December 2006

Books Read:
A Parrot in the Pepper Tree – Chris Stewart
The Almond Blossom Appreciation Society – Chris Stewart
The Time Traveler’s Wife – Audrey Niffenegger
Casino Royale – Ian Fleming
Frannie and Zooey – J.D. Salinger
A Prayer For Owen Meany – John Irving
Wicked – Gregory Maguire (not yet finished)


Listening
Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers and Bastards – Tom Waits
Okonokos – My Morning Jacket
Death By Sexy – The Eagles of Death Metal
The Little Willies – The Little Willies
Bows and Arrows - The Walkmen
Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me is Gone - The Walkmen

The first two books that I had read this month served a metaphysical role in the guise of reading a book about Spain written from the perspective of an Englishman trying to immerse himself in his recently adopted country. Chris Stewart has written three books on the subject now along with Driving Over Lemons being the first of his trilogy and these being numbers 2 and 3 and read in that order. I guess that I was hoping to relate to Stewarts musings about his family, home and friends…oh and the fact that he used to be the drummer for Genesis. Outside of laying down the rhythm section for a hugely successful prog-rock band (I don’t mean to name drop here, but you all may remember my frantic bass work in bands such as Hung Like a Moose with our break out epic masterpiece “Iron Dick” or perhaps 3 Matts and a Scott…classic) Stewart’s Spain and mine are absolutely incomparable. Stewart’s Spain involves neighbors that come from miles to assist in rebuilding a washed out bridge to help reconnect our protagonist to society. My neighbor is pushing 40 and still lives with his mother. He blasts his television while playing FIFA Futbol on his X-Box as the two seem to constantly be yelling at each other over the din. I can’t even get this guy to hold the elevator, let alone assist me in metaphorical manual labor.
Stewart’s neighbors come together to assist in the shearing of the sheep and the rescuing of lost cattle. About two weeks ago, it was 11:30 at night and there was a kitten stuck in the grill of a gray Renault 5. Marta and I could hear the delicate mewing through the windows up on our 5th floor flat. We had some discussion about the kitten’s fate when the owner would leave for work the next morning. We decided we were going to rescue the kitten. When the light of our flashlight hit it, the kitten began tearing through the motor of the car. We could see tufts of fur as the thing blurred from one end of the grill to the other like the Alien in ventilation ducts. The gentle mewing became angry and turned to hissing. Neighbors began to gather. I had been reading A Parrot in the Pepper Tree at this time and I found myself thinking that this was it, this would be my Christ Stewart neighborly moment. However the neighbors seemed to be there merely to provide color commentary to the evening’s main event. The two older women were reminding us that there was a cat in the car, they would then turn to each other and bicker about something or other. The middle aged man and his son discussed what tools we could use to excavate the cat. The owner had meanwhile wandered down to watch us watch her car. When we explained to her why we had gathered around her car, she offered little more than, “yep, it’s been there all afternoon”. My role had clearly been assigned, I was the flashlight holder, Marta however was taking matters into her own hands and had requested that the lady pop open the hood and get her some gloves. With the hood open and Marta now fully gloved, she began the delicate procedure of removing the kitten that had somehow wrapped itself around the radiator. The kitten began hissing and with claws fully extended began swiping. I knew this because I was able to see it, Marta knew this because she was the one being swiped at, and however, our play-by-play announcers were perched just at my shoulder to remind us of anything they were afraid we hadn’t fully witnessed. Like a shot the cat took off down towards the wheel wells. The rescue was futile; this cat didn’t want to be rescued. By this point I was already citing destiny, if it chooses to wrap itself around the engine of a car, then that is the fate the good Lord has in store for it.
Out of nowhere the owner’s voice came upon us all.
“This is the fourth or fifth time that this has happened to me,” she observed.
Everything stopped and we all looked at her.
“Que casualidad, no? (what a coincidence, no?)” asked the middle aged man
“Que raro (how weird)” piped in his son.
“Why do you think that is?” asked John Madden (or Dick Vitale, I’m not sure) taking her eye off the action under the hood for a moment.
“Well, I deliver fish all day in this car. That might be it.”
Marta said nothing. She took the gloves off and calmly handed them to their owner. My job as flashlight holder had ended. The light came off and I shut the hood of the woman’s car. Nothing more was said between us. The crowd dispersed just as quickly as it had gathered. In the end there was no communal shearing of the sheep, or rescuing of the cattle there was only a stupid cat and a car that smelled like fish.