Hello. I’m Gavin Edwards, the public speaker and the New York Times-bestselling author of The Tao of Bill Murray, the ’Scuse Me While I Kiss This Guy series, and Kindness and Wonder: Why Mister Rogers Matters Now More Than Ever. If you’re interested in hiring me, click here for more information.
I’m always happy to learn more about the state of the art in artificial languages, such as this article in yesterday’s New York Times. If that whetted your appetite for a historical overview of totally made-up dialects, you might enjoy a 1996 Wired article I wrote that delivers exactly that.
As you may have heard, legendary fantasy writer Anne McCaffrey died this week at age 85. I remember her work fondly; not only did it expand my imagination in junior high school, it provoked the opening paragraph to an article I wrote about Coolio fifteen years ago. To wit:
Coolio raps for a living, but he’d rather ride dragons. When he’s not onstage or in the studio, he reads and rereads Anne McCaffrey’s series of Pern fantasy novels. “I think it’s her compassion,” he says. “Plus I like the idea of speaking to dragons telepathically.” So today in London, Coolio has canceled a smorgasbord of phone interviews with Scandinavian journalists so he can restock his Pern library. Once he’s completed his collection, he plans to line them up in order and read them all again. Coolio strides into a large Dillon’s bookstore, locates the science-fiction section, and starts snatching McCaffrey’s novels off the shelves. He quickly considers each one before shoving it back or tossing it in the pile of keeps at his feet: Dragonflight, Dragsonsdawn, All the Ways of Pern, Firstfall, and Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern. But he scowls: There’s a glitch. “Where the fuck’s The White Dragon?”
(Excerpt from “The Rebirth of Coolio,” the cover story of Details, March 1996.)
Before a recent trip to Santa Barbara, I had never heard of the acorn woodpecker, which drills holes in trees and telephone poles and then methodically fills them with acorns. (I wonder if acorn woodpeckers then have epic battles with raiding squirrels.) Below, a picture of the resulting acorn treasure trove, which looks like an Eames pattern to me:
My apologies for the dilatory nature of posting here lately; I’ve been crazy busy working on projects that I can’t actually tell you about yet: although they are awesome, they’re being published anywhere from Halloween 2012 to Christmas 2013. But I’ll have some fun morsels for you shortly, including the next installment of the 1988 countdown. I neglected to mention my article on Jane’s Addiction coming together for a new album (behind the Rolling Stone paywall), but can I make up for it with a link to a short piece about an even more eagerly awaited reunion, that of Beavis and Butt-Head?
Today is the fiftieth birthday of director Peter Jackson, the most famous New Zealander since Edmund Hillary. I’ve interviewed Jackson twice, and while he’s not really into self-disclosure, he’s been unfailingly genial and at ease with his own high-powered geekiness. Much as I enjoy The Lord of the Rings trilogy, my favorite film of his remains 1994’s Heavenly Creatures, about a real-life 1954 murder–go watch it right now if you’ve never seen it. As a small birthday celebration, I’ve added my 2005 Rolling Stoneinterview with Jackson to the archives–we talk about King Kong a lot, but also his weight loss and the then-nascent Hobbit project.
I lived for many years on Broadway, about two blocks away from Zuccotti Park, where the Occupy Wall Street protesters have encamped. (Although Zuccotti Park itself is not familiar to me–I believe it was fenced up and under renovation for most of the years I lived near it.) In recent weeks, Occupy Wall Street’s winding, random parade routes through lower Manhattan have reminded me of how I walked the same streets with a quarter in my hand. I never ended up at Zuccotti Park, but I did finish one walk a block away.
On Wednesday night, while most of the nation was glued to their TV sets, watching the best night of baseball ever–except if you’re a Braves or a Red Sox fan, I suppose–I was in Las Vegas, basking in the presence of Elton John. (Sir Elton’s been a big favorite around Rule Forty-Two HQ lately, due to two small children who love his appearance on The Muppet Show. Highlights of same: Elton sings “Crocodile Rock” to crocodiles, Miss Piggy fills in for Kiki Dee, Sam the Eagle says Elton dresses like a stolen car.) Anyway, I filed a review for Rolling Stone, which you can read here. (Simultaneously, thousands of miles away, Rob Sheffield was reviewing Radiohead at Roseland, also for the Rolling Stone website–that one’s here.)