Midnight Christmas Mass

The Catholic church a few blocks from my house had a real midnight Christmas Mass which was cool.

A huge, 100-foot Christmas tree, a black Catholic church with a white (German?) priest, a piano player that rocked the house, and a soul singer that couldn't hold back at times "Hmmmm." Ha. He did that one time at the end of a song, the congregation laughed, and the priest turned around in a funny, joking reprimand. Regardless, the house rocked like no Mass I'd been to. People were dancing in the aisles during certain of the more passionate songs. The theme "Go Tell It On the Mountain," was one of them. It approached, but didn't reach, my experience with a friend's of mine, Zach, African Methodist Episcopal Church in Des Moines, Iowa. The congregants had tambourines and other instruments (!!), and I think we danced for about 75 to 80 percent of the service (awesome).

The priest himself is an odd character, a showman. When I walked in he was humming, figuratively, with energy, a babe in his arms, as he strolled down the main aisle greeting the congregation. I happened to bump into him in the darkened chapel as I looked for a seat and I said quickly, unconsciously, "Excuse me." And he responded, just as quickly, looking into my eyes, "You're excused." Hmmm. What is this? I know he was pumped up, but it was definitely odd. At the end, in a wonderful, touching moment, he took the same baby, lolling, though awake, and stood amid the congregation and lifted him up while talking about the "innocence of babes, we are all like little Ezekial here" etc. It was beautiful, but strange as well. When he finished, as he was walking back to return the babe to his mother, he said, to a kind-of relieved, though genuine and exuberant, laughter from the congregation, in showman style, "And, no, he's not mine." I had a feeling he was. Ha.

More later.

5 shots fired

hot corner

At Sacramento and Ashby: saw a gunman today running after firing five shots. Crazy. Apparently it's a hot corner.

Best of the Year?

And a related question: Why are these articles free? May be one reason for the sad state (pitiful pay, for the most part, for good work) of American journalism.


Vanity Fair: Beware of Greeks Bearing Bonds by Michael Lewis. Oct. 1, 2010.


The Atlantic: The End of Men by Hanna Rosin. July/August 2010. [A pitiful article, pitiful.]


CNN Money.com: Inside the secret world of Trader Joe's by Beth Kowitt. Aug. 23, 2010.


New York Magazine: The James Franco Project: Is James Franco For Real? by Sam Anderson. July 25, 2010. [No.]

The American Scholar: Solitude and Leadership by William Deresiewicz. Spring 2010.
[A surprisingly good publication. Didn't know about it until grad school. See Priscilla Long's poem published in The American Scholar that won, amazingly, the American Society of Magazine Editors (now Magazine Publishers Association) (they do a yearly industry-wide recognized/standardizing National Magazine Awards) 2006 feature writing award. Beautiful, and if this counts as literary journalism, then the world's wide open - thank god. Priscilla said the article was a blind submission to the magazine - amazing. Hear that, aspirants? (Took her three years though). If you're too interneted-out to click on a link, here is a snippet:

Courtly cows dispense with diphthongs. Chocolate-covered theories crouch in corners. Corners rot uproariously. Refrigerators frig worms. Catastrophe kisses the count of five. A statement digests its over-rehearsed rhinoceros. Bookworms excrete monogamous bunnies. Blue crud excites red ecstasy. All this during the furious sleeping of colorless green ideas.
]

The above list generated from The Sidney Awards in the NYT by David Brooks, via @cristinadaglas.

A Tale of Two Cities

Up Oakland, Down Oakland

Ah, Men and Women

At Philz Coffee. They don't make espresso because it "ruins the coffee." Whatever. So I got a double-filtered something. Good, but no cappuccino.

Next to me, two women (middle-aged, not that it matters) talking about finding the right man.

Depressing, and not in that way, but in the way women deconstruct the man they want. I have a feeling it's universal. We are not tools! (but we are) Don't objectivize us! As my friend Daijo said one time, hilariously, to his wife when we three were casually talking about the subject: "We're people, too!" Ha. You must be laughing out loud. :).

I have a whole theory. It involves lions ...

SOLSTICE

Went on a Solstice (3:38 p.m. PST) hike today into the Berkeley hills. Above the Greek Theater (didn't know it was outside! A show there must be stunning.) And into, and quickly ushered out of, the Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory. Didn't know.

A glorious walk, though. Up the hill, the Bay comes in view (it was clear today; it's clear randomly; rains randomly; whatever). Was listening to a Fresh Air Podcast. Terry Gross is a little prudent (overly), but her intelligence and perception is stunning; she always asks the questions you logically are asking yourself (they're deeper, more subtle, and the talk flows better) than most other interviewers. It's amazing. Try it. She doesn't hold back, too; she'll ask some amazing, personal questions. Unfortunately, most guests are too cool for school on the show. Too level-headed, to self-serious about their work. This one was Sofia Coppola, who just must be one of the most ideal women (wanna hang out/date?), but she was too cool for school, too. But her new film sounds intriguing. Like her Lost in Translation, it looks like it creates the same smooth, languorous aesthetic: a supple, tangible, bubble-ball feel of relationship between two people, moving in, now out, now glancing into/around each other. Father/daughter, lover/friend, man/woman. Hope to see it. Somewhere.

More later.

Rain!

Will you please stop?