Due out next month, The Hateful Eight (sometimes printed as the H8ful Eight or The Hateful 8) is about eight persons, who take shelter in a Wyoming stagecoach stop during a raging snowstorm. Tarantino, the writer-director, claims he was influenced by such western TV programs, as Bonanza, The Virginian and The High Chaparral. This may be true, but after watching the trailer and reading a brief write-up, I can’t help but think that the 50s cinema classic, The Bus Stop, (which starred Marilyn Monroe and Don Murray) also shows some resemblance to this new release. By the way, the release date for this movie is Christmas Day, 2015.
The controversy that has arisen just recently, is not so much about the movie itself’, but instead, it revolves around some remarks that Tarantino made while participating in a NYC protest march concerning Police Brutality in Greenwich Village in late October. The march was organized by Black Lives Matter. It was during this march that Tarantino made the following comment to reporters; “I’m a human being with a conscience, And if you believe there’s murder going on then you need to rise up and stand up against it. I’m here to say I’m on the side of the murdered.” Since these remarks, police organizations have responded by demanding a boycott to The Hateful Eight and even promising a vague sort of unnamed surprise for Mr. Tarantino before the movie opens up in December.
Generalities Are Dangerous
My first reaction was that Mr. Tarantino should be a little bit more specific about where and when the police were accused of being involved in murder. Today, there are over 320 million American citizens and according to answers.com, over 1 million are involved in some sort of paid police work. With these kind of numbers there are bound to be some deaths, as a result of police actions…and as more recent events in Louisiana have so sadly proven, American police officers are not immune to being charged with murder. So in reality, Quentin is correct in his statement, just maybe not very tactful.
The Police Response
When I first heard about the police response on the news, I thought the organizations involved were responding to the nature of the movie. Only later did I learn that The Hateful Eight was a Western set in the late 1800s. Still, the police have every right to promote a boycott. However, the story does not stop here, for they also promised a little surprise for the Hateful Eight writer/director before the Christmas Day opening………Maybe the police organizations also need to be a little bit more specific about what their surprise might entail. Some how I don’t think it was egg nog or bread pudding.
The Biggest Irony of All
The biggest irony of all is that The Hateful Eight is a big budget movie made in one of America’s most popular film genres, the Western. I would not be at all surprised that once this movie is released, Americans from all walks of life will find their way into the theater to enjoy the film. This might even include a few police officers.
It’s hotter than hell out here on the banks of the Missouri where the prairie meets the mountains. Thunderheads appear almost every afternoon now, but more often than not they drift on by, dropping their precious moisture elsewhere.
All of these things are sure signs that hot dog and ice cream sales are booming and that a spectacular and awesome fireworks display looms in the near future.
Happy Birthday America. How does it feel to be 239 years old?
Ready To Roll
I would like to say that this picture shows how I travelled around the country in recent years, but in reality, this is far from the truth. This partiçular image was made while walking down the street in Portland, Maine back in the days, when I had a studio apartment and an almost, full-time job, which enabled me to keep my friendly place of abode.
For several years I made a meager living writing content for an American internet company based in California. Since I was able to send in my work via e-mail and receive my pay through Paypal, I was able to travel freely (within my financial needs) as I produced my many short articles and filler pieces.
I knew I was skating on thin ice with this gig, but it was fun, so I continued with it until the inevitable actually happened, the number of writers had far exceeded the number of assignments available.
The end came so quickly that it caught be by complete surprise. I had just turned off my computer and left the Winnipeg Public Library, so I could withdraw my earnings and get a bite to eat. When I returned to the library and turned my computer back on, I found out that all my future assignments had been removed and that I needed to take an evaluation test. This turned out to be a polite way of dismissing me from the company.
I just happened to be in Winnipeg, Canada, when I found out that my services were no longer needed. So the very next day, I began my short journey back to the U.S. and my much longer quest for economic security.
This photo was taken at sunrise on the east side of Winnipeg as I headed back to the U.S.
New York City is a watery place, a geographic reality made visible by this photograph, which was taken from the deck of the Staten Island ferry. The Staten Island ferry has often been called the best free ride in America. I alsways ride it whenever I am in the city. The view of the Hudson River delta and the many islands that dot the bay are priceless, even to a New Yorker……….Wouldn’t this place make a great national park?
These pair of lions can be found guarding the stairwell to the second floor in the Boston Public Library. I love the grand old libraries of the Northeastern big cities, and not surprisingly the Boston one is a real doozy.
Having spent endless hours in this and many other similar institutions, leaves me with nothing but good words for the American library. Ben Franklin sure knew what he was doing when he started this system. Not only are they great places for the scholar, but they also tolerate the vagabond and bum, who just wants a warm place and a good magazine to read.
This picture of the Portland harbor with the oil tanker in the background was actually taken in the town of South Portland. This metropolitan area was my home for many years. The ferry rides here aren’t free, but they do take you to some inhabited islands, more reminiscent of Seattle than any other place in the U.S.
Philadelphia would be a great place to spend the Fourth. Not only do you have a spectacular fireworks display, but also the Liberty Bell can be found here, plus all that rich history that harkens back to the times when “The City of Brotherly Love” was the nation’s capitol.
Unfortunately, I was here in the spring, so I missed all the fireworks……But I did see Charles Barclay shopping in a local supermarket.
Niagara Falls, NY
No journey around the U.S. would be complete without a pretty picture of Niagara Falls. Actually I had to sneak across the border to Canada to take this picture.
The Little Pee Dee River
When I visit South Carolina my destination is the Pee Dee region of the state, which is situated in the Northeastern part of the state near the North Carolina state line. This picture was taken on the Little Pee Dee River.
I spent several beautiful autumn months in this midwestern capitol city. In fact, this photo was taken from the state capitol building, which sits on a high hill overlooking the city. The stately building has a shiny gold dome and a huge interior foyer, which you can climb by negotiating many series of narrow stairs.
The Des Moines river flows through town and in places is lined with huge, graceful cottonwoods.
Sioux City, Iowa
Thanks to a few reservations in nearby Nebraska and South Dakota, Sioux City is a bit of Indian Country stuck smack dab in the middle of Iowa’s cornfields. Maybe that’s why this pink house is here…..hopefully not. Anyway, visit Sioux City and you can have Native men ask you for extra cigarettes and spare change. Or you can head across the Missouri River and get a slightly rosier view of Indian life by visiting a powwow or a casino.
I liked Sioux City for its funky street graphics, long lines of freight cars and outdated architecture. It was a great place to have a camera. And of course like almost every declining downtown area, there were those brave, creative souls trying to fix the place up and bring in some new business.
Rapid City, South Dakota
I just spent a day in Rapid City, but I did get this really neat photograph of a grain elevator standing tall in the noon day sun. Then later in the afternoon I took a bus to Billings. I would have stayed longer, but there wasn’t much day labor work available and emergency housing didn’t look very appealing either.
Sioux Falls, South Dakota
On my way to Sioux Falls, I got a ride with a trucker driving an empty hog trailer. He had just dropped his load in Wisconsin and was headed home, when he picked me up. He told me there were lots of construction jobs in Sioux Falls because the man on the TV said so. This was a story I often heard repeated, but when I got to the city, the only work I could find were day labor assignments unloading trucks.
One day a mover showed up outside the labor office, needing help. It was a clandestine offer, but I needed a way out of Sioux Falls, so I rode with the trucker to Rapid City, where we filled one small household with furniture and then parted ways.
In Billings you get your first real glimpse of the Rockies. Still, it’s a high plains kind of town, situated about 50 miles north of the Little Bighorn battleground. Off to the northeast is the North Dakota oil patch, which helps drive the local economy. Stir all this together and still you can get a little taste of the Old West here.
Las Vegas, Nevada
Las Vegas is named after its earlier counterpart in New Mexico. Las Vegas (NM) started out as a stop on the Old Santa Fe Trail, but grew substantially when gold and silver were discovered nearby. In its heyday, Las Vegas (NM) had the reputation of being one of the wildest town in the West, but today it is a quiet Hispanic settlement on the eastern flank of the Sangre de Christo Mountains. Perhaps, a 100 years from now, Las Vegas (NV) will be a quiet Hispanic city and some other western place will earn the title of “Sin City”.
This city used to be a very nice place, but today it is sometimes referred to as “Alber-crack-ee”. Still, the University of New Mexico and Sandia National Lab are located here, drawing a lot of professional people to the area.
These pictures were taken along Old Route 66, which is locally known as Central Ave.
Taos is an interesting mountain town that has grown a lot in the past years. The traffic through town can be horrendous, especially during ski season, but the town is still worth a visit.
To escape all this madness, just drive west to the Taos Gorge bridge, where you can gaze across stunning landscape, like you see here.
Located just north of Santa Fe amidst several Indian pueblos, is Espanola, one of the Hispanic strongholds within New Mexico. On a drive through town the place looks a little rough and tumble, due to the antiquated storefronts in the downtown area. A few are closed down, but many still support active businesses.
These places stand in stark contrast to the big chains found out by Walmart and Lowe’s. For the creative photographer the old storefronts are a visual gold mine, for they harken back to an era, when local businesses dominated small towns like this. Here, I photographed a farm supply business that looks more pioneer than Spanish, but yet this place is open and ready for business.
Santa Fe, New Mexico is the oldest and highest state capitol in the U.S. It is also where the Santa Fe trail ended and the Camino Real (Royal Road) into Old Mexico began. Later on, the California Trail became a reality and so the small crossroads grew.
Today, it is a cultural hub for artists, new age entrepreneurs, Ed Abbey fans and well-to-do desert rats. Though this milieu of higher minds is on the decline, their presence is very noticeable. And, if you spend any time here, you are bound to cross paths with the thriving local Hispanic and Southwestern Indian cultures that have lived in the region for many centuries and more.
For me, cheap motels have been a godsend. They offer a nice alternative from camping out or staying at a rescue mission. Having the space to yourself is wonderful, although the down side is that they are still rather expensive are usually require a full time job to pay for the luxury. This particular picture came from a place I stayed at in Billings, for a few weeks.
Duluth is the birthplace of Bob Dylan, though he wasn’t known by that name when he was born here back in the forties. To honor the singing bard, the city has renamed a downtown street, which is now known as Bob Dylan Way.
The first time I saw the Bob Dylan Way, I was pretty well down and out…..so much so that I spent the first night camped out on a park bench, watching the oil freighters come cruising through Duluth’s vertical draw bridge at the wee hours of the morning.
Then I borrowed some money from a distant relative, so I could spend a night in a motel. Finally, I left town and hitchhiked to the Twin Cities. I guess I was living the Bob Dylan Way.
The Twin Cities
I did the hostel thing in Minneapolis, at least until I ran out of money and had to head south using a 100 dollar bicycle as my means of transportation. Despite all the high rises downtown near the river, Minneapolis and St. Paul, too, have a lot of wonderful green spaces and natural lakes, where you can go swimming.
Since I am presently at work on a YA work of fiction, I decided it was about time I did a little extra reading in the genre. After googling YA Fiction and coming up with several intriguing lists of authors, I quickly realized that I was severely lacking in my working knowledge of young adult authors and titles. Except for Sherman Alexie’s excellent autobiographical novel (The Completely True Autobiography of a Part-time Indian), there wasn’t a popular YA title to be found that I had read cover to cover. The only thing close was S.E. Hinton’s classic, The Outsiders…..and in this case…..I had only seen part of the movie.
After a careful search through the Barnes & Noble Young Adult book section, I came home with The Pigman by Paul Zindel. Published in 1968, this warm, sensitive story revolves around two sophmore high school students growing up in the New York City area and the lonely widower they befriend through a crank calling stunt. Overall, the short novel turns out to be an intriguing journey into the world of high school teachers. Even though this is something we all experience, authors who can portray this critical time of life skillfully are not very abundant.
The way that Zindel tells this story is quite unique, for I can not offhand think of another novel where this device is used. In The Pigman, the narration is done through the eyes of the two main protagonists, John Conlon and Lorraine Jensen. This is accomplished by using each character to narrate alternating chapters. This method works extremely well, even though on occasion the reader may have to doublecheck to see which character is speaking. Since their lives are so intertwined and they often refer to their friend of the opposite sex during the dialogue, the confusion is infrequent and short-lived. In the long run, the dual narration makes more lively reading and I am a bit surprised that the device is not used more often by contemporary writers.
About the Author
With eight plays, just as many successful screenplays and scores of published novels to his credit, Paul Zindel should be a household word. Although his literary works have entertained many readers and received numerous acclaims, Mr. Zindel has remained outside the mainstream literary circle. This situation has not changed since Paul passed away in 2003. Perhaps it is the writer’s modest life in New York City that has created this dilemma.
After completing college in New York (Wagner College), Zindel went on to become a high school teacher before becoming a professional writer. Perhaps, it was Zindel’s tenure in the NYC school sytem that allowed him such good insight into the world of teenagesr, which is so expertly revealed in The Pigman.
Patti Smith published her first book of poetry in 1972, three years before she released her first album, called Horses. Since those early years the poetress of the punk scene has steadily recorded and put onto paper her words and observations on life. As a result, it should be no surprise that her recent autobiographical literary effort would end up receiving a national book award.
Just Kids is Patti’s memoir about a poet’s life in Manhattan during the late 60’s and early 70’s. The work revolves around the experiences of the writer as well as her relationship with Robert Maplethorp, an avant-garde photographer, who died in 1989. Those who enjoy Patti Smith’s writing might enjoy the daily postings of her agent, Betsy Lerner. Ms. Lerner has obtained some literary success with her own book, The Forest For The Trees, which has become of a standard read with anybody wishing to learn more about the book publishing world.
On the other hand there is David Byrne, one of the founders of Talking Heads, one of the great post-punk or New Wave bands of the ’70s and ’80s, has been writing about bicycles. In a book called “Bicycle Dairies”, Mr. Byrne discusses his bike adventures in such diverse places as Buenos Aires, Istanbul, Baltimore, New York and Berlin. Along with his offbeat travel guide, the author includes some philosophy and observations on bike transportation in general. Though the band Talking Heads is past history, David has continued his musical career with solo releases, writing music scores for film and occasional live performances. The first Talking Head album appeared in 1977, while his first literary publication did not appear until 1986 (True Stories). Although his books have not won any awards, his latest effort on bicycles has been very well received by reviewers. Also, of interest is a blog simply called “David Byrne’s Journal”, which has received a “Webby” award for its content.
I had the pleasure of riding the Greyhound bus from Montreal to New York City and then continuing my journey to South Carolina, where I will spend the holidays. Fortunately, I was able to squeeze a twelve-hour stopover in the “Big Apple”, where I got to partake in a busy December Saturday, when everybody was out and about. Many were Christmas shopping others were just enjoying the sunny weekend day.
First stop for me was the grand ole library at Bryant Park. This landmark city building was jam-packed with visitors and users. An exhibition concerning the origin of three major religions (Islam, Judaism and Christianity) from one small region of the world (the eastern edge of the Mediterranean) was the big attraction, but the spectacularly high and ornate ceilings of the Rose Room attracted many sightseers as well as regular users.
Outside the massive limestone walls stood Bryant Park. The ice rink was filled with skaters, who struggled to navigate their way through the mass of humanity that was out on the ice. The rest of the tree-lined park was home to a myriad of artisans, who had their works out on display for all to see.
From the Public Library I boarded the subway and headed downtown to the Soho area. Next, came a visit to Katz’s on Houston Street for lunch, but a line ran halfway down the block from the front entrance, discouraged a visit to this well-known eatery.
Instead, a couple of slices of pizza and a Mexican beer at nearby Ray’s was my lunchtime repose. More wanderings took me further south where soon I was strolling at the base of the Wall Street tall towers. This is the lower section of tall towers, where the once majestic WTC once stood. This conglomeration of tall towers is located a good distance away from midtown Manhattan, where such giants as the Empire State Building, Pan Am building, Rockefeller Center and Chrysler Building form the rocketing skyline.
The Brooklyn Bridge was a popular walkway, filled with pedestrians despite the cold winds that carried across East Bay and the East River. As dusk approached the partially-clouded sky created dramatic lighting that filled the western sky. Even with the great view, I was still happy to arrive back on solid land, where I could seek shelter from the wind at one of the many small coffee shops that frequented the Wall Street area.
By the time I reached the Staten Island Ferry Terminal at the tip of the island, darkness had set in. Even so the huge metal and glass atrium was filled with a mass of humanity, all waiting for the arrival of the large metal transport. The crowd of a thousand plus people packed into the vessel with ease and quickly departed the dock for the short crossing. I stood at the rear deck of the boat watching the Manhattan skyline recede into the distance. With the bow of the ship acting as a windbreaker the ride was much warmer than my walk upon the Brooklyn Bridge.
Upon my return to Manhattan I went underground and rode the subway to Rockefeller Center, which now had a large skating rink and Christmas tree installed at its base. However, the biggest attraction was the window displays at Saks Fifth Avenue and Macy’s. After cruising by the glowing windows one last walk awaited me. Although by this time the night had become quite cold and windy, the neon marquees still lit up the night with their colorful messages. Finally, I entered the confides of the port Authority Building where it felt good be out of the cold. All in all it was a busy 12 hour break from my overland journey.
I just figured out that I probably going to be stuck here in Montreal for the next week. Actually, stuck is an inappropriate word, for a thoroughly love Montreal and will enjoy my extra week here immensely. This extra time will me a chance to catch up on all those things I mean to do, but never got around to.
The cause of this action is two-fold. First, the bus prices to NYC just got jacked up for the Thanksgiving Holidays, so I’ll be saving money in that regards. My original intention was to arrive in the Big Apple on Thanksgiving Eve and stay in the city for Holiday Madness that follows. However the idea of spending Black Friday in Canada, which celebrates their Thanksgiving Day on October 12 grows more appealing as the holiday approaches.
December will still be a fine time to spend a week in our most popular city until I head south of the Mason-Dixon line for the Christmas and New Year’s celebrations.
The other factor that comes into play concerns my overall reason for the journey and that is spending time with my family. A week or two wait might actually enhance that visit as well.
Meanwhile here are a few pictures from around Montreal to give readers a chance to partake a glimpse of these vibrant bi-lingual Canadian city.
And finally a humorous look at Canada’s bilingal program, which is evident everywhere.
This past weekend I was in New York city for the first time in over 20 years. The main function was a family event that took place on Saturday afternoon, so I didn’t get much time to explore the city until about 5 PM, when all my people hopped on a charter bus back to PA, while I got a chance to wander around the city for a few hours until my train pulled out of Penn Station at 3 A.M. As it turned out it was a most fascinating few hours. NYC is like that; a great place no matter what the time of day (or night).
First stop was the Whitney Museum, where the “Abstract Paintings of Georgia O’Keefe” were enjoying their last weekend, before they got taken down. As a result the place was mobbed, and I had less than a hour to enjoy the exhibit, but as far as I was concerned there was not much else to see. That’s because the museum curators had taken down the permanent collection and were preparing to display the Biennial in February. Actually, this was a blessing in disguise for I got to spend the whole time wondering through the multitude of people who had packed the third floor in a sometimes successful effort to find an unobstructed glimpses at one of the many wonderful abstractions of Ms. O’Keefe.
Her abstract really is quite unique, for it is nothing short of visual poetry. And this exhibition had a few of her real classics. Included were some of the small intense watercolors she made while teaching art in West Texas (one of the most visually unique places in the country), some botanical abstracts, the tiny black sphere on a large black plane piece, clouds, desert doors and more. To round out the show, there were even a few of Stieglitz’s photographs with Georgia as the au natural model. No wonder the place was jammed; it was a very intelligent show.
From the Whitney I headed downtown wandered around the East Village for a cold half hour in search of the former art scene that once graced this part of town and found little. Instead New Yorker pizza and a warm place to sit pulled me inside. Then back into the cold again and across Houston Street to Soho. Did not get as far as all the Soho galleries, but instead found a nice book store with a coffee bar, definitely a sign of the times, if there ever was one.
Then it was back on the subway and up to 23th street, where I stopped by my bed and breakfast to pick up my luggage and then on to Penn Station, where I had a reserved seat on the 3:10 to Boston. Since I had a few hours to kill, I swung by Grand Central just to take a peak at what a real train station looked like. After checking out the classic late 19th century architecture I arrived at the modern and low ceilinged Penn Station and hunkered down for the lengthy wait.
The scene at Penn Station was definitely unique, for the cold weather had forced quite a few homeless into the large labyrinth of walkways, fast food joints and waiting areas. The city police were not in a mood to force loiterers back out onto the street, so they just dealt with the troublemakers of which there were only a few. Because I was a ticketed Amtrak rider, I got to sit in a special lounge and wait for my train to leave, an event which kept getting postponed.
Finally, at 6:30 the Boston Special pulled out of Penn Station with only several dozen passengers to fill the long line of cars. Free food and drinks were offered to all to compensate for the long delay, so I had a beer and hot dog for breakfast, as I got to watch the horizon turn red above the Long Island Sound. The sunrise actually made the wait worthwhile, as it created a surreal world of solid black shadows, shimmering lights and an indigo and crimson sunrise. My amazing little point-and-shoot digital handled the dark exterior scene as well as can be expected. (you can view the results above) It was a perfect complement to the O’Keefe show.