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You, Sir, Are Bad-Ass: Baby, I Don’t Care

Courtesy of The Impossible Cool, let’s end this week with a dose of Bad-Ass:

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Robert Mitchum.

Whose biography, Baby, I Don’t Care, I just bought on my Kindle. And who would sneer at me and then kick my ass for having such a device.

Every man should have at least one Robert Mitchum moment in his life. Here’s mine.

I was at a New Year’s party in NYC in 2003, a few sheets to the wind, kindasorta getting over some heartbreak, when I bumped into a cute, tall, redhead who’d drunkenly flirted with me at a party a few weeks earlier. We resumed our flirtation and got to smooching a little. Then she looked up into my eyes and drunktiredhorny said, “Take me home.”

And I looked at her, smiled, and said, “Baby, I ain’t got a home.”*

That’s my Robert Mitchum moment. She reconnected with her friends, who led her outside a little later. Two days after, I met the woman I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with.

* As far as that night went, it was true. I wasn’t driving back to NJ in that condition, and wasn’t gonna bring her back to my friends’ sofa with me.

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What It Is: 4/5/10

What I’m reading: Indignation, by Philip Roth, and The Philosophy of Andy Warhol. I finished David Carr’s The Night of the Gun last week, and enjoyed the heck out of it.

What I’m listening to: The soundtrack to Moon and A Friend of a Friend.

What I’m watching: Not a lot. We never turned the TV on in the hotel last week. I watched some of the NCAA final four and the Yankees-Red Sox season opener, but otherwise, meh.

What I’m drinking: After the 4 cups of wine at last week’s seder, I’ve actually been dry. Apparently, there is a gin that’s kosher for Passover, but I haven’t been too motivated to hunt it down.

What Rufus & Otis are up to: Spending a couple of days with their girlfriends Ruby & Willow while we were away, and then getting back into the swing of things here at home. Which meant lots of sleep. They also managed a 3+-mile walk on Sunday around Skyline Lake. It was Otis’ first time, and he was zonked by the end.

Where I’m going: Nowhere! Wel, maybe NYC for MoCCA.

What I’m happy about: Celebrating Chip Delany’s 68th birthday at a Sunday brunch in NYC.

What I’m sad about: My pal Sang isn’t around to help us celebrate it.

What I’m worried about: Fast zombies vs. slow zombies.

What I’m pondering: What I’ll be doing in 5 years. I take this stuff seriously. If I really took it seriously, I guess I wouldn’t have bought a new car last week with a 5-year payment plan, but hey.

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Happy Chipday, Part 2

We took Chip Delany out for a belated birthday brunch today, arranged by our pal Elayne! Here’s the 68th birthday boy with his cake!

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And here’s a shot of Chip with the full-page pic from that article in last week’s New York Magazine:

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We had a lovely meal, even if I couldn’t partake in some of the dishes or the complimentary champagne, since I’m trying to keep kosher for Pesach.

Many happy returns, Chip!

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Happy Chipday

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April may or may not be the cruellest month, but at least it kicks off with the birthday of my pal Chip Delany! Happy birthday, old boy! I still marvel over the fact that you thought I’d be a good publisher of your work. I took it as a compliment at the time, but now I think it was more an indictment of the publishing industry.

Anyway, here’s a neat article about Chip’s masterpiece, Dhalgren, from this week’s New York Magazine! Enjoy! And read Dhalgren somedarntime! It’s worth the effort!

Photo of “the creole Santa Claus” (even though he’s not creole) by Andreas Laszlo Konrath