Edgy Mama

Submitted to and rejected by McSweeney’s Internet Tendency (very nicely–read to the end for response):

Cocoa Pete’s Caramel Knowledge Chocolate Bar
I bought this chocolate bar for four reasons: 1. I can’t resist puns, particularly sexual ones; 2. I can’t resist punning that includes saucy little French phrases, as in “Caramel, dark chocolate, and a whisper of coffee…The ultimate ménage à trois;” 3. The design on the box includes a picture of a dripping slug of caramel that looks exactly like a breast or the nipple of a baby bottle (whichever you prefer), thus extending the sensual punning into the visual; 4. I adore dark chocolate, caramel, and coffee. Therefore, I was willing to pay the somewhat outrageous price for this clearly decadent bar.

The Caramel Knowledge lives up to its promise of “Moan inducing chocolate.” There is no dash—which, in addition to the capitalized “The” after the ellipsis in the description, briefly confounded me. That is, until I remembered that copy editing is NOT sexy.

The bar consists of a thick dark chocolate shell (61% cacao—more Français) filled with rich, gooey caramel that runs down your chin as you lap it up. The bar looks like four over-sized, connected, chocolate-covered cherries (or four large breasts, sans nipples). The only improvement to this bar would be to make the whisper of coffee more of a splash.

Cocoa Pete is one and the same as Wicked Pete of microbrewery fame. How many more incarnations can this guy achieve? Can he go any higher than beer and chocolate? Perhaps Pete should combine his creations and make a chocolate bar with a whisper of ale? That would be both heavenly and sexy.

McSweeney’s reply:
Hey! Copy-editing is EXCEEDINGLY sexy!! It is the sexiest of professions. In their waning years exhausted copy editors generally settle into less sensuous jobs like fireman or sculptor. That said,
Hi Anne,
Thanks for sending this. We adore the same things, mostly! But there are too many new foods in the world today and we’re gonna have to pass,
jordan

Cayce Pollard, the main character in William Gibson’s novel, Pattern Recognition, is a “cool hunter.” That is, her talent is intuiting what trend, style, or idea is going to be the next “cool” thing. She sells this rather psychic skill to large advertising and merchandising companies. Part of the reason Cayce responds to “cool” is because she has a severe allergic reaction to labels and logos (for example, she actually has panic attacks when confronted with Tommy Hilfinger clothing and the Michelin Man). Although I don’t have such a strong reaction, I can totally relate to Cayce’s predicament.

Have you ever wanted to rip the labels from your clothes? Do you buy generic food just to avoid the advertising? Do the Double Arches shining in the distance make you feel like barfing? Okay, there could be more at work with this one. If you answered yes to any of these questions, you are in good company with Cayce and with me.

We own a television set, but we don’t have cable. As we live in the mountains, non-cable reception is next to non-existent. All of which is great by me. Television advertising makes me nervous–the messages, the need, the “this is who you could be if you buy….blah, blah, blah.” Now, despite my desire to limit my exposure, I’ve become an Internet junkie. You know the drill–pop-up ads, flash ads, even blog ads (although I do want you all to be able to continue to support yourselves so I can enjoy your rifts–the ubiquitous Catch-22).

All of this is leading me to swallow my revulsion and tell you about two decent uses of advertising, that I have decided, somewhat reluctantly, to support: The Hunger Site, www.thehungersite.com, and The Animal Rescue Site, www.theanimalrescuesite.com. These two sites are for real (beware that some may not be what they seem). So, long story short–if I knew that every time I am bombarded with an ad, someone or some animal (in need) was being fed, watered, or cared for, I think I could stomach the frenzy.

I became engaged in a passionate discussion about Easter candy on Tequila Mockingbird’s site yesterday, and I have decided that I have no choice but to write about my new favorite book, Candy Freak, by Steve Almond.

At the risk of sounding dramatic, I think this book has changed my life. For the first time since high school, I feel that I can be completely open about my lifelong candy habit (I’m coming out, I want the world to know). It’s always a relief, regardless of your obsession, to know that there is someone who is worse off than you—in my case, that person is Steve Almond. So, thanks, Steve, for that gift, and for giving me the strength to testify (like a good Southerner).

I can’t remember a time when I have not loved and longed for candy. I am not particularly interested in other sweets. Cake, cookies, even ice cream, are not necessary for my survival. Candy is. I have lovely memories of childhood candy fests, mostly around what Almond calls “the freak holiday”—Halloween, and my ICS (Initial Candy Supplier).

My ICS was Norman’s–a decrepit, shack-like gas station and random goods store within walking distance of my house (Atlantans—Norman’s is now The Country Store at the corner of Mt. Paran and Northside). Norman’s was owned and presided over by, surprise, Norman, an overweight and rather dour middle-aged man. My boy next door and I (occasionally with various other neighborhood kids) would, whenever allowed (and sometimes when not), make the trek to Norman’s. We would spend whatever money we had on scads of nickel candy and the occasional 25-cent candy bar. I vividly remember spending a great deal of time in my boy next door’s tree house, trading and eating mounds of candy. A trampoline was positioned next to his tree house, so we could, in fits of blood sugar overload, leap from the tree house onto the trampoline (I’m still not sure how large amounts of candy plus spastic bouncing did not equal copious barfing).

My most traumatic candy experience occurred, predictably, the Halloween when I was six. After a highly successful night of trick or treating, I fell, exhausted, into my bed. I awoke the next morning and was immediately aware that something was wrong. The huge plastic pumpkin that held my stash was no longer hanging on the closet doorknob, but was lying on the floor. A trail of ripped wrappers, smashed chocolate, and half-eaten lollipops led across the room to the bed of my EIGHTEEN-MONTH-OLD sister. She lay asleep, with an angelic grin on her chocolate-smeared mouth, hardened corn syrup matted in her wispy hair, and food coloring staining her footie pajamas. She had managed, in a move so cunning it took my breath away, to climb over her bed rail, pull the pumpkin off the door knob, and, in what must have been an orgiastic frenzy, to devour or ruin all of my hard-earned Halloween candy. I have never forgiven her.

When I was fifteen, I spend a month of summer vacation on a bus stuffed with other teenagers, traveling across the country on “Western Tour.” It was the first time I had left the South. The only memory I have of this trip (other than being on the bus) is of touring the Ghiradelli Chocolate Factory in San Francisco.

Several years ago, I spent 19 months running a capital campaign for an independent school in the Boston area. I helped raise over $10 million dollars for the school. A few years later, my former boss said what she most remembered about me was that I was the only person she’d ever known who could identify each and every flavor of Jelly Belly jelly beans (without using the box’s cheat sheet). I was inordinately proud.

So, in the spirit of Almond’s confession, candy currently in my home includes: a bag of fun-sized Snickers bars in the freezer; half a bag of mini Reeses cups (half went into Easter eggs for my son’s school Easter egg hunt); two dark chocolate bars (hidden from my spouse–who traded beer for chocolate three months ago and has managed to lose weight!); a large basket of mixed candy (left over from various holidays) from which my children get to pick one thing for dessert each night; three bags of bulk candy containing Swedish Fish, Fruit Sours, and Jelly Bellies; and a box of 50 Incredibles’ Brand Fruit Snacks (candy masquerading as potential health food—“more fruit juice added”).

So, if you, too, are a Candy Freak, read Steve’s book and let go of the “guilt hammer” (I erroneously feel that Steve is my friend now—I need to call him by his first name.

Bumper stickers seen on laptop computers and cars parked at Port City Java in Asheville, NC, over a period of about three hours:

1. AVL FRK (Asheville Freak)
2. Peace on Earth
3. Stop Logging Our National Forests: Protect America’s Wild Heritage
4. DOG IS LOVE
5. breathe deeply
6. We still Play
7. Think Globally, Connect Locally
8. When Clinton Lied, Noboby Died!
9. Kerry/Edwards (three of them—four months post-election)
10. Buy Local Food—thousands of miles fresher

Not a single “W.” Once again, I realize that Asheville is probably the only town in the Southeast where I could possibly live.

I’m posting this list by my friend Bob because I think it is brilliant, and because I don’t have a top ten movie list for 2004 (I’m not sure if I even saw ten movies in 2004). I’ve only seen two of the movies on this list, but the rest have been added to my Netflix queue. Thanks, Bob.

#10 Being Julia
I actually felt that Annette Bening had left Warren Beatty to go live in this movie. And who wouldn’t? It would have been great to be roaming around the theater while Julia rehearsed her lines. And she knew her lines. Of the other characters in “Being Julia” only Julia knew that it was crucial to know our lines whether we were off stage or on stage. For Julia, all the world was a stage. Of course, I’m also a sucker for these period pieces, not to mention the great character performances by Jeremy Irons and Dustin Hoffman. And all originated from a story or novella by Somerset Maugham.

#9 Sideways
Four relatively ordinary people are given some great dialogue. I was thrilled to be taken along on this trip through wine country and to have a short introduction in their course of wine metaphors. Like many, I felt very uncomfortable going in for dinner after he made that comment about “merlot”. Hell, I always order merlot. Actually, since that movie, I’ve tried to break out with a cabernet sauvignon but I still lack confidence in how it’s pronounced. And, of course, confidence seemed to be one of the themes of this movie. We have all been in those places where we sure wished we felt more at home whether it’s ordering wine or engaging in ordinary conversation.

#8 Kill Bill Volume II
Whereas Kill Bill Volume I (which was in my last year’s top ten list) was simply Uma and Quentin on the vengeance trail, Volume II felt so much more deliberate. Both of these movies had the feeling of myth for me. The film got so much attention because of the use of violence to develop character and plot but, to me, this was the traditional story of the bond of mother and daughter which I’m really into these days. It may be sacrilege to say that I thought this was a feminist film but so much revolved around the intuitive gifts of the female characters. And I loved Bill’s soliloquy on Superman versus Batman and superheroes in our culture in general.

#7 Million Dollar Baby
You could almost smell that gym and you knew the toilets would never really get clean. Unlike other movies, this was not a place that I would want to be. Although we get a few small hints about the past of these three people, we will never really get to know a lot about them. And they don’t need to know much about each other either. They have honed into a loyalty for each other where all other questions are meaningless. Clint Eastwood tells Hilary Swank that he’ll never leave her but I could have heard any of these people say that line to any of the other three. So, we simply watch this unfold and, like critics have said, it does take us somewhere totally different. It’s a great story and I would like to read those boxing strategies for living.

#6 The Aviator
When I order the Jumbo popcorn as well as the Jumbo Diet Coke and watch a three hour movie with never even a thought of going to the bathroom, my body is telling me that I’ve seen a great film. To me,this was the 2004 salute to classic Hollywood-the way pictures used to be made. Martin Scorcese is great in showing us the story. I loved the scene where he went from caressing Ava Gardner’s body to caressing the side of the airplane. But then this whole movie was a very tactile experience which Scorcese is the best at giving us. In focusing on the smallest details, Scorcese gives us a classic and epic Hollywood movie.

#5 Finding Neverland
I never knew the story behind the creation of Peter Pan. And, quite frankly, I had never really thought about it. And that’s the first reason for giving this movie top-ten status. Damn it, art is not created in a vacuum and we do not experience it in a vacuum and I’m glad to have had this movie remind me of this. I’m not sure how to describe the feeling I had here but it was all so…tender. And if you ever needed a quick life lesson about holding on and letting go, this is the movie to go to.

#4 Love Song for Bobby Long
With John Travolta and Scarlet Johanson, I’m amazed that this film has not received more attention. Bobby Long (John Travolta) and his protege stay in a state of near or not-so-near inebriation living in a shack on the outskirts of New Orleans (we never see any part of that city) and their only possessions of value are the lines of literature that each remembers from a former life. Scarlet Johanson is the catalyst here and all lives will change. This film also includes a great performance by Dane Rhodes, a former Poetry Alive! performer.

#3 Ray
Because Jamie Foxx got so much acclaim for playing Ray Charles, I had avoided going because I got the feeling that this was one of those movies with his great performance and some great music and little else. Was I wrong! His performance deserves all of the accolades but this movie is about a lot more that Ray Charles. Throughout we have the look of the period. As a teenager in an all-white high school, I can remember the way teachers and parents (not mine, thankfully) responded to white kids dancing to music by black artists. I also remember a parent pulling the plug on a record player at a local (all white) swimming pool because of the music. The Ray Charles story presented so many of the major themes of my generation that it becomes much more than one man’s story. Unlike Being Julia or Sideways where I fantasized myself being there, in this movie I was there for it all.

#2 Hotel Rwanda
The Holocaust shaped many of the ways we describe the levels of inhumanity in our modern world. Usually, it is presented along with “we can never let this happen again.” Of course, it does continue to happen all over the world. This story is one such example taking place just a little over a decade ago. One of the great lines in this movie has a journalist giving the response of most people in the world to the butchery taking place in Rwanda. He said people would read about it or see a story on TV and say “How terrible!” and then go on about whatever they were going to do that day. But this film doesn’t spend lots of time showing us a variety of atrocities but simply uses them as a backdrop to show us what we too “could” do. The hotel manager here played by Don Cheadle is really no hero kind of guy. I had the impression that his greatest strength was catering to and sucking up to the wealthy European patrons of the hotel. During this film, he discovers the other strengths that may have always been there but never had to be called on. His transformation as told through Don Cheadle’s great performance is the essence of this film. This film is a reminder that we each have those same strengths. We simply need to get out the way and let them emerge when injustices, whether small or large, occur around us.

#1 Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
This movie has been my best since I first saw it with Larry Smith last spring. Of course, any movie whose title comes from a poem will have an edge with me. And this small line is not at the beginning or at the end but almost in the middle of Alexander Pope’s poem “Eloisa to Abelard”. I wish I could have been one of those people who instantly identified the line, its source and its significance. Alas, I was not. I had last read the poem over 30 years ago. I still think Pope is a great writer and I still remember lots of his couplets as many of us do but I’m confound if I can ever remember where the couplet could actually be found. So, I’m impressed that someone not only finds it but builds a screenplay and movie around that same theme. For me, this movie really begins the moment when Jim Carrey decides that he does not want to go through with the operation to obliterate his memory and knows how important it is to hold onto all even the smallest fragment because all of those “fragments” make us who we are. Ask anyone reaching the age where forgetfulness happens with ever-increasing frequency and they will tell you the importance of all of those fragments. Well, of course, I did go back and reread Pope’s poem and found buried in it what I feel is an appropriate review of what I feel this film did. You have to substitute “film” or “movies” for the word “letters” but it works for me.
Heav’n first taught letters for some wretch’s aid,
Some banish’d lover, or some captive maid;
They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires,
Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires…

I just finished (like five minutes ago) Harlan Coben’s thrill-ride of a novel, Gone for Good. I’ve recently discovered Coben (this was my third) and I LOVE HIM. He is the God of suspense. I crave the ability to write like him. So…if you have time to become obsessed, pick up a Coben.

My book club just read Appetites, Why Women Want by Caroline Knapp. The book is an incredibly meaningful look at Knapp’s struggle with anorexia that includes her incisive cultural commentary on advertising, food, sexual desire, and relationships (among other things). Appetites is a bit tedious in places, but the meaningful zingers are aplenty and worthwhile.

McSweeney’s #15 is my current bedside perusal. This issue primarily consists of short stories by Icelandic writers. Which are rather fascinating–particularly as I just bought a heavy Penquin paperback (782 pages) entitled The Sagas of Icelanders. Why? Because I am integrating quite a bit of Norse mythology into the novel I’m writing right now, tentatively entitled Janus Watchers (I know–Janus is Roman, but I’m allowed to mix mythologies). Once again, I seem to be unconsciously tapping into some kind of literary Zeitgeist. That’s a good thing, right?

Now I’m dying to visit Iceland. Supposedly, all Icelanders are highly literate, obsessed with books, and in awe of writers (even though most of them are writers).

More on books tomorrow…I have to go write mine.

My new website, www.annefittenglenn.com, is now popping up first upon Googling my name. For some reason, this makes me paranoid as hell (now I’m cussing in print–shocking!). I read somewhere recently that paranoia is really a form of self-aggrandizement…as if a website isn’t? (Just remembered–it was in Pattern Recognition–a great read). Like most websites, mine is a work in progress, and I’m irritated because it’s not perfect. Not that I am, but…letting go is a bit of a problem for me.

I’ve resisted having a website for many years, despite various people in the know telling me that it’s a good way to market my writing. The whole process and the resultant site makes me feel nervous and, for some reason, naughty. Having my REAL name on this blog makes me feel the same way. I was raised (Southerners LOVE to start sentences this way) to believe that humility is among the MOST desirable traits. Thus, the shame, the horror. Possibly, I’m also too old to really GET this interconnected data byte (or bit?) whole world stream(cop-out?). Possibly, I need to create a cool alter ego blog where I can cuss and complain with impunity. Not to change the subject too much, but I love some of the a.e. blogs I’ve discovered. Here are a few of my favs–both in name and content(which I would link for you if I knew how–see yesterday): Chez Miscarriage, Tequila Mockingbird, Bookslut, defective yeti, and where the f are all the sippy cups. Thanks, guys, for being so interesting, creative, and for distracting me from my work (and my paranoia).