This issue of Prima Materia, which features OTBKB friend, Nancy Graham, was reviewed very favorably in Chronogram by Pauline Uchmanowicz. Nancy’s poignant short fiction, "This House is Talking to You,"  is about a woman’s first walk inside a huge Victorian house she is thinking of buying with the ailing owner who, sadly, must let go of the house he loves.

An excerpt from the review: Founded four years ago by Brent Robison to showcase new fiction by Hudson Valley writers, the literary journal Prima Materia‘s
latest volume includes poetry and memoir. Its brief and fleeting 32
selections progress like a slide show, projecting images of family,
home, landscape, and travel onto the pages. A fertile travelogue
emerges overall, though limited space allotted the prose pieces (some
excerpted from larger projects) makes the journey read like closely
spaced exit signs along a toll road. While Robison’s inclusiveness (24
local authors in all) is commendable, one might hope for fewer but more
expansive pieces in future issues. Still, Speeding Through the Night achieves a consistent sensibility, with several selections worth mining for their deftness and lyricism.

A young family goes house hunting in Nancy Graham’s "This House Is
Talking to You," a fine-spun story starring an aging seller who is
deeply invested in the hundred-year-old historic landmark with which he
must part. "There were large rooms with wide openings, gilt-edged
mirrors over fireplaces of twin parlors, bookcases framed by deep-set
windows for nestling on the margin between outside and in," one of the
would-be buyers notices.

Houses also appear in Wendy Klein’s arresting
memoir excerpt "Snapshots," composed of brief, interconnected frames
that amplify a quarter-century, beginning in 1963. "In a big white
house with hidden passageways and too many bedrooms, a black maid
serves us scrambled eggs on sunny mornings," Klein writes of childhood,
games of hide-and-seek foreshadowing secrets that over time splinter
and divide the family.

Around here we sometimes call the Mojo the Mojuah – giving it a fancy French pronounciation like we do when we say Targe (I need an accent over the e for the Francais) instead of Target.

Mo-Jew-ah

So today is the big re-opening day of the Mojuah. And it’s a big deal for those of us on Third Street who use the Mojuah for our daily coffee, our afterschool treats, a meeting place as in "I’ll meet you at the Mojo and then we’ll go from there…"

We are creatures of habit and we don’t like it when our favorite little routines change. So today we will find out what’s going on.

I appreciate Corey responding to OTBKB and setting things straight. Information is power, and those of us on Third Street felt a little out of the loop about our morning coffee shop.

So thanks, Corey, for clearing the air. I can’t wait to see what you’ve got goin’ in there.

GOOD LUCK!

We stayed until the very last credit of Brokeback Mountain just to hear Rufus Wainwright sing "The Maker Makes" and to savor the the emotion of a very powerful film.

Hepcat thought the film captured that part of the country (Wyoming) like nothing he’s ever seen. The slowed-down time, the scale of the landscape, the affect of the people. It reminded him of Avedon’s photographic masterpiece, "West."

I loved the pace of the film. Especially in the beginning. It really put me into a very western mood. The lack of language, the physicality of the sheep rancher’s life, the brutal weather, the connection with the natural world…

It made the early sexual scenes all the more powerful. I was overtaken with the sex scenes and found them incredibly arousing. Sex between Innis and Jack in the tent that first time was just incredible – I’d never been as turned on by images of sex between men.

Of course seeing those me – Jake and Heath. It was, for me, a stimulating voyeurism that took my breath away.

Heath Leger as Innis is unspeakably wonderful – it is a performance where even a twitch could be construed as over-acting. Everything is communicated in the most subtle, phsyical of ways. I found myself watching his face, his posture, his walk, his eyes.

There’s so much rage within him and masked-over passion. When he bangs his head against the wall after that first summer in Brokeback Mountain – it is believably the only way this character knows how to express inner pain.

Innis’ relationship with his daughters is heartfelt and vivid – even though it is largely unspoken.

Jake G. is an amazing and, for me, a more recognizable character. He has passion and ambition within him. He wants to love openly and his desire to come out and live on a ranch with the man he loves is powerful and moving.

The women too were amazing. Alma’s silent suffering is brutal. She’s a compelling person locked into a tough rural life in the middle of nowhere. Ultimately, she leaves him. But she never stops loving Innis or feeling betrayed by his lies.

For me, the scenes after Brokeback Mountain didn’t have the power of those summer scenes – but it did convey and even create the longing to see those two men back together again. The lives they were both living away from one another made you long for the passion of those scenes n the tent. But nothing in the rest of the film ever measured up to the beginning – nor did anything in the lives of those men ever measure up.

The film set out to do some very difficult things: portray the lives of people who are largely inarticulate and withheld. As a portrait of longing for the unattainable, so  much of the film had to have a kind of flatness in order to convey what was missing.

In the end, Brokeback is film about absence – of words, of love, of sex, of truth. Like a negative space, the characters inhabit a world that lacks even the most basic human needs: to o be truthful about our selves and to live our lives expressing the passion that glows within.

Here’s a post I wrote last year after seeing Capathia Jenkins and Louis Rosen perform at Joe’s Pub.

ON MARCH 26th, 2006 at 7 p.m., the two are doing a benefit performance at The Old Stone House, a Park Slope museum and cultural venue. For reservations:  (Tickets are $40 in advance,  $50 at the door, e-mail  

He’s
in our midst. He looks just like everyone else. Drops his kid off at PS
321 and drinks coffee in the morning; he helps out with PTA activities
and does the Times’ crossword puzzle at the same table every day at
Starbucks.

Bu this man has another identity too. He’s a prodigiously talented
composer and songwriter. His work will make you swoon, laugh, even cry.
Just like I did. Lifted out of the every day, his work delivered me to
the worlds of Maya Angelou, Langston Hughes, and a white, Jewish guy
from the Southside of Chicago.

His name is Louis Rosen. And Sunday night at Joe’s Pub, Capathia
Jenkens, sang, among other things, a song-cycle he created based on the
sassy eloquence of Maya Angelou’s poetry. Rosen uses a variety of song
styles to bring the poet’s words to life – blues, jazz, musical
theater, classical – with suprising leaps of melody and harmony. His
music brings out the poet’s voice in a  way that enhances and
enthralls.

Vocalist Capathia Jenkins is a discovery. Like Rosen, she deserves
to be a star. The songs, which were created expressly for her
multi-timbered voice, give life to Angelou’s women. And Capathia
becomes these characters in an instant – her stance, the way she holds
her microphone or moves her hand. In tiny theatrical ways, she embodies
these phenomenal women and stirs the room with virtuousic blues in a
deep alto-to-high soprano range. Her earthy emotionality belies a
sophisticated vocal control.

What a pair. Louis and Capathia: a handsome, skinny guy from
Chicago’s Southside and a ravishing, voluptuous black woman with a
voice that makes you laugh and cry.

The audience at Joe’s Pub was in their thrall Sunday night. Louis on
the piano singing an autobiographical song about growing up. Capathia
endearing herself to the crowd while taking us on a journey through a
universe of identities.

The room took them in with all the cabaret-attention it could
muster. Waitresses served, people ate from plates of delicious food,
drinks were a-plenty, but the audience was rapt and they applauded
ferociously after every song-poem, honored to be among the few to see
what was probably the best show in town.

Monday morning I saw Louis in the Slope but I didn’t say hello.
Feeling a little awed, a little shy, I watched to see if there was a
spring in his step after such a phenomenal night. He kissed his son
good bye in the lobby of PS 321 and found his usual table at the local
Starbucks.

Back to being a regular guy. Someone who looks just like everyone else.

For reservations and tickets, here’s what you need to do:
Make your check to The Old Stone House (tickets are $40 per person). Mail to:

The Old Stone House

PO Box 150613

Brooklyn, NY 11215
See you there.

An OTBKB reader named Lefty (or Chris Z) sent word that he recorded the conversation between Norman Mailer and his son, John Buffalo Mailer, that was at the New York Society for Ethical Culture last night. To hear the discussion, go to Sound Posse. I imagine that it will be quite interesting.

Who: Norman Mailer, John Buffalo Mailer, moderated by Dotson Rader.

Where: The New York Society for Ethical Culture, 2 W. 64th Street, New York NY.

When: Thursday, March 2nd, 7:00 PM

What:
A conversation between a father and his son on "What it Means to Live
in America
Today." An intergenerational sparring match as they discuss
their new book, The Big Empty: A Dialogue on Politics, Sex, God, Boxing, Morality, Myth, Poker, and Bad Conscience in America. Presented by Nation Books and co-sponsored by the New York Society for Ethical Culture.

Continue reading NORMAN AND JOHN BUFFALO MAILER →

The Mojo’s main man (and manager), Corey, wrote OTBKB to clarify some of the information in her piece about the Mojo and to assure everyone that there will continue to be be soft service ice cream at the Mojo.

First, I want to say that Corey is the de-facto face of the Mojo Cafe. I have the sense that as long as he’s the manager, he will insure that the Mojo continues to be the vital community coffee (and ice cream) spot it has always been. Here’s what Corey had to say:

It’s not that we are looking to upset the children of Park Slope or force
their parents into ordering $2 ice cream from what some call Maggie
Mooch. We are, however, looking to stay above water, calling Park Slope our
home and pay what is put here in the blog: "sky-rocketing Seventh Avenue rents."

I must say that I personally have had coffee from around the
neighborhood and they just aren’t as good as ours. I’ve had cheesecake
from other places and they just arent as good as ours ( ask the 500
people worlwide who believed Marion Burros — food section editor of the
New York Times — and ordered a cake online after having never tried a
piece).

I’ve worked here 6 years and I’ve had ice cream from other shops,
comparable yes, but not as good, and that is why we decided to keep the
ice cream cakes(which are all made fresh on the premises).

The myth is
that we have been a Carvel franchise since being sold a new to owner,
but we havent; we were selling premium(which was made here on the
premises) ice cream that was better than Carvel’s. To really move
foward as the home of the Slope’s best coffee and the world’s best
cheesecake, we had to produce an ambiance that would makes people feel that they
are getting a quality product, and I believe most people would agree
that they dont go into Haagen Daz for a great cup of coffee.

Having
said that I look foward to seeing all of you for our grand re-opening
party on Saturday March 4th. C’mon down. There’s free samples.

Oh, parents and kids: I forgot to mention that Mojo will be serving ice cream:
chocolate and vanilla soft serve only. I know its a far cry form the 16
hard flavors in addition to the soft serve , but we aren’t mean monsters
and we don’t hate kids, we just had to compromise. We are looking to pay
the $96 a square foot and rising rent. So if you love our soft serve
ice cream, or if you feel like Maggie Moos and Haagen Daz are just too
much then come on down and get a cup or cone after school.

FROM NY 1: The Brooklyn woman who nearly died in an apartment building fire in
Crown Heights Wednesday was reunited with the firefighters who saved
her life Thursday.

A fire forced Cheryl Ann John onto her window ledge, 25 stories
above the ground. The mother of four was pulled to safety by several
firefighters.

After being treated at the hospital for smoke inhalation, John was
able to visit the Crown Heights firehouse and personally thank her
heroes.

“Well I feel love in my heart right now,” said John. “I thank God
that they came the time that they came. I don’t know what would have
happened."

The cause of the fire is still under investigation

I was moved by this post by Calla Lillie. Hepcat and I are a bi-coastal family (he: Northern California. Me: Manhattan) and I can relate to much of what she has to say. She is embarking on marriage and that, alas, is also something I did 17 years ago.

It’s weird and new to find that I have two families now, one on each
coast. I find it gratifying and fascinating to watch my Almost Husband
interact with his family—it gives me glimmers of what he must have been
like as a child, insights into pieces of him that I would never know or
understand without the context.

It must be incredibly difficult to have a child living on the other
side of the country—even more so when he has fallen in love and begun
to lay down more permanent roots so far away. To me, that makes it all
the more important that we visit as much as we can, to learn about and
from one another as the concept of family grows and expands. And
expand, indeed!

Here’s to
families and coasts and the things that connect us—growing and changing
as time hurtles forward—transforming us daily, ever so slightly, into
who we are.

READ MORE AND SEE PIX AT CALLA LILLIE

My friend just told me that watching AMERICAN IDOL is like rubber necking at a car wreck. I kinda know what she means. She probably thinks that watching it means  partaking in the worst of American culture – and she’d be right about that, too.

There’s not much good you can say about the show. It’s not edifying, uplifting, or inspirational. But it is addictive. That’s for dang sure.

Before this season, we never watched American Idol. Never even took a peek. We had sworn off television for 7 years – and lived for the most part without the boob tube, except for video rentals. 

This year for reasons I don’t completely understand, we put the television antenna back on the TV. We have reception. We can watch network TV (no cable here. Is that next?) It felt like time. We’re fairly restrained about it. And we’ve been enjoying the family togetherness aspect of sitting in front of the television. Together. In the living room.

Hepcat sits at his desk and groans. He just hates it.

AMERICAN IDOL just pulled us in (me, OSFO, and Teen Spirit grudgingly) and wouldn’t let go. For starters, the auditions were fun to watch in a kind of sadistic way. Sadistic voyeurism. Many of the performers were pathetic. Few were worth a second listen. Anyone with any talent really stood out.

Like Taylor Bickford. He’s the guy with gray hair, a Ray Charles voice, and the harmonica. That was pretty novel for Fox television. A harmonica.

Yes, there is something addictive about the show. And as it progresses, we get familiar with the characters in a sit-com way. We have our faves. OSFO, Diaper Diva, and I have come up with nick names: Frank Sinatra, Smiley (who did an incredible version of Sam Cooke’s "A Change is Gonna Come") the Gray Haired Guy, Cutie (the boyish looking teenager from Levittown, NY), Bucky (the cute, dopey southern rocker), Baldy (the really good rock and roller pictured above) and Big Ears (his name is Eliot and he’s really talented).

So far, I’ve only mentioned the men. That’s because they are SO MUCH BETTER than the women. Sad to say, most of the women are like Barbie Dolls who sing. And they are about as talented (or untalented) as that sounds. It comes from the sexism that says a female performer has to look a certain way. Few of these women seem to really be about  the music.

Catherine McPhee was an exception. She stood out initially for having a really good voice and good taste in songs. Then there’s Paris who  is hot, she’s only 16 and super talented. Big Lady is pretty damn great. And I guess I like Pickney, the blonde who did that Bonnie Raitt song (and doesn’t like calimari) and Lisa Tucker who is also very young and very talented.

I have to say, the judges are the most interesting aspect of the show. There’s Randy with his: "Dude, what was going on?"  Or "Dude, that was hot." Or his ultimate compliment, "You’re a dog!" He really knows popular music and is good at sussing out whether someone has any talent at all.

Paula Abdul is the adoring sister. She always looks like she’s going to start crying, especially with the boys and finds each one more adorable than the next.

And Simon. Simon is so unforgiving, so impatient, so on the money, and SO FUNNY most of the time, that, for me, he is the show. He also has something good to say: again and again he gives the performers good advice. Advice we could all take to heart:

–Be original

–Give it your all

–Pick a song and or style that expresses who you are

–This is your only chance so make something of it

–Think about what makes you unque and put that forward

It all seems kind of obvious – but it’s so easy to mis-fire when you’re trying to be creative. It’s tempting to do something that is safe. Or to try to master a style that you like but is not your own. Really, what’s the point? The essence is to put what you have to say out there – for better or worse – and try to make something new.

Otherwise why bother?

OTBKB spoke to Corey, the manager of the Mojo, the cafe on Seventh Avenue at Third Street that until recently doubled as a Carvel franchise. The shop was sold a few months ago to the owner of Ainsley’s Cheesecakes. Last week, the new owner closed the shop for a week of renovations. Open again, the shop is now a bakery cafe that also sells panini sandwiches, wraps, and salads.

According to Corey, who was manager of the Carvel/Mojo and is still manager, the ice cream business on Seventh Avenue is a bust. You just can’t make any money at $1.00 a scoop, he says.  Especially if you have to pay $25,000 a year to Carvel. So it was essential, he says, that the new owner get rid of the Carvel franchise.

Corey, sounding like an MBA, seems to be really on top of the dollar and cents aspect of the ice cream/coffee/dessert business. The new owner plans to offer dessert items and some sandwiches and salads. Said Corey, with his number-crunching hat on, You may sell less cheesecakes per day but based on the price per cake, it’s whole lot more profitable.

The Mojo might be good spot for a bakery. Between Cousin Johns (near Berkeley Place) and Two Little Red Hens (on 8th Avenue near 12th Street) there is no bakery. Regina closed on February 27th, another casualty, I would guess, of the skyrocketing rents on Seventh Avenue. There is the Cocoa Bar one block up from the Mojo, but they’re not selling whole cakes and pounds of cookies.

I asked Cory if he was optimistic about the new direction of Mojo and he said he was a whole lot more optimistic once they got rid of the ice cream stuff.

So the ice cream biz on Seventh Avenue (just one block from a big public school) is lousy. I imagined (as many did) that the place was doing great business – but I never really sat down and did the numbers…

Sitting in the Mojo this afternoon, about ten kids and parents came in between 3:30 and 4:00 p.m. looking for ice cream or Krispy Kremes. While they were disappointed, in most cases, they picked something else to order.

The kids have the most to lose. I tried to explain to OSFO that selling ice cream to kids just isn’t that profitable. "But it makes it such a happy place," she said. "Why don’t they just raise the price of the ice cream."

A true capitalist.

Saturday is the grand re-opening. There will be a lot of dessert items on hand, says Corey. I hope they plan on adding tables and chairs. It must be hard to make a change like this with a whole bunch of opinionated, busy-body neighbors chiming in.

But that’s the way it is in Park Slope.