South America

You may have noticed that lapse on the blog about a month ago. Oh, indeed, was out in the world again. I already posted about it all on Front Psych, so here's just links to all of those posts.

Lollapalooza Brasil - Tomahawk, Flaming Lips, Passion Pit, shitty food, internal panic, and the overall experience of being at a music festival in a country where you don't speak the language.

Sao Paulo - order and progress, street art, Ai Weiwei, Easter Sunday, nightlife, the Wild West, and the subtleties of cross-cultural integration.

Buenos Aires - illness, street fairs, steak, open spaces, catch-22s, Armenian cuisine, and how to avoid getting stabbed on Avenida 9 de Julio.

Boston Part II

I went to bed at around 3:30 AM last night. Between 11 PM and that time, I was following the developments of a shooting at MIT, a carjacking, and a shootout with police in the Watertown neighborhood of Boston, in which allegations of grenades and other explosives going off conquered news media streams.

With tabs on my Internet open to my full Twitter feed, multiple on-site journalists, professors, and students, local Boston news station WCVB streaming in the background, chatting with a friend on Facebook about our different perspectives as the events unfolded...this is the new listening to the radio with friends and family as we learn about Pearl Harbor, or watching the news during Operation Desert Storm. It goes back to what I posted two days ago, the oversaturation of media. But perhaps because as the night when on, that the marathon bombing, MIT shooting, and carjacking all seemed to be related, that I was able to communicate with someone online as equally interested, getting up to the minute information, from people who make clear that much of what they hear can not be confirmed immediately...something about the socialness of social media brought me closer to the event. That the guys in charge of this country could actually capture these guys within a few days of the bombing would be a miracle. The last I've read, one suspect has been killed, and the other ("the white hat suspect" as he will eternally be known) is still at large.

It was the first time in a long time I felt so compelled about a story to follow it for four hours, keeping me up at night. I'm not sure if that says more about me or the state of the world or just how significant the events currently unfolding in Boston are.

Mistakes are still made. We are all still trying to figure out how to be responsible with our words in these situations (normally I would go off on a "power of language" rant here, but I'll refrain), especially with the inherent power of a RT or "share." Even the most brilliant of minds out there can admit a mistake:

In the chaos of last night I wrote a tweet that I have regretted all morning. Fucking being human is a son of a bitch.
— dansinker (@dansinker) April 19, 2013

Of course, not that "old media" is immune to unconfirmed reporting.

I tried to keep my distance last night and wait for things to develop. Especially now that we learn that although the events were related, the original names of the suspects posted were untrue, another lesson is learned about what we report (note to everyone: a police scanner is not your bible).

While news stories continue come in, including updates on the two current suspects and a profile of Dzhokhar Tsarnaev who is still at large, here are the most worthwhile tweets from last night I saw.

“Explosives — some type of grenades — they’re between the houses down here… Shots fired! LOUD EXPLOSIONS!” ~ Boston PD scanner
— Matthew Teague (@MatthewTeague) April 19, 2013

Site of the bomb explosion on laurel st. bomb detectors are out #mitshooting #boston #mit twitter.com/AKitz/status/3…
— Andrew Kitzenberg (@AKitz) April 19, 2013

RT @walldo: Meanwhile, 8 people have been shot in Chicago today with the city flooded
— Marcus Gilmer (@marcusgilmer) April 19, 2013

RT @pkmonaghan: CNN: We don't know if anything is linked to anything. I can't even confirm that I'm speaking right now. Been reading Hume.
— Robert Loerzel (@robertloerzel) April 19, 2013

I'm following live updates from @sethmnookin @taylordobbs @wesleylowery and @thetech. CNN can kiss my dark-skinned ass.
— Sanjay Srivastava (@hardsci) April 19, 2013

Still weird to me that we can watch and listen to real people shoot guns at each other but reporters get apologetic when there's cursing.
— Seth Rosenthal (@seth_rosenthal) April 19, 2013

RT @nxthompson: Just a member of old media tweeting about TV on a website that's showing a man's cell-phone videos.
— Robert Loerzel (@robertloerzel) April 19, 2013

Boston Globe right now:twitpic.com/ckcoq7
— Marcus Gilmer (@marcusgilmer) April 19, 2013

RT @johnezekowitz: Steve Cooper of WHDH is reporting that the suspect who went to the hospital is dead. #Bostonbombing
— Marcus Gilmer (@marcusgilmer) April 19, 2013

And two .gifs to better express how everyone is feeling right about now:

(via this tweet)

(via this tweet)

And this article from the Onion, just for good measure.

Fuck.

Glad to hear all my friends and family out there are safe and sound. Can't imagine the feeling in the air right now in that city.

52 Books 52 Weeks

Oh my it's been awhile.

11. Real Man Adventures by T Cooper (finished March 19th)

Safe to say that before I read this book, my experiences with literature by trans authors was minimal to most likely none. This pseudo-memoir by T Cooper recounts what it's like to transform from a female to male, through interviews, anecdotes, lists, poems, and other various formats. While no one wants to be known solely for their "Otherness," a trans author still probably sticks out more than a female, minority, or even gay author. But hey, it's 2013, and as Next Magazine points out, more trans-authors are getting into the novel and fiction game. For now, T Cooper offers a wonderful insight into the hopes, dreams, and fears of a transgendered person, happily married with two kids.

(click here for my full, original review on Frontier Psychiatrist)




11a. Piano Rats by Franki Elliot (finished March 22nd)

It's a bit unfair of me to not include this as a part of my 52 books. Yes, it is a short collection of poetry that I read on a couple train rides to and from work, but why should brevity deprive from merit? I'm mostly not including this since I've flipped through it a few times last year, but finally read the collection in full. Dark tales of love, broken-hearts, unsent letters, insanity, hook-ups, "melancholy is just beauty of a different flavor," Pilsen, a seven hour kiss, mermaids, y mas. Looking forward to her next book out later this year, "Kiss As Many Women As You Can."








12. Spilt Milk by Chico Buarque (finished March 25th)

In preparation for my trip to Brazil, I felt to at least introduce myself to Brazilian literature. Naturally, time got away from me, but I was at least able to finish this on the plane to New York. From the perspective of a crumbling patriarch restricted to a nursing home bed, he recounts his of married life, his machismo father, to the dissolution of his wealth and changing culture in 20th century Brazil. The unreliable narrator is in full effect, as he repeats himself over and over again, but that's what we all do even with a conscious mind isn't it? "If I don't remind myself about this, how do I know it happened?" I only hope my delirious rants are as interesting when I reach that age.







13. Drown by Junot Diaz (finished April 9th)

With 11 hours to kill on the plane between Buenos Aires and New York, I managed to knock out the entire collection of Diaz's debut collection of short stories. I've read his two other books, both of which not without their own colorful language (doesn't it sound racist to describe a Domincan author as colorful?), but this early collection certainly has a rawness that not even his later stories have shown. Mostly, I'm guessing due in part to being from the perspective of a child. Overall, I think this is probably the best introduction to Diaz's work, primarily for its rawness; an unfiltered, sultry, "fuck"-filled collection of stories from the island.









14. Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World by Haruki Murakami (finished April 17th)

My second trip into the bizarre and absurd world of Murakami. With alternating tales from (presumably) present day Tokyo and what comes across as a medieval, walled-in community, with little-to-no culture and unicorns. Our main character is unwittingly cast up a path to discover what exactly is at the depths of the mind, the duality of its limits and limitlessness. While the book certainly kept me rapidly flipping pages, I didn't find it nearly as masterful as The Wind Up Bird Chronicle. And there is either a simplicity in dialogue I don't remember from that book, or the translation leaves something to be desired, or he just writes dialogue that...placidly. That said, Murakami's books exist in quite the unique universe, and he is an author I certainly need to spend more time with.

Boston

As I had nothing pressing to do on Monday, I followed quite closely the developments of the Boston Marathon bombings. Not having cable, I opted to follow social media, primarily Twitter, for updates on the bombing. I've curated my feed to only follow bright- and open-minded people and organizations, save for some of the more sensationalist pieces by Salon or Slate, that are mostly link-bait, but do progress the conversation of media responsibility, albeit inadvertently at times.

Two days later, news orgs are still trying to figure out if there is a suspect in custody or not, trying to be the first to "report" the "news," trying to get more hits, more advertising, blah blah blah blah and the only tweet that seems worthy of any attention is one by Modern Seinfeld.

George tries to pick up a woman by claiming to be a cop that arrested a suspect in Boston case. CNN producer overhears it, runs it as fact.
— Modern Seinfeld (@SeinfeldToday) April 17, 2013

48 hours ago, I didn't even know the Boston Marathon was happening. 48 after that 48 hours ago, the bombing seems like it happened much more than 48 hours ago, the barrage of media displacing my attention in various directions, that I've become entirely disassociated from the event. The 25-year-old me who has family, friends, and acquaintances in Boston, feels no closer or more informed about this situation than the 8-year-old me felt about Atlanta in 1996 and introducing the word "pipebomb" into my vocabulary for the first time.

The Lit Log: Adam Lawson

This is the sixth in a series called the Lit Log, where I ask people to document what and how they read. If you would like to contribute to the Lit Log, hit me up at andhertz [at] gmail.

Adam Homer Lawson is a teacher on the West Side of Chicago. He writes on his own blog Scoundrels and Vagrants and was recently published on Thought Catalog.

How many books (approximately) do you read a year: I'm a little embarrassed to say but around four. I'm more of a 'read on a whim at 3 a.m' sort of dude. But if its any constellation I read about 50 short stories a year. I like the brevity and wholeness short stories have.

How many book do you read at a time: One, my brain is a monorail. Not the autobahn.

The last great book you read: Noon Wine by Catherine Ann Porter

Your desert island book: Hot Water Music -Charles Bukowski

The first book to change your life: Love is a Dog From Hell - Charles Bukowski. I was 16 and any reader of Bukowski knows that this collection is WAY TOO MUCH for a 16 year old to handle.

Comfort author (think like comfort food): John Cheever. His writing is so layered and darkly congenial that it sits on the pallet like a cup of tea. The pretentious kind of tea that costs too much and smells faintly on gin.

Do you ever judge a book by its cover: Absolutely. Anything with a super imposed image of a shirtless man or ciggerete smoking woman is open and ready to be judged.

Are you satisfied with your literary intake: I'm more concerned with my literary output.

Thoughts on contemporary state of literature: Where are all the literary badasses at? Dave Eggers? Johnathan Ames? Where are the dudes who start bar fights with gang members?

Ear Relevant

This is "the shit everyone else has turned me on to recently" edition.

Joey Bada$$
First head this at Justin Martin's apartment. I think he was cooking me some food. Or we were just drinking. Either way, this is tight. He (Joey, not Justin) collabed with Chance the Rapper recently, one of my Chicago hip-hop favs. Good beats, tight rhymes. Beats the shit out of the drill scene. Stream or download on this website RIGHT HERE.

Follakzoid
I missed these guys at the Empty Bottle the other week, but Peter saw them twice at SXSW and for good reason apparently. Chilean krautrock that you must check out. 



Faun and a Pan Flute
Greg Fox tweeted about this band at SXSW aaaannndd yeah, check 'em out. Atlanta experimental psych-rock in a word:



Alla
Jon Graef loves this band. I waited way too long to listen to them. Chicagoist has the exclusive download RIGHT HERE.

Sabina Sciubba
Singer from Brazilian Girls doing some solo stuff. Yes, this video is just as weird as you'd expect it to be, and her voice and the song is just as good as you'd expect it to be.



Gabe Liebowitz
Singer of Dastardly covers some good shit (Smiths, Bowie, the Stones), some funny banter, and not afraid to let his voice crack every now and again. WARNING: depressing as shit. ALSO: moving. ALSO: funny.



Still not enough music? Check out The Reader's Jukebox, featuring my suggestion of Marquee Moon.

Franz Kafka's It's a Wonderful Life

Recently discovered what Open Culture is: a brilliant website that hosts free movies, language courses, ebooks, and other educational media. While perusing the movie section, I discovered this little gem, which imagines the difficulty Franz Kafka had while trying to write the Metamorphosis. The Open Culture page links to three parts, but HBO Films has it in one go (only 23 minutes) below. Enjoy.

52 Books 52 Weeks

I recently wrote about both these books for Frontier Psychiatrist. One I loved, one was meh. Let's start with the meh.

9. There Once Lived a Girl Who Seduced Her Sister’s Husband and He Hanged Himself by Ludmilla Petrushevskaya (finished March 6th)

Obviously the title is what attracted me to this book. Ominous, morbid, bizarre, I figured it'd be right up my alley. Unfortunately, the collection of short stories by the celebrated Russian author failed to really grip. What few moments of perceptive insight (is that a redundancy?) were overshadowed by the failure to create well-rounded characters, offering only a sketch of disappointingly unfulfilling stories. I try to seek the good in every censored writer, as it is something I doubt I will ever have to encounter and it takes courage to write in such an oppressive society, but there just wasn't anything memorable to me in the collection.

(click here for the full, original review)






10. A Tale For the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki (finished March 12th)

READ THIS BOOK. RIGHT NOW. I've gushed about this enough on Facebook and Twitter and to anyone who has had the (mis)fortune talking to me while I've been drunk since I read this book because I've just been going on and on about. Please someone else read this so we can talk about it. Long story short: woman in Vancouver finds a diary written by a girl in Tokyo, woman tries to find out more about this girl and her family's history. Learn about environmental devastation, crows, Marcel Proust, "the half-life of information," meta-fiction, and the differences (or lack thereof) between Zen Buddhism and quantum mechanics.

(click here for the full, original review)

Jamaican Queens

everytime
you’re feeling lonely
everytime
you’re feeling blue
everytime
you feel down hearted 

just remember
we’re all wormfood

Been awhile since I gushed over an album so much. But I really fucking love this new Jamaican Queens record. LISTEN TO THIS:

2011 Earthquake and Tsunami in Japan

(photo source)

I can't remember where I was when I first heard about the tsunami and earthquake in Japan in 2011. I know I was in France somewhere, probably too concerned with my immediate surroundings (ie, going to art museums and drinking wine) to worry about breaking world news. I do remember seeing images of whole buildings swept away by fantastic waves, resulting in towns that used to exist but no longer do.

Today is the anniversary of when the gigantic storm first hit. The nearest major city to the earthquake's epicenter was Sendai. I don't remember this name from news coverage back then, but I know it now. Coincidentally, I finished reading Ruth Ozeki's newest book today, A Tale for the Time Being. At the risk of violating critical ethics and saying too much before my official review, this was the most inspiring, brilliant page-turner I have read since Teju Cole's Open City. In short, it involves a woman in a small town near Vancouver who discovers a diary that washes up on shore from a girl in Japan, presumably killed in the 2011 tsunami. The book investigates time, fiction, quantum mechanics, and ecology all in one ambitious, but immensely gripping and satisfying story.

I have no real connection to Japan, but the more I read, the more interested in it I become. While Ozeki was born in America, half the book is from the point of view of a Japanese teenage girl, who uses many Japanese phrases which Ruth translates for us. Between this, recently reading Out, and Haruki Murakami in the past, it is definitely a culture of literature I need to explore more. And to find out if cats find their way into being a major character in every single Japanese novel or if this has just been a coincidence between the three.

In wake of such tragedies, it is always moving to find the ways humanity endures. One of my favorite art blogs, Colossal, posted today about an 88-foot tall sculpture that represents one remaining pine tree that survived for a year and a half after the storm hit.