I think I got over my car robbery so well last week, because I discovered it while calling my parents to deliver some good news. All I could think on the drive to the gym thirty minutes later was, "The lord giveth and the lord taketh." (Feel free to substitute "karma" or "the universe." Works the same.)

He, she, it or they have been giving a lot more than taking for me personally, lately, and even that day. I decided if I had a choice on living the day over again, letting go of either both or neither, I'd take it. Worth a robbery for this email from my editor:

One of the most highly regarded independent booksellers read COLUMBINE and has recommended it as a selection for the IndieNext pick.  Actually, what he's written is more than a recommendation.  I think you'll be pleased.  His note is below.

Every once in a rare while a book arrives to bear witness and such is the case with Columbine.  This definitive account of the Colorado high school tragedy will not only surpass all others, it will endure and take a rightful place on the shelf along side In Cold Blood and The Executioner's Song.

Bill Cusumano, Nicola's Books, Ann Arbor

Nice. From now on, I want everyone to compare me to Truman Capote. Norman Mailer optional. Hehehe.

It was the second blurb in a week comparing my book to In Cold Blood. You can never have too much of that. So please allow me to use this pleasant opportunity to whine about something. I have spent decades in bafflement at authors/artists who complain about comparisons like that. (Pop stars seem most heavily prone.)

The complaint tends to runs along the line of wanting to be original. I'd like that too, but I know I didn't invent the form of narrative nonfiction. It would suck to hear that I had shamelessly copied one of those books or was a pale imitation, but I'm not getting that here.

I felt I had to reserve a little judgment, though, because you never know. I might see the comparison differently if I were ever so lucky to provoke it. I am now that lucky. And eager for more.

Also feel free to compare me to Nabokov. Hahaha. I don't think I write anything like him, but I'd like to.

I named my blog after him: Conclusive Evidence of my existence. (Explanation at the link). I used to post a Nabokov of the Day occasionally, just to hear a great prose melody again. Here's a quickie:

People in trains, who lay their newspaper aside, fold their silly arms, and immediately, with an offensive familiarity of demeanor, start snoring, amaze me as much as the uninhibited chap who cozily defecates in the presence of a chatty tubber, or participates in huge demonstrations, or joins some union in order to dissolve it.

-- Speak, Memory / Conclusive Evidence, p. 108 (Vintage Edition)

That's my all-time favorite book, in a tie with Catcher in the Rye. I have still not decided between them, and don't intend to.

I have a few quotes from it I like even better, but I can't find them on my blog archives. (That one was from 2003.) I may have to go find the book. I only keep three copies in my apt.

Oh, I was saying . . .

I decided the night of the car-theft, that I'd gladly trade that blurb for a robbery. I got some even better news the next day, which I can share in about a week. Hopefully I won't have to get mugged.

For God's sake, think about the details.

It doesn't appear this guy thought through anything.

The cops have said he flew his plane toward a Florida swamp, radioed a bogus distress call, then put it on auto-pilot and parachuted out.

It doesn't say it on this story, but a cop on CNN said that in the call he described blood everywhere, yet didn't bother to smear any. He didn't think they would notice?

After the "crash" (it did actually crash somewhere, just not with him), he stopped a cop at a grocery store and said he'd been in a canoeing accident. Heheheh. Who canoes in January, and what kind of accidnets do they involve that require the police? A head-on collision? He was wet below the knees, but dry above.

He showed his real driver's licence, but then checked into a hotel in a fake name. And then ran into the woods.

What a sloppy criminal. Especially since he was already on the run from cops in Indiana. Maybe he thought they were dumber down there.

I lost count. I think I've been robbed six times in the past three years. All my car. Most of them in my own parking space, right under my third-story balcony, in the alley behind my apt.

That's where it happened this time. It sat there all day, with me oblivious. I came out at 5:30 p.m. Thursday all bubbly about some news I'd just gotten and headed to the gym. I had actually called my mom to share the news, was talking to her on my cell phone as I swung the alley door open, and spotted the triangle window. "Shit, not again."

"What?"

"My car. Robbed again."

"You're in your car?"

"No, I just went out there. My window's busted. Somebody broke in."

"Where!"

"My building."

"I don't understand, where are you?"

My mom struggles with the concept of mobile phones being mobile. A minor annoyance, I got off the phone.

Here's what it looked like:

Almost. I added the masking tape, to keep the battery alive. That's where the Smiths reference comes in.

The bastards didn't even bother to slam the door shut, so the dome light stayed on all night and day and when I found it, the battery was drained. How inconsiderate!

They were dicks all around this time. Most of their predecessors managed to get the radio out without ripping a giant hole in my dash and leaving the support cage hanging. This time I'll actually have to go through the body shop and have it repaired. I'll feel terrible putting money into this old beater even though it's insurance money--(the $200 deductible will be met with the window. I know this drill.)

It's still money. They also punched another hole in the dash and tore it loose on the far edge by the door as well, on the left side of the steering wheel. (Look closely at that photo and you can see it hanging slightly. It looks much tackier in person.)

These were the worst thieves I've had. And confusing. All I saw was a bunch of wires hanging out, and thought they might have short-circuited it somehow trying to hot wire it. Or stole my battery? My 18-year-old engine?

That's the eye-rolling part. I'm still driving this '91 Stanza, that I bought in '91, so live cheaply, because I was already planning my escape from corp life to be a writer, and planning to be poor. Of all the freaking cars to hit in my alley. Last time, the insurance lady on the phone said they sometimes hit older cars because they're unlikely to have alarms, and the locks are more primitive.

Half of that might apply. They didn't bother with any locks. I wish they had. The window is $200 to replace, the radio they grabbed is only $100 brand new. (Meaning maybe $30 used, and what, $10 used and stolen? They did $200 damage to my window and probably $400 to my dashboard to get ten dollars? Ugh. I would have given them the ten bucks.)

They also got about $15 emergency cash I keep in the cup-holder compartment, though they couldn't see that until they got the lid off. They rifled threw everything in there, and the glove box--threw it all over the floor and seat as shown. It's still like that. I have not had the will to pick it up yet.

They also got some change out of my cupholder and my grocery store loyalty card, which might have looked like a credit card, but haven't they done this before? (And will I get bonus points for the purchases they make with it?)

I'm slightly amused by what they did not take:

- Half the parking-meter change stashed in my cupholder. It looks like they grabbed a handful, dropped a nickel of it on the ground and left the rest, including a dozen quarters in plain sight.

- Two and one half viagra pills, also in plain sight, lying on top of the change.

- My car registration.

- Two mid-price condoms that they give out free at the STD-testing clinic.

- A little baggy with a substance which was not, but would likely be mistaken for some drugs.

- The six-pack of early California black olives I had left from Sam's Club the night before (too heavy to carry everything in one trip).

- Several two-liter jugs of Diet Sprite, also left from the grocery store run.

- Any of the Obama signs or literature still in my trunk.

- The jug of cat litter for traction in a snowstorm.

- A couple beat up windshield scrapers.

- My gay bathhouse membership card--expired, but they don't always check. (Which the robbers might not know, but I doubt they checked the expiration date.)

- Most of the business cards and other bullshit plastic cards.

- My friend's ugly olive green shirt wadded up in my trunk which I keep forgetting to return.

- The jumper cables I would need to recharge the battery they drained. So they were thoughtful thieves after all.

A neighbor from the next building who I'd never laid eyes on was nice enough to give me a jump once she got over the initial jolt of me approaching her, and figured out I was not a panhandler. I was not expecting it to work, but trying to rule out a dead battery, as I had not figured it out yet. She asked about a door ajar and that's when I realize, oh yeah, it was.

It started right up, but then I noticed a second light on: a tiny little bulb in the glove compartment. They had busted the latch right off, so the damn face hung open, keeping the light on. That was weird. I know I've never replaced that bulb. It's been operating for 18 years? Could that thing drain my battery? Probably not, but I'm a moron on this shit, and didn't want to take the chance. I work from home, too, so I can go days without driving.

I tried to yank it out, but could not make it budge. I pulled eight different ways, but couldn't really see how it was secured in there. It wasn't sufficiently illuminating enough to see its own base. I decided I'd never really used the damn thing, so I was just going to get rid of it. I gave it a good whack with the end of the jumper cables, but it withstood the blow. That surprised me. If I bump my desk lamp with my elbow walking by, the thing goes out.

I smacked it again. Nothing. I beat the shit out of the thing, and it was indestructible. I finally pounded it through the little gap for its wiring--a fraction of its width, but it broke through the hard plastic housing unfettered and continuing to shine, dimly as ever. Hardly any light even came through the little hole now, but I knew it was still working away in there, drawing on my poor battery.

So I drove around the block to charge the battery, cut the engine and ran upstairs for the duct tape. I couldn't find it, and settled on masking. Turns out two strips of thick masking tape are not strong enough to hold a glove compartment face, but three are.

I decided I liked the whole thing looking even trashier than a Sarah Palin in-law.

And I'm going to investigate buying stock in that light-bulb company. Perhaps they've gone bankrupt for failing to employ planned obsolescence. 

I'm still wondering whether the Palin tape is working. They broke the clasp, so is shutting the box actually turning off the light? I felt around and listened closely as I open and shut it, and can't see, hear or feel anything moving to inform the hardy light that the door is shut and it can give it a rest. It may still be on in there. The car started last night. I'll let you know if it does today.

Will Leitch's blog led me to someone's called Sefra, who sent me spiralling into a Sufjan Stevens weekend. I was savoring and wallowing in Sufjan for 72 hours. Hard to get enough of him.

Sefra posted a really cool youtube--a live version of "For The Widows In Paradise; For The Fatherless In Ypsilanti" with him just picking at the banjo, brilliantly-- which you can watch at the link, but it's "Chicago" that really bleeds me:

Is that what heaven's going to feel like, on the anxious stroll in through the gates?

(You'll never find out. hahaha.)

I'd never heard it until I saw Little Miss Sunshine--what an under-rated film. I think "Chicago" came on during the first scene of the van off on the highway, running under those beautiful expressway cloverleafs.

I was already in awe of the film, but that was the moment I fell in love with it. And eventually it came to this, my favorite moment:

I almost couldn't take the moment just before it. When he discovered his ailment (I won't wreck it) and started pounding on the walls and roof of the van, I rolled off my couch onto the floor crying. (Yeah, that happened. I was watching alone and that caught me by surprise. Nobody to hug.)

And that self-muted guy was my favorite character.

I never did decide whether it was my favorite for the year. It was a tough race with Half Nelson. (A name I can never remember. I had to look it up on my Facebook page.)

Both were amazing. What a year.

Hennyway, the youtube up top is a live version--not the best musically, but worth it to watch Sufjan perform--in his butterfly wings, even:

He aludes to them with a chuckle during his intro--". . . who believe, as I do, that more is more." Hehehe. I'm generally of that persuasion. Watch it, and decide. Or just enjoy.

Mesmerizing boy.

marklisanti:

Seriously, that mouthy little boy-wonder fuck should’ve better known better.

---

(That was his caption. I found it via The Will Leitch Experience.)

I got a really nice message from my editor today. Alexandra Fuller, who wrote the critical hits and bestsellers Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight and The Legend of Colton H. Bryant, sent a really nice blurb for my book Columbine:

"Like Capote's In Cold Blood, this is a vivid exploration of the broken logic that drove two young men to commit a terrible, senseless crime. A stunning achievement -- clear-eyed, compassionate, thoroughly researched. However much we may want to, we cannot afford to look away."

How cool to get compared to Capote, and In Cold Blood. I freaking love that book.

---

FYI, here are the previous blurbs. (My editor says I can't repeat them too much. hahaha. So I just added them to the sidebar, too):

"Half the anguish of Columbine is our mystification. How did those boys get so twisted, so murderous? Now, after nine years of great reporting, Dave Cullen has done the impossible: you will know these killers -- and it will shake you up. This is a big-time work that will endure."
        --Richard Ben Cramer, author of Joe DiMaggio and What It Takes

 
"Dave Cullen is the Dante of this high school hell. I came away from it thinking of Jack Nicholson hollering 'You want the truth? You can't handle the truth!'. Read this quietly powerful account of Columbine and find out if you can."
        --Ron Rosenbaum, author of Explaining Hitler and The Shakespeare Wars

---

BTW, I would greatly appreciate any links to my book site -- http://davecullen.com/columbine.htm -- preferably with "Columbine" as the anchor text--so that google searches on "Columbine" find it. I'm currently ranked #16 on that keyword, and need to break into the top ten. So the completed link would look like this: Columbine.

Thanks.

Whoa. I spent most of the weekend getting this blog to work again. (Don't ever use Radio Userland. That was an unnecessary caution, as it's a dying platform, due to its own inherent crappiness. It will do for now, but man . . . )

The last big, stubborn problem was with the permalinks which should now be fixed. It will propogate through the archives later today.

Yea!!!

I'm free to blog at will again.

For now.

A few years ago, Masterpiece Theater (now just "Masterpiece") was one of my favorite TV shows. I've still got it on my best list on Facebook and all my other friend sites (which are getting out of control).

Then all these really cheeseball productions--worse than Hallmark Hall of Fame. Did they switch producers a few years ago? But aren't they just buying most of this stuff from existing Brit productions--or do they have a hand in making it?

Last night, they kicked off their new season with Tess of the d'Urbervilles, which was marketly better. The first installment didn't play like self parody, but it was only barely engaging. I got interested, but it dragged, badly. And it didn't really get inside the characters very well. Just not very artfully crafted.

What's going on here? Just a show long past its prime? Time to write it off? Or do they just need to fire some nitwit and bring in a new team to replace the failed new team?

I am resuming blog operations here.

I spent most of 2008 finishing my book, Columbine, which comes out April 6, this year.

Tech troubles held up this site and I wanted to try out Open Salon, so I did my 2008 blogg there--specifically, here.

But I am back to this space.

And I have pulled together everything else at my davecullen.com domain, which should be there for the rest of my life. You'll find "blog" as one of the main menu items there, and the blog page there will always provide links to both the currrent and past sites. So you can always find me there. It will also be a lot easier than remembering the url for this site. Just go to:

davecullen.com/blog and follow the link here.

woohoo! i just saw my first presidential ad of the year. it was for barack, on the news in denver.

(and being colorado, it had the irony of being followed immediately by an ad for The Tanner Gun show, famous for being the event where the Columbine killers purchased three of the four guns they used to kill all those kids. how nice. the commercial was appalling. lots of close-up shots of tables strewn with high-powered rifles as submachine guns, and then these displays of knives with curving twelve-inch blades (also very similar to the knives the Columbine killers carried into the attack, but did not use.)

well, it is colorado.

meanwhile . . .

my friend in LA said TV commercials have just ramped up in the last 24 hours there, mostly the caroline one for barack. i found it on youtube here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vVlnL1_xXJM

wow. i was not quite expecting that. they are not kidding around with the comparison to JFK. good call.

i always roll my eyes when people try to stretch to make those connections (eg, when bill clinton first ran, and endlessly milked the photo of him shaking hands with JFK when bill was a teen. big deal: bill wanted to be the next Kennedy. the connection felt manufactured to me.

but this time, caroline really endorsed barack at the right moment: after that sense of 1960 and 1968 had so clearly returned. months after even barack's rightwing enemies began to acknowledge it, and after the iowa and south caroline victories started to make the dream feel real.

it reminded me of what frank rich said about brokeback in his new york times column about a week after its release, when the film was the talk of the nation. i don't have the exact quote, but i believe it was something like: This film is having such an impact at this moment, because it is ratifying a movement, rather than leading it.

i thought he got that exactly right. there are pioneers, who prep the rock-hard soil, and that is really hard work, and vital. for gay rights that included the stonewall drag queens, and maybe the ACT Up people and all sorts of pioneers. in the media, it included The Real World and Ellen and Will and Grace. we are well past that stage, now. the ground had been ready, but someone or something had to come along and really take advantage of that. Brokeback was that moment.

i think in their own way, hillary and barack are kind of those people, too. people martin luther king and susan b anthony feel like their predecessors, who broke the ground and made today's road possible. and many others, of course. (also gloria steinem, and Betty Friedan on the women's side). these two today are poised to be ratifiers: the country is finally ready for a woman or a black as president--not necessarily eager, or asking for one, but ready, if the moment presents itself. a person of great strength had to come along and make it so.

i do believe that we have two people of great strength today, with very different talents, one of whom will make it so. we will finally have either a woman president, or an african american.

hmmmmmmm. i drifted astray there.

one idea that i was grasping for was that by luck or design, caroline got the timing of her announcement perfect.

if she had done it a month earlier, it would not have worked the same. the obama movement was already rising--very powerfully in some circles--but most of the country, which ignores politics until the moment is almost at hand--had not yet felt it themselves.

most people had not yet felt anything like 1960 or 1968, so if they heard caroline's commercial and saw those images a month ago, they would have felt she was trying to make that connection for them. it would have felt like a bit of a reach.

now i think so many people have felt it--or at least heard about it from people they know--that when she says it overtly, and the commercial shows the images of her dad . . . it ratifies a feeling they already had. it takes an existing hazy connection inside the viewer and transports them directly there: it is 1960 again, we had a leader the country rallied behind. this is how it feels to unite. this is how we can feel again. this is how we will feel, if we make this really happen.

i get tingly when i watch it. i've had my hopes dashed before, and i'm a little afraid to dream again. but i want to.