The Squid and the Whale is set in the Brooklyn of the 1980s. That means that the feature you can hear in today’s audio podcast quiz didn’t exist then. Still, listen to this three-and-a-quarter minute clip and see if you can tell me where in Brooklyn it was recorded. I love the percussive quality of the place.
Leave your answer in the comments, or if you’re shy, send an e-mail to yousaytomatoblog@gmail.com.
(To subscribe to You Say Tomato podcasts, add http://del.icio.us/rss/tag/system:filetype:mp3+juniocast to your favorite podcasting software. If you use iTunes, for example, in the Advanced menu, select Subscribe to Podcast, and paste in that URL.)
For my second podcast (my first consisted of Emmy predictions, and was posted mere minutes before the start of the Emmy telecast, which a) presumes a greater interest in the Emmys than hard evidence supports; b) wasn’t the best timing), I bring you the Great 2005 Name That TV Theme Tune Contest.
Then I play 10 TV theme tunes. I recorded them off my TV, so the sound quality’s not stellar (Andy, my podcast guru, would be appalled for many, many reasons), but it’s good enough, ya whiners.
What you have to do is match the theme tunes with the shows—so, for example, if you think Theme Tune 1 is Threshold, you would write 1-A, and so on down the list. Each tune is only used once (there’s no trickery involved, in other words), and the music you hear at the beginning and end of the podcasts is just for your entertainment—it’s not part of the contest.
When you have your list, enter the answers in the Comments for this blog entry (if you don’t want the world cribbing your answers, just send them in an e-mail to yousaytomatoblog[AT]gmail[DOT]com). From the no doubt numerous correct answers I receive, I’ll randomly pick one winner.
What’s the prize? Well, you get to choose. You can have a) a slightly used gay-themed T-shirt—not everyone’s idea of sartorial bliss, including me these days, I must admit; b) one of my mix CDs (your best bet); or c) a new hardback book (I’ll choose one for you—I’m as good at matching people with books as the winner will be at matching TV shows with theme tunes).
OK, let’s play Name That TV Theme Tune …
(To subscribe to You Say Tomato podcasts, add http://del.icio.us/rss/tag/system:filetype:mp3+juniocast to your favorite podcasting software. If you use iTunes, for example, in the Advanced menu, select Subscribe to Podcast, and paste in that URL.)
My grandma had the most fantastic gift for finding money. Perhaps because a broken wrist relatively late in life had made her quite nervous about getting about, she always kept her eyes on the ground—and she often found coins. Usually it was pennies, but occasionally she found a 10p piece (this is before they were tiny).
Apparently, it’s genetic, because I’ve got some weird once-removed money karma thing going on myself this week.
It began on Sunday, when R and I were shopping at the Union Market. As we were paying, a man nudged R, said, “I think you’ve dropped something,” and handed her a dollar bill that was on the ground. It was a little awkward, because the chances were that it wasn’t R’s—I was the one paying, so she hadn’t had her hand in the pocket where she keeps her cash (or perhaps she’s one of those people who keeps her dosh in her wallet—isn’t it terrible that I don’t know?)—but it didn’t seem to be anyone else’s, and it was just a dollar, and their prices are a bit of a larf, so with some reluctance she pocketed it.
This evening, I was heading home from the subway when the woman walking alongside of me sort of crouched as we were crossing Sterling Place. When I looked to see what she’d picked up, it was a $10 bill. She was almost in shock. Perhaps she expected me to demand my share of the loot, but I’d never have spotted it on my own, and she looked so happy to have 10 extra bucks, I had no desire to pee on her parade.
Besides, there’s clearly something afoot. I was thinking that I should buy a lottery ticket tomorrow, but clearly, given the luck people standing next to me have had recently, what I really need to do is persuade a friend to buy one and then split the profits with me when they hit the big one.
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Monday, October 03, 2005
Hanif Kureishi
Sammy and Rosie Got Laid--the movie, the script, the Granta story about the making off--is one of my favorite works of art; it's funny, it's hot, and it uses non-realistic acting, speech, and events to present the most evocative portrayal of the middle-to-late days of Thatcher that I'm aware of. I used to be a massive fan of Hanif Kureishi's--and I still am of that early work, but the later stuff (post-Intimacy, really) didn't grab me in the same way.
I'm thinking I should give his work another chance after reading about the postcard from Kureishi that the proprietor of Bookish found in a used copy of one of his books.
I had a similar experience this summer. After I wrote about his short story/movie My Son the Fanatic, I got a very sweet note from the man himself.
Actor Jeff Goldblum; Saturday, Oct. 1, watching a matinee performance of Orson's Shadow at the Barrow Street Theater (as were R, an out-of-town guest, and I).
