There's little about Aught-Seven that seems worth the look-back, from my point-of-view -- even though I published nearly 200 posts. At the time, a reader e-mailed asking if I was alright, or if something had happened to diminish my snap. Well, yes, "something" had indeed happened -- pneumonia. It embarrassed me -- embarrasses me still -- to get so deflated by a variation of the 'flu, but so it went.
I did music and movie reviews, but most of it has a "If I've gotta say something about this, then I guess . . . " tone to it. The most memorable novel I read that year was The Road, which I hated (still do). After that, I half-heartedly tried to sort out why I liked or kinda-didn't the various items in question, until it finally dawned on me that it was ridiculous to waste my time on anything I wasn't passionate about, one way or the other.
Movies and Music blended together for me that year, with two terrific rock-docs (about mortality, really):
- New York Doll -- pretty much set the template for how the public receives "vintage" rock acts.
- The End of The Century -- the story of The Ramones.
Books.
- Pulp Fiction -- The Good, the Bad, and Philip Kerr.
Life.
- A love of typewriters -- I used to sell 'em, you know.
- Bicycles -- I seemed to have bicycles on my mind a great deal that year.
- Winnipeg -- another return to my home city, with pictures.
- Sanctuary -- from the flames, three meditations.
- Halloween -- and the dis-ease it engenders.
- Music -- stewardship of the torch.
- Egg-Nog -- the bodybuilding supplement you need to drink right now.
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