HOTEL REVIEW: East Hartford Econolodge

I don't remember now if the fighter was Harry Greb1, but there was a turn of the century boxer, an infamously dirty fighter, a fighter known for ruining younger stronger fighters via outright nastiness; whichever old name in a book I read about once this was, the interesting thing was this fighter's training regimen was opposite the archetypal monastic prize fighter prep with the mountain running and abstinence, this fighter, (Greb or not), would drink straight whiskey, chain smoke, and pick the meanest prostitutes he could find, taking them on two at a time.  This routine I have fondly titled, Irish Martial Arts.

PICS: 2012 F-book Pics Dump

some pictures from facebook previously unpublished here; and the answer is yes, I am saving the good posts for December.

PICS: Springfield

PICS: #Moving Pics

FRAG: Mighty Monster

1. Mighty Monster

I'm not doing Mexico.  If we do this, I'll start scratch.

The lawyer says it being an orphan story appeals to your readers and so the beginning won't be so bad.  But I wasn't an orphan.  That's all a work.  My mother was a dancer.  She and her sisters as children dancing in rich peoples' parlors.  This was Fall River.  Show people from way back.

HOTEL REVIEW: Springfield Econolodge

Didn't make it fifty yards off the highway tonight before a state cop pulled me over; it went well, only five minutes of outright screaming in my face before giving me a DOT quiz, making me sit in the parking lot for 45 more minutes while I imagine he sat in his cruiser playing Angry Birds, then seeing me off with a written warning for having an "unsecured" 2x6 in the back of the truck.  

You'd think a brick wall would keep the sound of the motel pub's video poker machines out of this room on the second floor; no such luck.  Ring a ding ding.

-- Yes, I misrepresent these as actual hotel reviews.. I'm sorry.  No, I won't stop.  Okay, here's my review: If you look directly at the Springfield Econolodge you will catch a violent flu. 

BOOKS: Hamlet Is A Prick 1

one -- list
1 the greatest tragedy of the english language is a sick comedy
2 so off the wall and experimental it makes Ionesco read like Neil Simon
3 so propulsive it makes David Mamet read like Neil Simon
4 a ghost story riveted on to a revenge tragedy, a soap opera crammed into a castle waiting on a war to break out
5 at one point the main character forgets about the revenge plot, and spends a half hour of stage time giving unsolicited advice to a pack of actors who must be quite hungry and tired from their travels
6 this same asshole jumps into a grave to show up the grieving brother of a girl he used to fuck around with back in the day, just because
7 stabs an elderly man to death, then jokes about it
8 likes to touch skulls
9 and this character, this spoiled rich sociopath, this prince, is the most cherished character of all english literature; is considered a supreme artistic work to sit alongside Beethoven ad Da Vinci.

two -- back story
Amleth is a boy prince.  his uncle kills his father to steal the crown.  to escape death Amleth feigns insanity so as to appear unthreatening to his uncle.  for twenty years or so Amleth plays with sticks and drools all over the place.  when he is old enough he stabs his uncle to death with those sticks.
-- there's the story taken out of Saxo Grammaticus.  Saxo was this old Dane who wrote some stories.  The point: it's a Bros Grimm joint, it's Snow White.  Clean, classic, simple revenge tragedy.  Then William Shakespeare fucked it three ways to Sunday.

three--the math
to think Shakespeare meant Hamlet to be played straight is an insult to him.  All one must do is read Othello or King Lear to understand Hamlet was not meant as family tragedy.  If one reads Romeo and Juliet one knows Hamlet was not meant as romantic hero.  If one reads the plays between Hamlet and Othello: Measure For Measure, Troilus and Cressida, and Twelfth Night, one might wonder if there is such thing as a three year nervous breakdown.
One wonders if the author of this play despised his audience.  One wonders how apocryphal the worn bio of having lost both his father and young son in the year prior is.  One wonders how a writer can knock out Henry V, Julius Caesar, and As You Like It, all in 1599, (what a year!), then not show up again for nearly two years, and when he does, he comes with this manifesto called The Prince of Denmark.  One wonders if the author's mates, his fellow actors, his business partners ever said, "Will, what the hell, man?  This play is five hours long."  or "Bill, why does the main character age ten years between act 4 and act 5?" or "Shakey, baby, what is up with all these soliloquies?  Rogue and peasant slave?  It's a bit high-falutin, brother."  To which I imagine him showing them sonnet 29, and continually repeating, "I wrote that, I wrote that, I wrote that." over and over again while picking scabs off of his head.
four--my movie
a Hamlet movie shot like an overwrought Elvis vehicle, complete with cheesy 60's pop songs on the score like Lightning Strikes by Lou Christie and Sunny by Bobby Hebb, where Hamlet in full on Jailhouse Rock mode responds to Ophelia's concern for his erratic behavior with: "That ain't tactics, mama, that's just the beast in me."
five--the perfect opening
T.S. Eliot was right when he said the opening scene of Hamlet is perfection.  So freaking tight.  It is one of those beautiful Shakespeare opening bits where we meet a bunch of nobodies, in this case some castle watchmen on shift watching out over the spooky night from the castle rampart.  They've called on a young nobleman named Horatio to meet with them for some old fashioned ghost hunting.  No, you heard me.  This Horatio is friends with the young prince Hamlet(Amleth), and as these hack guards swear they've seen a ghost dressed up like an armored king, and as the very King Hamlet has recently died, they all think the young Prince Hamlet might be interested, so they get his boy to come up for a stakeout!  The scene goes something like this:
Horatio: A ghost you say?
Guard: Friggin A, dude.
Horatio: Seen it tonight?
Guard: Nope.
Horatio: What's it look like?
Guard: Well it's big, scary, and --
Guard 2: HERE!!!!
(enter Ghost)
Unfortunately this sweet set-up is soon ruined when Hamlet shows up.  But before Hamlet wordplays the ghost of his Dad back into purgatory, he completely snubs king and court inside the castle where the new king, (his Uncle), beautifully eases his subjects' worries about both his marriage to the widowed queen, and a possible feud over land rights with the other vikings down the lane.  While everyone is dressed to the nines, getting drunk on Blue Moon, and pairing off for some old fashioned Danish screwing, the Prince is pouting in emo dress -- it would be unbearable if the twat wasn't so clever.

QUEEN:

Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted color off, 

And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. 
Do not for ever with thy vailed lids 

Seek for thy noble father in the dust. 

Thou know'st 'tis common. All that lives must die, 

Passing through nature to eternity.

HAMLET:

Ay, madam, it is common.

five--the first soliloquoy 

After snarking the whole court, he turns to the audience, and gives one of the strangest speeches ever, full of the kind of name-drops one would expect from a film school geek.
Here's my version:
I want to melt away.
Why does God think killing yourself is a bad thing anyway?
Every reason to live is useless, stupid, boring, and played out.
This world is like a house on that Hoarders show; the people are cat shit and twenty year old newspaper collections.
My dad's only been dead for two months!  And now my Uncle is king?
My dad was like Han Solo, this uncle is Jabba the Hut.
My dad loved my mother so much; he'd have bitch-smacked Superman if he hovered in my mother's general direction.
I don't want to think about it.
She fed on his love for her; the more she ate the hungrier she was, this was love!
And a month later -- WTF!
Women are some weak-ass people
A month.  She's wearing the same shoes from the funeral, and this woman buys a lot of shoes
Oh sure, at the funeral she was Meryl Streep with the tears
A monkey would have mourned longer
And now married to my uncle; this chubby drunk is as much like my dad as I'm like Optimus Prime
A month.  Before those phony tears had dried up, she's hitched her wagon to a donkey
It's a world incest record.  Bad juju.
So break heart, but I have to keep quiet.

Let me confirm that the last thing he does is keep quiet.  It is important to know, this is what the Prince is like BEFORE he meets the ghost, BEFORE he finds out his father was murdered, BEFORE he has something to revenge; at this moment the only thing rotten in the state of Denmark is his filthy mouth.  You can already see this is no straight fairy tale revenge: where Amleth feigned insanity to the court to buy himself time, Hamlet has shown his inner nature to the audience prior to revenge, (and let me also say: in this same court scene King Claudius is clear: Hamlet is next in line to be King -- and mind, what with this other viking Fortinbras over the hill spoiling for a fight, Claudius is better suited to the wartime crown than our teenage pretty boy.  THERE IS NOTHING WRONG -- Claudius and Gertrude's hasty wedding is smart business when it comes to protecting their people.

(This was a difficult decision, to cut this Hamlet essay into multiple parts.  But I don't want readers stuck in a 10,000 word essay that they won't finish in one sitting.  As writing is simply a hobby, i have to play it as it lays -- more to come.. developing... Look at it this way: you're reading it minutes/seconds after I write it)

FLASH: Unfortunate Boys' Night

He was crying like a baby.  But that's not fair to babies.  He was crying like in little league when he was that kid who had a phantom injury every game and stretched it out until his embarrassed mother came on the field.

ROAD JOURNAL: The Morning After

Went to bed early, awoke at 3am, got on the internet and read the big news.  It wasn't what I wanted.  The 'why' is a shifting set of variables so uninteresting even my grandiose self-involvement can barely stand to write it.  That I didn't believe in the guy doesn't make me feel pain about it.  Because I don't know that I'm right.

AUDIT: Last Nov's Forgotten Muskrats

ROAD JOURNAL: November Cape Girls

1. A dead beach town is autumnal murder mystery make-up; good DNA for a story, rough on a work week. Disconcerting. Chucks one off. The sand dunes, more so the weedy bluffs, scored by the cool nothing of an empty town behind, all feels awry.

BIT: A Weird Polling Thought

Go ahead.  I promise this is the last one.  Now or after.  I voted.  I'm at peace.  It's out of my system.  It's just a thought I've had about the differences in national polls that might answer it.  If you are a supporter of President Obama, you might like this.
So here it is -- many pollsters when looking at the Obama-leading polls think those polls are oversampling Democrats based on the 2008 election; it makes sense: not evened the most hardened Democrat can think Obama has the excitement behind his incumbency that he did as a challenger.  These Obama-leading polls see the voting public falling as something like 40% Democrat, 32% Republican, and 28% Independent; the Romney leading polls see it as 36-36-28.  The key to this is that no poll does not have the challenger up big in independents.  Up big in independents when the raw electorate is +8 Democrat means a tightening race that could very well go Obama 51-49, like the polls show.  Up big in independents for Romney if it's 36-36 means it's Romney by 3 to 5.  And these are the two kinds of polls you see out there.  But here is where I think the Obama polls "could" be accurate, (because every other stat really makes more sense of Romney's narrow lead), if Romney's lead in independents (something between 8% and 20%) is really Republican-leaning voters now registered independent; that makes the number closer to the 36-36, but then Romney doesn't have a lead in independents, because those aren't independents -- either way the incumbent narrow lead is plausible either way -- they can't count it as a dead heat and Romney big with independents, it's like counting the number twice to get to Romney up by 5 like Gallup had.  It's tight either way.  Just thought I might have found something here that was worth passing along.  So go vote.  Have fun.

CHAZZ: Lusts For Rachel Maddow