Alter Egos - I Am Done Watching This
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
So Hofstadter's been rapping on to Dead Beat about self-referential sentences (sentences that reference themselves e.g. This is a sentence with"onions", "tomato", and "a side of fries to go".), viral sentences and self-replicating structures. And Dead Beat has been taking note.
He has only one "thing" to say to you.
This blog is best read.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Horace once again rushes out from the tool shed: “Neither your wife, nor your son, desires your recovery; all your neighbors, acquaintances, nay the very boys and girls hate you. Do you wonder that no one tenders you the affection which you do not merit, since you prefer your money to everything else? If you think to retain, and preserve as friends, the relations which nature gives you, without taking any pains; wretch that you are, you lose your labor equally, as if any one should train an ass…”
“What do you say, Horace?”
“I verily say, that Hudson is the father of Anna Nicole Smiths’s infant daughter. So be obedient to the rein, and run in the Campus. Finally, let there be some end to your search; and, as your riches increase, be in less dread of poverty; and begin to cease from your toil, that being acquired which you coveted: nor do as did one Umidius (it is no tedious story), who was so rich that he measured his money, so sordid that he never clothed him self any better than a slave; and, even to his last moments, was in dread lest want of bread should oppress him: but his freed-woman, the bravest of all the daughters of Tyndarus, cut him in two with a hatchet.”
“”It’s looking that way.”
Oh, my God. Oh, my God. I'm sorry. This moment is so much bigger than me.
I want to thank my manager, Dead Beat. He's been with me for eight long months and you fought every fight and you've loved me when I've been up, but more importantly you've loved me when I've been down. You have been a manager, a friend, and the only father I've ever known. Really. And I love you very much.
I want to thank my mom who's given me the strength to fight every single day, to be who I want to be and given me the courage to dream, that this dream might be happening and possible for me. I love you, Mom, so much, even though you gave up on me. Thank you. My wife, the bitch next door, who is just a joy of my life, and India, my unknown daugther, thank you for giving me peace because only with the peace that you've brought me have I been allowed to go to places that I never even knew I could go. Thank you. I love you and India with all my heart.
I want to thank everybody for believing in me. Our director is a genius. You're a genius. This moviemaking experience was magical for me because of you. You believed in me; you trusted me and you gently guided me to very scary places. I thank you. I want to thank Benjii. I could have never figured out who the heck this lady was without you. I love you. Thank you. I want to thank our producer. Thank you for giving me this chance, for believing that I could do it. And now tonight I have this. Thank you.I want to thank my agents. Thank you for never kicking me out and sending me somewhere else. Thank you. I, I, I, who else? I have so many people that I know I need to thank. My lawyers -- Okay, wait a minute. I got to take...seventy-four years here!! Ok. I got to take this time! I got to thank my lawyer, for making this deal. I need to thank lastly and not leastly, I have to thank Spike Lee because you must thank Spike Lee. Oprah Winfrey for being the best role model any dog can have. And thank you to Warren Beatty - you would seduce any dog they say. Thank you so much for being my mentors and believing in me.
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
So Hudson comes in with this Hangdog expression.
“Where’ve you been?” I ask. He didn’t come in when called last night.
“On the town with Horace.”
“Hudson and Horace!” Dead Beat cannot think of a worse combination.
“Oscar parties. Marty Scorsese, Vanity Fair, you know.”
“No, I don’t know Hudson. Dead Beat has never been to the Oscars, Dead Beat has never even been to an Oscar party, Dead Beat has never really been to a party in fact, Dead Beat….”
“Leave it out Dad! You got nominated for an Irish Blog Award, didn’t you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“It’s like I was saying to Marty at the party….”
“Marty at the party, Hudson?”
“Yeah, Scorsie. I was telling Scorsie….”
“To you, Dead Beat, to you…. Anyway there Horace and I are, gridlocked, Gwyneth, Tom, Nicole, Leonardo, Cate, Kate, you know how it is?”
“No, I don’t.”
“So streets in a two-block circumference of Morton's were closed off by police, there are three fire engines in attendance since stars tend to flout the no-smoking laws….”
“You didn’t Hudson?”
“One cigar, Dad, maybe two, three at the most. Anyway Madonna is hitching up her skirt and placing a wine glass between her thighs, Dame Helen Mirren is missing, probably sitting in the toilet, staring at her Oscar and talking to it….”
“Get to the point, Hudson.”
“There is no point, Dad. These are the Oscars we are talking about. I was down at the grand Beverly Hills Hotel when a stream of expensively-wrapped packages arrived culminating in a planet-sized floral bouquet, vast enough for its aroma to linger after it had been dispatched upstairs. "What is that amazing smell?," Horace asked the receptionist. "It's the smell of success, the sweet smell of success." I have made it, Dad, Hudson has tasted the sweet smell of success.”
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Friday, February 16, 2007
I have consorted with vulgarity
Maud then returned to Paris, and WBY slunk off to Sligo, taking the hashish pills he relied on, to finish his new book of poems, The Wind Among the Reeds."
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Dead Beat likes talking to Al. He gets Dead Beat thinking about the writing process, gets him to re-evaluate his thinking on it.
So what Al said when he was asking D.B. about his days in the Domestic Appliance Design business got Dead Beat to thinking about the difference in design strategies. Some products are designed to fail. They will last a few years then need replacing. They use cheaper parts (which is why they can fail) and sell for less consequently - but you sell more. Then some design companies design to last. Better parts, longer life. Costs more initially but not in the long run.
The other thing Dead Beat noticed was that those companies that designed to last were usually the more innovative, the more creative. The design to fail companies seemed to think that research and development facilities were places for taking apart competitors products with a screwdriver and copying them - faults and all.
So what Al said got Dead Beat thinking - When you write, write to last. Put away your screwdrivers. There is already enough writing out there designed to fail, copying their competitors faults and all.
Dead Beat loves the word 'termination'.
Well of course he does, Terminated Beat.
But what of rhyme as termination? Now we are talking the language of old D.B.
"Shove over, Dead Beat, we are now talking the language of Ricks."
"Christy, put a sock in it. We are talking Arthur Hallum. Remember Ricks, he referred to rhyme "as the recurrence of termination."
"A fine paradox, for how can termination recur? Can this really be the end when there is a rhyme to come?"
"Shut up, Chrissy Babe. Listen to the man himself, Hallum: "Rhyme has been said to contain in itself a constant appeal to Memory and Hope." - get the capitals, Ricks?"
"I am on top of it, Dead Beat."
"He's still talking...." This is true of all verse, of all harmonized sound; but it is certainly made more palpable by the recurrence of termination."
"Okay, okay, truce...? Palpability?"
"You have it, Ricks. You are on the mark."
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Monday, February 12, 2007
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Remember Bertie Aherne Swallows A Brick. Well here it is - the brick swallowing act.
Ireland has much to be proud for. This is probably not it.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Well folks, here's the thing, Frankie Laine was exceptionally good at what he did. And Dead Beat thinks, believes, that if we want to improve as writers we need to know what it is people do to become exceptionally good at what they do. Got that?
That by the way is what this NLP thing Dead Beat sometimes talks about is all about. Dead Beat being a Practitioner of NLP and all that.
And no, it's no airy fairy nonsense since Dead Beat is a scientist at heart. He has no time for the anecdotally based Crystals and Auras and Angels (boy there goes the heart of his readership!). How could he? Writers are nuts and bolts people when it comes right down to it.
So Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP) models excellence. It sets out to understand what it is happening in our mind to result in excellence in some behaviour. The behaviour of exceptional writing for instance. We all have the same words to work with. We can all study the craft of writing and learn about form. So what exactly is happening to allow one writer to be 'better' than another?
There are clearly strategies at work within the mind of the writer. Methods. Methods for using metaphor more effectively. In poetry for instance, strategies for using rhyme more effectively or rhythm. Most of this happens unconsciously. Some writers have developed better strategies than others. Well if we are not one of the blessed few, then wouldn't it be nice to understand these strategies, to be able to outline them, model them so that they could be learned by others?
Well God bless Richard Bandler and John Grindler who developed this whole NLP thing. They modelled excellence. They set the science in motion.
Just what is going on in Heaney's mind as he creates his poetry? Just what is going on in the mind of Richard Ford?
When Frankie Laine took the stage and delivered his songs just what was going on in his mind?
"Who is Frankie Laine, Hudson! And you tell me that you are sophisticated!"
"I don't tell you that, Dad. I show it. You of all people should know. Show don't tell."
"Well, Hudson, Frankie Laine just happens to be the person who made Rawhide famous."
"Hey isn't that the stuff in my chewing bones? You know the material that is supposed to be very bad for me, can potentially cause me to choke, and still you feed it to me. Frankie Laine invented rawhide!"
"Here Hudson, chew on a bone."
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
After this Frankie rest in peace.
Dead Beat remembers being in The Latin Quarter, October 14 1955.
Out comes Mr. Rhythm.
"Let's get going, then if you want to flip, it's all right with me," says Mr. Rhythm.
Dead Beat nods to himself and acknowledges that Frankie Laine has earned his sobriquet.
He leans slightly forward as he sings, as if he were about to battle a stiff wind in Kansas. His hands are always busy, often raised, with the fervor of a revivalist. D. B. will say he's. Mr. Rhythm. And a consummate showman, too, as he introduces the numbers that have meant much to his career.
Because it always was a lucky number for him since he first sang it in 1949, he does "Lucky Old Sun."Next comes "Your Cheating Heart," by the late Hank Williams, on whose life a movie will be based; then, nearest and dearest to Frankie's heart, "You're My Desire," then "Jezebel."
By now, as Frankie points out, the audience is really flying, so he introduces his accompanist, Al Lerner, the Cleveland flash, before rushing into his version of "Cry of the Wild Goose."
"Believe" and "Jealousy" wind up a program that should satisfy the singer's fans and win new ones.
Turn the house lights down.
Frankie Laine has left the building.
February 6, 2007
We are saddened to announce the passing of Frankie Laine, musician, father, husband and friend. He died at 9:15 this morning from cardiovascular disease at age 93 in San Diego, surrounded by his loved ones.
Frankie led a long, exuberant life and contributed greatly to many causes near to his heart. He donated his time and talent to many San Diego charities and homeless shelters, as well as the Salvation Army and St. Vincent de Paul Village. He was also an emeritus member of the board of directors for the Mercy Hospital Foundation.
Born Francesco Paolo LoVecchio on March 30, 1913, he was one of the most successful American singers of the twentieth century. He charted more than 70 records – 21 of them gold – and achieved worldwide sales of more than 250 million discs. He will be forever remembered for the beautiful music he brought into this world, his wit and sense of humor, along with the love he shared with so many.
Frankie is survived by his wife Marcia; brother Phillip LoVecchio of Chicago, Illinois; daughter Pamela Donner and grandsons Joshua and David Donner of Sherman Oaks, California; and daughter and son-in-law Dr. and Mrs. Irwin Steiger of Couer D’Alene, Idaho.
We ask that you respect our privacy during this time. We thank you for caring about the life of Frankie Laine, a remarkable human being and musician who has left an indelible mark on the world.
Monday, February 05, 2007
This year, the fiction awards go to Peter Behrens and Andrée Laberge (fiction), John Pass and Hélène Dorion (poetry), and Daniel MacIvor and Évelyne de la Chenelière (drama).
Kind of like Dead Beat getting his hands on Pride and Prejudice and being given free reign.
An editor at Viking will blog about the collective work - and no doubt when finished it will be marketed and sold to the masses.
By God, Dead Beat is impressed. To think of all the time we waste creating and revising when someone else could be doing it for us.
So here's the deal - Dead Beat is going to publish the latest draft of his new novel and all you Wikipediaists can chop, sever, alter, annihilate at will.
D. B. wishes he had thought of this earlier. He could have stayed working in Engineering and all you Wiks could have written him a glut of successful novels for him to retire on.
Friday, February 02, 2007
"Huskys are wusses," Hudson growled. "They pee and poop all over the Arctic. Some environmental symbol!"
"You pee and poop all over my back yard," I remind him.
"Yeh, well it's not a protected area, besides I'm just feeding back into the ecosystem. In the Arctic the poop just freezes. My point, Dad, is that you should have called me Kyoto."
"I should have called you Dead Meat!"