"He must increase, I must decrease."

Happy Feast of the Decollation of John the Baptist, everyone!

(Photo, of course, is of the Mitsui original in my living room. Creepy Catholics!)

If anybody needs me, I'll be huddled in the corner, sobbing and burbling, "Ten years! Ten lousy years!"

Amelia Lester, 26 Year Old Former Fact Checker, is the New Managing Editor of The New Yorker.

Pizza Night

Sharp-eyed viewers will note that the sausage pizza shown under construction here is perhaps not as round as a hand-tossed pizza might be. The truth is that, while these photos do have the virtue of being unstaged, the dough-tossing shot is taken from a later pizza - there were six in all, made in honor of William Wilson, Guitarist Extraordinaire, who had a birthday to deal with. The dough proved a bit sticky just out of the gate, and this first pizza was rolled only.

Pictures for Car Story

Story is here. Click to enlarge

Plus ca change...

"Mention art to a film magnate, and he will laugh in your face. 'Listen, brother,' he will say, after the guffaws have subsided, 'the motion pictures are made for the square-heads out in Kalamazoo, not for the highbrows in Greenwich Village - and the square-heads want entertainment, not art.' It is useless to argue that art may conceivably be entertainment; art, in Hollywood, is regarded as a dull, dry, esoteric and highly unprofitable property which is to be shunned religiously by all those who have the best interests of the exhibitor's box office at heart. Charlie Chaplin is, and always has been, the living refutation of this absurd doctrine."
- R.E. Sherwood, writing in Vanity Fair during the run-up to Charlie Chaplin's 1925 film, The Gold Rush.

In other, rather more modern Vanity Fair news, the New Mexico Nurse sends word that the Summer of Death has claimed Dominick Dunne. Dunne was one of what is surely a dying breed - not just a journalist who covered celebrities, but a celebrity journalist.

Touching bottom?

At a certain point, sloth and self-loathing cease to be funny. Or as funny as they used to be, anyway. I've got a stack of things to read that has gotten silly. Gonna try to give a little of each evening to them. (He wrote, blogging at night...)

I'd like to be a better, more literate person than I am...

...but well, you see, Twin Peaks.

Exchange

Me: If I lose my job, I think I'll go to art school.

The Wife: How about business school?

Poetry Happens

For a person who ostensibly cares about language, I don't read poetry as often as I should. It is difficult for me to pick up a volume of poems and say to myself, "Now I will read poetry." I do much better when I happen upon it in somewhere - say, when the University of Iowa Press sends my wife a review copy of Visiting Wallace: Poems Inspired by the Life and Work of Wallace Stevens, and I open the package while sitting on the steps in the front yard next to the herb garden and read one aloud to her as she picks tomatoes from the plants growing along the driveway. Oh, hey, here's one by Robert Lowell...

...O that the spirit could remain
tinged but untarnished by its strain!
Better dressed and stacking birch,
or lost with the Faithful at Church –
anywhere, but somewhere else!
And now the new electric bells,
clearly chiming, "Faith of our fathers,"
and now the congregation gathers.

O Bible chopped and crucified
in hymns we hear but do not read,
none of the milder subtleties
of grace or art will sweeten these
stiff quatrains shoveled out four-square –
they sing of peace, and preach despair;
yet they gave darkness some control,
and left a loophole for the soul...

When will we see Him face to face?
Each day, He shines through darker glass.
In this small town where everything
is known, I see His vanishing
emblems, His white spire and flag-
pole sticking out above the fog,
like old white china doorknobs, sad,
slight, useless things to calm the mad.

Today in Porn, Absolutely Tragic Edition

Jasmine Fiore, a former Playboy model who was found dead in a suitcase with her fingers and teeth removed, has been identified by her breast implants.

The Catholic Illustrator's Guild Interviews Daniel Mitsui

Here. At one point, our man takes up the question of cartooning:

"I do think that cartooning can teach an artist a lot about sacred art. Visually and compositionally, a comics page from the early 20th century resembles an illuminated manuscript. The figures in mediaeval illustrated manuscripts often look cartoony, simply due to the speed (fast) and scale (small) at which they were drawn. My own figures often look cartoony for similar reasons; I can draw very realistic figures if I have charcoal, a kneaded rubber eraser, and models willing to sit still for six hours, but they're not something I can improvise easily.

There is also a vigorous comic tradition at the edges of mediaeval sacred art - in manuscript drolleries, misericord carvings, gargoyles, and, ultimately, Hieronymus Bosch - that is very interesting in itself, and even more interesting when considered as an essential part of the iconographic system.

Personally, I credit cartooning with teaching me to compose narratives. For example, I recently received a commission to illustrate a spiritual journey in allegory; it involved a woman climbing a mountain with her family, falling away from them, being led back to the path by a priest, and rejoining them to ascend to the summit. I was able to compose the story in a single continuous landscape. It begins in the top left corner, then moves counterclockwise around the border, breaks into the center of the drawing, and zigzags to the top center. It's complicated, but I think that anyone can understand the events, and their chronology, without any panels or numbers or arrows to direct him. I wouldn't have been able to compose that without having read a lot of Popeye and Krazy Kat and Little Nemo. "

But that's just a snippet. Go thou and read.

Alphonse in the news.

Amanda Carpenter of the Washington Times takes note of the little guy.

Why I no longer write about wine.

Who wants to compete with the Cheese?

Hey Tom Waits

I got your Chocolate Jesus right here. Or rather, Amy does. She's left the Beliefnet gig and found her old rhythm at Charlotte Was Both.

Today in Porn, Elsewhere Edition.

As I've said before, the strongest sign that my work here is finished is that The Onion has started doing it, and (of course) doing it better.

Best line, delivered in reference to a distressed director: "Aw, don’t feel bad, Matt Morningwood! (P.S. How serendipitous is it that a man named “Morningwood” found his way into porn? It’s like something out of Dickens—who, strangely enough, did not work in porn.)"

...

For various reasons,I don't get into the contraception debate much. But this occurred to me this morning: it seems that a good response to the question, "Why would God care what I do in the bedroom?" might be, "Why would God care what we do at all?"

Today in Porn, The Rest is Silence Edition

I can't imagine anything ever topping this. [Language alert.] [Edited for length.] [Via Goldenfiddlr.]

"Certain things in life just go together: chocolate and peanut butter, death and taxes, TMZ and Britney. But no two names are more closely linked than the most addictive couple on The Hills: Heidi Montag and her husband, Spencer Pratt, the show’s entertaining archvillain. We asked Spencer if he’d like to interview his wife on the subject of her appearance in Playboy. We didn’t have to ask twice.

SPENCER: Heidi, look at you. You’re in Playboy. Let’s make this the most famous interview ever.

HEIDI: You know it, baby. [multiple fist bumps]

SPENCER: : Okay. If people knew the real Heidi, how would she be different from the girl on The Hills or I’m a Celebrity…Get Me Out of Here! or whatever?

HEIDI: I wouldn’t be different. That’s the thing. I have cameras on me 24/7, and I love it. I want it. I can’t help being who I am. I laugh so hard when I read “Oh, they’re the fakest couple on the planet.” We’ve had our ups and downs, Spencer, but we’ve done it all with the cameras on, and now we’re doing it with the cameras off. Nothing is different. We’re both outgoing; we say what we want to say and just happen to be more in the public eye than most couples. We’ve been together more than three years and have spent practically every minute together. If we were fake, that would have been exposed by now, don’t you think?

SPENCER: And what about all those bozos talking sh*t about you—the Chelsea Handlers of the world. Is that ever hard for you?

HEIDI: I just roll my eyes and move on. First of all, it’s so much fun that people know who I am and actually care enough to talk. I’m turning 23, from a tiny town in Colorado. This is exciting for me. We love the Soup guy [Joel McHale, host of the weekly comedy show on E!]. God bless him, he’s making us famous. As for other women, if they aren’t hating on you, then you’re not doing anything right.If women aren’t jealous of you, talking about you and cutting you down, then you’re the nerd, and I would never want to be that.

SPENCER: Look at how many people follow you on Twitter, baby. It’s close to half a million and growing every second.

HEIDI: Twitter rocks. The millions of people waiting for season six of The Hills love us. And it’s not about Lauren Conrad, because she’s not even on the show this season. Which is fine with me.

SPENCER: You’re a rock star, Heidi. Don’t forget that. We made our music video [for the song “BlackOut”] on the beach for about a dollar this year, and it went to number six on iTunes in the U.S. and number one in Canada. [fist bumps] That’s money in your pocket! Dollar for dollar, I bet you made more than Lady GaGa this year even though she has a number one record. “Oh, Heidi Montag has no talent!”—my f*cking ass! If you have no talent, then I don’t know what talent is. You must be the most talented untalented person on earth. [leans in for a kiss] Take a bite! [They kiss. Spencer pauses to check several cell phones and PDAs. They kiss again as he texts.]
[snip]

HEIDI: There are a few moments I’d like to see blasted into space forever. Like when you apologized to Lauren Conrad for the sex-tape rumors so she would come to the wedding, when we know for a fact she did have a sex tape. [Editor’s note: Conrad and other cast members have denied any sex tape exists.]
[snip]

SPENCER: Honestly, I think the reality was it wasn’t even sex. It was just fooling around. Maybe we should do a sex tape.

HEIDI: No way. I’ve never watched porn in my life. I’m not going to start making it.

SPENCER: You’re right. Plus who needs a sex tape when we have a live feed to our 70-inch HD screen in the bedroom and all those mirrors. It would be like Tiger Woods watching his swing. Life with you is like 24/7 porn but without the obnoxious charges. [They kiss.]
[snip]

HEIDI: Some things are private. Our sex life is private.

SPENCER: I totally 100 percent disagree. Privacy doesn’t exist, which is why I love my life. I love that we live every waking moment for everyone to see. Heidi: You know, I was never very sexual before I met you, Spencer. I knew what sex was, but when I met you I entered into a whole new realm of understanding, from fantasy to love.Or to experience a day with 20 or 30 orgasms. Before you, sex was just something that happened. Now it’s something I look forward to every minute of the day.

SPENCER: I never imagined in my whole life I would meet a female as sexual as you are. [fist bump] Most girls are usually just about themselves.

HEIDI: Like I said, it makes me happy to see you happy. Like when we do it in the car.

SPENCER: Or on the plane on New Year’s Eve. How about that, when I initiated you into the Mile High Club? Holy sh*t!

HEIDI: That was maybe the best experience I’ve ever had in my entire life. First flying to New York on a private jet and then getting to fulfill the fantasy of all fantasies. The hardest part was, like, keeping quiet so the pilots wouldn’t come back. Honestly, I feel as if I’m just beginning to know my body with you. You’re waking me up to what’s possible, and it makes me want to try every new thing, doing it all kinds of ways— indoors, outdoors, upside down. I feel sorry for couples who aren’t as sexually satisfied as we are. If your sex life isn’t happy, your marriage is screwed.
[snip]

SPENCER: I agree 10,000 percent. It made me realize I’m the luckiest man in the world to have my life. And now having my wife in Playboy is the culmination of every dream I’ve ever had. By the way, what was your first experience with Playboy like?

HEIDI: It was amazing. The shoot was so relaxed and incredible and——

SPENCER: No, no. I want to know about the first time you discovered Playboy. What was that like?

HEIDI: Honestly, I didn’t know about the magazine when I was a kid. I’m from a really religious community, so it wasn’t discussed. It wasn’t till much later that I realized how large Playboy looms in every man’s mind, that when guys reach a certain age they get a Playboy magazine. But it has definitely changed my life—or maybe I should say it has shaped me. [laughs]

SPENCER: Go ahead, tell them.

HEIDI: Well, when I was shopping for my boobs, I wanted the best, so I sat down and flipped through a bunch of Playboys. The women are so hot— Pamela Anderson, Carmen Electra, Marilyn Monroe, all the Playmates. So iconic. When the magazine asked me to pose I understood what an honor it was. Once you’re on the cover of Playboy you’re officially a sex symbol, which is something you can’t get the same way by doing anything else.

SPENCER: I am so beyond excited knowing my wife is doing this. To me Playboy is absolutely legendary. My mom actually bought my first Playboy for me when I was 13. To my surprise, she had ripped out every photo as kind of a “ha-ha,” but all I needed was the cover to send me on the Playboy- smuggling route from the age of 13 to 18. Somehow I obtained every single issue until it was legal for me to buy them. And not only from those years but also from the 1950s and 1960s.

HEIDI: I remember the first time I came into your house in the Hollywood Hills and saw your walls covered with Centerfolds.

SPENCER: You weren’t too happy about it. Being a good Jesus lover you made me take them all down. But now I have my own real live Playboy dream girl so I don’t need that wallpaper anymore. I have poster-size images from this shoot, which I put up in my bathroom. Now when I’m peeing I get to see a 10-foot naked photo of my wife, and I’m like, "Damn, I’m one lucky motherf*cker".

HEIDI: Tell them about the day of the photo shoot.

SPENCER: Oh, it was f*cking torture! I got the biggest case of blue balls in history. I wanted to shut down production after every outfit change so I could enjoy you all to myself. I suggest they bring something like that to Guantánamo Bay, actually. Who needs waterboarding when you can have Heidi Montag posing in these outfits in front of you, in front of the ocean, and not be able to make a move on her? I’m not kidding. It was torture. [They kiss, and Spencer checks his iPhone.] Do you see any conflict with being a Christian and taking your clothes off for Playboy?

HEIDI: This is the most I’ve ever shown, but I made the decision not to show everything.

SPENCER: Believe me, to Christian America you’re naked in these pictures.

HEIDI: That’s probably why I haven’t told my dad yet. They’re a little behind the times where he lives in Colorado, but he’ll find out eventually. I honestly believe God didn’t invent our bodies for us to be ashamed of them. The body is a beautiful creation. If anything, the reason I didn’t show everything is because I plan to get a few more upgrades.

SPENCER: Don’t do it for me, Heidi. I think you have the best custom-made breasts in the world right now. I don’t need you to make any changes. I’m already driving a Bugatti every day.

HEIDI: Well, I’m sure as I get older I’ll need some touch-ups. I’m definitely not done with my surgical quest. I think I want to go bigger on my boobs for you.

SPENCER: Awesome. How big?

HEIDI: Triple X.

SPENCER: Cool! So maybe I can interview you again for Playboy once that’s done, when you do the full reveal.

HEIDI: Great idea. Let’s do this again when I get the upgrades."

*****

It is, of course, impossible to pick just one favorite line. But there is something especially delicious about saying that it's okay to pose naked because the body is God's masterpiece, and then saying that you didn't show everything you could have because, well, God's masterpiece needs a little more work. Art perfects nature, indeed.

Kingsley

I'm dipping into Kingsley Amis' memoirs these days (thank you, JOB). Remarkable stuff. Cutting bit from his section on Robert Graves:

"I found it easy enough to ask him questions about those quasi-mystical ideas of his like the old White Goddess. How much did he believe in her?

'About as much as the classical poets believed in the Muses or a Christian in the Resurrection [remember this was thirty years ago]. Anyway, it works for me. It's useful.'"

Don't know what Amis was getting at with the bit about thirty years ago. But ouch.

"It's just you."

Finally saw No Country for Old Men. Certainly one of the finest secular martyrdoms I've ever seen there at the end. (Spoilers, I guess.) Playing along with the coin flip might save her life, but she refuses to play along, because playing along would mean living by means of a lie.

Not a grand, portentous sort of lie - like, say, sacrificing before a false god - but a small, essential lie: that fate (chance) trumps human choice in matters of good and evil, and so provides an excuse for the evil that men do. She won't let him put the blame on the coin. "It's just you."

In a way, it's almost like charity - like she's trying to save him.

Hey music industry.

You're doomed. But I would pay good money for a CD of Tom Waits singing nursery rhymes and other classic children's songs. "Three blind mice..." would take on a whole new feeling.

[Photo: Anton Corbijn]

John Hughes is Dead.

So passes the Director of My Adolescence. Terrifying coda: how long before some studio suit gets the bright idea for a reunion piece: The Breakfast Club II: The Brunch Club. You know, where they're all back for their 20th high school reunion, and now, the principal is the chief of police...

Somebody stop me.

I wrote a story!

I am old...

Day Job Report

I was doing my day job on Sunday, attending the worship service at at Church of Christ. A preacher got up and gave a mini-homily before Communion, and had this to say about why the early Christians gathered together: "The central focus of coming together wasn't the sermon, it was the supper. It meant something to them; it needs to mean something to us." Which put me in mind of this bit from H.L. Mencken, recounted recently on Daniel Mitsui's amazing blog, The Lion and the Cardinal:

"Rome indeed has not only preserved the original poetry of Christianity; it has also made capital additions to that poetry - for example, the poetry of the saints, of Mary and of the liturgy itself. A Solemn High Mass is a thousand times as impressive, to a man with any genuine religious sense in him, as the most powerful sermon ever roared under the big top by Presbyterian auctioneer of God. In the face of such overwhelming beauty it is not necessary to belabor the faithful with logic; they are better convinced by letting them alone.

Preaching is not an essential part of the Latin ceremonial. It was very little employed in the early Church, and I am convinced that good effects would flow from abandoning it today, or, at all events, reducing it to a few sentences, more or less formal. In the United States the Latin brethren have been seduced by the example of the Protestants, who commonly transform an act of worship into a puerile intellectual exercise; instead of approaching God in fear and wonder, these Protestants settle back in their pews, cross their legs and listen to an ignoramus try to prove that he is a better theologian than the Pope.

This folly the Romans now slide into. Their clergy begin to grow argumentative, doctrinaire, ridiculous. It is a pity... If they keep on spoiling poetry and spouting ideas, the day will come when some extra-bombastic deacon will astound humanity and insult God by proposing to translate the liturgy into American, that all the faithful may be convinced by it."

So many reasons to love.

"'I Am Trying to Break Your Heart' This is my favorite song from my favorite band. Hands down. There are a lot of things Wilco does well, and they do all of them on this song."

- from Jon Hamm's iTunes playlist.

[Via Goldenfiddlr.]

San Diego Cool?