Too funny not to blog:

BOISE, Idaho — Police said a 74-year-old woman arrested after pouring mayonnaise in the Ada County library’s book drop box is a person of interest in a yearlong spree of condiment-related crimes of the same sort. The woman was arrested Sunday at the library, moments after police said she pulled through the outside drive-through and dumped an open jar of mayonnaise in the box designated for reading materials.

The woman was released from the county jail and faces a misdemeanor charge of malicious injury to property. Police did not disclose a motive.

Boise police said the woman is under investigation for at least 10 similar cases of vandalism since May 2009. Library employees have reported finding books in the drop box covered in corn syrup and ketchup.

Two years ago, June 14th was a Saturday. It was a hot Saturday. By the time the day was over, my shirt and ball cap were stained white with sweat, I smelled awful, and I’d driven to DC three times, and to Baltimore twice. By the time I got back to DC on the last trip, late at night, I stumbled into my small apartment, furniture stacked against one wall, boxes piled high in the closet and the foyer: one cat was out and about, the other was still hiding in his carrier.

The apartment was considerably smaller than the one I left: that one was close to 800 square feet, with two bedrooms, and a dining room separate from the living room. This one was 400 square feet, a fifth floor studio, although thankfully not a walk-up. Positioned along a notch in the building, with a roughly “L” shape, it boasted five distinct areas: a foyer, bathroom, kitchen, closet (64 square feet, no joke, fucking thing is like a sixth the total size of the place), and the living area, which combines dining room, bedroom, library, and living room in one. Also, a view east above the National Zoo. At night, windows cracked, the noises of the exotic birds (and elephants) comes drifting in.

Two years!

I remember two weeks prior to moving, at the O’s/Red Sox game with family, and how excited I was: for one thing, I wouldn’t have to drive from north of Baltimore to Bethesda and back five days a week.

Flash forward two years. Two years!

Bookshelves climb each other on their way to the ceiling. The closet is, well, dangerous. The carpet is more than a little the worse for wear (but that’s to be expected when you’ve got two cats, both fully clawed, and both who throw up from time to time).

The last time I lived in a studio, I stayed there for two years and was so thrilled to move into a larger place. Yet, now that I’ve been here for two years, I do not feel that same urge.

Sure: the place is small. But I know where I can fit more bookshelves. And I kind of like that everything I need is close at hand. And I love the location.

Sure, there are places I’d rather live: Dupont Circle is tops of that list. But I’m happy here. And I’m willing to wager I’ll spend another two years.

I walked nineteen point three miles between Saturday and Sunday, but I have a problem: I am eating more calories than I’m burning. Which is to say, I walk a lot, get really hungry, and stuff my face. Also, I’m on vacation and in full blown vacation mode.

Long story short: if I haven’t gained ten pounds back by next weekend (my sister gets married this coming Friday, which means lots of celebrations, which means lots of food, which means weight gain!), it’s kind of going to be a miracle.

At least it’ll all be worth it!

Anyway, last week I was 236.5, today I am back up to 239.

The inscription on the plaque includes this quote:

“If they are to put up any memorial to me, I should like it to be placed in the center of that green plot in front of the Archives Building. I should like it to consist of a block about the size [of this desk].”

I don’t know if it’s hubris to expect a memorial and to request a specific type, or if it’s a sign of humbleness to be aware of the possibility of a memorial and not wanting something ostentatious.

Located at 9th Street & Pennsylvania Avenue, northwest of the National Archives.

I left my apartment at 7:15am. The air was cool, and there was a breeze. If it was possible to have sex with the weather, I would’ve made tender, sweet love to it all morning long.

I got back to my apartment at 12:20pm. I was soaked in sweat, and what little water was left in my water bottle I poured over my hat as I climbed the steps to the building’s door. The sun was out, the breeze was gone, and I swear my arms were glowing bright red.

My goal for this morning was to walk to the Library of Congress, rest for a few minutes, then walk home.

I sort of got side tracked on the way home. I stopped by the Botanical Gardens (they weren’t open yet), walked through the Mall, up past the Bookstore, and for some dumb reason, decided to stop at Subway (at 10:30!) for lunch! At TEN THIRTY! And eat a footlong sub, a bag of chips, and a two helpings of soda!

At which point I felt so guilty I decided to make up for it by walking home via Georgetown, instead of Dupont Circle — i.e., doubling the walk home from that point.

But it was all good. According to Google Maps, I’ve walked 12.3 miles today, far outstripping last week’s long walk, and making me feel perfectly content in spending the rest of the day watching movies and playing Arkham Asylum.

Which is to say that now I’ve reached the Library of Congress, it’s all downhill from here — except it’s actually uphill.

Excepting a few short breaks, it took about an hour and a half to get here. I’m guessing 5 miles, but will have to wait until I map my route on Google to know for sure.

EDIT: 4.9 miles according to Google Maps.

Gorgeous morning for a walk: cool with a breeze. Taking 5 before continuing on my way.

“No matter where you go, there you are.”
–Buckaroo Banzai

So, I’m there, which is not here: i.e., [work]. I will return to the office Wednesday June 23rd, and will not have access to email or voicemail until that time. In the meantime, if your matter is urgent, please contact Boss (x0000) or Other Dude (x000).

****

It’s a good thing my bosses pretend to have a sense of humor, or I’d get in a lot of trouble here. I’ll be posting sporadically.

… because I love and adore it, it’s just that I sort of think anything with the Star Wars brand done after 1983 (with the possible sole exception being Timothy Zahn’s Heir to the Empire trilogy of novels) pretty much sucks monkey goats …

But I sort of ooed! and aawed! to read this article from LA Weekly (titled: “Star Trek: The Motion Pictures”) via my Twitter Feed (thanks, brownpau!)

Thirty three years after the first film’s release, Star Wars remains the dominant cinematic sci-fi franchise, far outpacing Star Trek both commercially and critically. But between the success of J.J. Abrams’ 2009 Star Trek reboot and the continuing erosion of George Lucas’ Star Wars brand with shoddy prequels and spin-offs, Trek is starting to emerge from the shadow of Lucas’ moneymaking colossus. It’s therefore ­time to reevaluate Star Trek‘s filmic legacy, not as manna for pop culture nerds but as a legitimate counterpoint to Lucas’ visually stunning but increasingly impersonal empire.

Not that the Trek films don’t owe a debt to Lucas: Paramount and Trek creator Gene Roddenberry were inspired by Star Wars‘ massive box-office haul to launch a big-screen makeover, although their first installment draped itself in a seriousness that suggested they wanted very badly to distance themselves from Lucas’ giddy Saturday-matinee earnestness. A somber Solaris-meets-2001­ drama, 1979′s Star Trek: The Motion Picture reunited the old TV cast to intercept a lethal gas cloud, beginning a journey to try to transform this Western-in-space show into cinematic entertainment. Solidly helmed by industry veteran Robert Wise, The Motion Picture wisely de-emphasizes the cast’s wildly fluctuating acting abilities (a recurring Trek problem) by putting the focus on the more reliable grandeur of space, striking a nice balance between solemnity and technology.

Responding to complaints from critics and Trekkies alike about The Motion Picture‘s brainy tone and lavish cost, the producers mapped out a leaner sequel, in the process confronting the dilemma of how to make wham-bang sci-fi movies on a miniscule budget, with actors entering their fifties. The superb solution of 1982′s Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan was to make those limitations part of a darker, character-driven story. Though directed by Nicholas Meyer with the steeliness of a submarine thriller, Khan is the most moving installment, tackling issues of mortality and regret while featuring the superb Ricardo Montalbán as Kirk’s megalomaniacal old nemesis, Khan. And all these years later, its poignant, bittersweet ending can still leave a lump in the throat.

They didn’t have the budget of a Spielberg film, or the visionary ambition of a Cameron film, and age and creative exhaustion eventually doomed the U.S.S. Enterprise‘s noble crew, but taken as a whole, the original six Trek films possess a light, thoughtful touch. Ironically for a franchise set three centuries in the future, the Trek films stick in the memory because of something lovably antiquated: a heroically corny focus on universal themes. II’s fear of aging, III’s salute to friendship, V’s examination of our need for charismatic prophets — the effects may look dated, and some of the performances lean toward the unsubtle, but the films’ skill at tapping into our collective hopes and fears endures. To paraphrase Kirk’s tribute to his beloved comrade, Spock, of all the interstellar franchises that we have known, Trek remains the most human — wonderfully so.

I feel a Star Trek Trilogy sometime this vacation (that would be Wrath of Khan, Search for Spock, and Voyage Home, which are a pretty much self contained trilogy within the six films).

I haven’t read anything by George R. R. Martin.

That’s not true. I haven’t read much by George R. R. Martin.

Many years ago, when finally finishing up my college degree at lovely Towson University, a friend told me that Martin’s A Song of Ice & Fire series was being adapted for HBO. I was able to find a copy of the 2nd book in the series, but for some reason, the first book wasn’t available anywhere I looked – even Amazon listed it as being out of print. I finally obtained a copy, read the first few pages, put it down, and never picked it up again.

Clearly there’s something about these books that people love, and maybe I just need to give it a second try.

In any case, there’s a growing controversy over the fifth book in the series, which is suffering from “JK Rowling Maximus” syndrome — i.e., it’s been five years since the last book came out, why are you writing long diatribes and not finishing the dammed Dances with Dragons?

It wasn’t until I finished the last page a few days later – technically, as it was 2 a.m., a few mornings later – that I understood what the clerk at Powell’s Bookstore told my husband after seeing the book in his hand. It was something to the effect of, yes, that’s a great book, but once you finish it, you’ll be suffering along with the rest of us.

The gripping epic, as most of the fantasy-loving universe already knows, is only volume one in a planned seven-part series titled “A Song of Ice and Fire”. Four of the books have been published so far. That wouldn’t be such an issue, except that the last cliffhanger came out five years ago.

Kelly, who wrote that interest in the books has grown even more lately with an HBO series in the works, refers to “the five stages of George R.R. Martin fandom: introduction, enthrallment, disappointment, disbelief and bitterness.”

What to do? The first book was, as I’ve said, a wild read, though far heavier on violence and death than I like. I could easily stay up late for weeks tearing through the next three massive books in the series, getting much farther in the story before being abruptly halted again.

I waited semi-patiently for each Harry Potter, I read the original Watchmen series month by month in its comic book form, I even watched each TV episode of Lost as it ran. This is the first time I’ve considered waiting to invest more time in a series. If we were waiting on Book 5 of 5, instead of Book 5 of 7, I don’t think I’d hesitate.

I checked the Bookstore’s inventory system (ATLAS), and indeed, Dances with Dragons is listed with a publication date of September, 2010. However, I’m inclined not to believe it: Amazon, for instance, lists it at December, 2012. I’m going to assume the book was announced (at least internally), then Martin couldn’t meet his deadline, and the date just keeps getting pushed back on the item ticket.

In the meantime, though, you can buy Jon Snow’s sword, Longclaw:

I don’t know who Jon Snow is, but I do love the pommel.

I liked Transformers. I haven’t seen Transformers 2, and no intention to do so, and I probably won’t go see Transformers 3, either, which Bay is gearing up to shoot. Oh, and Michael Bay. I loved Bad Boys. The Rock. Hell, even Armageddon. And then there was Pearl Harbor. Yech. And Bad Boys II. Blech. And really, dude, you just ain’t the Michael Bay I loved as a teenager.

So, Transformers 3. Bay’s getting ready to film it, and he wants to film part of it here in Washington, DC, on the National Mall. But the Park Service pretty much told him to go fuck himself after they saw his plan:

A rep for Paramount said “We’ve gone from two weeks to 10 days to three days to seven days; I don’t really know.”

According to a spokesman for the National Park Service, Michael Bay and his crew “have asked to do some things that simply are not done on the National Mall.” Among them: staging a car race along the gravel paths of National Mall and using artificial light to enable filming at night.

“A lot of this could be more appropriately shot in a Hollywood studio,” the spokesman said. “The National Mall is not an area in which Americans come to see high-tech action movies being shot.”

And I tend to agree with the Park Service on this. People want to come see America’s gorgeous front yard.

Well … except it isn’t really gorgeous, is it?

Those ugly plastic fences. The brown grass. The Jefferson Memorial (which is sinking into the Tidal Basin!)

The Mall needs some Tender Loving Care.

Wait, some? It needs a gross metric shitload of TLC.

So, I say: let Bay film on the Mall!

But! But! BUT! With a catch: when he’s done, not only does the studio have to pay to replace everything they fucked up, they’ve gotta pay a whole lot more to help fix the place up. Surely there’s a multi-million dollar project somewhere needing funding, and surely Paramount can cough up the dough out of their coffers.

Let Bay film. And make sure he coughs up a few millions for an improvement project somewhere.

(Somewhere = on the Mall).

So, if you follow movie news, whether devotedly or as a passing interest, you might be aware that The Powers That Be have decided to “reboot” the Spiderman movie franchise. As Spiderman 3 did not fuck the series up nearly so bad as Batman Returns, Batman Forever, or Batman & Robin did theirs, I’m a little confused as why they want to throw the baby out with the bathwater (what does that even mean?), but what the hoot ever.

There’s this actor who wants to play Peter Parker. His name is Donald Glover, and, oh yes, he’s black. I don’t actually know why this is news, except apparently some people think some other people would be confused if Peter Parker was played by a black guy.

And by some people, I mean Stan Lee, who is really only significant because he created the character to begin with.

“Here’s the point: We’ve already had the Kingpin in ‘Daredevil’ portrayed by a black man, where he was white in the comics, [and] we’ve had Nick Fury portrayed by a black man where he was white in the comics,” said Lee. “But not that many people had seen these characters — not that many moviegoers are familiar with them.”

“Everybody seems to be familiar with Spider-Man, so I say that it isn’t that it’s a racial issue — it’s just that it might be confusing to people,” he explained. “But that’s a matter for the people at Marvel to take into consideration. I certainly don’t want to weigh in on it in any way, except to say I think [Glover] is a fine actor.”

There are some roles where race is integral to the character, yes: could you recast Roots with a white guy playing Kunta Kinte? Please. What about a remake of 1776 with an all black cast, or Malcom X with a white dude playing Mr. X? Give me a break. (Actually, 1776 would probably work, since it’s pretty much a light hearted romp — the slavery song number would be awkwaaaaard, though).

But when it comes to characters like Spiderman or Batman or Superman … I’m sorry, but ethnicity is not a key part of the character. The core of the Batman/Bruce Wayne character is not the color of his skin — it’s his incredible intelligence (world’s greatest detective, remember?), his vigilante mindset, and his gigantic fortune. Superman needs to be an alien. White, black. That part is irrelevant.

Admittedly, I am not a huge fan of Spiderman. I enjoyed the first two of Raimi’s movies. If I find anything “confusing” about this reboot, it won’t involve an African-American actor portraying Peter Parker.

(After all, I don’t think there were any black guys in the cast of the last Spiderman and it confused the fuck out of me.)

The Bookstore I work for is a Corporate Giant. I mean, not like Amazon or anything (especially since they don’t have brick-and-mortar stores). And it’s not a giant in the best of health, more like we’ve been hit by David a few times (except in this case David is a bunch of other Corporate Giants), and it’s not quite clear if we’re going to fall to our knees and tumble over, or if we’re going to collapse into the dirt for our death throes.

If the latter, I really hope it is postponed until the end of 2011, when I’m forecasting I’ll be able to leave the part-time job (and the extra cash) behind.

However! The Bookstore was not the first place I looked when I realized I would need a part-time job to make up the gap between my full time job’s salary, and what I was estimating I would need to bring in to survive living in DC.

The very first place I looked was Politics & Prose, an independent bookstore located waaay up Connecticut Avenue, practically in Chevy Chase. Unfortunately, I received a rejection letter, to the point of “Yeah, we don’t hire full time. But if we’re interested, maybe we’ll call you.” They never did.

Alas!

But things worked out. I lucked into the job with the Bookstore, and I’ve been mostly happy there. And it looks like maybe it’s a really good thing I didn’t get offered a job with Politics & Prose as they’re up for sale:

The 26-year-old store’s owners, Carla Cohen and Barbara Meade, both 74 and so in sync they often wear the same colors without planning to, say they are simply too tired to keep steering Washington’s most prominent non-chain bookstore — a premier stop on top-shelf author tours and a frequent setting for book talks televised on C-SPAN — through the uncertainty of an industry threatened by e-books. Cohen is also seriously ill.

“It’s time for us to stop and let somebody else take over for the future,” Meade said during a quiet interview in the store’s cramped office. Cohen, eyes reddening, said, “I just don’t have the energy like I used to.”

Sad, but I think there’s a decent chance they’ll find a buyer, and hopefully the store will continue as it had.

And if it doesn’t, all it means is the number of events we’ll be hosting at my bookstore will increase dramatically. As our events manager put it, “Motherfucker!” (Pronounced with emphasis on the “Oh god, we don’t have the staff, we’re fucked” tone).

Lambda Rising closed last winter, Olssons’ shuttered all of its stores (a DC-area local chain) in early fall of 2008. Hopefully Politics & Prose will continue.

The times.

They are a’changing.

Two bits of news caught my eye this week, about shifts of attitudes towards interracial marriage, and gays.

CNN:

Apparently, race is mattering less these days, say researchers at the Pew Research Center, who report that nearly one out of seven new marriages in the U.S. is interracial or interethnic. The report released Friday, which interviewed couples married for less than a year, found racial lines are blurring as more people choose to marry outside their race.

“From what we can tell, this is the highest [percentage of interracial marriage] it has ever been,” said Jeffrey Passel, a senior demographer for the Pew Research Center.

He said interracial marriages have soared since the 1980s. About 6.8 percent of newly married couples reported marrying outside their race or ethnicity in 1980. That figure jumped to about 14.6 percent in the Pew report released this week, which surveyed newlyweds in 2008.

…studies show that support for interracial marriages is stronger than in the past, especially among the Millennial generation. Among 18- to 29-year-olds, about 85 percent accept interracial marriages, according to a Pew study published in February. Scholars say interracial marriages are important to examine because they can be a barometer for race relations and cultural assimilation.

Today’s growing acceptance of interracial marriages is a contrast to the overwhelming attitudes 50 years ago that such marriage was wrong — and even illegal. During most of U.S. history, interracial marriages have been banned or considered taboo, sociologists say.

And via CBS News:

The increasing visibility of gay and lesbian Americans appears to have contributed toward more positive perceptions of homosexual relations. Forty-three percent of Americans currently see homosexual relations between consenting adults as “wrong” – a drop of 19 percentage points from a Gallup poll taken in 1978.

There has been a slight decrease in the percentage of Americans who do not object to homosexual relations compared to January of last year, when 54 percent said they are not wrong. But nearly half (48 percent) still say they see nothing wrong with homosexual relations, an increase of 23 points from the 1978 poll.

Americans under 30 tend not to object to homosexual relations, while those over 65 are likely to disapprove of them. Democrats, liberals and (to a lesser extent) independents and moderates generally do not disapprove, while Republicans and conservatives generally do.

Those who know someone who is gay or lesbian are less likely to disapprove of homosexual relations than those who do not. More than half of those who know someone who is homosexual do not see homosexual relations between consenting adults as wrong. On the flip side, more than half of those who don’t know anyone who is homosexual say such relations are wrong.

I don’t think this is at all surprising, just common sense. When people are isolated into like-minded or like-ethnic groups, they tend to view others as “others”: unknown stereotyped elements. But when you’re part of a community, you stop processing people according to stereotypes and view them as individuals.

Change: sometimes it’s more turtle than hare; more glacier than avalanche. But it still comes.