I haven’t owned a suit since I was in high school. I have a tux that I’ve worn a couple of times in recent years, but for other occasions, I’ve relied upon the blazer/dress pants ensemble. Patches on the elbows and everything. However, that won’t do for a wedding, so last night we went out and bought me a suit. Two, in fact, since it was buy-one-get-one-free week at the haberdasher (there’s a word that’s fallen into disuse!). We made a romp of it. Got a lot of laughs from the salesman. At one point, a mustachioed tailor who reminded me of Gepetto sneaked up behind me and took a few rapid measurements with a tape and a piece of chalk.
On a whim, I decided to pick up the guitar and try to learn to play it. After a week, I can now find A, D, E and G without too much trouble and my fingertips are tender. I can also manage C, as well as Emin, Dmin and Amin, although my current favorite is Cadd9. I’m playing around with “Dreamboat Annie” by Heart, but the F chord is a challenge and Fmin even worse. I’ve strummed the guitar many times over the years—I even taught my daughter to pluck the opening to “Dust in the Wind” once—but it’s never stuck with me. Maybe this time will be different.
It’s slow going for TV during these summer months, but there are a few interesting shows all the same. I raced through Aquarius, but was frustrated by its multiple cliff-hangers. Sure hope it gets renewed. Wayward Pines is intriguing, though strongly reminiscent of The Prisoner. Melissa Leo looks like she’s having a great time in it. They’ve already chewed through a couple of big-name actors. I was recommended The Whispers, so I watched the first two episodes of that. The only thing it’s missing is that creepy girl from Intruders. It’s inspired by a Ray Bradbury short story called “Zero Hour” from The Illustrated Man that’s about six pages long. Murder in the First returned last night with a bang, an episode that features a Columbine-style duo on a school bus. And Hannibal is back, that lush, artistic, confounding series that is at least as much style as substance.
On the reading front, I seem to have acquired electronic galleys to a lot of short story collections lately. First I read The Last Drive and Other Stories by Rex Stout, early stories by the creator of Nero Wolfe, many of them involving golf. Then it was The Complete Crime Stories by James M. Cain (author of The Postman Always Rings Twice and Double Indemnity), though in truth a good many of them aren’t crime stories at all. Now it’s Charlie Martz and Other Stories by Elmore Leonard, a short collection of mostly unpublished Leonard stories in which he breaks some of his “10 rules.” For good measure, I’m also reading Pale Grey for Guilt, the ninth Travis McGee novel. I’m slowly working my way through the McGee books in order at the pace of one or two a year.
