February 25: Guns of August, Matt Gavin Frank, "The Mad Feast," Artichoke Dip

Sounds fell all about me; I vibrated like still water ruffed by wind.  Cicadas--which Donald E. Carr calls "the guns of August"--were out in full force.  Their stridulations mounted over the meadow and echoed from the rim of cliffs, filling the air with a plaintive, mysterious urgency.  I had heard them begin at twilight, and was struck with the way they actually do "start up," like an out-of-practice orchestra, creaking and grinding and all out of synch.  It had sounded like someone playing a cello with a wide-toothed comb.  The frogs added their unlocatable notes, which always seem to me to be so arbitrary and anarchistic, and crickets piped in, calling their own tune which they have been calling since the time of Pliny, who noted bluntly of the cricket, it "never ceaseth all night long to creak very shrill."

Noise.  White and otherwise.  Cacophony.  Stridulations.  Piping.  Creaking and grinding.  Dillard writes about all the sounds of nature.  Cicadas and frogs and crickets.  Noise is constant, even in the quietest of places.  Dillard is lying in a sleeping bag in the woods, staring up through trees at the stars, and she's listening to this tiny symphony

This evening, the members of my book club convened at my house.  The book:  The Mad Feast.  The author:  Matthew Gavin Frank.  It's a challenging book that avoids labels.  It's not a cookbook, even though it contains recipes.  It's not a travel book, even though it spans all 50 of the United States.  Matt calls it an "artifact," which makes it sound like a loom from colonial Boston. 

Matt is a friend of mine, a colleague from the university, and he graciously joined us for our little soiree.  The discussion ranged far and wide.  We talked about the book.  And our favorite meal (rack of lamb with mint jelly for me).  Our least favorite food (liver--Matt says he's going to make me like liver somehow).  We discussed the poet John Ashberry and pigeons.  Sea urchin and beaver tail. 

All this may strike you as a bit discordant, like a roomful of violins playing different tunes at the same time.  It wasn't.  Like Dillard zipped up in her sleeping bag, listening to the chatter of insect and amphibian, our book club conversation somehow made sense in the context of Matt's book.  We verbally wrestled, and the night (seasoned with artichoke dip and lasagna) sounded beautiful.

For the record, I love The Mad Feast, in all its weirdness.  It's a book that stretches me as a reader and person.  Sure it can be frustrating (or "annoying" as one of the book club members said), but it's that quality that makes it irresistible.  For me, it really is like a song that you have to learn to love (something by Tom Waits or Neil Young--singers with confounding voices that stretch the definition of music).

So, it was a good gathering with good food and good noise (lots of conversation and laughter and stories).

Saint Marty is full tonight.  He had a mad feast with his friends.

Everyone's a critic . . .

June 25: An Explanation

Sorry, guys and gals, the day has officially gotten away from me.  I had way too much to do tonight to prepare for my book club gathering tomorrow night.  I had to clean the bathroom and create a discussion guide.  My wife made the artichoke dip for me, thank the Lord.

It certainly didn't help that I also had to help a friend with her hanging baskets.  (Flower baskets!  Get your minds out of the gutter!)  And I had to practice with my church praise band for a little while.

My mind is toast, and it's only Wednesday.  I'm going to be in some serious trouble by Friday night.

Saint Marty needs a drink (or 20).

I said get your minds out of the gutter!

February 14: Red Lobster and Chocolate

It has been a good Valentine's Day.  My wife came down to the medical office where I work for lunch, and she brought take-out from Red Lobster.  We didn't even have to pay for it.  A friend gave us a $25 gift certificate for Christmas, so I got my lobster pizza for free.

And, of course, I've had my share of chocolate.  My coworker bought some Valentine M&Ms, and she shared.  Pieces of pink and white, chocolate-filled love.  Oh, yeah, we also worked, but it was really all about the candy for me.  Another coworker shared her chocolate-dipped pretzels.  All I need now is a bowl of Parmesan artichoke dip, and my day will be complete.

I'm about ready to head off to class to teach.  We're finishing off Pulp Fiction and starting Singin' in the Rain.  I truly love teaching this film class.  Who else, besides critics like Roger Ebert and David Ansen, gets paid to talk about movies?  This year of teaching has been great.  Movies and more movies.  I even had an excuse to show It's a Wonderful Life to my students.  These two semesters have been like Valentines from the English Department Head.

Yes, Saint Marty is feeling very loved right now.

Happy Valentine's Day!