Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs

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It’s strange, emerging from the events of the last few weeks to write about Chuck Klosterman. His drill on the importance of Saved By The Bell and outing of John Cusak as the source of our generation’s inability to understand love had me rolling in my bus seat just a few weeks ago. But, I’ve been lax in updating the blog — I finished Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs soon after seeing Klosterman speak at Cody’s at the end of August.

I wish I hadn’t read these essays yet. I wish I could mute this sunny San Francisco afternoon, crawl underneath my covers and find the same laugh they provoked a month ago. Unlike his new book, Killing Yourself to Live which appears to be a more sober reflection on the mortality of rock stars and mortals, these essays and incidental pieces play to the cheap seats. At Cody’s, Klosterman noted that the unexpected success of his first book, Fargo Rock City , had his publisher clamoring for a second book. Sensing his brief moment of authorial advantage, he shuffled video games, porn, the NBA and — of course — music into an infuriatingly funny collection.

Like any good humorist, Klosterman is at his best when he casts a fresh eye on the obvious. Are people in their twenties and early thirties getting married later? Yep. Is the blood on John Cusak’s hands? Who knows, but it’s a good enough theory. When told in Klosterman’s indignant geek-boy-gone-cool squeal, it’s made even more plausible and, more importantly, damn funny. He’d have a field day with me , glum faced under my hooded sweatshirt, listening to Sigur Ros on a sunny day, trying to remember what was funny about this very funny book.

826LA – Blog

826LA’s Mac Barnett did an amazing job capturing the spirit of our expedition to Houston:

826LA – Blog

Reliant City

Clothes don’t fit in Reliant City. Kids float like ghosts in adult t-shirts. This fact seems amazing considering the storeroom of clothes on the western side of the room, where anthill after anthill of clothes are stacked according to size, gender and fashion. If you’re a girl 3-6 in need of a fancy dress, they’ve got them. Maybe the kids prefer the look.

But in a way the kids are invisible. As their parents search for a place to set up a new life (Announcement over the PA system: “If anyone is looking to relocate to Ohio, the City of Akron, Ohio is looking for the first 100 people to come to our city. We have housing, jobs, education, etc. Transportation is taken care of for you. Meet with Mr. David Moore at the Transportation Table.)” or means to rebuild their old one, the children form little tribes. They support each other as they take out their frustations. Even where toys are plentiful, those lucky enough to get something unique have to guard it carefully. And then they lose interest and leave them lying around, bored, off to the next thing. In a sign of emotional solidarity, almost every other neatly-made cot has a teddy bear reclined on its pillow. It seems all the kids know whose teddy bear is whose.

Today people are rolling carts stacked with diapers, new suitcases and rice-bags overstuffed with the pickings from the distribution center. The evacuation plan is to move everyone. There are success stories every day: an eighteen year old kid off to Colorado Springs to take a new job and rent-free apartment for a year, wondering just how cold we mean when we say it’s cold there. Five kids off to live with their mother (who was sent to dialysis this morning) in a three bedroom apartment here in Houston. The kids that we spend days playing with that don’t show up again. All successes. And all tinged with sadness. That’s how good things happen here.

Reliant City

I’m in Houston helping out Katrina’s victims. There is plenty to digest, and I’ll have more up in the coming days.

Flushing out the ugly truth

Since the hurricane struck, I’ve been stunned that the media has shied away from connecting the devastating images with the social reality of what’s happening — and what’s been happening — in New Orleans, and across the country. Joan Walsh nails it today in Salon:

Before Katrina, we were warned of coffins floating out of cemeteries, but instead we got poor black people flushed out of slums, and to some people they’re apparently just as scary. But they’re not going back any time soon. They’re our responsibility now. They always were; we just ignored it.

Read the rest of the article here:

Salon.com | Flushing out the ugly truth