The Whining Stranger's Song of the Day: 10 August 2007

"What are You Wearing?" by Kahimi Karie (from the album K.K.K.K.K., 1998)

Ever bored with the current state of American pop music, I find myself looking to international recordings stars more and more these days. (Or deep into the past, or deep into the past internationally: French yeye is a favorite style of mine over the past few months.) One splendid new discovery for me has been Kahimi Karie, one of the Japanese pop stars to hail from Tokyo's Shibuya district over the past decade. Check out this tune. It's dreamlike and revolting at the same time. Kahimi's voice is pixie-ish, but the intrusive computer voice that duets with her here will creep you out. On par with Serge Gainsbourg's "Lemon Incest" for unsettling sex songs.

The Whining Stranger on Books and Reading: It's Not Too Late for Summer Reading!

It's August. As I said around this time last year, for those people, like myself, whose lives are governed by the academic calendar this is a period of looming angst and melancholy. Summer is nearly over. Soon I'll be busy in blazers and striped ties, with ink stains on my fingertips, and too many papers to grade.

But summer's not quite over yet! And in an act of Buddhist goodwill, I want to recommend five great books for end-of-summer reading. All of these are from my list of books read in 2007, and all of them left an impression that makes me want to pass them on.

1. Bel Canto by Anne Patchett

Patchett says she was inspired somewhat by Thomas Mann's The Magic Mountain here. The plot is somewhat timely: terrorists take a number of VIPs hostage at a dinner party in a South American country. One of the hostages is an internationally famous opera diva, who stands at the center of the unlikely group of people assembled by the incident. I've heard some opera fans don't like the book, but I loved it. It's emotionally compelling, with great characters, and I found myself listening to the opera channel on satellite radio for weeks afterward.

2. The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami

This book is, literally, life-changing. There is no describing Murakami's style to those who've not yet read him. It's akin to trying to capture the essence of Zen Buddhism in discursive terms. Or like Louis Armstrong said of jazz, "If you gotta ask, you'll never know." Just pick the book up and read it. It begins with curious phone calls and a husband's search for a lost cat. You won't believe where it takes you from there.

3. A Neutral Corner: Boxing Essays by A.J. Liebling

You don't need to be a fight fan to appreciate this one. Liebling's prose is among the finest in American writing, with allusions that range from the erudite to the street-level. He'll take you into a scrubby gym to watch a palooka club fighter train, and take you off on a tangent about philosophy or geography along the way.

4. The Elementary Particles by Michel Houellebecq

I warn you now: this cat isn't for everybody. You'll ask yourself along the way, "Is he being ironic here?" as he descends into virulent fits of misogyny and racism. But then he'll unleash a lyrical passage, lamenting humanity's flaws, and you'll forgive him, if only momentarily.

5. Oh What a Paradise It Seems by John Cheever

I just read this one the other day, after picking it up in a Goodwill store on the highway. It's a short novel, but a fine example of Cheever's lush prose style. And it has the kind of happenstance connections that I like in the best of his short stories. An entertaining read that you'll not put down easily.

The Whining Stranger on Politics and Current Events: Which George Has Less Credibility?

This one?



...who is suddenly claiming that he was mysteriously drugged by some unknown party back in 1974, on the night Ali knocked him out in Zaire? A revelation so shocking he had to wait thirty-three years and until the publication of his memoirs to present it to the world?

Or this one?

...who's suddenly claiming (again) that there was a tangible connection between Al-Qaeda and Iraq, and thus the gigantic military clusterfuck going on over in the Middle East was necessary and justified?

You tell me.

Musings: The Whining Stranger on Men's Fashion and Seminal Sartorial Influences

Hello all, if there is indeed any kind of all left out there after my endless absence. The last time I checked statcounter.com to see if the Whining Stranger had retained any kind of readership, I was not surprised to see that this has become a virtually readerless space on the web. Up on blocks, as it were. Nevertheless, I'm back, maybe mostly for myself, to return to semi-regular musings and minutiae, now that the summer is here and my work schedule has lightened again for a while.

Today's topic: a fluff piece, I'm afraid. No philosophy or politics or literary exegesis this time around, but rather a brief meditation on men's clothing. I've been thinking about my arrival as a self-assured wearer of clothes. I have specific tastes. I am not moved so much by passing trends. (Thank Allah for that, too, as I couldn't stomach another go-around with acid wash if it ever comes back into vogue.)

So today I present for your amusement, as a subset of my ongoing Pantheon of Heroes, a list of the seminal influences on my fashion sense.

1. Spike Lee



I love Spike for daring to make it acceptable for grown men to be seen in public wearing baseball-related apparel. My Alan Trammell jersey and my 1918 model Detroit Tigers cap thank you.

2. Marcello Mastroianni

Marcello, as faithful readers know, is my model for sunglasses-shopping. The dark, chunky shades he sports throughout Otto e mezzo have influenced my purchases for over fifteen years now.

3. Bill Evans

For the spectacles, and the clean-cut timeless look. I wear horn-rimmed glasses very similar to those pictured here on days when I go bespectacled.

4. Steve Dallas

While this Bloom County character was never anything worth celebrating in terms of his personality, I was always charmed by the aloof way he held his martini glass, and the length of his ties (always extending below the belt buckle), and the way his Oxford shirts are always worn with sleeves rolled up. The first thing I do when I get to the office every morning is roll my sleeves up, the same way.

5. George Plimpton

The preppingest preppy if ever there was, dear George informed my love for corduroy and repp ties and Oxford shirts. I recall seeing a photo of George in Sports Illustrated when I was in high school, in a story about his attending both a Yankees and a Mets game on the same day. The photo showed George on his bicycle, riding to the subway station. He was wearing corduroy pants, and a wool crewneck sweater, and a tweed jacket. It was autumn in New York. I was transfixed.

And a few sartorial rules, by which I abide:

1. Men will never look good in cowboy boots.

2. Ditto tank tops.

3. Button-down collars were meant to be buttoned down.

4. The color of your belt should match that of your shoes if both are leather. (Grosgrain proves to be an exception.)

5. Loops and oversized pockets only look good on jeans if you're a carpenter and need to carry tools on the job.

6. White athletic socks were made for wearing during athletic activities.

The Whining Stranger's Daily Haiku: 5 February 2007

You! Hallway whistler!
Avian interruptions!
Would that you would stop!

The Whining Stranger's Daily Haiku: 24 January 2007

infinitely blue:
the sky, the trail of music
I follow them both

The Whining Stranger's Daily Haiku: 18 January 2007

I live in trivi-
alities, traffic in the
mundane. Yet sometimes--