Architectural Digest and Elmore Leonard

I receive Rollingstone Magazine. I have not paid for it in years. Periodically they send me a notice informing me that it's my last chance to re-subscribe before delivery will be ceased. They lie. Obviously my potential consumer eyeballs are worth more than I am as a old reader and rocker.

Yesterday I also received a copy of Architectural Digest. It is an exorbitantly expensive magazine with advertisements for things I will never buy. It seems more at home on elegant side tables in upscale New York apartments than in my simple Midwestern cottage. I don't pay for. Like Rollingstone it shows up unsolicited in my the mailbox. Apparently I am on a list somewhere.

And now unto Elmore Leonard's 10 Rules of Writing. Bear with me here, I'll pull this back together eventually. In particular note his summation.

1. Never open a book with weather.
2. Avoid prologues.
3. Never use a verb other than "said" to carry dialogue.
4. Never use an adverb to modify the verb "said”…he admonished gravely.
5. Keep your exclamation points under control. You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose.
6. Never use the words "suddenly" or "all hell broke loose."
7. Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly.
8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters.
9. Don't go into great detail describing places and things.
10. Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.

"My most important rule is one that sums up the 10:  

 If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it."

I have regular online conversations with three other gentlemen. Mainly what we have in common are old bicycles, liberal politics, and an interest in art and design. A couple of them actually designed furniture for a living, whereas my design work was much more pedestrian. This would normally be part of one of our ongoing discussions. For some reason I am moved to throw this one out to the world. I want to make this quite clear. The following is not a value judgment, a right or wrong proclamation. It only applies to myself and my narrow opinion.

Now, let's get Elmore Leonard back into the fray. In furniture and interior design, I like nicely proportioned pieces, particularly Shaker and Craftsman, which feel at home here in the Midwest. But overall, I like an Elmore Leonard approach. I do not like furniture or rooms that look "designed". I think the furniture and rooms in Architectural Digest are ostentatious and just bloody awful.

    
         If it looks designed, start over.

Thank you for your time. Dan Lestrud built-up a beautiful set of wheels for my McLean (gray anodized Gentleman 81s laced to Campy SR hubs with DT Revolutions) and I need to get some rubber on them before the football game starts.

Stem for the Kvale

I received a package today from Vincent Dominguez. A long story. Too long for telling. It's hard to get good photos of chrome (actually nickel). I suppose I should have at least wiped off the fingerprints. I have a lot going on right now so I won't be able to get it on the bike for a month or more. After this long, what's another month?

Addendum: As I was cleaning off my fingerprints, I notice the inside of the clamp. A perfectly sized hole?  :-)

Summertime, 2 or 3 ?

For George, here's a repost of Nov 29, 2009. Personally, I like the much rawer version on this posting from Aug 11, 2011.




One of my favorite songs. I have an LP with a killer version by Vassar Clements. Of these three, I'm giving my vote to Ella and Satch. Hard call - so different.

Guy Forsyth

Regulars will remember that I used to post music every day. And I even wrote things. Well, things happen. Things come up. Life changes. somewhere along the way I swore on my departed mother's soul that I would never post music again. As is my way, I occasionally backslide, and I slip a tune in now and then. Rev Dick posted this on his blog about a week ago. I have been resisting it, but I cannot help myself. This is some really fine music of the Slightly Quirky genera.

The Growlery Ceiling

There are probably only half a dozen people that this will impact and two of them were there helping me put it up. Realistically, I was the helper. We got most of it done yesterday before we sat down for break and broke out the beer. Suddenly it was 7:00, there were a bunch of empty bottles and I reeked of cigar smoke. The only thing I had to do today was make a frame for the overhead lighting. Overall, it looks pretty good. At some point I have to make a decision on the finish, either to seal it or paint it white. It looks pretty good now, but pine will continue to darken. I'll probably look at it for a year or two and my path will be obvious.

Cerchio Ghisallo

The Passing of an Outlaw

Keith finally died. Normally one would not speak ill of the dead, but this one is too good, this was Keith. One of his shirttail relatives has a dossier on Keith which she has been saving for this day to write a book. The title of the book is to be 'It Takes a Community To Raise a Thief'. One could quibble with the title, but everyone knew how he lived. He didn't even fake a real job, everyone, particularly law enforcement, knew that he was a thief by trade, a real professional. He must have been good at it, because he was seldom jailed for any length of time, except for one time when he inadvertently committed a crime that turned out to be a federal offense and he did some prison time. He left behind a bunch of children with assorted women and a number of small buildings scattered around the county were he kept his "stuff". Yeah, he will be missed.

Memorial services for Keith Leslie Register, of Albert Lea, will be held at 2 p.m. Saturday at Bonnerup Funeral Service, Albert Lea. Friends may visit with family one hour before services at the funeral home. Interment will be in Alden Cemetery at a later date. Keith was born on July 10, 1929. He passed away peacefully at Parkview Care Center in Wells on Tuesday, Jan. 24, 2012. He was 82 years old. Keith enjoyed auctions, spending time with and receiving recent photos of his grandchildren, and he lived life to its fullest.

He is survived by his children: Dottie (Steve) Honsey, Kenn (Lori) Register, Gene (Jamie) Register, David (Kathy) Register, Gary Register and special friend, Carmen, Joni Cline, Gail (Daniel) Thorpe, Brian (Amy) Nielsen, Bruce (Jennie) Nielsen and Alan Nielsen and his special friend Tetyana; brothers: Alan (Louise) Peterson and Ross (Fran) Peterson; aunt, Mary Jean Pagenkopf; 23 grandchildren; 16 great-grandchildren; and many nieces and nephews.

He is preceded in death by his mother, Vivian Cadwell; brother, Richard Peterson; and sister-in-law, Denise.

He will be sadly missed by many friends.

The Hogkill Blues

Charlie Paar's from Austin, Minnesota, 20 miles up the road from Albert Lea. Both towns were historically meatpacking towns. Albert Lea's Wilson Packing is long gone, Austin still has Hormel. Both plants had bad strikes, and both towns had the National Guard. This is for Cheri Register and all the others who's fathers worked the kill.

Charlie Paar: One man, one Guitar, one foot in the grave. If you are around any of these places check him out.

The Book Exchange and Joe

When Lorna's relatives stop over, besides coffee, cookies and family gossip, there is often a book exchange. The photo above is the results. Because I don't generally read novels, I don't participate. Nevertheless, I really enjoy being part of a family of avid readers. So yesterday while the women exchanged books, Fritz and I adjourned to the Growlery, to talk smart and drink toasts to the late Joe Koevnig, a man that neither of us ever met. Fritz and I both only knew Joe through his widow, Maude, who lived next door until her passing. By reputation among the old Oakwooders who knew him, Joe was a little rough, but a likable and gregarious man who smoked and drank too much, and was most famous for his extremely foul language. He was also the owner of a couple of my fly rods, my willow creel and that fine hat that hangs on the peg in the Growlery corner. Everything I've ever heard about Joe has been good. So ... "Here's to Joe".  

Miscellaneous For Sat 1/7/12

Yesterday I mentioned that on my little bicycle jaunt around town I stopped at the local hardware store (casual bicycling in January in Minnesota!). I was there to pick up a handful of 5/16-18 x 3/4" carriage bolts. These are the size that fit the threaded plastic knobs I purchased from Amazon. They make a nice chain retainer for a frame without the wheelset. I throw in a big washer on the inside, not that it's necessary, but I think it looks better.

I've been looking for curtains the screen the view from the prying eyes of bicycle thieves. Nothing seemed right, or it cost money. Chuck Schmidt had a half price Christmas special on T-shirts, so I bought one with the Galmozzi logo. The backside has "Galmossi" in large letters across the shoulders. Very cool. Looking for a place to hang it, I draped it over the window. I think I have found my curtains.

Another Adam Turman picture to go with the one that I received for Christmas.

Another Day Shot

The jet-stream is all screwed up. It was warm yesterday, pushing 50F. It's a strange year, minimal snow and high temperatures. I haven't even taken the Coldnago out, though last week I got her road worthy just in case. 

I was online with a group of bicyclists and told them it was too nice and I was logging off to ride my bike. One of them requested pictures of the high points of my ride. Sorry, nothing strange or exotic. I was certainly tempted to take out the Galmozzi for a maiden voyage, but it was wet enough on the street that fenders were nice. I just looped around the lake and stopped at the hardware store for some carriage bolts, then continued on to Nancy's Cafe for a noon breakfast. 

As I was eating, someone came in and I looked up from my newspaper. It was an Oakwooder who was thrown in jail for theft. Apparently he is on a work release program. He stole money from his own family and a friend. A lot of money. The little weasel had a position staked out at the end of the counter so I had to walk by him to get out. I weighed my options as I read the Variety section and I came to the conclusion that I never wanted to to talk to him again. Actually, I didn't like talking to him before the shit hit the fan. He greeted me like he was a lonely man abandoned by everyone that knew him. I joined that group. 

Back on the bike I headed for home, but I was hailed by an old friend. We sat in his living room overlooking the lake shootin' the shit for a couple of hours 'til Lorna called looking for me and I had to ride on home. Another day shot. In the long run this retirement thing is really working out.

A comment on my reflection in the window of Nancy's Cafe:

"Trivers recalls walking down a city street with an attractive young woman, “trying to amuse her,” when he spots “an old man on the other side of her, white hair, ugly, face falling apart, walking poorly, indeed shambling.” Trivers abruptly realizes he is seeing his reflection in a store window: “Real me is seen as ugly me by self-­deceived me.” - Robert Trivers

A Follow Up to Chris Rasmussen

From Everett Jensen, the owner of the gas station.  I remember a dog. Must have been another station. Anyway, we are seeking truth here, not facts. ;-) :

"Fritz sent me the link to your blog and the story about Chris. I tried to answer via the blog and couldn't make it work so I will e-mail.

I really enjoyed it and it sure brought back memories. Chris was a real Dane and had come here when he was about 18. He worked on farms and tried it for himself, but he was one who needed to work for someone else. He was as reliable as the come and honest. He never had much. In fact it was in his late years that he finally got running water into the house. I gave him a new water heater at that time. I was out on a farm service call the morning he died. I came back into town as Jesse Jackson was loading him into his old ambulance.I think it was about 1967. The story was well written, there was no dog. The spelling was Rassmussen. His wife was a sister to James J. Jensen out by the north church.

The old chair in the office had been donated by the Creamery by Lyle Anderson. Chris spent some time in it as well as most of us. I gave the chair to Jack and as far as I know he still has it. Jack worked for me at the same time as Chris and I know he has some fond memories of him too.

The station was a hangout for a lot of young guys in the 60's and 70's. What a good bunch. I don't think there was a bad apple in the bunch and they all turned out good.

Another story that came to mind was the day that Chris told me his brother ( he hadn't seen him in years) was in the hospital in the cities and very ill. I said let me take you up there. He said no he didn't need to go as his brother was a alcoholic and lived as a bum on the street in Mpls. J insisted and he said he would take the bus. Next day when he came to work he said that he had got to the hospital just as they rolled the body out of the room. I said funeral and he said he didn't care to go. Just let them bury him."