Lone Gunman

I just finished reading Twelve Days of Terror, a book about the 1916 New Jersey shark attacks. I've always believed the theory that it was multiple sharks and that the Matawan Creek attack was by a bull shark. Well, now the author has convinced me that a single mean great white was responsible for all the 1916 attacks!

Apparently, while the waters off NJ are not exactly shark-infested, we get more than our fair share of sharks. I don't like the beach (it's hot and sandy), so I wasn't going in the water anyway, but that's kind of cool in a scary sort of way.

The Last King of Scotland

Yesterday afternoon, I dragged Jon Babc0ck down to Houston Street to see the movie version of The Last King of Scotland. I paid for both of us since we're both still not paid by the same client. I'd finally lost my nerve watching my overdraft balance skyrocket and written myself a credit card check. Sad--I know--but I digress...

Some of you (Pernille) already know what this film is about. But many people won't know. It's a look at the murderous regime of Idi Amin though the eyes of his fictional personal physician, a young Scot who the audience can empathize with in spite of his lack of self-control and constant serious mistakes.

The film takes great liberties with the Giles Foden book. I suppose this was to make it fit into a film format, and also to make a complex plot into something understandable. I read half the book in Uganda and half in Namibia, and was surprised at how simplified the plot had become for the movie. But it's still a highly entertaining film, though much of this is due to the great acting of Forest Whitaker as Idi Amin.

One thing that made me laugh was how 1970s the film looked. The filmmakers really nailed it, the clothes and haircuts, a semi-disco aesthetic in party scenes, and free love with no thought of HIV. I can't imagine how they cleared out downtown Kampala to fill it only with 70s autos and shoot footage. What a traffic nightmare that must have been! I was kind of a Uganda geek, poking Babc0ck and whispering "That's the post office" or "That's the parliament." Like he cared.

After the movie, I had to buy coffee beans. Porto Rico didn't have anything Ugandan, so I bought Tanzanian beans instead. It seemed like the next best thing since it was a 1979 war with Tanzania that brought down Amin.

It seems stupid to have to point this out, but people who go to the movie need to remember that this took place in the 70s. Remember Nixon and Watergate, doing the Hustle, and the Iranian hostage crisis? America's Bicentennial? I barely remember lots of that. It seems like another lifetime. Obviously, Uganda has changed a lot since then, just like America and every other country. It always bugged me that all anyone knew of Uganda was Idi Amin. That's like all anyone talking about in relation to America being Watergate! Well, not exactly the same since Amin and his cronies killed 300,000 Ugandans and brought Uganda's economy to its knees, but you get the point.

In Uganda, I once read a review of the Giles Foden book in The Eye. The reviewer suggested you find a Ugandan over the age of 40, buy them a drink, and ask them about the 70s. You'd get some horrific and seemingly unbelievable tales of Amin's reign. But for those of you who don't have a favorite Ugandan over the age of 40, the book or movie will have to do.

Art for Sale

Jeff has posted the Daniel Johnston art that I mentioned on his online art gallery.

$1,800 seems like a lot but Daniel's art has gotten real popular since Jeff Feuerzeig's documentary came out.

Daniel drew this picture of Captain America and his duck army in my Avenue B condo in the late 90s. I colored it with Dr. Ph. Martin's watercolors. I think we drew it on regular photocopy paper.

If it sells, I don't get $1,800--only a small cut. But I could really use it as one of my clients who owes me a few big paychecks seems to have suddenly stopped paying. Unfortunately, the mortgage company, health insurance company, phone company and the like did not forget to automatically deduct their monthly fees from my checking account. I'm living on overdraft, which is getting kind of scary as it increases every few days. Anyway, the Daniel Johnston art will probably sell before my condo does, and certainly before my book becomes a bestseller. I hope someone buys it.

It Only Sounds Dirty

"Dik-dik," chirped a tiny voice from the back seat of my car.

I raised my eyebrows at Kraiger. That was his seven-year-old daughter chirping about small antelopes.

"She really likes that animal now," Kraiger explained apologetically. "She saw it on the cover of your book."

"Um, how is she going to explain what she's talking about to her mother and her teacher?"

"It's just an animal, Marie."

It's not like she's said anything wrong. But soon her entire class will be doing this.

"Dik-dik," squeaked the seven-year-old again.

Calling All Studs

In the course of installing my bathroom vanity properly, I had the opportunitiy to fire up my "stud finder."

All it found was where I should drill. Maybe it's the batteries.

Ugandan Bottle Opener

In the US, when we go into a convenience store or a deli to buy a soft drink or juice, we receive it in a plastic bottle or a can.

In the Gulf, it's the same. But in the Gulf, the cans have pull tabs. Pop tops. We'd collect them and make necklaces out of them when I was a kid. True, they weren't very attractive necklaces.

Another thing we'd do when I was a kid was collect soda bottles. We'd return to the the supermarket to collect money, which I'm sure was used to buy candy and not to contribute to household expenses. Kids are slackers.

We no longer have so many glass soda bottles in the US, but returnable glass bottles are still used throughout large parts of the world. The system works. There is an initial deposit on the drinks in addition to the normal cost. Then you bring the bottle back later, turn it in and buy a new drink. You only pay the deposit once. We'd save up all the bottles in a crate in Uganda, and then take them all back at once and buy a new crate, or just get back the deposit if we'd collected extras from the never-ending stream of visitors.

But having bottles around means having to open them with a bottle-opener. In the US, most glass bottles are used for beer, not for soda. And I don't know much about beer, but I think lots of beer bottle caps are twist-off.

Still, my Ugandan bottle opener is a popular item in my household. People like to use it even when the lids twist off. Why? Because it's so clever, simple, and practical. People marvel at its simplicity.

The Ugandan bottle opener is simply a wooden mallet with a screw strategically placed on it. Hold the screw under the rim of the bottle cap and lift.

It's not like Ugandans don't have metal bottle openers. Uganda has as much "Made in China" stuff as the next country. But everyone I saw there preferred the Ugandan bottle opener. Because it's cool, simple, and kind of funny. And you can make one at home with a piece of wood and a screw.

More Fun With Condos

Yesterday, I installed a new bathroom vanity and sink. All by myself.

Okay, Kraiger helped me carry it into the house, and a stranger helped me put the vanity into the front seat of my car at Home Depot. But the installation I did alone.

I'd meant to get the classier $200 vanity with drawers and a separate top, but when I got to Home Depot and saw that there was a model-with-top for $69, taste and drawer-practicality took a backseat to price. Anyway, anything is better than the beat-up ancient unit that had been in the condo since well before I'd moved in.

I'd read a tip on a website that I should first put the faucet together with the sink, and make all the hardware work right. That took a while but was pretty clear and straightforward. It also made it easier to dismantle the existing set-up, because then I understood what to unhook to pull the sink out.

To my great surprise, everything went smoothly and there were no catastrophic surprises. This is unprecedented in my old Victorian--normally, things are jury-rigged. There are no square corners, the floor is slanted, and modern plumbing and electricity were added after the fact. And then, anything done in the 70s-90s was done cheaply. I once found a paint stirrer that had been used as a shim. Turbo found empty beer bottles under the floor when he moved the kitchen sink.

The new vanity is taller than the old one. So today I have to go to the hardware store and pick up longer supply lines. Then I have to put everything in place with some caulk and sheetrock screws. And teflon tape. The hardest part, I think, is in carrying the old unit out to the curb for tomorrow's trash pickup.

Language Lessons

Proxima! I called out to the minibus driver to let me off at the next corner.

Was I in Panama? Peru? Argentina? No, just Jersey City. The private minibus had come before the NJ Transit large bus. Kraiger always takes the little bus, though the clientele and drivers are mostly Spanish-speaking. He'd told me how to take it, and described its route. There is no website or fixed schedule. There are not even fixed stops. It stops when a passenger flags it down.

I walked from the bus dropoff to Hudson County Community College for my first Arabic lesson. The 20-student class included a man from Brazil, three women from Guyana, a woman from Honduras, and a man from Hoboken. Our teacher was an Egyptian professor.

Ana ismee Marie. Ana askan fi wilaiat New Jersey. Ana min Virginia. Ana amaal fi...

I got a little stuck on the last sentence. The other words mean: My name is Marie, I live in the state of NJ, I am from Virginia. The last thing we were to say was where we work. I stumbled a bit and managed to blurt out something that might have meant I work in my house, for a company in Kuwait (it seemed to be too much of a stretch to get into "And I color comic books and I write books about roaming the backroads of large sections of Africa").

Class was three hours. I walked back downtown, because I wanted to go by a Vietnamese supermarket on Newark Avenue. Sweet chili sauce is only a dollar a bottle there.

There were carryout noodle dishes by the cash register.

"What is that?"

"Rice noodles, sprouts, vegetables, and Vietnamese ham."

The Vietnamese ham looked like brown lunch meat, but at $3, the price was right. I walked home from Arabic class with my Vietnamese noodles. The minibus full of Spanish speakers passed me as I went back to my block of thick Jersey accents. I'd expect nothing less from one of America's most culturally diverse cities.

Maybe for my next grand tour, I'll just let the world come to me and will take the bus around JC. It sure would be cheaper than going around the world again.

Drawing with Daniel

Jeff reminded me of a drawing session I did with musician Daniel Johnston. I'm not sure what year it was. I think it was the late 90s. Daniel had been in New York to play some shows. I took him up to Marvel Comics--he loves comics--and he'd been inspired to draw. (Which is not unusual since he always loves to draw.)

"I'll come to your place and we'll draw all afternoon!"

True to his word, he did. I asked a few friends to drop by--a letterer (Jon Babc0ck), and an editor/artist (Mark Powers). We drew for a while, and then went around the corner to eat at Old Devil Moon.

I didn't notice but later the other guys said they'd thought Daniel had been going to stab me with a fork. He wouldn't, of course, he was just thinking with his fork suspended in mid-air. Sometimes he does that--not with the fork, I mean, but he just stops and stares off into space and thinks for a while.

We might have to sell the Captain America and his Duck Army art to help pay for my building's new roof. Damn this roof.

Ro on JC Vibe

Roberta was just interviewed for Jersey City Vibe.

I wonder if they cover local writers. Or dik-dik factories.