, it wins votes.
So vote yes on proposition 8 or the apocalypse will be your fault.
More short fiction to come, probably sometime after the apocalypse, I mean election.
-Sam goldsmith
P.S. How hard would it be to change the initiative process in California? It needs to happen. It's just too darn easy to get a proposition on the ballot these days. I've only voted a couple of times and I've already seen repeat measures. My favorite (again, new readers, sarcasm here) one is the prop that makes it mandatory for minors to attain parental consent before having an abortion. Yeah, I've already voted no twice and I've only voted in two elections. And no matter how many times it gets voted down, I'm sure I'll keep seeing it on ballots for years to come. Sigh, some things never change.
P.P.S. Holla if you're excited that Ted Stevens got convicted. That's one Alaskan politician down, at least one more to go...
So, I don't know if you've heard about it, but we're all on the brink of Armageddon.
It's true.
I read about it in the New York Times. Our values, our way of life, our influence in the world, freedom or religion, and everything that we held sacred are, unbeknown to you, currently threatened.
But there is one easy way for all of you to keep the apocalypse from coming. Folks, we can avoid it. And here's how: Vote yes of prop 8 in California.
That's right. The biggest threat to everyone and everything in the United States and the world is the fact that people can marry other people of the same sex in California. And they must be stopped or else everything we've worked so hard to build in this nation's history will crumble. It's even "more important the presidential election", and I quote: "We've picked bad presidents before, and we've survived as a nation... But we will not survive if we lose the institution of marriage."
So, there you have it. Without prop 8 we will all die. End of story.
Okay, by now you have to realize I'm being completely sarcastic. If you're not, welcome new readers! And I swear if any news source quotes my sarcastic ramblings out of context I promise to bring Armageddon straight to its door.
Even though I was being ridiculously sarcastic in the passage above, other people have said the same things without being sarcastic. I really don't understand how. But here's the link to the New York Times (New York Times! The ultra-liberal news source!) that has the quotes referenced above. Buon'appetite, it's pretty depressing.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/27/us/27right.html?_r=1&ref=us&oref=slogin
I am sick of scare tactics. Did you also know Obama's a socialist radical Muslim who's best friends with terrorists? See, that kind of thing is getting on my nerves.
I had the same problem voting on some of the California propositions. Yes, I voted absentee, and I'm proud of it, though I want my "I voted" sticker to prove it. Anyway, I would read the arguments for and against the different props and some would feature language that was meant to be played out of bassy speakers on Halloween. If you vote yes on prop 5 convicted drug dealers will be set free and rape your children. If we don't fund more police officers gang violence will kill everyone in your family.
Yada yada yada. No offense.
Listen up, everyone. These are not arguments. I formally announce that arguments and political discussion are things of the past. These are, to use a cliche, scare tactics. Scare you into voting one way or the other, either by massive distortion of the facts or by amplifying an unfounded possibility.
I don't mean to disregard people's fears. Actually, that's not entirely true, now that I think of it. I'm pleading to you all not to vote by fear ALONE.
This is pretty funny coming from me, who just the other day told everyone to vote Obama because even if you don't like him you sure as hell don't want Sarah Palin anywhere closer to the White House than Alaska. That's a scare tactic, I guess. I bow in humble apology.
The point is that fear should not dictate our actions by itself. Yes, I admit, I am a hope person. But I am also scared shitless, as I have said in previous blogs. The way people argue, the way they perceive arguments, and the way people make arguments all scare me. Scare tactics scare me! It's too easy to just tell a bunch of people that if you vote no on the bill of victim's rights then you're a baby killer. No. That's unfair. But, hey, it wins votes.
So vote yes on proposition 8 or the apocalypse will be your fault.
More short fiction to come, probably sometime after the apocalypse, I mean election.
-Sam goldsmith
P.S. How hard would it be to change the initiative process in California? It needs to happen. It's just too darn easy to get a proposition on the ballot these days. I've only voted a couple of times and I've already seen repeat measures. My favorite (again, new readers, sarcasm here) one is the prop that makes it mandatory for minors to attain parental consent before having an abortion. Yeah, I've already voted no twice and I've only voted in two elections. And no matter how many times it gets voted down, I'm sure I'll keep seeing it on ballots for years to come. Sigh, some things never change.
P.P.S. Holla if you're excited that Ted Stevens got convicted. That's one Alaskan politician down, at least one more to go...
Friday, October 24, 2008
Art Sharing Day
Ciao, Tutti!
I have some things to share with you. Two things, specifically.
1) I have opened a MySpace page for First Regrets so you can all hear the songs I've been working on here in New York. http://www.myspace.com/firstregrets is where you can find three of the seven songs I have been working on. Trust me, you'll like them. You'll want to take them home with you. Ah, aren't portable personal computers nice? Feel free to listen as much as you want and feel encouraged to pass the word on/brag to your friends on my behalf.
Take that, everyone who said I can't sing! That would probably just be my brother... So take that, my brother! Hm, it doesn't seem to carry so much weight when I say it like that...
2) I have a short fiction to share with you. This is a new thing I'm trying: A fiction blog! I've been writing a lot of short fiction pieces lately. I think I've written six in the past week, actually, although this is the only one that's made it to the second draft. The reason for this treason is that a lot of the stories I've been writing involve characters I didn't make up, so I could get in trouble if they go online. I'll see if I can figure out a way to make them more generic.
And so, without further ado:
Cliche Central
This story is being published in Cool Waters' literature anthology The Torn Page due to come out mid-March, 2012. I have removed the story to avoid copyright conflicts.
I've been writing a lot in first person lately, which is something I generally don't do. Not only that, but when I write in first person the narrator character has always been, well, me. And not me the musician or me the music student at NYU or me the brother or me the person living in New York City whose heart is still in the San Francisco Bay. I've been writing about me the writer. Hence this short piece. Actually, I seem to be caught up in writing about avoiding cliches. I wonder why this is. Perhaps I can figure it out in a dream sequence where I wake up in the middle of the night, sweat pouring down my face and heart beating, only to whisper to myself, "It was only a dream, it was only a dream."
Yeah. That wouldn't be cliche at all. Yeah...
Anyway, let me know what you think. It's only the second draft, so feel free to make whatever editing suggestions you wish. You can send me an email or just comment right on the blog if you want. I'm really open!
I hope you're all doing well.
-Sam goldsmith
I have some things to share with you. Two things, specifically.
1) I have opened a MySpace page for First Regrets so you can all hear the songs I've been working on here in New York. http://www.myspace.com/firstregrets is where you can find three of the seven songs I have been working on. Trust me, you'll like them. You'll want to take them home with you. Ah, aren't portable personal computers nice? Feel free to listen as much as you want and feel encouraged to pass the word on/brag to your friends on my behalf.
Take that, everyone who said I can't sing! That would probably just be my brother... So take that, my brother! Hm, it doesn't seem to carry so much weight when I say it like that...
2) I have a short fiction to share with you. This is a new thing I'm trying: A fiction blog! I've been writing a lot of short fiction pieces lately. I think I've written six in the past week, actually, although this is the only one that's made it to the second draft. The reason for this treason is that a lot of the stories I've been writing involve characters I didn't make up, so I could get in trouble if they go online. I'll see if I can figure out a way to make them more generic.
And so, without further ado:
Cliche Central
This story is being published in Cool Waters' literature anthology The Torn Page due to come out mid-March, 2012. I have removed the story to avoid copyright conflicts.
I've been writing a lot in first person lately, which is something I generally don't do. Not only that, but when I write in first person the narrator character has always been, well, me. And not me the musician or me the music student at NYU or me the brother or me the person living in New York City whose heart is still in the San Francisco Bay. I've been writing about me the writer. Hence this short piece. Actually, I seem to be caught up in writing about avoiding cliches. I wonder why this is. Perhaps I can figure it out in a dream sequence where I wake up in the middle of the night, sweat pouring down my face and heart beating, only to whisper to myself, "It was only a dream, it was only a dream."
Yeah. That wouldn't be cliche at all. Yeah...
Anyway, let me know what you think. It's only the second draft, so feel free to make whatever editing suggestions you wish. You can send me an email or just comment right on the blog if you want. I'm really open!
I hope you're all doing well.
-Sam goldsmith
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Happiness Comes in the Form Of Mix-Ups and Rants
Ciao, Tutti!
Yeah, there's a lot to talk about. It shouldn't be a problem for a talkative guy like me, so if you find one, let me know.
Bad joke. Heh! Please forgive me, I only slept for about four hours last night.
Those pictures I said I'd talk about but never did
I am a member of an themed residency floor called "starving artists," a group of people that like to see art together and not starve together. Those of you who know me know my anti-social tendencies. So when the floor announced a free lunch of dim sum and a trip to Governor's Island, I figured I would go have the dim sum because it's delicious and then I could say I've done something with the floor and not have to deal with any other obligations. I'm such a wonderful person, aren't I? Please, don't answer that. I even brought reading to do, expecting a crowd of people that I could disappear in.
So I was quite surprised and downcast when I was the only resident who showed up at the meeting point. It was me, the RA (Barrie), the faculty affiliate (Chris) who looks younger than me, his wife, and his mother. Crap. There was no escaping conversation this time. I told them all I brought my backpack for my water bottle to sit in. On top of it all, dim sum was so crowded that we couldn't get a table, so we had to go somewhere else. Curse this good weather that brings people out of their houses!
Chris's mother took us to a Japanese restaurant she knew of instead and taught us how to eat there. Yes, I had to be taught. Because this was different than anything I had ever done before, even Korean barbecue. We were served three bowls of broth set on hot electric burners built into the table. We were given small trays loaded with different raw vegetables, noodles, and uncooked meats. I watched Chris's mother to see what the cue was. The idea was to cook the vegetables and proteins in the soup, then remove them with strainers and put them, cooked and saturated with the flavor of the soup, into our bowls. Afterward, she explained, the soups would have absorbed the flavors of everything we cooked inside and we could drink them.
It was delicious.
And fun.
Actually, anything bad I have to say about the trip basically ends there. We would put little fish bits in our strainers to keep them from being lost in the broth, then eat them a minute later, already fully cooked. There was a ton of food and we barely finished, if you could call it that. There was still a lot of food left in the bowls in the end. I was glad I hadn't eaten breakfast that day, originally anticipating a long dim sum and instead being happy I didn't. And to top it all off, a nice, cool red bean milkshake.
After that we bade farewell to Chris's mother and took off for Governor's Island on the free ferry. Not sleeping had caught up to me and I took a power nap, but I did not miss the view of each of the four Manhattan Waterfalls on their last day in operation. I think I've got some pictures of those, too... Yeah, I do, but you have to look carefully. There are three in this picture. The fourth is at the top of this section.
Anyhoo, Barrie and I rented bikes and rode around the island and I forgot how to break by pedaling backwards. We didn't have very much time on the island because of our long lunch, but there were some pretty views. Unfortunately I couldn't get a good picture of the Statue of Liberty because of where the sun was in the sky. We returned on Manhattan and went to the ice cream factory in Chinatown, so just when my stomach stopped feeling numb I was shoving more food down.
So it was worth it in the end. And beginning. I'm just a grumpy person, but if you push me the right way things work out in the end.
Last Friday I bumped into Barrie again just as she was about to take the floor out to a deli for dinner, so I decided to forgo dining hall food and follow. For some reason these excursions don't get much of a following. Could it be that everyone else on the floor is as anti-social as I am? Either way, I got to repeat the tradition of eating too much, this case being about a pound of meat shoved between two slivers of bread eaten under a sign pointing out where Harry met Sally. We talked about people getting arrested for graffiti as I watched my clock to make sure I wasn't late for my roommate's concert.
So, there you have it. That's what those pictures are about. Do I get to talk about what pisses me off yet?
Happiness Chronicles
This title should be taken sarcastically. I am really thinking of three things that are really pissing me off right now, and none of them are about the election! Wow, fancy that! Obama's lead must be getting to me.
1) Laundry at 2nd Street Residence. You all don't want to hear about this, but I have to say something about NYU nickle and diming us like they're an airline company or something. I am fine with paying $1.75 a load, 3.50 total, assuming you do colors and whites together. That is honest highway robbery (actually I've heard that price isn't so bad). But we also have to buy these strange cards in order to use the machines, and, guess what, the cards won't let you buy an amount divisible by 1.75. So no matter what we will be paying more than we will actually be using.
Why they can't just let us use quarters is beyond me. Actually, it's not. They make more money this way. And it pisses me off.
Let me tell you how much NYU needs the extra money. We received an email at the beginning of the year saying that NYU had the goal of raising a million dollars each day for the past seven years - and they surpassed it! We've got the highest tuition and are located in the highest cost of living in just about anywhere in the world. I don't have the numbers to prove it, but I don't really need them. Meanwhile Ivy League schools are giving full rides to students whose families make less than $100,000 in a year. NYU instead insists of raising tuition and cutting merit scholarships, a policy they announced last year while I was in Florence. No one else seems to get mad about this. They're all used to it.
Seriously, why does NYU need this money so much? For my $350 per night hotel room in New Orleans? For John Sexton's yacht? Obviously it's not going to a better jazz building with anything resembling soundproofing or enough practice rooms for all of us that are open 24 hours each day.
Anyway, the point is that if they want to take my money they shouldn't resort to dirty little tricks like stealing my laundry money.
2) University of California Press. I was reading Paul Farmer's book, "Pathologies of Power," for my class, only to discover that pages 155-202 had been left out and pages 203-250 had been printed twice. Unfortunately for me, this meant that the introduction to the analysis portion of the book was left out, and I was left to read the end without anything contextualizing to help me out. very frustrating.
After class the professor and another student with my issue went to the bookstore to replace the texts, which was surprisingly easily done, but I had to leave my copy of the book with all my notes so that the school could send it to the publisher and demand their money back. So now I am left fifty pages behind in the reading and without notes. Oh, and the first draft of the paper is due Tuesday.
Now, please, a moment of silence for my notes.
3) I still can't sleep very well. I won't complain too much because I feel fine and because if I complain too much people will start to worry, or, even worse, start to offer advice. It's just annoying how I could wake up at 5:45 every day last summer no sweat and now I have to drag myself out of bed at 9:00. Something's wrong with this picture.
General Housekeeping... Stuff
I figured you'd all appreciate a blog about something other than the election. Here are a few grab bag items I would like to mention:
1) In general music has slowed down for me, but I have started a band with my friends from Florence Megan and Jordan (I have mentioned this before) and it is really coming along. Megan and I are contributing a lot of music and we each play basically all the instruments we need as well as sing. That's right, folks, I can sing, and I can sing a lot better than I sang LCD Soundsystem's "New York I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down" at my show last month. And I even know how to write lyrics, too! Keep an eye out for us because I'm about to prove all this as soon as we get the chance.
2) Nanowrimo, short for National Novel Writing Month, is coming up this November. In short, it is like a game where people try to write 50,000 words of fiction during the space of one month. This boils down to about 1667 words per day, which is about 5 and a half pages double spaced. For me, this takes about an hour each day. I succeeded easily two years ago and failed last year when my computer crashed and I lost 30,000 words.
As you probably already know, last January I started writing a trilogy, the first book of which I just finished the first draft to (476 pages, 145,000 words). My plan is to continue this novelling spree come November, but until then I am left with nothing to do but edit and write short fiction.
What does this all mean? First of all, when we get to November I will probably not post many blogs. My writing mind will be elsewhere. If you see a blog it means I have either given up or, much more likely, am far ahead of the game. Secondly, I have started writing short fiction again in my excited anticipation of November. So you can expect a couple blogs in the near future to be stories I've written. Just to vary things up a little bit for you guys.
3) Vote. Please.
4) The High School Law Institute, the organization I teach Constitutional law in, has been going rather well. One of my team teachers is the head of the ConLaw curriculum, and between him and the other law student who went to Teach for America, we have a pretty formidable team. I am getting better on being able to tell where I fit in the discussions, especially when there is something historical to bring up.
I do have the one problem of the kid who is much better than me at this. I come into class last Saturday and he asks me what I thought of the ruling in Ohio over the weekend. I told him I hadn't seen it, what was it? It had something to do with voter fraud and ACORN (by the way, speaking of ACORN, my Power and Poverty professor just spent a great deal of time praising their research on poverty and race issues in America), and we launched into a discussion before class about why registering Mickey Mouse did not mean that Mickey Mouse was actually going to go to the polls and vote. Voter fraud from ACORN's shenanigans: 0. But this kid knew his stuff. He's probably more qualified to teach the class than I am.
Okay, time for a nap.
-Sam goldsmith
Yeah, there's a lot to talk about. It shouldn't be a problem for a talkative guy like me, so if you find one, let me know.
Bad joke. Heh! Please forgive me, I only slept for about four hours last night.
Those pictures I said I'd talk about but never did
I am a member of an themed residency floor called "starving artists," a group of people that like to see art together and not starve together. Those of you who know me know my anti-social tendencies. So when the floor announced a free lunch of dim sum and a trip to Governor's Island, I figured I would go have the dim sum because it's delicious and then I could say I've done something with the floor and not have to deal with any other obligations. I'm such a wonderful person, aren't I? Please, don't answer that. I even brought reading to do, expecting a crowd of people that I could disappear in.
So I was quite surprised and downcast when I was the only resident who showed up at the meeting point. It was me, the RA (Barrie), the faculty affiliate (Chris) who looks younger than me, his wife, and his mother. Crap. There was no escaping conversation this time. I told them all I brought my backpack for my water bottle to sit in. On top of it all, dim sum was so crowded that we couldn't get a table, so we had to go somewhere else. Curse this good weather that brings people out of their houses!
Chris's mother took us to a Japanese restaurant she knew of instead and taught us how to eat there. Yes, I had to be taught. Because this was different than anything I had ever done before, even Korean barbecue. We were served three bowls of broth set on hot electric burners built into the table. We were given small trays loaded with different raw vegetables, noodles, and uncooked meats. I watched Chris's mother to see what the cue was. The idea was to cook the vegetables and proteins in the soup, then remove them with strainers and put them, cooked and saturated with the flavor of the soup, into our bowls. Afterward, she explained, the soups would have absorbed the flavors of everything we cooked inside and we could drink them.
It was delicious.
And fun.
Actually, anything bad I have to say about the trip basically ends there. We would put little fish bits in our strainers to keep them from being lost in the broth, then eat them a minute later, already fully cooked. There was a ton of food and we barely finished, if you could call it that. There was still a lot of food left in the bowls in the end. I was glad I hadn't eaten breakfast that day, originally anticipating a long dim sum and instead being happy I didn't. And to top it all off, a nice, cool red bean milkshake.
After that we bade farewell to Chris's mother and took off for Governor's Island on the free ferry. Not sleeping had caught up to me and I took a power nap, but I did not miss the view of each of the four Manhattan Waterfalls on their last day in operation. I think I've got some pictures of those, too... Yeah, I do, but you have to look carefully. There are three in this picture. The fourth is at the top of this section.
Anyhoo, Barrie and I rented bikes and rode around the island and I forgot how to break by pedaling backwards. We didn't have very much time on the island because of our long lunch, but there were some pretty views. Unfortunately I couldn't get a good picture of the Statue of Liberty because of where the sun was in the sky. We returned on Manhattan and went to the ice cream factory in Chinatown, so just when my stomach stopped feeling numb I was shoving more food down.
So it was worth it in the end. And beginning. I'm just a grumpy person, but if you push me the right way things work out in the end.
Last Friday I bumped into Barrie again just as she was about to take the floor out to a deli for dinner, so I decided to forgo dining hall food and follow. For some reason these excursions don't get much of a following. Could it be that everyone else on the floor is as anti-social as I am? Either way, I got to repeat the tradition of eating too much, this case being about a pound of meat shoved between two slivers of bread eaten under a sign pointing out where Harry met Sally. We talked about people getting arrested for graffiti as I watched my clock to make sure I wasn't late for my roommate's concert.
So, there you have it. That's what those pictures are about. Do I get to talk about what pisses me off yet?
Happiness Chronicles
This title should be taken sarcastically. I am really thinking of three things that are really pissing me off right now, and none of them are about the election! Wow, fancy that! Obama's lead must be getting to me.
1) Laundry at 2nd Street Residence. You all don't want to hear about this, but I have to say something about NYU nickle and diming us like they're an airline company or something. I am fine with paying $1.75 a load, 3.50 total, assuming you do colors and whites together. That is honest highway robbery (actually I've heard that price isn't so bad). But we also have to buy these strange cards in order to use the machines, and, guess what, the cards won't let you buy an amount divisible by 1.75. So no matter what we will be paying more than we will actually be using.
Why they can't just let us use quarters is beyond me. Actually, it's not. They make more money this way. And it pisses me off.
Let me tell you how much NYU needs the extra money. We received an email at the beginning of the year saying that NYU had the goal of raising a million dollars each day for the past seven years - and they surpassed it! We've got the highest tuition and are located in the highest cost of living in just about anywhere in the world. I don't have the numbers to prove it, but I don't really need them. Meanwhile Ivy League schools are giving full rides to students whose families make less than $100,000 in a year. NYU instead insists of raising tuition and cutting merit scholarships, a policy they announced last year while I was in Florence. No one else seems to get mad about this. They're all used to it.
Seriously, why does NYU need this money so much? For my $350 per night hotel room in New Orleans? For John Sexton's yacht? Obviously it's not going to a better jazz building with anything resembling soundproofing or enough practice rooms for all of us that are open 24 hours each day.
Anyway, the point is that if they want to take my money they shouldn't resort to dirty little tricks like stealing my laundry money.
2) University of California Press. I was reading Paul Farmer's book, "Pathologies of Power," for my class, only to discover that pages 155-202 had been left out and pages 203-250 had been printed twice. Unfortunately for me, this meant that the introduction to the analysis portion of the book was left out, and I was left to read the end without anything contextualizing to help me out. very frustrating.
After class the professor and another student with my issue went to the bookstore to replace the texts, which was surprisingly easily done, but I had to leave my copy of the book with all my notes so that the school could send it to the publisher and demand their money back. So now I am left fifty pages behind in the reading and without notes. Oh, and the first draft of the paper is due Tuesday.
Now, please, a moment of silence for my notes.
3) I still can't sleep very well. I won't complain too much because I feel fine and because if I complain too much people will start to worry, or, even worse, start to offer advice. It's just annoying how I could wake up at 5:45 every day last summer no sweat and now I have to drag myself out of bed at 9:00. Something's wrong with this picture.
General Housekeeping... Stuff
I figured you'd all appreciate a blog about something other than the election. Here are a few grab bag items I would like to mention:
1) In general music has slowed down for me, but I have started a band with my friends from Florence Megan and Jordan (I have mentioned this before) and it is really coming along. Megan and I are contributing a lot of music and we each play basically all the instruments we need as well as sing. That's right, folks, I can sing, and I can sing a lot better than I sang LCD Soundsystem's "New York I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down" at my show last month. And I even know how to write lyrics, too! Keep an eye out for us because I'm about to prove all this as soon as we get the chance.
2) Nanowrimo, short for National Novel Writing Month, is coming up this November. In short, it is like a game where people try to write 50,000 words of fiction during the space of one month. This boils down to about 1667 words per day, which is about 5 and a half pages double spaced. For me, this takes about an hour each day. I succeeded easily two years ago and failed last year when my computer crashed and I lost 30,000 words.
As you probably already know, last January I started writing a trilogy, the first book of which I just finished the first draft to (476 pages, 145,000 words). My plan is to continue this novelling spree come November, but until then I am left with nothing to do but edit and write short fiction.
What does this all mean? First of all, when we get to November I will probably not post many blogs. My writing mind will be elsewhere. If you see a blog it means I have either given up or, much more likely, am far ahead of the game. Secondly, I have started writing short fiction again in my excited anticipation of November. So you can expect a couple blogs in the near future to be stories I've written. Just to vary things up a little bit for you guys.
3) Vote. Please.
4) The High School Law Institute, the organization I teach Constitutional law in, has been going rather well. One of my team teachers is the head of the ConLaw curriculum, and between him and the other law student who went to Teach for America, we have a pretty formidable team. I am getting better on being able to tell where I fit in the discussions, especially when there is something historical to bring up.
I do have the one problem of the kid who is much better than me at this. I come into class last Saturday and he asks me what I thought of the ruling in Ohio over the weekend. I told him I hadn't seen it, what was it? It had something to do with voter fraud and ACORN (by the way, speaking of ACORN, my Power and Poverty professor just spent a great deal of time praising their research on poverty and race issues in America), and we launched into a discussion before class about why registering Mickey Mouse did not mean that Mickey Mouse was actually going to go to the polls and vote. Voter fraud from ACORN's shenanigans: 0. But this kid knew his stuff. He's probably more qualified to teach the class than I am.
Okay, time for a nap.
-Sam goldsmith
Thursday, October 16, 2008
On Education Reform and Unlabeled Photos
Ciao, Tutti!
I’m sorry that I have to keep writing so often. For those of you who haven’t seen, I just posted yesterday evening about the debate and a series of releases, mainly having to do with motion pictures. Please go ahead and read why I think Obama kicked major butt in the debate yesterday. If you want. No pressure.
I do want to revisit one aspect of the debate today, that of the education platforms of the candidates. I don’t really want to talk about vouchers (and, come on, the voucher system in Washington D.C. is not doing a great job, guys), but I want to talk about a very important statistic that John McCain mentioned. In defense of his argument against Obama’s big spending plans, he said that the United States puts more money into our schools than any other country in the world, yet our schools are ranked among the worst among developed nations. McCain went on to say (and repeat a few times) that we can’t afford to throw money at the problem and that the best course of action is reform. Obama asserted that he would do both, reform and fund, saying his catch phrase about No Child Left Behind leaving the money behind.
As much as I hate to say it, McCain nailed it on the head.
However, identifying a problem is only half the fruit pie. I’m not thrilled about the solution to our education system’s woes being a voucher system based off a Washington D.C. experiment. Here is what will happen if the voucher system is implemented and people have the free-market choices McCain claims they will have: people will choose the best schools if possible, and the worse schools will decline even further. In other words, the gap between the rich and poor, the good and the bad, will widen between schools. In the aggregate we may see an overall per capita increase in the achievements of our nation’s students, but a lot will be, how should I put this, left behind.
This is all assuming that everyone has access to perfect information and the capacity to make a choice indiscriminately. Of course a middle class family would choose a better school over a worse school. But some families simply don’t have the information to determine which schools are better than others and some families don’t have the option (or don’t want to have the option) of choosing a school far away from home, no matter its superior quality. According to Mike Davis, the main choices made by the poor are due to location and people sacrifice quality of living for a central location close to work. This would logically apply to choices regarding schools as well.
So it would seem McCain’s plan, a very neo-liberal, free market approach at schooling, would help some people, yes, but end up making poor people even more worse off. However, I do think he is right that we can improve our education system without pouring more money into it. I am probably going to be ridiculed forever for saying that. But McCain’s fact – yes, folks, a fact and not an exaggeration – shows very clearly that other countries know something about investing money that we don’t. We’re not using our money in the most effective way.
Let me demonstrate what I mean with an analogy. Yay, analogies!
Today the New York Times released an article today (“Infant Deaths Drop in U.S., But Rates Are Still High,” by Gardiner Harris) wondering why the infant mortality rate in the United States is so high compared to other countries in the world; we rank 29th in the world with an infant mortality rate of 6.72 out of 1000, I believe (just so you know, the top three countries are, in order, Singapore, Hong Kong, and Japan with around 3.5 per 1000 infant deaths). However, we put more money into our medical system than most other developed countries. Somehow I think this article relates to what I was just talking about.
The article goes on to interviews with doctors and other medical experts, bemoaning the failure of the medical system. Some use it as a rallying cry for more centralized control of the system, others for more privatization. However, the consensus was that the problem is caused by a failing health care system. The article cites the fact that African American women birth the most infants that die before age 1, even if they have access to high-quality health care.
There are a couple of other ways to look at this problem that may make it easier to invest our money in the best places. First of all, the pure statistic “infant mortality rate” lumps the United States with countries much smaller than itself, like Singapore, Hong Kong, and Japan. Our larger population is completely ignored by this statistic (Joel would like this). Whether or not the size of our population actually has a bearing on our infant mortality rates is up to someone who feels like researching it, but I would guess the answer is yes, as we shall see in a second.
Secondly, the article makes the assumption that everyone in America has access to health care. It seems absurd, but the article never considers the infant mortality rates of people who don’t have access to quality health care. It could possibly be the case that the U.S.’s high infant mortality rate is the result of more people within this country lacking access to health care than while people in Singapore have much better access to health care in general. This is where the population aspect resurfaces. The U.S. probably has a fairly large proportion of people with access to proper health care, but the percentage who don’t still make up a larger physical number than those of other countries.
As the health expert I am, I think the problem of our high infant mortality rates may be more due to people not having access to the health care system, not the operation of the health care system itself with respect to its patients. This means, you guessed it, that we should be looking into issues of poverty in order to solve the infant mortality problem, since those are the people who are least likely to have access to the system.
Actually, I’m not a health expert, but I do think we’ve got to approach these sorts of problems from multiple angles. It’s worth looking into. It would be a lot better than throwing money at a problem.
So how this all relates to the education system seems obvious, but it would take a lot of studies to really identify education’s unique problems. Both Obama and McCain call for reform, but neither do much specifying what kinds of reforms they want, always phrasing their positions based on No Child Left Behind, my least favorite piece of legislation other than the Patriot Act. We do need reform for the education system, but we need the right reform, and I don’t think anyone knows quite what that is. I certainly don’t. To solve a problem where we are throwing an exorbitant amount of money at something that isn’t working as well as it should, we should keep the health care article in mind. We must investigate how our statistics on education mislead us and cloud our perceptions of reality when we compare ourselves to other countries. We must also avoid at all costs the simple explanation that the education system is failing simply on its own merit or because it lacks the funds. We need to think like Billy Bean, using what we have to get the most we can by using science and statistics correctly (the “Moneyball” analogy doesn’t work so well this year seeing how poorly the A’s did. But when you look at the expensive Tigers and Yankees who basically bombed despite their high budgets it becomes obvious that success in no way hinges on money.).
Basically, we don’t exactly know what’s wrong with the education system, and it would be foolish to jump to haphazard conclusions about where the real problem lies. From the approach of access to quality being the problem, McCain’s vouchers seem like a good plan at first, but in reality it would not increase everyone’s access to higher quality like he hopes; the poor would be even more displaced than they are now. If we want to improve education across the board, vouchers are not the way.
To say anything else with any meaning would only be possible if I was some sort of expert on education policy.
Whew, that took a long time to write. I think I’ll explain the unlabeled photos from yesterday’s blog some other time.
-Sam goldsmith
I’m sorry that I have to keep writing so often. For those of you who haven’t seen, I just posted yesterday evening about the debate and a series of releases, mainly having to do with motion pictures. Please go ahead and read why I think Obama kicked major butt in the debate yesterday. If you want. No pressure.
I do want to revisit one aspect of the debate today, that of the education platforms of the candidates. I don’t really want to talk about vouchers (and, come on, the voucher system in Washington D.C. is not doing a great job, guys), but I want to talk about a very important statistic that John McCain mentioned. In defense of his argument against Obama’s big spending plans, he said that the United States puts more money into our schools than any other country in the world, yet our schools are ranked among the worst among developed nations. McCain went on to say (and repeat a few times) that we can’t afford to throw money at the problem and that the best course of action is reform. Obama asserted that he would do both, reform and fund, saying his catch phrase about No Child Left Behind leaving the money behind.
As much as I hate to say it, McCain nailed it on the head.
However, identifying a problem is only half the fruit pie. I’m not thrilled about the solution to our education system’s woes being a voucher system based off a Washington D.C. experiment. Here is what will happen if the voucher system is implemented and people have the free-market choices McCain claims they will have: people will choose the best schools if possible, and the worse schools will decline even further. In other words, the gap between the rich and poor, the good and the bad, will widen between schools. In the aggregate we may see an overall per capita increase in the achievements of our nation’s students, but a lot will be, how should I put this, left behind.
This is all assuming that everyone has access to perfect information and the capacity to make a choice indiscriminately. Of course a middle class family would choose a better school over a worse school. But some families simply don’t have the information to determine which schools are better than others and some families don’t have the option (or don’t want to have the option) of choosing a school far away from home, no matter its superior quality. According to Mike Davis, the main choices made by the poor are due to location and people sacrifice quality of living for a central location close to work. This would logically apply to choices regarding schools as well.
So it would seem McCain’s plan, a very neo-liberal, free market approach at schooling, would help some people, yes, but end up making poor people even more worse off. However, I do think he is right that we can improve our education system without pouring more money into it. I am probably going to be ridiculed forever for saying that. But McCain’s fact – yes, folks, a fact and not an exaggeration – shows very clearly that other countries know something about investing money that we don’t. We’re not using our money in the most effective way.
Let me demonstrate what I mean with an analogy. Yay, analogies!
Today the New York Times released an article today (“Infant Deaths Drop in U.S., But Rates Are Still High,” by Gardiner Harris) wondering why the infant mortality rate in the United States is so high compared to other countries in the world; we rank 29th in the world with an infant mortality rate of 6.72 out of 1000, I believe (just so you know, the top three countries are, in order, Singapore, Hong Kong, and Japan with around 3.5 per 1000 infant deaths). However, we put more money into our medical system than most other developed countries. Somehow I think this article relates to what I was just talking about.
The article goes on to interviews with doctors and other medical experts, bemoaning the failure of the medical system. Some use it as a rallying cry for more centralized control of the system, others for more privatization. However, the consensus was that the problem is caused by a failing health care system. The article cites the fact that African American women birth the most infants that die before age 1, even if they have access to high-quality health care.
There are a couple of other ways to look at this problem that may make it easier to invest our money in the best places. First of all, the pure statistic “infant mortality rate” lumps the United States with countries much smaller than itself, like Singapore, Hong Kong, and Japan. Our larger population is completely ignored by this statistic (Joel would like this). Whether or not the size of our population actually has a bearing on our infant mortality rates is up to someone who feels like researching it, but I would guess the answer is yes, as we shall see in a second.
Secondly, the article makes the assumption that everyone in America has access to health care. It seems absurd, but the article never considers the infant mortality rates of people who don’t have access to quality health care. It could possibly be the case that the U.S.’s high infant mortality rate is the result of more people within this country lacking access to health care than while people in Singapore have much better access to health care in general. This is where the population aspect resurfaces. The U.S. probably has a fairly large proportion of people with access to proper health care, but the percentage who don’t still make up a larger physical number than those of other countries.
As the health expert I am, I think the problem of our high infant mortality rates may be more due to people not having access to the health care system, not the operation of the health care system itself with respect to its patients. This means, you guessed it, that we should be looking into issues of poverty in order to solve the infant mortality problem, since those are the people who are least likely to have access to the system.
Actually, I’m not a health expert, but I do think we’ve got to approach these sorts of problems from multiple angles. It’s worth looking into. It would be a lot better than throwing money at a problem.
So how this all relates to the education system seems obvious, but it would take a lot of studies to really identify education’s unique problems. Both Obama and McCain call for reform, but neither do much specifying what kinds of reforms they want, always phrasing their positions based on No Child Left Behind, my least favorite piece of legislation other than the Patriot Act. We do need reform for the education system, but we need the right reform, and I don’t think anyone knows quite what that is. I certainly don’t. To solve a problem where we are throwing an exorbitant amount of money at something that isn’t working as well as it should, we should keep the health care article in mind. We must investigate how our statistics on education mislead us and cloud our perceptions of reality when we compare ourselves to other countries. We must also avoid at all costs the simple explanation that the education system is failing simply on its own merit or because it lacks the funds. We need to think like Billy Bean, using what we have to get the most we can by using science and statistics correctly (the “Moneyball” analogy doesn’t work so well this year seeing how poorly the A’s did. But when you look at the expensive Tigers and Yankees who basically bombed despite their high budgets it becomes obvious that success in no way hinges on money.).
Basically, we don’t exactly know what’s wrong with the education system, and it would be foolish to jump to haphazard conclusions about where the real problem lies. From the approach of access to quality being the problem, McCain’s vouchers seem like a good plan at first, but in reality it would not increase everyone’s access to higher quality like he hopes; the poor would be even more displaced than they are now. If we want to improve education across the board, vouchers are not the way.
To say anything else with any meaning would only be possible if I was some sort of expert on education policy.
Whew, that took a long time to write. I think I’ll explain the unlabeled photos from yesterday’s blog some other time.
-Sam goldsmith
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