JOE DOLCE NEWSLETTER
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Friday August 14th, 2009
The Awful Tower
"Everyone has talent at twenty-five.
The difficulty is to have it at fifty."
Edgar Degas
Hi folks,
My grand daughter Misty and her family just got back from Paris, France. Misty is five years old, as you know, if you’ve been paying attention to previous newsletters, and when we asked her what she did in Paris, she said she went to see the Awful Tower. You got to love kids. (By the way, the ‘Awful’ Tower gets a dusting in the new movie, GI Joe.)
Lin and I just got back from two weeks in Bali. We stayed at a brilliant and inexpensive hotel in Legian called the Kusnadi Inn. Bali is still a great place to underspend. I bought a brown three-quarter length hand-made suit, which I co-designed with the tailor on the spot, for less than $100 - ready in two days. Perfect fit. I attended an Indonesian cooking class up north in Ubud for $35 complete with a trip to the morning market – the one that only opens in the early morning at 6 am for the locals. The squalor, filth, beauty, and splendour all wonderfully interlocked felt like the middle ages. I also dropped my camera- eduh! - trying to take a photo and feed a banana to a monkey at the same time in the Ubud monkey forest. Kamera Kaput! But the monkeys were especially friendly this trip. Not paranoid and twitchy like they were the last time I visited Bali in 1981. Ubud has really changed in three decades. We stayed in the Hotel Tjampuhan back in those days for about $40 a night. Meals of satay and rice on the beach, fifty cents. A massage, two bucks. There were about 8 structures and the entire place was surrounded by rice paddies. Now Tjampuhan has about 65 buildings, not a rice field in sight and the cost is over $200 a night. Still extraordinarily beautiful but, suffice to say, we didn’t stay there this time but found another extraordinary value-for-money place called the Honeymoon Guest House with its own Cooking School.
Ubud is known as the Village of the Painters because there are literally hundreds of shop fronts selling canvases up the entire highway approaching the village. Very surreal. There is even an entire sub-village of egg painters! It is also the home of the infamous Antonio Blanco. Blanco has passed away now but back in 1981, we met nutty Antonio and his kids when he had a simple studio home. He was already known as the Dali from Bali back then, a nickname he seems to have played down somewhat as he became more accepted and celebrated by the Balinese government. The giant photograph of him and Michael Jackson together which greets you at the front entrance says it all. If Jackson had Neverland, this is Nowayland. The spiral staircased State-sponsored mansion & museum, surrounded by lush tropical gardens and cages of brightly feathered parrots and other biting things, suggests a mix of Ferdinand Marcos, Elizabeth Taylor and the guy who draws Looney Tunes. A better nickname might be ‘Mel’ Blanco. His work, sometimes stunning technically, is ultimately a mishmash of short-circuited libido, bad jokes, nude Indonesian women with Pamela Anderson enhanced-breasts and wooden frames, incorporating glued-on feathers, carrot-shaped penises, bits of dolls that look like they were designed by the humpbacked half-brother of Tim Burton. Too wacky that someone, obviously one chili short of a nasi campur, could be such a national legend but there it is . . . . and, well, even the monkeys are friendly now.
http://www.blancomuseum.com
The taxi driver who picked up up remarked that we were brave to come to Bali after the recent terrorist attack. I personally thought we were braver to ride with him in that nuthouse traffic of refrigerators strapped to the back of motorbikes, pick up trucks filled with Muslim women and young mothers carrying helmetless babies on vespas all braiding in and out in front of you.
FAVOURITE LETTERS OF THE WEEK
Joe,
What's happening? any more newsletters coming? Chris J.
(Note: Chris, thanks for your concern and appreciation. Between my dad’s funeral – recent trip to US – and my holiday – Bali – there hasn’t been an opportunity to put together something worth sending out but I’m back now.)
Joe,
Love those videos! TS
(Note: See Video Archive for more:)
http://members.iinet.net.au/~dwomen/files/JDVideo.html/
First time I have responded to this, Joe!
Have enjoyed reading your stuff for years.
Still reconciling myself with my own father (even after his death 12 years ago).
your reflections, thoughts and insights have been so 'life-giving'. thankyou.
enjoy a well earned break. PAX. Al.
Joe,
i was thinking of you in england as well...
the band i was touring there with consists of a guitar player/singer whose band it is, a bass player, a drummer, and me on keys. the guitar player is from mississauga, just west of toronto, where i'm from. the bass player is of brit extraction, but grew up in canada and then moved back to the uk ten years ago. the drummer is a walloon belgian who was enjoying practising his english as we were enjoying practising our french. he's also a respected singer/songwriter in belgium. the guitar player is just past his mid 30's. the bass player is in his early 40's. the drummer is in his mid 40's. i'm in my 50's. we were driving to a gig also accompanied by a very bright 19 year old brummie who was helping us out with the kit that evening. at one point, driving along in the van, someone, regarding i-can't-remember-what said to someone else, "what's-a matta you?". this caused everyone to suddenly and spontaneously sing a chorus of shaddap.
apparently your song transcends all geographic, generational and linguistic barriers.
it was particularly fun to hear a francophone belgian singing in english with an italian accent. he was extremely good at it. xo Joan B.
Hi Joe
You may not have seen it but the new TV series on the abc, on Monday night is Ashes to Ashes, they feature a group singing your famous 80’s song – Owen
Joe,
Interesting that you raised the matter of Maitland Gaol. I worked in the system (mainly at Long Bay) for 6 years as education officer. Maitland was not regarded as a particularly good prison as it was maximum security and housed hardened recidivist Homosexuals (the remediable homosexuals were sent to Cooma). I went there a couple of times- Education was not a priority there. One prison industry they did have was making shrouds. Every shroud used in the state was made by prisoners, using lime impregnated cloth (to help the bodies decompose). It was quite an experience to go into the workshop and see 20-30 prisoners sitting behind sewing machines making these things up- the morgue was one of their best customers. When you walked in in civilian dress you immediately attracted their attention and work would stop or at least slow down. It was hard not to feel that they were in fact measuring you up. I'm not surprised with such an activity that the prison had ghosts. Bigruss
Hi Joe,
I've been on your mailing list for years however telstra gave
me a new ID and I must re-subscribe to your wise words of
both insight and self-affaceing honesty once more.
Lost my dad 2 mths before your loss and as with you he
was my "larger than life" hero, and we will obviously miss
their souls, love and guidance. Being a serial songwriter I
am astounded and disappointed with myself that I haven't
produced either a requiem or an Ode of some sort?
I did produce a great poem for the distribution of his ash's
and maybe there lie's the key, but I've never been "drought-
affected" before with my creativity and it's bugging me.
Freud said that no man reach's adulthood until he has
stared at the graves of his parents, perhaps? Or maybe it's
that as musicians we are waiting to either have musical
success or get a real job sometime before they pass?
Anyway I wish you and your family many happy memories
of your Dad in your mourning period, and may he inhabit a
close warm seat somewhere in your collective hearts! Steve John
Joe,
RE: Poem
‘J Effen K’.....just stunning! And brrrrrilliant statistical juxtapositioning. You are such a clever man!
Keep writing..... Mike F.
Joe,
I tried calling the Swine Flu Hotline yesterday but couldn't speak to any one because there was to much Crackling on the line. Peter Scott
Blackwater Founder Implicated in Murder
by: Jeremy Scahill
A former Blackwater employee and an ex-US Marine who has worked as a security operative for the company have made a series of explosive allegations in sworn statements filed on August 3 in federal court in Virginia. The two men claim that the company's owner, Erik Prince, may have murdered or facilitated the murder of individuals who were cooperating with federal authorities investigating the company. The former employee also alleges that Prince "views himself as a Christian crusader tasked with eliminating Muslims and the Islamic faith from the globe. . . "
http://www.truthout.org/080409R?n
HOW SMART IS YOUR RIGHT FOOT?
You have to try this please, it takes 2 seconds.
I could not believe this! It is from an orthopaedic surgeon............
This will confuse your mind and you will keep trying over and over again to see if you can outsmart your foot, but, you can't.
It is pre-programmed in your brain!
1. While sitting at your desk in front of your computer, lift
Your right foot off the floor and make clockwise circles.
2. Now, while doing this, draw the number '6' in the air
With your right hand. Your foot will change direction.
I told you so! And there's nothing you can do about it!
(thanks to teana amor)
What I’m Reading This Week
Imperium – by Robert Harris. Harris wrote one of my favourite reads of the last ten years, Pompeii. This is part one of Harris’s Cicero trilogy and I enjoyed every page. Told once again from the point of view of a minor character, Tiro, the inventor of shorthand and the secretary to Cicero, it is the story of Cicero’s rise to prominence. A Roman legal drama complete with Sicilian gangster sub-plot. The second part of the trilogy will be published in November and is titled Lustrum.
Ghost – again, by Robert Harris. Cynical, illuminating, both hard-boiled and passionately sensitive, The Ghost is a political thriller, not a satire, nor a veiled attack. Harris has interrupted his Roman trilogy to write his first fully contemporary novel. Its titular protagonist enjoys, or endures, a position much like Tiro's: a professional non-entity in momentous times, taking dictation from a powerful patron. Anonymous even to us, he's the ghost writer contracted to supply the "autobiography" of Adam Peter Benet Lang, recently retired prime minister of Great Britain. Roman Polanski is set to direct a film adaptation of The Ghost. Harris co-wrote the screenplay with Polanski. Robert Harris is perfect airplane reading. I read this one on the way over to Bali and Imperium on the way back!
What I’m Watching This Week
Coraline – in 3D. Bought it in the US and it comes with four sets of glasses. How 50s! I loved the Neil Gaiman book and the movie is an expansion of the book. Probably one of the best 3D movies ever made. Apparently Gaiman’s father is a prominent Scientology leader in the church in Russia. Probably where he got the idea of buttons for eyes.
What I’m Listening to This Week
Degung – Indonesian flute and gamelon music
Rindik Bamboo & Flute Music – Indonesian traditional music.
HARLAN ELLISON
A few of my old school friends from Harvey High School have alerted me to the fact that the great sci-fi writer, Harlan Ellison, lived in my hometown of Painesville for many years. Here are a few links to some interesting Ellison raves, the most interesting one being ‘Pay the Writer’:
New Documentary of Ellison
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dmfzKKM49uY
Harlan Ellison -- Pay the Writer
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mj5IV23g-fE&feature=related
Harlan Ellison on Creative Piracy
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-ozWI-Ls9Y&feature=related
Test your band name knowledge
What's in a name? A good band name can be just as important as a group's sound. Would the Beatles be the same if they weren't the Beatles? Test your musical knowledge to see just how well you know the following 22 acts.
http://www.boston.com/ae/music/band_names_quiz/
(thanks to JJ)
R.I.P. RENATO
Here’s something from my mate in the UK, Dai Woosnam:
“So, Renato Pagliari is dead.
“Who he?”, many of you will ask.
And I would understand it, if you lived outside Britain.
But to all us Brits, he is inextricably linked with Joe Dolce, even though regular Daigressing reader Joe, has probably never heard of him!
You see, Joe topped the UK charts in 1981 with a novelty song: it was a “novelty” both in its tongue-in-cheek lyric, and also insofar as the British hit parade had almost always been an Italia-free zone.
But blow me, if the following year we did not get another song top the UK charts that combined both the factors at work in the Joe Dolce number. (The one sung by Renato Pagliari.)
http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2009/aug/05/renato-pagliari-obituary
Both songs were passionately loathed by folks like me, who regarded themselves as Foot Soldiers (at the very least) of the Intelligentsia.
But Old Father Time has made me come to an appreciation of both songs, as being postmodernist statements years ahead of their time.”
(Note: Dai . . . I’ve never thought of my work as post-modern. Hmmm...? The Compact Oxford English Dictionary refers to postmodernism as "a style and concept in the arts characterized by distrust of theories and ideologies and by the drawing of attention to conventions." ie Shaddap You Piehole! You’re right! But the word ‘post’ in front of anything makes me a little nervous. A post turtle in Texas is a turtle that you find flipped over on its back by the side of the road and you pick it up and carefully put it like that on the nearest fencepost. Sort of the way George W Bush was elected. A post-feminist? Well, that would have to be Joan of Arc. My dad was a postman. I actually consider myself as a transitive post-neoist but that could change either way depending on the post. The big song Renato sang – with Renata – was ‘Save Your Love’. You can find it on YouTube if you find it absolutely necessary. )
Here’re some other jewels to Dai for:
The JK Wedding Entrance Dance
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-94JhLEiN0
The JK Divorce Entrance Dance
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zbr2ao86ww0
~ FAMOUS DOLCES OF THE WORLD ~
Joseph Dolci
President and Founder
FITA FITNESS PROGRAM
Newport Beach, CA. USA
An award winning, experienced and results-driven New York University M.S. Physical Therapy and Brooklyn College, B.S. Nutrition graduate. He has over 25 years of proven leadership in physical therapy, personal training, fitness facility business development, management, personal training vocational school teaching, education, coaching and program design in the fitness and health care field.
http://www.fitafitness.com/
http://www.thefitpro.com/Joe%20Dolci
The secret to a good pizza crust is to let the gluten develop. DO NOT ROLL THE DOUGH WITH A ROLLING PIN.
Put about a cup or two of flour in a bowl. Add a teaspoon of dry yeast. (Not wet yeast.) Add some salt. Mix thoroughly.
Add a couple of tbles of olive oil. Add enough water and work the dough so that the dough just comes away from the bowl and is smooth and shiny. Wrap in plastic wrap overnight or for two nights. (Secret: Let the gluten develop.)
The other secret? Never use it on the day you make it.
On the day you plan to use it, take it out the fridge and gently pull it and toss it so that it expands into a more circular shape.
Let rest for an additional hour or so. (Let the gluten develop once again.)
Preheat oven to hottest. Use bottom rack. Pull the dough gently again and twirl if you feel so inclined. Keep it thin. Don’t worry if it comes apart slightly or there are holes. Place on a pizza sheet. Brush with some tomato passata. Add grated mozzerella, toppings of your choice and parmesan cheese. Finish with a generous drizzle of olive oil over the top. Bake for about ten minutes or until the bottom is slightly brown. That’s it.
LINGUINI
It was always linguini between us.
Linguini with white sauce, or
red sauce, sauce with basil snatched from
the garden, oregano rubbed between
our palms, a single bay leaf adrift amidst
plum tomatoes. Linguini with meatballs,
sausage, a side of brascioli. Like lovers
trying positions, we enjoyed it every way
we could-artichokes, mushrooms, little
neck clams, mussels, and calamari-linguini
twining and braiding us each to each.
Linguini knew of the kisses, the smooches,
the molti baci. It was never spaghetti
between us, not cappellini, nor farfalle,
vermicelli, pappardelle, fettucini, perciatelli,
or even tagliarini. Linguini we stabbed, pitched,
and twirled on forks, spun round and round
on silver spoons. Long, smooth, and always
al dente. In dark trattorias, we broke crusty panera,
toasted each other—La dolce vita!—and sipped
Amarone, wrapped ourselves in linguini,
briskly boiled, lightly oiled, salted, and lavished
with sauce. Bellissimo, paradisio, belle gente!
Linguini witnessed our slurping, pulling, and
sucking, our unraveling and raveling, chins
glistening, napkins tucked like bibs in collars,
linguini stuck to lips, hips, and bellies, cheeks
flecked with formaggio—parmesan, romano,
and shaved pecorino—strands of linguini flung
around our necks like two fine silk scarves.
~ Diane Lockward ~
(from What Feeds Us. © Wind Publications, 2006)
(thanks to Dai Woosnam)
FINAL HURRAH
The Last Coin
A father walks into a restaurant with his young son..
He gives the young boy 3 ten cent pieces to play with to keep him occupied.
Suddenly, the boy starts choking, going blue in the face..
The father realizes the boy has swallowed the coins and starts
Slapping him on the back..
The boy coughs up 2 of the coins, but keeps choking.
Looking at his son, the father is panicking, shouting for help.
A well dressed, attractive, and serious looking woman, in a blue
Business suit is sitting at a coffee bar reading a newspaper and sipping a
cup of coffee. At the sound of the commotion, she looks up, puts her
Coffee cup down, neatly folds the newspaper and places it on the
Counter, gets up from her seat and makes her way, unhurried, across the
Restaurant.
Reaching the boy, the woman carefully drops his pants; takes hold of the
Boy's' testicles and starts to squeeze and twist, gently at first and Then
ever so firmly.. After a few seconds the boy convulses violently and
Coughs up the last coin, which the woman deftly catches in her free
hand.
Releasing the boy's testicles, the woman hands the coin to the father
And walks back to her seat at the coffee bar without saying a word.
As soon as he is sure that his son has suffered no ill effects, the Father
rushes over to the woman and starts thanking her saying, "I've Never seen
anybody do anything like that before, it was fantastic. Are
You a doctor? "
'No,' the woman replied. ‘I'm with the Australian Taxation Office ..'
(thanks to Jim Testa)
