fine whine

As I mentioned yesterday, the flat tire fairy had visited us again over the weekend and true to form I had not noticed it until Sunday, the day nobody sells tires. Well that is not true as I could have limped up to a Sam's or Wal-Mart, or maybe even an NTB for their week-wide service, but none were close and moreover I wanted to once again have four matched tires at the same time. More than being just some simple ambition for me, having a full set was something that I didn't always have on my cars. My Tempo1 had once suffered a mishap involving a superslick sheet of ice and a concrete parking lot barrier, such that the measured wheelbase was different for each side of the car. Needless to say this caused problems, namely that one tire wore significantly faster than the others. So eventually we figured out to save money we could buy used tires and get the same wear for less moola—more bang for our buck, as it were, ha ha ha. I generally only use "bang" in the same sentences as "tires" when talking about my bike, you see, as it too has had flat issues this year.

I thought my mismatched days were over when I bought the Galant, but alas, within a month of moving to Columbus I had another flat, manifesting itself again on a Sunday. In total I have had three flat tires on this car in this city, all in the same parking spot even, I think. This most recent one was the resilient black sheep of my previous batch of tires (presumably the ones starting at mile zero and ending at the forty-odd thousand for me) that had in fact once been flat and plugged, successfully. I had gone to replace two of them that were balder and gotten a third out of the deal because of a slipped machine gnawing the last non-bald and un-plugged tire to useless bits. For many months I drove with three new tires and one old, but it finally gave up the goat and now all four match.

The problem in getting it today, though, was twofold. First, the place that I usually went apparently had closed and the nearest franchise was out of the right size. So I had to drive back home and kill a couple hours before the shop was restocked. Not feeling so hot I laid down (after briefly considering some cleaning) and watched The big picture with Kevin Bacon, J.T. Walsh, Jennifer Jason Leigh, and a bunch of jokes that fell flat, and more. It was supposed to be a biting satiric farce about moviemaking and the culture of Hollywood cinema, but either the ensuing years (it was made in 1988) dulled the humor (likely) or the jokes never were so great (also likely). I was left with both the sense that I hadn't "gotten" everything but could recognize when something was to be gotten, and also that it was a pale shadow of Altman's The player, of which I am not really fond either. I think the moviemakers making movies about moviemaking aren't coming up with anything new, at least not that would be accessible to a broad audience. I think for themselves especially, and for some of us, they need to add another layer of distance, to make movies about making movies about making movies. Thus the final film would follow around a filmmaker making a film about making films. This sounds absurd but I am serious: this is an untapped niche for cinematic genius. If Hollywood ever realizes that sequels, remakes and adaptations aren't enough, here's something for them to try, and I'm sure they will. Mark my words.

Speaking of words, I polished off Margie Atwood's Oryx and Crake today. Up until the end it was pretty decent, even for a nonlinear book. Generally I'm not a fan, but the way she weaved past and present (near future and not so near future?) worked quite well. My only complaint (which isn't a new complaint for me) is that of its ending, or lack thereof. The whole last chapter thing sets up a new event and basically stops with something interesting about to happen. It frustrates me to have happily gotten so far only to be let down by an unnecessary tacked-on ending, almost as though the author's setting up for a sequel, but the opening in the end isn't big enough for a short story with many of its possibilities. I doubt there's an Oryx and Crake II in the works, which is slightly unfortunate because the world in the book begs to be explored more fully.

Yesterday I finished Houellebecq's Platform and was rather impressed with it. Despite many explicit sex scenes (it seems the narrator was obsessed with sexual gratification) the book was rather well put together and kept my interest. It too did not have an ending to my satisfaction but it was, alas, appropriate for the book's tone and theme, I think. The best parts were moments of great perception and sharp wit among dry commentary about diverse topics of group sociology (as if there were any other) and a dissection of the typical American best seller, in this case specifically Grisham's The firm. Platform's definitely an adult book and I would be hesitant to recommend it unsolicited, but if anybody asked me if it were worth reading I would likely give it a nod to all but the most obviously squeamish. And I'll be reading his other books, eventually.

Also in book news, Paul Davidson, author of Consumer Joe, dropped by my site and left a comment on my entry mentioning it. Which is pretty cool; I can only wonder how he came across my site. I'll give the book a read and probably drop him an email afterward. Amazing thing, this internet.

1(1990-2001) Rev2 in peace, old friend.
2In the end revving was all that it could do, unless Reverend Jim3 has since fixed it up. The transmission's shot.
3The guy's name really was Jim and he was Reverend at the South Side Ministry, which generously gave my dad a tax write off for the car, as well as hauling it off.