Library Letdown

Things are looking up. For one thing, I have a job interview. Not a teaching gig, but it's a job! I'm very excited. I'll tell you all about it after the interview. I am trying not to jinx it too much. But that one phone call propelled me into motion today, making me do like 15 tasks on my to-do list. I even sorted through all of the bills and old mail.

Anyway, on to Library Letdown:

I went to the Free Library of Philadelphia, center city branch, on Monday. It's a gorgeous building:

It is a grand place, built in 1927. Some pics of the interior:

I walked up the grand staircase in the lobby and was in awe:

Maybe because it was a rainy day, or maybe because it's been treated poorly due to budget cuts, but I found the whole building to be pretty depressing. Don't get me wrong, there are tons of books, and it's huge, but once you get into the separate departments, you find that though the architecture is beautiful, it isn't being used to its fullest potential.

Drab green-grey walls and metal bookcases mixed in with older wood bookcases. The saddest part was the art section, which was large but there was no actual art on the walls. In fact, there were no pieces hanging in any of the rooms I went into, even though it was clear there were at one time paintings on the wall. The hooks and nails were all still there.  I thought, Ok, it's lost some of its luster, but maybe the collection makes up for it. It's a big collection, don't get me wrong, but it's hard to find any book in the convoluted system they use.

When you get there, the terminals all direct you to the same web search you can do from home, but you quickly find that when you do a search, you aren't in the library where your book happens to be!

This is the search page for the "classic" search method, which usually yields the basic information you need:

Can you tell where you click "search"? No? Well that's because there is no search button. Once you enter a phrase to search, you click "Author, Title, Subject, etc. Those are the search buttons. 

Then when you get to the book you are searching for, it's hard to figure out where it is because the location of the item is buried under a bunch of other information:

Right there at the bottom under "Holdings' is where you look to see if it is in the branch you are standing in, and guess what? Nine times out of ten it is in another branch. Look how many branches have Dead Until Dark: 

There were two copies held by the Central Library, and neither were available. I get that, it's a popular book, but I found that it can take up to 6 weeks to get it from another library! You can just drive there and pick it up in less time. No information about interlibrary loan was available, and it was hard to find a call number that corresponded to the Library.

Even worse, I walked down to the lobby and saw no signage for a checkout desk. Usually, in any library you walk into, whether they be academic or small public libraries, the circulation desk is clearly indicated. Not so here, I had to go to the "Popular Library" section, where they keep the most popular titles, DVDs, and test reference books. It seemed like a silly, redundant section and was really small. There I found some self-checkout machines and two actual library workers, both dressed in grubby t-shirts and jeans. They looked like they were dressed for moving day and I thought maybe I was in the wrong place. Damn. I could not have gotten away with looking schlubby at the library I worked at. And who would want to!? It may be a low paying city job, but damn if you've given up on looking decent on your way out to work, you should really take inventory. The librarians in the other departments seemed more professional, but why was circulation so laid back?

Two, count 'em, two library weirdos talked to me. I'm a freak-magnet, and libraries are also freak-magnets, so I figured it was par for the course, but these two dudes were heavily strange. One walked by and whispered "looking very cute todayyyyy" so creepily that I thought he must have been singing along to a song, but no, he was looking at me.

Later another one came by as I was doing a search on a catalog computer and said, "Pretty lady, where are you going?" Both guys exhibited crazy, base-head behavior. Smelly, close talkers who I gave the death glare to immediately. The death glare involves a stern face, a raised eyebrow, and the look that I get that says "are you fucking kidding me, asshole?" I gave it a lot in my twenties apparently. It's why I never dated much! It kind of looks like this face that my cat Stevie gives:

One thing I'm learning here, it's to bring out the death glare more often. Sometimes I walk around with it on the default setting. It helps weed out the crazies on the street.

The other day, some random Indian guy came up to me as I was walking to my bus and tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Hi, how are you?" To which I said, "Good?" because who says this if they don't know you other than salespeople, right? He then asked where I was going and if I was Indian. Yes, you read that right, "Where are you going? Are you Indian?" No, sadly, I'm not from India, but the pick-up line used here was superb, no? I told him I was Cuban and he said, "Are you sure?" all quizzically like I'm lying, which if I was, wouldn't you just accept it and leave me alone? I mean, would you really be like, "You are lying, you are in fact Indian and are lying to me. I deserve your time!"WTF!?  And so I said, yes, it's true. And then he was disappointed! Dude, seriously? Not only do you have an Indian girls only plan, but you are so bad at deploying it I feel bad about myself. Am I a loser magnet too? People who know me, don't answer that.

Anyway, I checked out one Mexican cookbook and nothing else because they didn't have anything I needed. Not even reference items that were in the catalog. The librarians were all nice and knowledgeable, but seemed a bit stressed. The budget cuts once threatened to shut down all of Philadelphia's libraries, so I can imagine they don't have time or energy to gussy the place up, but it's so sad to see a lovely building not as shiny and beautiful as it could be. In the very city where the first library opened its doors to the public, no less.

Gangster Films 101 - pt. 2

See, I told you I'd get back to this...

Where did I leave off? Oh yes, Goodfellas.

Ok, so here are my recommendations for the 90s and 2000s, in no particular order:

King of New York

Christopher Walken stars alongside Lawrence Fishburne and Welsey Snipes in this excellent film that fits nicely into the gangster sub-genre known as "return of the big shot." Last time I talked about Key Largo, one of the earliest in the genre. These are movies where a gangster who is past his prime and tries to come back and rise to the top again. In this movie, Frank White comes out of a 25 year sentence and finds his city falling apart due to the baseless morals of those that took his place (coincidentally, the Puerto Ricans, the "Asians" and the Italians). Yes, Frank WHITE comes to take the city back and put in place a gang operation centered around things like investing in hospitals. But Walken plays the character so well, you just gotta love his kooky movements and body language.

Also, two of the ruthless body guards in this movie are hot ladies.

New Jack City (1991)

1991 was a big year for African American filmmakers. More films featuring African American casts and directors came out that year than had during the entire Blaxploitation era. One of them was New Jack City, which took a lot stylistically from the classic gangster films of the past. Instead of rum running, gambling, or cocaine, this film focuses on crack cocaine. One thing I've noticed about films past 1980 is that they tend to give voice to the gangster's perspective in new ways. Before then, a lot of them got lectured by authority figures in the end or during conversations with the cops trying to bring them down. Now, we see a lot of gangsters talking about why they do what they do, the limited chocies they've had, and that they see themselves as no more ruthless or immoral than other businessmen.



Carlito's Way
You gotta love anything with Carlos Guzman. He can play anything. ANYTHING. True, he does usually play Puerto Rican gangsters or Puerto Rican gay dudes. But give him Hamlet and he'd kill it, I bet.

Anyway, did you like Al Pacino as a cuban gangster? Well get ready for Pacino as a Puerto Rican gangster. Carlito Brigante gets out of prison and wants to stay on the right side of the law, but his past life keeps bringing him back in.

Pulp Fiction (1993)

Finally, we're leaving New York for a minute. I saw this in high school, and was so into it I saw it 3 or 4 times in the theater! You're wondering if you should see it since it's been so long and maybe it isn't relevant. See it. It's set in Los Angeles. The story structure is interesting, the characters are fascinating, and I like the way it introduces the gangster in a different way. Sure, we see a mob boss type character for part of the film (a very disturbing part), but it's Jules and Vincent that steal the show for me here. Two gangsters with different world views, one of whom does something gangsters in these movies just doesn't really get to do: find a way out and some kind of redemption.

Reservoir Dogs (1991)

Tarantino has a way with an LA story, and if he'd just not cast himself in every film (and thus annoy me to no end), he'd make far superior movies. This one is a great example of a postmodern gangster film, where the characters reference and understand the gangster genre and have conversations about all kinds of stuff, including the benefits of tipping, and the metaphorical meaning behind Madonna's "Like a Virgin."

Boyz N the Hood

I'm obviously trying to represent for the west coast here. But hell, so many movies are about New York, it's nice to see an examination of Los Angeles gangs, especially during an era where Los Angeles gangs were spiraling out of control. It explores the pressures young men in inner cities deal with, and the cycle of violence that plagues communities that are allowed to decay by an uncaring system.

A good film, but a much more interesting examination of the period, it's history, and it's legacy is Stacy Peralta's documentary Crips and Bloods: Made in America.



American Gangster

Did you not see this? It's good. Very good. Well, I have some problems with the ending, but it's nice to see Frank Lucas represented in the genre. Lucas gets pure heroin shipped into America during the Vietnam War era via military service planes in the coffins of dead soldiers. Yeah. I know. He sees himself as a community hero, as someone who takes care of a community (and his family) when no one else will. And there's this other stuff with Russel Crowe's character that I'm not into, but see it. Did you know that you can't just rub a stain on an alpaca rug, you have to blot? These are cleaning tips I needed to know.

The next three are Scorcese's contributions:

The Departed

Even though Jack Nicholson is hammy and ridiculous, the story and the Damon/DiCaprio dynamic is excellent. Also, see the movie just for Mark Wahlberg's character. He's my personal hero after this. Well, the character is. The real Mark Wahlberg strikes me as kind of a douche. Like, he can't handle it when people refer to "Marky Mark." Dude, you made up that lame ass name! Also, his making fun of Andy Samberg's nose strikes me as quasi-nazi. Speaking of that:



Gets me every time.


Casino (1995)

I don't know why this isn't my favorite movie. It's a gangster film based in Las Vegas. How is not? It may not be my fave, but it's up there for sure. Based on true events centered around the now (sadly) demolished Stardust casino, we get a birds eye view of how the mob functioned in Vegas. Excellent work by De Niro, of course, but I was really fascinated by Sharon Stone, who pulled out all the stops for her character. Scorcese is hit and miss when it comes to female characters, but I think hers was a nuanced, complex role worth seeing.


Gangs of New York (2002)
Saved the best for last, right?

Gangs of New York is set in New York, but it's much earlier than any of the gangster films that came before it. We're talking during the Civil War era, when the city was dominated by mobs and political bosses. Lower Manhattan's "five points" area is at the center of another war, "natives" vs. immigrants. The Natives are led by Bill The Butcher Cutting, played by Daniel Day-Lewis. Amazing role. Lewis left his acting retirement for this role. And he wasn't like hanging out in Miami wondering what he was going to do without filmmaking. He was a cobbler in Italy. Dude just up and started a new life as a cobbler. And he said, damn, I have to play Bill the Butcher. You should see it just for that, but also for the history lesson, the story telling.

Even though it's about 19th century gangsters, it explores what all gangster films do, the limited resources and options available to the poorest people in the nation, and the short-term thinking that usually leads people to get so focused on their own problems that they fail to see how larger forces are shaping their lives. That, more than bad morals, ultimately leads to the gangster's downfall.

Ok, that's enough for now. I know, I missed a bunch of favorites, like Millers Crossing, and I left out films I thought were part of other genres but still contained gangster characters, like heist films (Oceans 11, The Italian Job, etc.). And don't even think to include West Side Story in here.

Got any you wanna add?

Dudes get their own "Cosmo style" list of crap you have to do to be a person

Tom Chiarella has written quite an interesting article on manhood for Esquire that I am totally reprinting here with my hysterical nerdy notes:

A man carries cash. A man looks out for those around him -- woman, friend, stranger. A man can cook eggs. A man can always find something good to watch on television. A man makes things -- a rock wall, a table, the tuition money. Or he rebuilds -- engines, watches, fortunes. He passes along expertise, one man to the next. Know-how survives him. A man fantasizes that kung fu lives deep inside him somewhere. A man is good at his job. Not his work, not his avocation, not his hobby. Not his career. His job. It doesn't matter what his job is, because if a man doesn't like his job, he gets a new one.

The thing about this list, first of all, is I think I'm 3/4 of a man already. And I really, really believe that kung fu lives deep inside me. Years of Xena and Buffy have prepared me. I will rise to the occasion when necessary.

#1. The Communication Style of Man

A man can speak to dogs.

A man listens, and that's how he argues. He crafts opinions. He can pound the table, take the floor. It's not that he must. It's that he can.

A man can look you up and down and figure some things out. Before you say a word, he makes you. From your suitcase, from your watch, from your posture. A man infers.

This is where Chiarello kind of loses me, because traditionally women are trained (via magazines, advice, television) to infer, to read between the lines. To not take things at face value. Are men trained in this as well? I can't really see it. Most guy magazines are about "getting chicks in the sack" and using whatever tricks you have in your arsenal. So is this about what every man would like to be or what real men (whatever that means) are like in the real world? Ponder that!

#2. Man's Ability to Handle Mistakes

A man owns up. That's why Mark McGwire is not a man. A man grasps his mistakes. He lays claim to who he is, and what he was, whether he likes them or not.

I personally would not antagonize Mark McGwire. He's like a giant muscle man with roid rage. Props to Chiarello for taking his life in his own hands, like a man. A suicidal man.

Some mistakes, though, he lets pass if no one notices. Like dropping the steak in the dirt.

A man can tell you he was wrong. That he did wrong. That he planned to. He can tell you when he is lost. He can apologize, even if sometimes it's just to put an end to the bickering.

#3. Man's Basic Instincts

A man does not wither at the thought of dancing. But it is generally to be avoided.

Style -- a man has that. No matter how eccentric that style is, it is uncontrived. It's a set of rules.

Can something be both "uncontrived" and "a set of rules"?

A man loves the human body, the revelation of nakedness. He loves the sight of the pale bosom, the physics of the human skeleton, the alternating current of the flesh. He is thrilled by the wrist and the sight of a bare shoulder. He likes the crease of a bent knee.

Apparently a man is always straight. Go figure.

Maybe he never has, and maybe he never will, but a man figures he can knock someone, somewhere, on his bottom.

Note that he refrained from using "ass" and went for the cutesy "bottom."

A man doesn't point out that he did the dishes.

A man knows how to ridicule.

A man gets the door. Without thinking.

He stops traffic when he must.

A man knows how to lose an afternoon. Playing Grand Theft Auto, driving aimlessly, shooting pool.

He knows how to lose a month, also.

If you replace "playing GTA" with "watching HGTV," "driving aimlessly" with "wandering around a book store" and "shooting pool" with "playing video poker" then I am totally a man.

A man welcomes the coming of age. It frees him. It allows him to assume the upper hand and teaches him when to step aside.

Well yeah! Of course men should welcome the coming of age! It's not like you lose your value in society or become associated with the words "crone" "hag" or at best "cougar."

He understands the basic mechanics of the planet. Or he can close one eye, look up at the sun, and tell you what time of day it is. Or where north is. He can tell you where you might find something to eat or where the fish run. He understands electricity or the internal-combustion engine, the mechanics of flight or how to figure a pitcher's ERA.

I'll maybe give you the "figure a pitcher's ERA" but all the other ones I call bullshit on. 9 times out of 10 you're going to get an answer if you ask someone those questions, but those answers are going to be straight-up lies!

A man does not know everything. He doesn't try. He likes what other men know.

A man knows his tools and how to use them -- just the ones he needs. Knows which saw is for what, how to find the stud, when to use galvanized nails.

A miter saw, incidentally, is the kind that sits on a table, has a circular blade, and is used for cutting at precise angles. Very satisfying saw.

A miter saw is one of my dream purchases. Sigh. So satisfying!

#4. The Paradox of Man

He does not rely on rationalizations or explanations. He doesn't winnow, winnow, winnow until truths can be humbly categorized, or intellectualized, until behavior can be written off with an explanation. He doesn't see himself lost in some great maw of humanity, some grand sweep. That's the liberal thread; it's why men won't line up as liberals.

Oh my god, I think men may have invented this, so whatever.

A man resists formulations, questions belief, embraces ambiguity without making a fetish out of it. A man revisits his beliefs. Continually. That's why men won't forever line up with conservatives, either.

#5. Man the Island

A man is comfortable being alone. Loves being alone, actually. He sleeps.

Or he stands watch. He interrupts trouble. This is the state policeman. This is the poet. Men, both of them.

Just blech. That's all I have for this one.

A man loves driving alone most of all.

Driving alone is something everyone should do. For long stretches. It's meditation in a fast-paced world. Seriously. Drive alone without the radio or music and just relax. Or think. Work out your stuff.

A man watches. Sometimes he goes and sits at an auction knowing he won't spend a dime, witnessing the temptation and the maneuvering of others. Sometimes he stands on the street corner watching stuff. This is not about quietude so much as collection. It is not about meditation so much as considering. A man refracts his vision and gains acuity. This serves him in every way. No one taught him this -- to be quiet, to cipher, to watch. In this way, in these moments, the man is like a zoo animal: both captive and free. You cannot take your eyes off a man when he is like that. You shouldn't. Who knows what he is thinking, who he is, or what he will do next.

I have always hated zoos. What does that say about my feelings towards men, Mr. Chiarella?

Skate or Die No Longer a Choice

Nothing gets you ready for fall like deli slices of people's bodies! Yesterday I went with my friend Trista to see the Body Worlds 3 Exhibit at the California Science Center in Exposition Park. Wow. I was excited to see it because I had heard so much about it. But when I got there, it felt very strange. Not strange like "bodies!" but strange like "these were people." I was remarking to Trista as we were waiting in line that I bet the people who donated their bodies to science had no idea that they would be displayed in positions like "flamenco dancer" or "skateboarder."

I wanted immediately to amend my donor status, as I have the little pink dot on my license. Do you think you can put some restrictions on it? Like, "no plastination positions that involve crouching, bending over, or touching other plastinated bodies. Also, in no way is my body to be displayed in association with defects or diseases (especially relations to being "fat, overweight, large in size, etc.)." I think it's a new priority for me. I was disturbed by the posing, and by the effects used to make them seem more human; for instance, their faces had added skin parts in areas like eyebrows, noses, lips and they had glass eye balls.

It definitely brought them to life, and made me wonder if the learning that was happening around me was worth the questionable dignity of the exhibit. Men's naughty bits were hanging out all over, and ladies breasts, but the vulva was shrouded in secrecy. There were reproductive organ displays, but there was no equivalent to the plastinated penises. No outside lady parts, just uteruses (uteri?), fallopian tubes, and ovaries. Cross sections of obese people and cancerous lungs made for a cautionary tale. So afterwards we immediately had to wash off the ick factor (and the serious B.O. going on amongst the patrons) with a little shopping and eating on Santa Monica's 3rd St. Promenade.

My bounty from the shopping trip was a few bird things:

It was a good gals night out, and I did some learnin' which makes things worthwhile. I have to say, as someone who was kind of weirded out by the exhibit, I can only imagine the dinner discussions that followed amongst the families that were there. There were infants, toddlers, little kids, and tweens there. I probably wouldn't have brought my kid to horror central. My drams last night were not about bodies, though. I dreamt that Jason Statham and I were in a literature class together and he asked me out on a date even though he knew I was married. What is THAT about?