Winter Break at the Overlook

I saw The Shining when I was 10 years old. Too early? Definitely. But having experienced it at such a young age, I can't help but think that it is part of me. I grew up with Jack and Wendy Torrance. Maybe they weren't my parents per se, but they were like an Aunt and Uncle. I got to watch Uncle Jack unravel before my eyes as I rode my big wheel through the giant hotel. I guess I traded off with cousin Danny. 

And then before the snow hit, Aunt Wendy, Danny and I got to struggle through the maze. We were laughing and having so much fun. Danny's friend, Tony, would visit and give us words of wisdom. Tony was kind of scary himself but he had our backs.

What an adventure it was to be in the Overlook Hotel. The fun party guests. The Grady sisters too. They loved to play with Danny. Uncle Jack throwing the racquetball around. Hallorann coming to visit at an inopportune time. Awkward.

Anyway, I am listening to the audiobook now. I know there is controversy as the Kubrick movie was not as close to the book as Mick Garris' version was. But the Kubrick movie was awesome. So, I guess I am preparing myself to be disappointed with the book.

I have always heard that books are better than the movies. Probably true in 95% of cases. But the medium is so different. Something that takes you days to finish. And something that takes you a couple hours to finish. How can you really compare?

And how can I listen to the audiobook and not picture Jack Nicholson limping through the kitchen with a big old axe? How can I not picture Danny as a kid with a Dorothy Hamill hairstyle? The one exception though is that I can picture Rebecca De Mornay as Wendy. No offense to Shelley Duvall. Shelley will always be Aunt Wendy, but Rebecca De Mornay is really hot. Isn't Wendy supposed to be blonde in the book?

Now I feel guilty. How could I do this to Aunt Wendy? She would be so disappointed in me. But hey! She wasn't really family. Come on! Aunt Wendy?! Who am I kidding? Danny was not my cousin. That freaky finger thing...

 

I Say Turntable, But I Mean Record Player

 My wife got me a turntable a few years ago. So, I located my vinyl records and began playing them. Unfortunately, the one she got me was one of those Crosley all in one models. It could play CDs and had a radio. The turntable worked okay, but the volume had a short in it so either it was blasting or barely audible. So, it did not end up having that killer vibe that I see in this painting here.

This painting was done by my Dad, Barry Woolery. It is one of my favourites. It harkens back to the bygone days when we used to listen to albums and do puzzles or play chess. We would listen to the story of the album. Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks or Van Morrison's Wavelength. Or Cyndi Lauper's She's So Unusual. Or The Cure's Head on the Door. 

Last year, my wife got me another turntable. This time just a turntable. A good one. From a guy who refurbishes them out of his house. It was great. I was so excited. I had a tuner so I was all set to hook it up. When I did, there were problems. Of course.

You know how we have analog and digital? I think this painting is more analog. Well, my tuner was digital. There are probably more technical terms to describe it, but needless to say my awesome purchase at Costco 20 years ago was only designed for digital output. And it was showing its age. 

I was able to buy a sort of connector device which is supposed to bridge the gap between a phonograph player and an "advanced" tuner. After hooking that up, I was still having issues. But in my idiocy, I assumed it was the turntable that was problematic. My wife said the audio guy guarantees his stuff. So I called him up and he said to come on by.

Now, this audio guy is great. A hippie from back in the day. Started off in premed, but then went to electronic repair. A surgeon of another discipline. I took my turntable in. He hooked it up to his system, pulled out some Deep Purple, cranked it up and of course it sounded perfect. My tuner sucked. Of course.

So, I bought a cool tuner from him. A nice silverish wood JVC, with some pretty decent output. I finally had everything I needed. I had some sweet Advents that an old roommate gave me. Now, I could finally kick back in the woods and play some Tom Petty or OMD or The Dickies.

After blasting it for a few minutes, there was a problem. Not a bad problem. Not an audio problem. That was solved. No. We had a smell problem. The tuner had apparently lived in a smoker's home for 30 years. I tried to open the windows and run the fans, but my wife wouldn't have it. I couldn't blame her. It wasn't a subtle smell.

So, I put it in the garage on a table, opened the case and ran a fan on it. After a week I brought it back in hoping it was fixed. 

It still had the smoke smell.  

I am guessing that 30-40 years of cigarette smoke infiltration does not get eliminated in one week. But I can't leave it in the garage on a table for 30 years.

Alas! I'm not that guy in the painting yet. I'll get there though...

I'm Here For An Argument!

Earlier tonight I was helping my daughter with an argumentative essay for school. I was really excited about it until I realized that she needed to cite sources. Ugh! I hate citing sources. What is the fun in writing if you have to back everything up with actual statistics?

In college I took a class on writing and I remember the professor was really passionate about writing a good, argumentative essay. I turned in an assignment and he said it was really good and informative but it was not 

ARGUMENTATIVE

That always stuck with me, because at that moment, I finally realized what he had been talking about all semester. You have to argue for something. Be persuasive. It took me back to the movie/play, Biloxi Blues, where Eugene gets scolded by Arnold. He said: 

"You're a witness. You're always standing around watching what's happening, scribbling in your book what other people do. You have to get in the middle of it. You have to take sides. Make a contribution to the fight... Any fight. One you believe in. Until you do you'll never be a writer Eugene."

Okay, fine. I cited a source...

I always thought that was interesting because this experience was kind of autobiographical for Neil Simon. And he was a great playwright. Did he agree with that statement? Maybe the sentiment.

There I am standing around with my notebook scribbling what other people do. Arnold got me pretty good.