The movie THE RUNAWAYS

Lat night, I saw the movie THE RUNAWAYS and was brought back to the era of platform shoes, dial phones, and heavy metal rock.  My youth, in other words.  I sat around people my age an others who were young enough to be my kids.  We older folks were looking for a dose of nostalgia.  The younger people were drawn to the remarkable stage presence of Kristen Stewart and Dakota Fanning.  

The movie left me speechless (well, at least contemplative) for a number of reasons.  I was definitely impressed by the acting chops displayed by the young leads.  I had never seen Kristen Stewart, but this young woman embodied what I remembered of Joan Jett.  She was tough yet vulnerable and never gave in.  I enjoyed her reaction to her instructor's proclamation that  "girls don't play electric guitars."  Joan plugs in anyway.  I was not a major fan of the Runaways' music, but I admired their panache and toughness.  Dakota Fanning, whose work I did know, has grown up.  She was Cherrie Currie, the Bardotesque child sex kitten caught in a web of fame she can't escape.  Fanning made me think of the youthful Drew Barrymore, and I've loved Drew ever since she and ET screamed in unison.  Drew, of course, is the descendent of a great acting family, but Ms. Fanning was impressive.  The supporting actors also are solid.  Riley Keogh, the daughter of Lisa Marie Presley, was excellent as Cherrie's older sister.  The King lives on!

What also struck me is the way young people are manipulated by the entertainment industry, particularly young women.  The Kim Fowley character uses the girls to his advantage, manipulating them and then deserting them as his own needs dictate.  I was reminded of all those young people, male and female, who sign contracts and are metaphorically raped.  For example, two young men named Lennon and McCartney never owned the bulk of their own songs. In this movie, the young girls burned out because no one had their interests at heart.  Fowley was a Svengali and a Rasputin, using the girls to make himself a legend.  The young performers suffered.  

The Writing Blog

I am a writer.  At one time, those words would have died on my lips, but the publication of BURIED TRUTHS gave me hope that my hobby or avocation could one day become my vocation.  Currently, I am revising a mystery and writing a synopsis.  At least two new plot lines are pounding away in my head.  Not enough hours in the day exist for me to complete every project I hope to create.  

Ever since I was a child, I wanted to be a writer.  Writing has saved me in my darkest hour.  After my father's death, I wrote to escape those bleak days.  When my mother died only two years ago, the only thing that kept me alive was my writing.  I wrote a journal and tried not to wallow in my paralyzing grief.  Eventually, the journal became an avenue for my creativity.  I wrote my mother about my ideas. Those ideas developed into full-blown stories.  

Summer is coming, and I will have a respite from my day job.  I vow to create a schedule and to adhere to it.  I will finish the projects floating around inside my skull.  Poor John Keats died before he could write every poem in his head.  I swear that won't happen to me.  The goal is to work this summer.  Really work.  

Wanderlust and Liverpool

I didn't know how this blog post would evolve, but it's turning into a valentine for the city of Liverpool.  This Christmas, I traveled to England.  While there, I walked through the snow, danced at the Cavern, and journeyed between London and Liverpool by train.  Since my mother's death, I've felt sad at the holidays, and traveling during the holidays distracted me.  

I've always loved London, but I'd been there twice already.  Liverpool was wonderful, and I truly loved that old port city.  Amazingly gracious people.  As a Beatles fan, I reveled in total Beatles immersion, but I loved the whole atmosphere.  Even though the Christmas season was in full swing, residents were gracious when a lost tourist asked for directions.  The city is gritty, working class, and friendly.  I felt at home, reminded of New Orleans.  One gentleman even discussed American football, telling me he liked the Green Bay Packers.  I didn't know American sports had any following over there, but we talked at length about the Saints.  

Though smaller than London, Liverpool doesn't lack in history or culture.  The Walker Gallery offers an impressive display of art from the medieval era to the present, and the Tate Liverpool provides an amazing collection of modern art.  Merseyside Maritime offers a compelling history of the port, and the International Slave Museum stands as a testament to humanity's capacity for cruelty as well as its ability to triumph over adversity.  The Liverpool Playhouse, the Royal Court, and LIPA(to name a few) provide compelling entertainment.  

Of course, no one can travel to Liverpool without visiting the many places made famous by the Beatles and their music.  Various tours take you to the homes of the Beatles and the sites made famous through their music.  The Beatles Story Museum holds Beatle memorabilia and provides a wonderful perspective of the Fab Four's rise to fame.  Throughout this year, White Feather: The Spirit of Lennon, Julian Lennon's tribute to his father, offers a touching view on the life of the late John Lennon.  

I'd also love to see Italy, Germany, Scotland, and Wales.  I've seen Ireland(which is beautiful) and London.  Liverpool, however, had me enthralled.  One day, I'll go back.  

Teaching and storytelling

I am a teacher by day. I rise at the 'butt crack" of dawn, imbibe a decaffeinated beverage, and head to school.  Often, I've wondered if I made a difference in the lives of my students.  Thousands of students have crossed my path.  Many of them have maintained contact with me, but some have drifted away.  Sometimes, these former students and I run into each other at the many festivals we hold in Louisiana.  Several have visited me since I moved to another school.  Many always sought my advice on college essays.  When I tell them about my nascent writing career, they respond with enthusiasm; facebook and myspace have allowed me to reconnect with many of them.  They are some of my biggest fans, but I have often wondered what they thought of me as a teacher.  Recently, one of them sent me an invitation to join my own fan club--not as a fan of Viola Russell the writer but of me as the teacher.  They remember that I crawled on the floor as a recalcitrant camel when I taught T. S. Eliot's "Journey of the Magi."  They remember that I burst into the room laughing hysterically when I emulated the witches in Macbeth. Maybe all teachers are inherent storytellers, and that is the key to my success.  In my heart, I now know I helped them, shaped them.  What I also now know is that they also have helped me become the writer I am.  In teaching all of them, particularly the kids in my now dead school, I have perfected my storytelling.  

Mardi Gras and Possibility

It is Mardi Gras in my hometown.  To those not from our community, Mardi Gras is nothing but women baring breasts, men getting drunk, and people of all inclinations pinching rounded asses.  Well, a fair amount of that definitely happens, but much more happens as well.  

Mardi Gras is a time for comradeship as well as revelry.  Yes, we go kind of wild, but we have lots of good fun, friendly competition as we dive for throws(at least, most of us), and fellowship with our neighbors.  Mardi Gras season is one of possibility and fantasy.  For one time of the year, people abandon their daily lives--lives often filled with boredom, frustration, and care  The time is one of possibility.  A quarterback can be a king of the grape.  Ordinary citizens can don masks and reign as monarchs.  Regular businessmen can toast the crowd and hurl what--on any other day--would be worthless trinkets at people.  Later those trinkets are often donated to charities for resale.  

Mardi Gras is a day of escape but also one of possibility.  We dare to dream and hope that our dreams will come true.  That point has been driven home this year in a poignant way.  Many of our Saints players and their coach will reign as monarchs or grand marshals of the parades.  These men elevated their team from the depths of obscurity to the pinnacle of success.  The Saints--once the laughingstocks of the NFL--are now NFL champs , and our whole region made the NFL back down when they tried to appropriate our local slang.  

Mardi Gras is a day of hope and of escape.  It even gives hope to a high school English teacher and fledgling author trying to perfect her current projects.  It gives her hope that dreams come true as she forms into words the new projects pounding through her brian.  

The Who, the WhoDat Nation, and The Saints

I know many people have wondered why people in New Orleans are so excited that the New Orleans Saints are going to the Super Bowl.  I wondered myself why even I-- a self-avowed sports geek--was almost giddy.  The reason is not one easily explained, and it is linked to Katrina and the devastation our region suffered.  Now, I know that the rest of the country is tired of the word K-A-T-R-I-N-A, and we wish the monster had never come our way, believe me.  This team, however, has done a great deal for our rebuilding and this community.  Individual members have given to charities and schools.  The Brees Foundation has given large amounts to charity.  Today, I am wearing a Saints "Finish Strong" T-shirt.  The proceeds will go to local charities.  Their players go to schools to push character to local students.  We've never been so proud of a team or the young people who compose it.  Their visionary coach has brought them a long way.  Coach Peyton has stressed the need for community involvement and of working as a team.  

Today, the legendary Who will rock the WhoDat Nation(that's those of us in NO) in Miami.  Like the Saints, the Who have come a long way.  They began as the unapologetic bad boys of rock 'n' roll, leaving a trail of broken instruments in their wake.  They chanted that their generation "{wouldn't} get fooled again" and that they "hoped {they} died before {they} got old."  Through the rebellious hype, they emerged as one of the most important rock bands of the era, creating rock operas like Tommy and Quadrophenia.  Sadly, two of their members did die before they were old.  John Entwistle's licks on bass and Keith Moon's powerful drumming will be sorely missed; however, their large shoes have been filled by some impressive talent.  Simon Townsend (Pete's younger brother), Pino Paladino, and Zak Starkey will round out the Who's numbers Sunday evening. (Zak's dad played with a band called the Beatles.)  

Like the Who, the Saints also have been through many changes.  They were once the team that had no respect in the NFL.  Even those of us in their hometown called them "The Aints"  and wore bags over their heads.  The team, however, evolved from a group of athletes who didn't work as a unified whole into a group of professionals that perform like a well-oiled machine.  Like a well-rehearsed band of professional musicians, this team anticipates each other's moves and works together to create a gorgeous, rocking opera.  

Tonight, win or lose, I'll toast the Saints with Coppola's Merlot. 

Long Live the Who!  Long Live the WhoDat Nation!  Long Live the Saints!  

Blogging and Writing

The film JULIA AND JULIE revolves around a young woman who vows to recreate every recipe in Julia Child's book within a year's time.  When she embarks on this endeavor, Julie Powell starts a blog detailing her adventures and misadventures in the kitchen.  The film then depicts the parallels struggles of the older Julia Child and the younger Julie Powell as they attempt to become skilled cooks.  

The movie kept me interested for several reasons.  Meryl Streep and Amy Adams are excellent actors, and the take on blogging was fascinating.  Through blogging, the modern Julie connects with others who share her interests and follow her adventures.  Julie's readers sometimes encourage her, chastise her, or act as voyeurs while she cooks.  Julie eventually develops relationships with her "followers" as she works her way through her idol's cookbook.  Her readers keep her focused when she is tempted to cheat on her stated goals or when she doubts her own prowess in the kitchen.  As I watched Julie pound away at her computer, I realized how modern technology, particularly cyberspace, keeps us connected in ways we never were before.  We "know" people who are states, even continents, away from us.  Through shared interests, these people, or followers, have become our friends.  Like Julie, I've "met" many people who have become friends and associates.  I've developed an interest in their lives and projects.  They have expressed interest in my life and in my writing.  I also think cyberspace is keeping us connected in other ways as well.  For example, e-books are keeping literacy alive for a new generation brought up on computers and video games.  These young people have no problem reading a book on-line.  E-books are also keeping books affordable for millions of people.  I, for instance, was very fortunate to have Sapphire Blue as my publisher.  E-books are an egalitarian alternative to the more expensive print books.  I am not trashing print books.  In fact, I think they are important to our society, but for many cash-strapped people, e-books offer a positive alternative. As the world becomes more connected by technology, e-books will find even a larger market.  

What also struck me was how cooking saved these women from boredom and mediocrity.  By cultivating a gift, Julia and Julie found themselves and inspired others.  Writing also has helped save and define me.  In my darkest hours, I have run for my pen or pounded on my keyboard.  When my mother died, writing saved me from debilitating grief.  Revising BURIED TRUTHS and focusing on other projects rescued me from utter despair.  I  only pray I have inspired others.