Driving a long ways this summer, I borrowed a now very overdue CD from the library. It was a collection of Billy Joel's greatest hits, and included The Entertainer. Joel reconciles his job is not as a poet or anything noble. He is an entertainer. While he may be sardonically pointing at the corruption of his industry, the reality remains.
On one hand, I review, and I write. I take both roles seriously. How serious? If you have glimpsed at more than one page of my blogs, or at my website, you know I sing and dance. I don't write dour, thoughtful pieces. I write about humor, romance and childhood crushes. Or I muse about coffee. My goals are not about depth or breadth. They are about love and laughter.
I want traffic to my sites, advertising clicked on, and things purchased through Amazon.com
Christmas is coming, and I secretly hope the world's customer will first click on a link on my blogs before they buy. To do this, I need to entertain you.
I write to entertain. I love to hear someone smiled or thought wistfully of their own first love. I enjoy knowing I made you giggle, or go to Facebook to look up that sweetie from fifth grade. But I am not writing in a vacuum. I, like Joel, know an audience is fickle. My reviews once attracted a nice base of interest. Now? The tides of interest have quieted. Some writers nail down the perfect piece for eternity, like Mark Twain or James Thurber. They are still loved. Those guys are a special breed though, and we work-a-day writers respect their great talent with dreams of emulating them. Popularity fades for most us. Magazines and books have quoted me, and yet, tomorrow, it all starts again. It is hard work.
Tomorrow starts today. The obvious paradox requires to imagine what will be interesting next year. This post will still be up. Will anyone read it once it is buried in the caverns of my archive? Ask me in 2010. Better yet, respond to this post.
It is worth it. I do make a few dollars, and, I love doing it despite how few they are. Even if no one reads my work, would I still do it? Probably not. I did this, though, when I made no money... several years, in fact.
The Entertainer (Live Version)
Billy Joel-The Entertainer
I am the entertainer,
And I know just where I stand:
Another serenader,
And another long-haired band.
Today I am your champion.
I may have won your hearts.
But I know the game,
You will forget my name,
And I won't be here
In another year,
If I don't stay on the charts.
I am the entertainer,
And I've had to pay my price.
The things I did not know at first,
I learned by doin' twice.
Ah, but still they come to haunt me,
Still they want their say.
So I've learned to dance
With a hand in my pants,
And they rub my neck,
And I write 'em a check,
And they go their merry way.
I am the entertainer,
Been all around the world.
I've played all kinds of palaces,
And laid all kinds of girls.
I can't remember faces,
I don't remember names.
Ah, but what the hell,
You know it's just as well.
'Cause after a while
And a thousand miles,
It all becomes the same.
I am the entertainer,
I bring to you my songs.
I'd like to spend a day or two.
I can't stay that long.
No, I've got to meet expenses.
I got to stay in line.
Gotta get those fees
To the agencies.
And I'd love to stay,
But there's bills to pay,
So I just don't have the time.
I am the entertainer,
I come to do my show.
You've heard my latest record,
It's been on the radio.
Ah, it took me years to write it,
They were the best years of my life.
It was a beautiful song.
But it ran too long.
If you're gonna have a hit,
You gotta make it fit--
So they cut it down to 3:05.
I am the entertainer,
The idol of my age.
I make all kinds of money,
When I go on the stage.
Ah, you've seen me in the papers,
I've been in the magazines.
But if I go cold,
I won't get sold.
I'll get put in the back
In the discount rack,
Like another can of beans.
I am the entertainer,
And I know just where I stand:
Another serenader,
And another long-haired band.
Today I am your champion.
I may have won your hearts.
But I know the game,
You will forget my name,
And I won't be here
In another year,
If I don't stay on the charts.
My Favorite Snacks (My Favorite Things parody)
severe apologies to Mary Martin Julie Andrews who both sang the original beautifully, and to Rodgers and Hammerstein, who wrote it.
Cold beer and Cheetos, and pizza and peanuts,
Hot cappuccinos and chocolate til I chuck
Salted fresh pretzels, and sausage with mustard
These are a few of my favorite snacks.
Cream in my coffee and crispy fat bacon
Cookies with chips all through to the edges
Syrup on pancakes dripping with butter
These are a few of my favorite snacks.
Chili on hot dogs, piled high with cheese fries
Cereal straight from the box, next to the couch.
Greasy but tasty foods with plenty of sugar
These are a few of my favorite snacks.
When I'm a dog-tired, when I'm dead broke
When my team loses bad
I simply go to the fridge
grab a favorite snack
and then I don't feel so mad.
Tragedy of Leprosy and Human Scorn Unraveled in Beautifully Told Story
The Pearl Diver
"The Pearl Diver" is a difficult book. Leprosy is not part of most our lives, and much of what we think of may involve Jesus Christ's healing of the 10 lepers in the Gospel of Luke. The book is not about leprosy, but it is the context which drives the story. It is about being confined in flesh, the ever present and ubiquitous human condition.
Imagine a young woman diving with great skill to the ocean floor. The grace, beauty and athleticism just off the shore of a Japanese island alone is an image to carry a reader through each page. Author Jeff Talarigo finds the proper tone and pace so as to begin the story well. A diagnosis of leprosy changes this scene, and the woman quickly moves to a leper colony. Her family cannot handle the shame and disowns her.
Giving context to the story are 'Artifacts', something Talarigo uses as object/symbols. The technique works like a subtitle within a chapter like as with "Artifact Number 0596: A bar of soap." The soap represents cleanliness and purity. Miss Fuji, as the young woman is called at the colony, carves them into shells or fish, and in them briefly finds freedom.
The tone of the book is beautifully dour. It never ebbs and flows like the waves of the ocean dove into, creating emotional exhaustion for readers who want to leave the book uplifted. But leprosy in the 1940s is not a happy disease. The disease itself is hard, as is the social outcasting that packaged with it.
It occasionally leaves a contemplative place and falls into sentimentality, and arcs into cynicism as Miss Fuji reacts against one patient who describes her faith to her. The most tragic portion is when Miss Fuji falls into intolerance, and "wants to rip their skin apart," whenever someone religious talks about what they believe. At once she claims it is OK for some, yet is enraged when patients discuss their beliefs openly.
The world continues on without her, and it will continue when she's gone. She understands this, but isn't satisfied and pursues freedom.
Excellently written, if a bit monotonic, "The Pearl Diver" is more than moralism wrapped in an exotic context. It looks for, and arrives at deliverance.
--Brockeim
Victor Hugo describes butterflies perfectly, so to all the butterfly hunters out there, take hope.
The Genesis of the Butterfly
by Victor Hugo
The dawn is smiling on the dew that covers
The tearful roses; lo, the little lovers
That kiss the buds, and all the flutterings
In jasmine bloom, and privet, of white wings,
That go and come, and fly, and peep and hide,
With muffled music, murmured far and wide.
Ah, the Spring time, when we think of all the lays
That dreamy lovers send to dreamy mays,
Of the fond hearts within a billet bound,
Of all the soft silk paper that pens wound,
The messages of love that mortals write
Filled with intoxication of delight,
Written in April and before the May time
Shredded and flown, playthings for the wind's playtime,
We dream that all white butterflies above,
Who seek through clouds or waters souls to love,
And leave their lady mistress in despair,
To flit to flowers, as kinder and more fair,
Are but torn love-letters, that through the skies
Flutter, and float, and change to butterflies
Selected Poems of Victor Hugo: A Bilingual Edition
Excellent Graphite Never Fades, But Erases Unwanted Old Flames Well
Dixon Ticonderoga Wood-Cased Black-Core #2 Pencils, Soft, Pre-Sharpened, 12 Count, Yellow
At a cafe, I doodled on a newspaper with my Dixon Ticonderoga pencil. As a classic #2, the soft graphite was dark, thick and steady, working well on the dim white recycled newsprint. Against the cafe's smell of burnt coffee rested the subtle sweet smell of wood freshly sharpened.
In walked an extraordinary beauty. How many years had passed since I first saw her here? No, this isn't the time for that. She was here. That mattered. What happened 10 years ago needed to be forgotten. She smiled and called me over. "Nancy," I said. And then, more was said, with more smiles.
Three hours and a loaf of bread later, it was time to go. Nancy grabbed her address book and a pen. She asked me my e-mail address while adjusting her lipstick. She took my pencil and wrote 'Brockeim' in flowing black-gray letters with curves like waves, yet completely legible. She could have used a pen, I noticed. She didn't. I have not heard from her since.
May your Dixon pencils never fade, and the tips never break.
--Brockeim
Coffee Love - A Blog About Coffee Passion
A new blog is up and humming. Its look and feel will change, but the content... all coffee, all the time. Pictures, reviews, videos, quips, even the occasional fact. It will follow my adventures in coffee drinking, sometimes with a tale or two, sometimes looking at... what makes coffee drinkers better than other people.
And for those of who enjoy reading about my romances of days gone by, and my vignettes and reviews, I'll still be here, and my daily Bits of Nonsense will pop of out the grinder almost every work day. My other blogs will continue with coffee-related content, but this one is all about this blessed drink.
Reading this Washington Post article, and noting the comments I have seen through the years on my reviews on Amazon, I thought I should offer a full disclosure statement, subject to change...
I do not get paid for my reviews. I am not a shill. Sometimes (rarely), I get free products, but I don't review them all. I have no obligation (contractually or otherwise) to say nice things in a review. I get a few bucks a year from Google ads and mugs and things I sell, as well as through things purchased from Amazon when visitors click into my links. I never positively review a product I do not personally enjoy. There is no team of reviewers in Brockeimia. Just one.
Brockeim's 6 Million Rank Reviews
My Amazon rank is now touches a new level. Once, under 4,000. Now, 6 million+.
My Deliverer of Meals and Romance: Inexpensive Chopsticks Are Perfect
Disposable Wrapped Chopstick 100 Pairs
The chopsticks' long blond legs reached with grace toward a grain of rice. Chiseled, yet delicate, footless and firm, the chopsticks steered into the now empty bowl where remained but one small remnant of an evening that began and ended well.
Now, all candles snuffed, and the last taste of wine was sipped from my glass, I looked at this grain. I smiled I maneuvered the chopsticks to pick out the final bit. Nancy had gone home, leaving with plans for breakfast at the coast with me tomorrow.
These are fine chopsticks, the kind found in many Chinese restaurants, and will do as asked. You will not go hungry using these utensils. Tonight, as I pressed the two tips together on each side of the brown rice, I thought that this one grain should stay another night. This was no easy task. The rice was still soft, and unwilling to find its way out of the bowl. Why struggle, I thought? The rice is no doubt happier where it is.
The dishes, I decided, and the rice, could wait for tomorrow.
May your meals be as satisfying with these chopsticks, useful for eating rice comfortably.
--Brockeim
Books are good food. Wash them down with coffee. Buy now.
