Marty Barrett: The Flight of the Mavervorl: April 2007

--4.30.2007--

I'll see you at the Grotto

See also: Kerouac's trail before he hit the road (nytimes)

Labels: lowell, massachusetts

--4.27.2007--

Worthen

Labels: lowell, massachusetts

--4.21.2007--

Turf writing

As you know, I am a racetrack sharpie. Here are some horseracing terms I know:

spavined
canter
hung like a horse
parimutuel
Charles Bukowski

When ACI was inboard, we read the book Seabiscuit to her. Seabiscuit's historic race against War Admiral was held at Santa Anita racetrack, which we visited the other day for dollar hot dogs. We have no doubt that the dollar hot dogs were made from underperforming horses, as this past weekend ended Santa Anita's season.

Seabiscuit's injury and recuperation, we thought, were emblematic of ACI's own early struggle, as she spent the first two weeks of her life in the hospital, pinioned with tubes.

So when we went to Santa Anita we thought it would be a moment of closure.

"Do you remember my reading Seabiscuit to you when you were in the womb?" I asked.

"No," she said, watching the racetrack Zamboni.

"What about all those Beatles songs I played?"

"I don't remember," she said.

"In your opinion," I asked, "Do you think that the trend toward fetal communication is about as useful as talking to a plant, based on the fact that you have no affinity toward Seabiscuit and you have been flinging yourself to the ground since we got here?"

"I believe that to be correct," she said.

Adding insult to injury, I have now been disabused of the notion of the supernatural wisdom of children, as espoused by Stephen King and C.S. Lewis. ACI missed the superfecta and tore up her ticket in a rage. Then she put out her cigar in a jockey's eye.

"Nuts to you," she said.

In related news, the Kentucky Derby and Cinco de Mayo fall on the same day this year. I am going to be making my mint juleps with Mexican sugarcane.

Labels: los angeles, tot

--4.16.2007--

City Lights

This weekend the family and I drove to San Francisco, where I had some bidness (I am in the Slapping Fools business).

Driving to San Francisco from L.A. is preferable to us over flying, because it allows us to stop at various pea and meat resturants along Interstate 5, and pack for three days what other people might pack for world cruises. We spent $160 on gas.

Above is the Poetry Room of City Lights Books, which I've wanted to visit for over twenty years, ever since I first read a Jack Kerouac biography. That makes me 23.

Here is City Lights' Beat Literature section. I bought a book of Jack Kerouac's haikus. The cashier treated me with disdain. "Tourist," he thought. How dare someone be so on the nose as to go to City Lights and buy a Jack Kerouac book? I didn't even buy "A Coney Island of the Mind". That I then bought a postcard and a poster only increased the cashier's contempt, and I must say I don't blame him.

Still, I was forced to punch him in the teeth. "That's how we do things in Lowell," I said.

I once had a pair of leather pants stolen from me in unusual circumstances. As San Francisco stands between the rich cattle land of Central California and the Sea, cows will often stop here in their long march to oblivion. Cows are exactly like the Elves in that way; their Sea-longing is pervasive.

While being fitted for a new pair of pants, I was heartened to see the brand still on the hide.

The woman who is making them said, "I know that hurt."

She also told me that Levis and other brands lie to their customers, using measurements that reduce waist size and increase leg size, fooling people into believing that they are slimmer and taller. Once thinking I was perfectly symmetrical, I was horrified to find that my waist size exceeds my inseam by three inches.

"That's how we do things in Lowell," I said.

--4.11.2007--

All That Jaws premiere May 26

All That Jaws will close the Out of Bounds West Improv Festival on May 26 in Los Angeles. I am very excited about this show, which I wrote with my friend Brian Descheneaux.

We are both fans of the movie Jaws, which led us to read the book by Peter Benchley. We both have lived on the island of Martha's Vineyard, which is the "Amity" of the film.

Brian and I last worked together on a play called "Domestic Disturbance", which premiered in 2004.

Fans of the movie who haven't read the book would be surprised to find that Amity wasn't originally an island, that Mayor Vaughan had some Old World motivation for keeping the beaches open, that Ellen Brody was a former rich girl with a life of her own, and that Chief Brody and Matt Hooper were not the fast friends the movie made of Roy Scheider and Richard Dreyfuss.

We call it a "meta-musical" because we take apart some of the characters and also compare them to their counterparts in either the book or the movie. We make Hooper a supernatural character, question Quint's grasp of history and Ellen Brody's morals, and pay tribute to everything from "Jesus Christ Superstar" to Phil Ochs.

But the biggest change is in The Shark. The book and film don't give him a real reason for his murderous actions, and both are so entertaining that it takes repeated viewings and readings to start wondering why. We give him a reason. He's a little like Lenny in "Of Mice And Men" - a Lenny who can sing.

We have partially cast what will be a staged reading of the musical on May 26, but we'll be sending out an extended casting call in early May for singers comfortable with rock and for musicians comfortable with not getting paid.

See also: All That Jaws site, Out of Bounds West

Labels: "all that jaws", performance

--4.10.2007--

Nomah

I went t'tha Dodgaz game tuhnight. Theyuh wa fawty thousand people thayuh but the place still looked empty, even though it was 8,000 mowah people than could fit in Fenway kid.

I was talkin tuh this kid about Spaceman Bill Lee 'n' Cahlt'n Fisk. I was like, "I was at tha fuckin' ayuhpaht in San Francisco 'n' they gut a section 'a' chayuhs dedicated tuh Eck."

I hadn't seen Nomah Gahciaparrar since he was with the Red Sox, an' it was good to see that his OCD had abated.

Dodga Stadium is awesome, but it's no Fenway. Pahkin' cost 15 bucks, seven Dodga Dogs cost $38.50, fowah beeyaz 'n' two Cokes cost $49, an' ah tickets in left field wuh 40 bucks each chief fuh me 'n' this kid Brian 'n' this Spanish kid Alx 'n' this kid Eric. Altogetha it was about $260 ta watch the Dodgaz stomp the Rockies on theyuh secind home game.

When th' announcah called First Base I was like "FUCKIN' NOMAH" and everybody in the stands stahted wavin' theyuh Dodga dishtowels. It was weeyud.

Labels: boston, los angeles