Pork and beans

Just how cool is Robert Downey, Jr? A guy I never much cared for: for all his talent, there was a foppish smarm that was always there, an insouciance that undermined, at least for me, his roles. Then there were his drug addictions, incarcerations; he fell away. Cut to Iron Man, the surprisingly solid superhero flick now raking in truckloads of cash: he's just the right age, time and trouble have weathered ever so slightly his face, a boyishness is gone. There's
a laconic ease to his delivery, a droll way which was always his specialty but all the same was never exactly authentic. He's an unbelievably inspired choice to play Tony Stark, billionaire weapons manufacturer and future alcoholic. After Spiderman 3's embarrassing flame-out, Iron Man, a character with nowhere near the recognition as Spidey, Tony Stark has caught on in the public imagination. Without Robert Downey, Jr, that ain't happening.

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Saturday. Carrollton. Yeah.

That time is now

Wednesday evening, warm, bright, all summer: I'm home from the Alleycat where I stopped for a glass of tea. Last time I was there I discovered a waitress was from Chattanooga. We traded stories. Tonight she was back, watching her little boy play with a Pirates of the Caribbean skeletal action figure. It was her third anniversary. They were waiting around to go out to dinner. Cute couple.

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O poor blog, how I have failed to tend you.

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Last week I was inducted into my high school's Wall of Fame. A kind gesture, though that sort of attention makes me uneasy. My remarks began thusly: "I kind of hate inspiration. You're all smarter than inspiration. So thank you for being here."

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And, praise God, the school year is over. I barely survived it. Somehow, I fear the coming year will be just as insane. Readings in Nebraska, Ohio, Tennessee, presumably Georgia, Brooklyn, and who knows where else look to crush me.

But it's all great fun.

***

I bought new shoes.

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