Short Takes

It takes large stones to begin a show in a noisy, jammed New York club by coming out solo, dropping to your knees and howling like an Idaho wolf. Josh Ritter did that. He began his second song, also solo. Then, one by one, the other musicians stepped onstage and, like artists who know exactly how good they are and what it took to get that good, Ritter and the Royal City Band presented a demonstration of what adult rock music can be: smart and powerful, loud and tender, wise and innocent. I have seen Josh Ritter perform dozens of times; I’ve never seen a show like this. The arc of his new CD --- from his wife’s kick-in-the-gut announcement that their marriage was over to a wish for joy to all, ex-wife explicitly included --- was the spine of the show, but not more than that; Ritter curated his catalogue and delivered it with fire and precision. And the band! Not just crisp, but honed. Of course this crowd knew all the words. And not only sang along, but sang a tears-in-the-eyes-beautiful counterpoint in a favorite number. We hit the street buzzing, humming the tunes, like Broadway in the golden age. So I’m looking at you, you smart people in the cities ahead: Pittsburgh, Richmond, Charleston, Charlotte, Nashville, Knoxville, Birmingham, Baton Rouge, New Orleans, Lansing, Denver, Sun Valley and Lenox. Tickets here. Joy guaranteed. You find a better deal, let me know.

Giraffes for kids: Friend of the site Ann Medlock is the force behind The Giraffe Heroes Project, which identifies and honors people who stand up for what they believe --- people who stick their necks out. Now she's launched a Kickstarter campaign to fund "Two Tall Tales," a popup book for kids that shows how the giraffe got its long neck --- by being brave and caring. She's made a terrific video to pitch her project.  And, if you're moved, help her move.

"Gentleman," the new video by Psy. (His last video, "Gangnam Style," now has 1.5 billion views.)

David Foster Wallace's commencement speech at Kenyon College, transformed into video.

Norah Jones. Bob Dylan's "Forever Young." At the memorial service for Steve Jobs.

Gretchen Rubin, Tim Ferris, Cool Hunting, Amanda Hesser --- not a shabby lineup. Well, move over, kids, because there’s a new member of the team: me. It’s like this: There’s this service called Quarterly. You pick a contributor, plunk down your subscription fee, and, four times a year, you get a mystery package. (If you sign up for me, you have a pretty good idea that it will rain some sort of culture on your head, but … you never know.) Hint about my first box: When it arrives, odds are good that many will be buzzing about this subject. I give you a deeper, smarter, possibly more fun look, and from several angles. But I can say no more. Here’s Quarterly. And here’s my contributor’s page, with a photo taken, for a fee that was a bitch to negotiate, by our child.

My friend Georgia Shreve is having a concert this Friday, May 3, at Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall. I asked her for a preview: “My concert brings together the loves of my creative life: literature and music. I’m fascinated with the work of T.S. Eliot, and I have chosen 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,' a poem that is an early and iconic work not just for him, but for Modernism. The New York Times referred to the initial piano-vocal performance as 'an expansive, psychologically pointed setting of the poem in an artfully blended performance…'” The concert will feature 'Prufrock' as performed by a chamber orchestra, along with a performance of Shreve's Piano Concerto, by the Manhattan Contemporary Chamber Ensemble. Tickets are available online via Carnegie Hall.

Would you run to a film with a gloppy one-word title? I wouldn't. But having chosen our last film --- Danny Boyle's loathsome 'Trance' --- the choice wasn't mine. And the New York Times review was enthusiastic. And 'Mud' stars Matthew McConaughey. So off we went. Verdict: a terrific movie, acutely written, brilliantly acted, tense and funny. And original, which, is this season of sequels, is almost reason enough to see it. 

I’ve admired the big-brain, big-hearted writing of Ta-Nehisi Coates on The Atlantic blog for years. But it wasn’t until last week, when he went to Europe for the first time, that my admiration turned to something like awe. Raised in Baltimore, where he says “my first language was violence,” he now shares a travel diary that starts with race and moves rapidly beyond; it will challenge you, touch you, and, like the best writing, will make you want to read him on any topic. When you have some time to think and feel, start here, then here and here and here.

I was a panelist at a Luxury Marketing event at Bloomberg last week, and I began my remarks with an apology: “There’s a jerk on every panel. I’m it.” I went on to say 1) social media is not media, it’s something else, and not nearly as important as some people think. 2) “Content is king” is a lie. Media companies hate content made by people. They want content made by bots for bots. 3) Authenticity is the highest value, and it’s costly and made by cranky people. To my total surprise, one panelist agreed with me --- and went further. Judging on appearances is shallow, but a stylish blonde from Connecticut as a crusader for authenticity? I would have bet against. But Kim-Marie Evans is one of the most grounded people I’ve met in years. Her husband works long hours, she has four kids, she loves to travel. Solution: She launched Luxury Travel Mom, a site that gets her and her kids to great places, often for free or close to it, with the understanding that she’s not going to sugarcoat her reviews and that her kids, who consider all travel free, are certain to tell the truth. How is she as a writer? So not a bot.

... but the clarity of the video makes me wanna scream and shout and let it all out.

Robin Roberts said she was warned that “at one point I would feel like dying.” Shortly after the transplant, that came true, she said: “I was in a pain I had never experienced before, physically and mentally. I was in a coma-like state. I truly felt like I was slipping away. Then I kept hearing, ‘Robin! Robin!’” The voice belonged to a nurse, who Ms. Roberts said was “pleading for me to stay here. And thankfully I did. I came back.”

You surely remember Laura Munson, author of the New York Times best-seller, This Is Not The Story You Think It Is --- the marriage memoir in which her husband unilaterally declares their marriage over and she responds with “I don’t buy it. What can we do to give you the distance you need, without hurting the family?”

Now she leads writing retreats in Whitefish, Montana. What are they like? Well, they’re not just for “writers.” Here’s Laura:

My creative life has always been my safe haven. Usually it’s quite the other way. People say, “I’m afraid to be that vulnerable” or "I’m not good enough, anyway,” which means that their inner critic holds court in their minds and they have learned to bow to it, supplicant.

It doesn’t have to be like this. We can find profound freedom in our creativity. That’s why I lead my Haven Writing Retreats. I want to help people in their creative expression through writing, no matter where they are on the page. I have written my entire adult life, mostly in the mythic trenches of “failure” and recently from the lofty altitude of “success.” In it all, I have learned that it’s about one thing: doing the work. And that can be daunting.

While the wilderness of Montana holds the space for inspiration, I hold the space for my retreaters to step into the wilderness of their creativity -- in a nurturing, safe, challenging setting. I designed a retreat that I would want to attend. In other words, it’s not about criticism or hero worship or reinforcing the tortured artist paradigm. It’s quite the opposite.

At Haven, we do a variety of writing exercises that nimble the mind, free the muse, breathe our words alive. When does life offer that? Rarely. Stepping into our creativity is often about stepping into our discomfort. It is my commitment to make that process as rich as possible. I hold the torch, maybe just a bit braver but not by much, and we enter that wilderness together. Over and over, I see people leave re-fueled, ready to create what they want to create whether it’s a book or a letter to their grandchild.

For more information, email Laura@lauramunsonauthor.com

Marianne Faithfull. 'Broken English.' 1979. Just slightly ahead of her time.

Great visuals. Attention-getting music. But whose?

The Lumineers.  

from Susan Braudy:

Nora and I were part of a small group of women writing for the Times Magazine who in the spirit of the late 1970′s gathered to petition the Times editors to hire more female freelancers.

We met for one strategy session at Nora and her then husband Dan Greenberg’s posh east side duplex.

As we were sorting out our coats piled on the marital bed, somebody asked, “Is that a gun under there?”

Nora pulled out a shotgun and said casually, “It’s not loaded.”

To demonstrate that fact she pulled the trigger, narrowly missing fellow writer Martha Lear.

Martha grabbed my arm and whispered, “Just walk me out of here, fast.”

I held her up, and we hit the sidewalk running.