Debris
«chaque notaire porte en soi les débris d’un poète.»Archive for music
Unleashing my inner Don Draper
Once upon a time, I actually considered a career in advertising. I was contemplating dropping out of grad school, and advertising was among the few fields I could think of where someone with graduate training in sociology might be employable. To my surprise, I got interviews with several of the major agencies in Chicago–Leo Burnett, BBDO, DDB/Nedham–and one of them (I won’t say which) appeared genuinely interested, inviting me for multiple callbacks. In the process, however, I decided that I should stick it out in grad school (though I did ultimately drop out and move from sociology to law).
That experience may help explain my obsession with Don Draper. While I maintain the appropriately critical stance toward advertising and marketing for someone of my political and academic ilk, I do find the ad world–or at least the high modern 1950s & 1960s ad world as depicted in Mad Men–tremendously fascinating and rather alluring in the way many things that are bad for you tend to be.
All of which is a long, and perhaps unnecessary, preface to this video. 3banana Notes is a handy little application that I discovered when I got my Android phone. As part of a promotional campaign, I made this video showing how I used 3banana to plan a recent fishing trip. I had fun putting it together (and it earned me a generous gift card to Amazon, which is nice). And I’m happy to help publicize something that I’ve found genuinely useful.
Long ago it must be, I have a photograph
While rummaging through my box of memories, I found my “Certificate of Registration” from when I lived in England as a graduate student. Under the Immigration Act of 1971, I was required to carry this certificate (really a passport-sized booklet) with me at all times, and produce it on demand by any police or immigration officer. I don’t recall ever being asked to produce it except at the airport when entering the country.
What is especially striking (apart from the amusing fact that the officer who registered me was named “David Hume”) is how utterly old-fashioned the document is. All the information was entered by hand or with a rubber stamp. The photograph is affixed with staples. It looks as though it could just as easily date from 1934 as 1984. No doubt the contemporary equivalent is a small plastic card with a magnetic strip. I can’t imagine that such a thing would stir such memories as this old paper relic.
Just can’t find the time to write my mind the way I want it to read
While looking for something else in the garage, my attention was diverted by a box of old letters and postcards gathering dust on the shelves. Fortunately, for both my productivity and my mental health, I didn’t spend too much time on that diversion. But I did read one letter that brought back bittersweet memories prompting thoughts of roads not taken. With the benefit of hindsight, I suspect that particular fork would have put me on the road to nowhere. But I still think it would have been an interesting ride.
Intact Brain
Muddy Waters Coffee Shop, State Highway 61, Charleston, SC
We saw the band setting up, but unfortunately didn’t have time to hear them play. Young Alfie loved the paintings. And the coffee and snacks were very good.
Calm that wicked wind
Yes, they’re horribly precious hipsters. But I still like Bishop Allen’s music, and this song is quite charming.
(Video from The Holland Project of Reno, NV)
Pontiac: Gone, but not forgotten
Nobody will ever write a song about “Cruisin’ around in my Aztec”.
Everyday is dreamlike
One of my favorite Uncle Tupelo songs, with accompanying images from one of my favorite TV programs.
