Something The Now-Late Norman Mailer Said…….

………..here reminded me of a saying I once heard or read: that intellectuals are people who have one idea and struggle with it all of their lives.

“What happens is you become the hat on your own head,” he said. “You’re not having the pleasure of enjoying your own mind the way you used to when you were young, but you have the product of your mind to work with. You know, I ran into Henry Kissinger years ago, and I asked him if he enjoyed the intellectual stimulation of the work, and he said in effect: ‘I am working with the ideas that I formed at Harvard years ago. I haven’t had a real idea since I’ve been on this; I just work with the old ideas.’ I certainly know what he means now — I think there are just so many ideas you can have in your life, and once you have them, you have to develop them.”

"But First, This is PROMOTION On NBC"

“Today” was clearly one for hyprocisy. As usual during the first half-hour, my favorite morning program found a way to promote at least one of its shows on NBC, MSNBC or CNBC. This time, after hawking “Meet The Press” this Sunday (see below post), pretend outrage abounded about Ann Coulter’s latest on-air statement.

Interviewed on his sister network’s morning show, CNBC’s Donny Deutsch talked about how the media keep wanting to talk about her, and that’s why she won’t go away. Right. Thanks for that insight, Donny. Gee, that’s a real “Big Idea” there. He must have a good show. 🙂

“Today” LOVES having Coulter on, and will do so again. Ah, the smell of money being made so early in the morning……… 🙂

Thinking 'Bout August In October

Been thinking a lot about Our Ancestor August Wilson since I heard this on NPR. He made the choice I would make. No question.

I’d love to attain at least one-tenth of his courage. As 40 approaches like a Mack Truck in slow motion, with me unable to get out of the way 🙂 , I’m thinking of new mountains to climb. I get the feeling I should start here.

Wilson’s journey reminded me of my other inspirations. Once apon a time, I was 24 and freshly moved to Maryland. Exhausted trying to get my Master’s while simultaneously trying to keep my print journalism skills sharp, I used to spend weekends in bed, absorbing a collection of masterpieces from the genius of my Newark, N.J. hometown.

(I notice that Wilson listed Baraka and Bearden as influences. I’m glad we share those two.)

Okay, so Wilson started on the Century Cycle while in his early 30s. He finished “Radio Golf,” the last one, at 59. He died two years ago, a few months after his 60th birthday. And Baraka’s what, 73 this month? (Happy Birthday, Sir!) So, at 39, I got time.  🙂

Book Review: "Sentences: The Life Of M.F. Grimm"

SENTENCES: The Life of MF Grimm
By Percy Carey and Ronald Wimberly
Vertigo Books/DC Comics
$19.99, ISBN: 978-1-4012-1046-5

He was thisclose to getting out of The Life for good before the bullets came for his spine. But Percy Carey himself makes it hard to feel sorry for him before and after he was paralyzed from the waist down. Carey grew up in the ‘Hood before it became glamorized in 1990s song and film, and rolled with it simultaneously on his own and its terms. So he simultaneously produced hiphop and pain, strife and glory, street legend status and a criminal record.

So goes “Sentences,” the story of MF Grimm, a.k.a. “The Grimm Reaper,” and his battles using guns on the New York City streets and using words onstage as a rapper with serious potential undercut by tragedy. Carey’s first-person account, published in graphic novel form by DC Comics’ Vertigo imprint, is awash with paradox: shootouts in the afternoon and MC battles that same night; the boring monotony of drug dealing, and the most powerful love mixed in with the most violent hate.

This kind of nonfiction genre’s usual suspects show up—anger, the informant, jail life, redemption, realization, determination. Along the way, the reader gets a bi-coastal idea of how hiphop formed from the days of Run-DMC’s label-approved party jams through MF Doom’s independent moves. Carey was clearly a player: he met Chuck D, once shared a stage with KRS-One, assisted several Death Row Record artists (including Snoop Dogg), and even once interviewed Nas for “Right On!” magazine. As Grimm himself doesn’t fail to point out, he got shot before Corporate Music America learned to pimp that as a marketing move.

Carey relays his tale with a stark power that would make Ernest Hemingway pause and Donald Goines smile. Unfortunately, the wheelchair-bound hiphop artist has no profound thoughts to deliver, only the typical I-couldn’t-resist-the-lure-of-the-streets-so-don’t-let-this-happen-to-you lessons. His memories, regardless, are painful to re-live, even (and perhaps especially) in cartoon form, thanks to Ronald Wimberly. The artist’s superbly realistic but cartoony style, coupled with his brilliant uses of black space, almost produces sound—especially that of the revolving beauty and pain of the author’s personal journey into moral purgatory. Carey seeks to, and succeeds in, understanding his own demons, and he seems glad to be back to square one, ready to make new journeys out of his life.