Movies and marriage

I’m writing much of this early Sunday morning, after getting in late, returning from the Maine Independent Film Festival (MIFF), in Waterville. Mary and I drove north (a trek I now make weekly, or more often in my job) to see two late day movies showing as part of this year’s festival, the 12th straight year that Waterville transforms from sleepy Mid-Maine community, into something much more common of larger, more urban locales.

Last year was our first time attending, when we saw the festival’s closing film, the wonderfully quirky, Skills Like These, which debuted in Waterville.

Saturday, we arrived a bit early for our 6:15 movie, with plans to walk around downtown. As has been common for much of the summer thus far, an alternate activity was required because of steady rain. Instead, we stopped by the Elm City Plaza and JC Penney, as I needed a few items for work, namely short-sleeve dress shirts.

The Elm City Plaza is typical of many of the strip malls/shopping centers erected during the economic development boom of the 1960s/70s. This was about the time that Maine’s downtowns were vacated, and shopping was dispensed from the pedestrian-friendly, densely packed city centers (in Portland, Bangor, Lewiston, and Waterville), sprawling outward to multi-lane ribbons of asphalt on the outskirts of town.

As strip malls go, at least Elm City has some interesting diversions beyond JC Penney and K-Mart (although, the Big K has become a “go to” place to find some reasonably-priced casual clothing for me), like the large and well-stocked Mr. Paperback, as well as Maine’s musical oasis for all things recorded, BullMooose. Unfortunately, both Waterville exits of I-95 could be included in any critique of sprawl development—gray, lacking in personality, and the antithesis of what Shannon Haines and the folks at Waterville Main Street are trying to promote—a vibrant downtown core of locally-owned businesses. Haines, by the way, also serves as MIFF’s director.

Movies have always been an important intersection in my relationship with Mary. This was actually our anniversary weekend, with MIFF being part of our celebration of 27 years together. While Friday night found us in the Old Port in downtown Portland, experiencing an incredible dinner at The Grill Room, late afternoon Waterville was an entirely different experience—kind of retro, replete with Camaros and clothing styles and hairstyles reminding us of the mid-1980s.

Our opening cinematic choice found us at the Railroad Square Cinema, a place we’ve seen some outstanding movies in the past. The first movie, a French film, 35 Shots of Rum, was directed by noted director, Clair Denis. Denis is considered by many to be one of the world’s top working directors. This film was focused on the story of a Paris family, a black single father (Lionel, played by Alex Descas), and his bi-racial daughter (Joséphine, played by Mati Diop).

[Mati Diop and Alex Descas in 35 Shots of Rum]

35 Shots of Rum is a movie about parents and their children, and the conflict that comes from relinquishing what you spend much of your early life putting in place. Lionel recognizes that the day is coming when his daughter must (and should) assert her independence, and the consequent tension this engenders.

Unlike most Hollywood films, this one intimates subtleties, rather than hitting you between the eyes with literalness.

One thing that struck me about Denis’ film was her depiction of working class people and minorities, which some critics have commented on, particularly in her positive depiction of blacks in French film, which apparently isn’t always the case.

The working class aspect of the film that interested me was the ordinariness of the lives of the characters. Work, and Lionel’s occupation as a train driver, is something often missing in American film, especially the realities of its everyday sameness. Regardless of the work that most of us in the middle or even working classes perform, there is ubiquitous daily dullness and an element that attempts to crush any creativity, or originality connected with work. As much as I strive to maintain a life devoted to intellectual pursuits, and my writing outside of working hours, the 8 to 5 part of my day intrudes on all other aspects. Furthermore, most of the people that I come into contact with in my daily work routine have no understanding of the movies I watch, the books I read, and almost never connect with my writing, whether its books I’ve written, or my regular blogging that I do for work, or personal edification.

For Mary and I, our time away from work allows us to reestablish some kind of personal connection, as so much of the Monday through Friday humdrum pushes us apart, even though work allows us to pay our bills, keep a roof over our head, and drive vehicles that don’t require regular visits to the garage to keep going.

Between movies, I was jonesing for a cup of coffee, so we walked the half mile into downtown, to grab a coffee at Jorgensen’s, a local coffee emporium. Unfortunately, the shop had closed at 6:00 pm, on a Saturday night. As much as I have been critical of big box stores, and chain establishments, this incident illustrates why people forego local shops, and hit up the large corporate outlets—they know they’ll have what they want, when they want it, and often at a price much lower than the local establishment. I don’t plan on visiting Wal-Mart anytime in the near future, but the pickings in downtown Waterville were slim to none for us. As a result, we walked back up the pedestrian-unfriendly Main Street, and hit up the local convenience mart across Main Street from Railroad Square for my cup of joe to fuel me for the 9:00 pm movie, Cloud 9 (Wolke Neun), a German film, directed by Andreas Dresen.

[Ursula Werner and Hosrt Westphal in Cloud 9]

This film was another one that was attractive when reading through the MIFF list of films. A rare movie that deals with aging, sex between people in their 60s and 70s, and the fallout that accompanies Inge (Ursula Weiner), a part-time seamstress when she meets and falls in love with an older man, 76-year-old Karl (Horst Westphal).

Another foreign film that cuts through so much of the mythology and inability to tackle the issues of real life that is characteristic of much of standard Hollywood fare.

Once more, MIFF provided two movie lovers with some provocative filmmaking, and a reason to leave the house and drive an hour to do so.

Hyping Clay Buchholz

Clay Buchholz dazzled Boston baseball fans in 2007 when he pitched a no-hitter in only his second major league start. Since then, the Red Sox right-hander has been searching for the late season consistency he exhibited (3-1, 1.59 ERA in 3 starts), and with it, the opportunity to pitch again in the big leagues.

The pitcher Sox fans watched in 2008 (2-9, 6.75 ERA in 15 starts) looked lost on the mound. His command was gone, but more importantly, so was the confidence and swagger that made him look like a can't miss front of the rotation pitcher, in 2007.

Last night, Buchholz pitched decently when rewarded with a spot start, after an impressive first half at AAA Pawtucket (7-2, 2.36 ERA in 16 starts). I say "decent" because his 5 2/3 innings, 4 hits, one run, with 3 walks and 3 Ks doesn't even qualify as a quality start. Yet, reading the write ups in The Globe and at MLB.com, this inconsistent big league pitcher is now "major league ready" on the basis of a start that showed flashes of the 2007 Buchholz, but also demonstrated to me that his command wasn't as sharp as I was looking for, as evidenced by 100+ pitches by the middle of the sixth. On that basis, color me unimpressed.

The stuff he had last night might make him tough against AAA hitters (which is basically what Toronto's lineup was after the five spot in the order), but put that same stuff up against a more patient club with tough outs 1-9 (think Yankees and TB Rays), and I'm not so sure the baseball scribes (hacks?) would be lauding last night's performance.

Unlike most of RSN this morning, I'm still not sold on Buchholz. I think that arm-wise, he's got real major league talent, like many pitchers with 90+ stuff. What concerns me about CB is what beats in his chest and the location of the gray matter north of that big league arm. What I saw again last night was a pitcher that, if given enough rope (a regular rotation spot), will end up hanging himself again.

Right now, Buchholz has value that could be packaged in a deal before the deadline that might bring in a veteran starter that's proven, and maybe a quality middle infielder. What might be even better is Epstein and Co. putting together something bigger and entering the Roy Halladay sweepstakes.

Finding a healthy weight

It’s common for the American male, particularly former athletes, to gain weight and “go to seed” when they hit 40.

At 47, I’m about a decade into my downhill deterioration. Actually, my real weight gain began when I was in my mid-30s, just after I stopped playing semi-pro baseball. My playing weight gradually began creeping upwards, first five pounds, then 10, and before I knew it, I was a good 25 pounds above my “fighting” weight.

One thing I’ve gotten pretty good at over the years is embracing some weird diet, which always produced rapid shedding pounds—kind of like instant dieting gratification. I’ve done time under the care of the good Dr. Atkins and other variations on the low-carb theme. I’d lose 25 and even 30 pounds over several months, only to see the scale creep upward again a year or 18 months later.

About a month ago, I climbed on the scale and saw my weight approaching my all time high for me and thought, “I’ve got to do something about this.” My clothes felt tight, and I could catch a look at myself in windows or mirrors and I didn’t think I looked that great. In fact, the last time I was interviewed on television for my job, I said to my wife when we watched the clip, “look at that fat load,” the fat load being me.

I decided to start by determining what my caloric intake should be just to maintain my weight, without gaining anymore poundage. I located a formula online. Afterwards, I determined what amount of calories I’d need to reduce that intake to begin losing weight. Losing weight isn’t rocket science, really. It’s simply burning more calories than you consume. In America, land of junk food, huge portions, and shoveling food into our faces while watching television, that’s often easier to recognize than it is to carry out.

During this period of inquiry three weeks ago, I happened upon a great website developed by FitDay™. Their free site lets me track my food intake, while keeping a journal, as well at tracking my fitness activities, and even my moods.

For me, coming to an awareness of just how much I was eating was the key. Even though I had been biking regularly since May, I was still consuming more calories most days than I was burning off. Once I recognized this important equation and began making adjustments, I’ve started taking weight off, to the tune of 15 pounds over the past three weeks.

While the number of pounds I’ve lost in a short period is more than most weight loss sites (including FitDay™) recommend, for me, I’m receiving a sufficient number of calories, even with the reduction I’ve factored into my daily allotment.

My goal is to get down about 20-25 pounds by the fall, and if my first three weeks are an indication, it will certainly be possible.

Given that my weight has see-sawed back and forth over the past decade, what feels different this time is that I’m not on some strange cheese, pepperoni, and egg diet, or eating foods to match the ebb and flow of the tides. I’m eating healthy foods, in moderation, with variety factored in, plus I’ve introduced regular periods of activities like biking and walking on the treadmill (on rainy days).

What feels remarkably different this time is that my energy level is high, as I’m biking at least four times per week, about an hour or more per ride. Additionally, I’m not hungry all the time.

Only time will tell if this new routine is sustainable. I’m encouraged three weeks in, however.

Random thoughts headed into ASB

All 30 major league teams head into their final series this weekend before most of the players get a welcome break from the daily grind of MLB.

The All-Star break, or “the break” in baseball vernacular, signifies a stoppage in activity in the summer’s 162-game drumbeat. For 66 players, supposedly the best in the game as certified by the fans (which right there makes it suspect), they’ll head to St. Louis and be part of what has become more media circus than game, with the actual All Star tilt becoming secondary to things like the Home Run Derby, media day, and many other activities brought to you by your favorite corporate sponsor.

The All-Star Break is often viewed by those not selected, as a chance to get away from the routine that consumes players’ lives for eight months of the year. It allows them to return home, particularly for players with families that may not live close to where they are stationed for the summer. Given that free agency has turned most players into well-compensated mercenaries with a glove and bat, it isn’t always the case that families move to this year’s city of choice, particularly if they have children in school.

It’s all part of the makeup of America’s pastime, in the early days of the 21st century.

***
Listening to last night’s Red Sox game, announcer Joe Castiglione mentioned between pitches that the Sox hurler on the hill, Brad Penny, “is headed home to Oklahoma during ‘The Break’ to visit family.”

The All-Star break provides a symbolic split in the 162-game campaign, if not an exactly even split between first and second halves of the season. A player, like a David Ortiz, who has struggled much of the first half (although he’s looked more like the “old” Ortiz of late inning fame, of late) can often redeem his season with a big second half. In fact, for those stat freaks out there, a group I’m happy to claim an affinity with, one can get a sense of what a players final stats will be. For instance, Albert Pujols, sitting on 31 homers with three more games before the All-Star game, has a legitimate chance to break the coveted 60-homer plateau.

Speaking of Ortiz, how about his recent rebirth at the plate? While I had some real concerns about one of the game’s good people, I wasn’t ready to kick him to the curb like so many fair weather fans that seem to make up a significant portion of the front runners that comprise RSN in 2009. Along with talk radio blowhards insisting that the Red Sox had to go out and get a left-handed bat, Ortiz had become a major topic on sports call-in shows, particularly when he had one home run at the end of May.

June saw him start to swat some big flies and after homering in back-to-back games the past two nights, his 11 home runs and 44 RBI (although his .224 BA is still well below his career average) are respectable enough and given a solid second half, will surpass Big Papi’s power numbers from last year (23, 89).

***
With his smallish frame, moppy hair, and boyish appearance, the Giants Tim Lincecum looks like he should be playing lead guitar in an emo band. Instead, he’s one of baseball’s top pitchers, and may qualify as having the “dirtiest” of stuff on the mound.

Last night, Lincecum toyed with a no-hitter, taking one into the seventh, before Tony Gwynne’s leadoff single ended the bid. Before the Padres were able to string together an offensive spurt knocking Lincecum from the game, the hard-throwing righty extended his scoreless streak to 29 innings, the third longest in the team’s history since moving to the west coast in 1958. Gaylord Perry owns the two longest streaks, 40 in 1967 and 39 in '70.

Lincecum, known as “the freak,” for his ability to throw in the high 90s, despite being a mere 5’11”, and weighing only 170 pounds, averages better than a strikeout an inning over his career, including 140 in his 129 innings thus far, in 2009.

I’m a late follower of Lincecum, partly due to his pitching primarily on the west coast. He caught my eye with a couple of double digit strikeout games back in April, and I’ve been following his starts on MLB.com since.

Look for him to the NL starter on Tuesday night. Unfortunately, given the current one inning and out protocol (versus at least three innings in recent memory) for pitchers, including the starters, America will only get a glimpse of the “kid next door.”

***
Boston’s Tim Wakefield becomes the first knuckleballer to be selected for an All-Star game since the Texas Rangers’ Charlie Hough pitched in the 1986 contest. At 42, Wakefield is making his very first All-Star appearance, in his 17th season in the major leagues.

Anybody that follows the game and knows anything about Wakefield’s career can’t be anything but thrilled for him.

Back in 1994, on a trip to Niagara Falls, we stopped at Pilot Stadium in Buffalo, New York, to catch a AAA game between the Buffalo Bisons and the Nashville Sounds. Pitching that August night, with a record of 5-13, was a 27-year-old Tim Wakefield, in the minors, trying to regain his touch and find a way back to the bigs.

He would, as the Red Sox signed him in 1995, and he’s been as reliable as a favorite pair of shoes ever since. Whatever the Sox have asked him to do, Wakefield has delivered.

Continuing to defy the laws of physics, as well as stave off the ravages that come with age in a game for the younger set, Wakefield has set a career best of 11 wins at the All-Star break, warranting his selection by AL manager Joe Maddon.

But Maddon said Wakefield's selection was in part due to the career body of work from a pitcher who is his generation's master of the game's most vexing pitch.

"I just felt that getting him on the team was the right thing to do," Maddon said.

Only Hall of Famer Satchel Paige was older when he was named an All-Star for the first time — for the 1952 game held the day after his 46th birthday — but Paige wasn't eligible until he was 42, when he came to big leagues in 1948, the year after Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in Major League Baseball.

I’ve lost interest in the All-Star format the past few seasons, but I may just stay with this year’s game, if only to see Wakefield match his floater up against the NL’s best.

Interdependence Day

I was 14 when America celebrated its Bicentennial in 1976. That was 33 years ago and the country I live in has changed dramatically.

My first book (still available, here and here) tried to capture aspects of small town life, using baseball as the vehicle to represent community life as it existed for a period of three decades, between the close of WWII, and up until the Bicentennial. In the "culture of the immediate" that we live in, 30 years is ancient history, and I'm personally aware of how irrelevant history has become.

When I write about the changes that I see, I'm moving beyond the theoretical. It's also much more than just a nostalgic longing for the past. It represents a 60 year study that's significantly more involved than probably 95 percent of living Americans have ever undertaken. Basically, I know a little about what I'm talking about.

What concerns me is how 95 percent of the U.S. population is oblivious to clear warning signs and red flags that are much more complex than what right-wing talk radio reveals, as well as most of what passes for "liberal" opinion on the events of the day. To be quite blunt, who the fuck cares that a freak like Michael Jackson is dead? To answer my own crass rhetorical question, a good chunk of America, entranced by pop culture, that's who.

Despite the wealth of information, and the plethora of well-written articles available via the interwebs, most Americans are woefully deficient when it comes to possessing the sophistication necessary to process this information objectively.

Two cases in point that are worth reflecting on in lieu of the subject of true independence (interdependence) that is merely symbolic on this July 4.

Morris Berman, at his intellectually informative blog, Dark Ages America, has a recent post about tribal consciousness. What I found pertinent in this longish post is the part of how information, particularly the "accepted" kind is transmitted. Berman delves into meme theory, and also, Mannheim's paradox, and how information is transmitted. His somewhat depressing, but I think, realistic view is that society is not evolving in a rational manner, but in a tribal way. As always at Berman's site, don't neglect reading down through the comments as Berman engages personally with his readers, which is why I keep coming back.

Another writer that I continue to respect and have mentioned several times before, is Chris Hedges, who posts regularly at Truthdig.

He discusses that merely knowing truth isn't enough to change the outcome of the game, as it is currently rigged. He begins his June 29th piece with this opening paragraph:

The ability of the corporate state to pacify the country by extending credit and providing cheap manufactured goods to the masses is gone. The pernicious idea that democracy lies in the choice between competing brands and the freedom to accumulate vast sums of personal wealth at the expense of others has collapsed. The conflation of freedom with the free market has been exposed as a sham. The travails of the poor are rapidly becoming the travails of the middle class, especially as unemployment insurance runs out and people get a taste of Bill Clinton’s draconian welfare reform. And class warfare, once buried under the happy illusion that we were all going to enter an age of prosperity with unfettered capitalism, is returning with a vengeance.

Like Berman, Hedges recognizes that our current world is one where the "irrational has become the rational," as Kafka once pointed out.

That's a problem, and one that doesn't have a simple solution.

If this was a radio show, I'd close out today's broadcast with the Grateful Dead's "US Blues."