Cappy

Yes, another story, though not quite so serious this time. This is my attempt at an O’Henry-like twist, and it also seems to take on some of P.G. Wodehouse’s style, which I count as an honor. Enjoy!

Leonard Bricker is a man of discerning taste.

Well, you can’t really say something like that anymore, can you? That particular turn of phrase, “man of discerning taste,” has become so overused as to be utterly useless in speech and literature. Such a clichéd compliment is tossed about like beads at a Mardi Gras parade, and with about as much regard for class or deservedness. Nowadays any man could be said to have discerning taste who chooses quiche over a meatball sandwich, or any woman who buys a brand name perfume instead of the stuff in the checkout aisles of the supermarket. No, it won’t do at all. So instead we must draw Mr. Bricker in a more verbose though ultimately more meaningful light.

Picture if you would a fine, though small dinner table cast in the pink-purple glow of early evening, adorned between meals with a shimmering red silk cloth (situated, in the fashion, at an angle, so that the corners of the rare fabric intersect the sides of the fine table) and a single silver candlestick holder engraved with Latin adages sure to impress all those who gazed upon it dumbfoundedly. On any given day at this particular time and place you may find Mr. Bricker sitting so that he may face a portrait of his lost wife directly, with the setting sun on his left and the interior of his dining room on the right. Before him, you must imagine, are these: one bottle of wine, usually a deep red (he could be pressed to the light reds if the circumstances especially called for it, though whites must be more or less forced on him by those with means to do so); one crystal wine glass; one chilled glass of purified spring water; one sliced and lightly vinegared cucumber (both this and the water are present only to cleanse the pallet of Mr. Bricker between sips); and a plate bearing assorted cheeses. The wines and cheeses of course vary, but for the purposes of our description we shall presume that Mr. Bricker has sat down to a full bodied red wine (since this is most often the case), and, since later in the story he is found reading a book on such, the cheeses are made up of selections from southern France.

Read more…

Fiction

I wrote this just in the past week, and haven’t decided on a title since it’s still a first draft and needs a good bit of work. Once it’s done I’ll post it on New Height Books, but for now whoever happens upon this can get first glimpse.

The tattoo pressed along the edge of her shoulder blade like the cheek of a spooning lover. Its shape was made for the curve of that bone, of that body, of that woman. It did not cover skin, but highlighted its exposure.

The tattoo was a black bird in the moment before flight. The wings were outstretched but had yet to beat, the tiny legs were tense but had yet to push. Sliced in half by the strap of a dress, the tattoo held the attention of a man who did not like tattoos. Any bigger he would think it tacky, any lower, slutty. To him the black bird was absolute and anything else would’ve been a compromise.

The white strap pinned the bird like a captive beast. He could only think of it as dangerous, not as prey. He wanted to release it, to let it set upon him like a fury, to find him defenseless and leave him bloody. He wanted to pull that strap down. Read more…

Fiction

Camille Saint Saens makes me feel like anything is possible. The music drives with such veracity, such life, that you can’t help feeling some great emotion at the sound of it. Sometimes I feel energetic, the way you do after a powerful movie, like you suddenly have to fling yourself forward because walking isn’t good enough. Other times I feel pride that another human could write such music, and that other humans are capable of enjoying it. But Camille Saint Saens has yet to make me sad. Even his Danse Macabre (Dance of Death) is uplifting and exhilarating.

Music is at once so mysterious and so simple. So mysterious because we don’t know why we react to it the way we do. It is only pitches and tones, pace and volumes; and yet somehow it can move us to great feelings, even to tears. And so simple because its affect seems completely obvious, and we cannot imagine music being anything but incredibly powerful.

Music is also so highly condensed. A film can last two hours, a book can last days or weeks, but music needs only a handful of minutes to do its damage (or its repair). Only visual art, which hits us in the instant we see it, can compete with music in the speed of the delivery of its message.

I’ve played music since I was very young – the piano, the trumpet and some other things – but I always preferred listening. In high school I would frighten my girlfriend by conducting while I drove. I imagined that the conductor was controlling the entire orchestra, feeding them every bar with the movements of his hands, creating the song they played as they played it. As such, conducting was a rather physical task for me, and deferred my attention from the steering wheel. Later, when I lived in a small room in California, I would play pieces loud and stand on a chair before my stereo and lead it in a symphony. Afterwards my heart would race and my arms would tingle with the effort.

When I was very young (I say “very” because I think 24 is still pretty young) I thought of pain as sound. That sharp pains were loud and shrill, that dull pains were low and well, dull. And sometimes when I was hurt badly I thought that I actually heard it.

Random

The other day Rich and I were discussing the Peace Corps. Ultimately we both believe it isn’t a valid institution in that it’s run by the government and subsidized with government funds, but there’s no denying its usefulness to the participators. They are provided with experiences for two years that will skyrocket them above the knowledge of their peers, as well as push them to be more mature and worldly. And I quickly realized that there is a far more valid institution that could benefit from the same practice: capitalism. That is why I propose the creation of a “Business Corps.”

The Business Corps will accept applicants with both excellent academic credentials and real world business experience to participate in a 6 month to 2 year exercise in which each applicant will be sent to start a business, bring it to a profitable state, and assign his successors during the term of his participation.

Obviously no one should just be thrown out into the wild and told to make a living, or else the Business Corps would not be necessary. So here’s what I see as some of the prerequisites. Aside from proving his ability, the applicant must:

•  Provide a complete business plan which he intends to carry out during his tenure with the Business Corps. This business plan should detail the shortest amount of time needed to be carried out, as well as the ideal locale.
• The locale of the business must fall within a predefined list provided by the Business Corps, and should of course be the places where commerce and industry are most needed (for the purposes of a clear, local example, let’s say a southern town built around a steel factory which has recently gone out of business, leaving hundreds jobless).

If chosen, an applicant would receive the funds necessary to carry out his business plan and the means to survive while he does so. Besides that, luxury and cash should be limited.

The Business Corps would be funded by business owners and chairmen, who would of course have a stake in the business plans they fun, as well as the future careers of the participants. These funders would also act as counselors to specific participants, a role which non-funders could take part in as well.

Like the Peace Corps, the Business Corps should keep very strict policies. If a participant loses all his money, he must continue on his own dime or not at all. He must operate within the law at all times, and his dealings must be entirely transparent to the Business Corps.

In most cases the businesses created will be small to medium, and as such it will be assumed that the participant will want to move on to newer, better opportunities after the term of his participation. However, if he wants to continue running his new business, that isn’t a problem. After a preset amount of time running said company (say 5 years after the initial end date), he will have the option to buy out the Business Corps stake and retain full ownership of his company.

Very basic, I know, but I’d like to add to this when I think of more. It seems like a very useful idea.

Ideas

I’m not sure how well known a resource this is, but Abe Books is an excellent place to find rare, out of print and collectible books, sometimes at very low prices. It is basically a large cooperative of Mom and Pop book stores around the globe who sell their wares through this single venue. It is there that I’ve found many of the rare books I own that I couldn’t find anywhere else, and if you can find it elsewhere, it’s probably cheaper at Abe. Here are a couple rare books I’ve found there:

CAPULETTI. El pintor y su obra. (The biography of Spanish painter Jose Capuletti)
Virtues in Verse, by Berton Braley
Ninety-Three, by Victor Hugo
Maxfield Parrish by Coy Ludwig

(Crossposted at New Height Books)

Resources