Give That Man a Cupcake!

I stopped at Buttercup Bakery (east) today during my lunchtime errands, hoping to grab a red velvet cupcake to go with my afternoon coffee. Alas, I wasn't carrying any cash on me, and I was too lazy to run to the nearest ATM. I also wasn't leaving without cake. Hence, I ended up walking out of there with a box of 6, the amount needed to get me to the credit-card minimum.

I live on the far west side, and didn't have time to stop back home after work to unload before heading down to Union Square. My agenda for the evening: I was going to the first book signing I've been to since Nick Cave autographed my copy of And the Ass Saw the Angel.

That was a really long time ago, and, quite frankly, I didn't wait on line back then because of the book -- I just really wanted to meet Nick Cave. I like a lot of writers, but I don't usually feel compelled to undertake the work involved go see them in person. I can read their stuff. That's the thing about writers. You don't really need to hear them live to fully experience their work (as you would dancers or other artists with a more physical element).

So, as I waited in my seat on the 4th floor of Barnes & Noble after purchasing my fresh copy of A Wolf at the Table, I was lamenting the fact that I was so uncomfortable (adding a big cake box to my heavy, laptop-toting backpack and coat put me over my stuff-I-can-tolerate-schlepping-around-Manhattan limit), and had a long time to wait -- Mr. Burroughs wasn't coming out until 7, so I had 90 minutes. What could I do to make the rather-pedestrian act of book signing more personal? After all, you can just buy an autographed copy of any bestseller at any major bookstore -- the autograph's not the point.

So I thought to myself, "Maybe I should offer Augusten a cupcake!" And then if he accepted, I'd plonk the unwieldy box of the remaining five treats on the table, thus relieving me of my burden, and allowing me to connect in a personal way with the author.

That latter reason was the more important, actually. That's the kind of writer Augusten Burroughs is. He tells his story from a very personal point of view, and so at the same time that he's wowing you with his wittiness, humor, and intelligence, you get that weird feeling that things would be better in your life if you could just talk to him for 3 minutes.

Mr. Burroughs is what is called a "memoirist" -- he used the term several times this evening to describe himself, though, increasingly over the past five years, the term doesn't have an entirely positive connotation. It's interesting, because in Wolf he breaks out of the "formula" that has been successful for him for years (perhaps even in his pre-bestseller days as an ad man) - the book isn't funny, and abandons the dependence on the laugh-inducing, sardonic turns-of-phrase made famous by Running With Scissors and Dry. His humor has made his previous works well-loved; it has also led critics and fans to liken him to other witty observers and commentators whom I admire greatly, such as David Sedaris.

Being compared to David Sedaris is a huge compliment, but it's awkward and inaccurate. They are writers in very different ways, and Mr. Sedaris' dispatches over the past couple of years and Mr. Burroughs' latest work make that very apparent.

One member of the audience at B&N asked Mr Burroughs about the searching tone of his other works, and how that related to the tone of Wolf. It's true his tone isn't as "searching" this time around, but, judging by the nature of his oratory this evening, it seems the main theme is that he has a cross to bear. He is PISSED about his father and needs to get it out. I thought I was pissed about my relatives (and, especially, worrying about what scary and unfortunate neurological and biochemical traits I've inherited from them), but geez, I ain't got nothing on Augusten's sociopathic, knife-wielding father (and maybe Augusten has nothing on Elisabeth Fritzl's, but who wants to read about that?).

I was totally taken aback by Mr. Burroughs' personal presence this evening on the stage. He's a really compelling speaker, which I wasn't expecting at ALL. I've never heard of an author convincing anyone to buy the audio version of his/her book, but he referred to it several times, to the point where I was actually considering purchasing a copy. Ever since ditching my car in Miami, I don't buy audiobooks. If I'm spending long enough stretches anywhere, like on public transportation, I prefer to read. But Augusten made a really strong case for it -- he hired the best and coolest to create musical scores for it and everything. He should consider heading his own ad agency, because he's got more talent to connect with people than he can fill in memoirs and book signings.

I'm far from finishing Wolf yet, but I had enough time to read the first few chapters of it as I was waiting for him to appear. Right there, on page 20, he talks about red velvet cake (well, not so much the cake, actually, but about having declined a slice of red velvet cake as a young child because he was too anxious to eat in front of strangers -- and this not because of the cake, but, "the community surrounding the cake"). So I couldn't very well offer him a red-velvet cupcake, even though now he's all grown up and probably over most of the social-acceptance issues of his youth. Aside from the inappropriateness of offering a celebrity baked goods (or food of any kind, really, because obviously it's unsafe to eat or even touch stuff that total strangers give them), the coincidence might make me appear seriously deluded. But not to be discouraged from extracting some personal touch during the 30 seconds I was in front of him, I glanced at the functional Sharpie in his hand, offered my prize Waterman, and asked him to sign with that instead. I've been writing with it for years, and it would just be so much better if he used it to write a note, too.

And, not only did he comply, but, after signing the book and weighing it in his hand for a moment, remarked, "This is a beautiful pen."

Gracious!

Benedict's Visit

OK, I'm back. I figure, if the Pope can take the time and energy to visit us at this difficult stage, I can start posting again. I don't have the same protection as he does, but what the hell, right?

I've been devouring the NYT articles this morning regarding yesterday's celebrations. It's brilliant, all of it. I'm a nonpracticing Catholic, but I savor the coverage about any and all papal events -- the celebrity, the commerce, the endless deconstructing of every single word that comes out of Ratzinger's mouth...I love that shit.

If there is one thing a good Catholic, practicing or non, loves, it is ceremony. And rules. And when the Pope comes, it is a fantastic opportunity to focus on both of these. His visit has not disappointed.

There are plenty of things to comment on -- the hopeful parents lining up their autistic children to meet him in Yonkers, the badly-timed raids of Pilgrim's Pride chicken-processing plants in five states by immigration officials, the effects of never-ending sexual-abuse lawsuits (the financial tallies are bad enough, not to mention the non-financial ones) on disappearing congregations across the country. When you think about it, all this supposedly-Catholic stuff is a commentary on what is going on with the American public in general. Hopefully Hillary and Barack are listening carefully.

The part I love best is the ever-present hand-wringing about Pentecostals. For those of you who haven't heard, Catholicism is dying. It's a long, coughing-and-wheezing, unpretty kind of death (kinda like John Paul's), but it is happening, due to the religion's decreasing relevance to everyday people (although the litigation-tarried coffers are a significant second to be blamed, I'm sure).

Even to me, a liberal, anti-religion person (I call myself a Catholic, but that's more of an ethnic identity than anything else), uptight Catholics are preferable to those icky Pentecostals. They are crazy, untouchable, and scary. Have you seen their antics? What, with their live pop-rock gospel bands and their personal relationships with Christ. Jesus! They're just insane and should be shot.

Catholicism is going out of style for North and South Americans now much like the royals were for New World-ers back in the seventeenth century -- its leaders have lost touch with how to emotionally and economically feed their followers, and be relevant to an ever-changing population that is geo- and demo-graphically diverse.

If Pope Benedict XVI were to ask me for advice, I'd turn to him, smile widely, and say, "Fuck the Pentecostals! Sure, they're pilfering the majority of new recruits to your dwindling flock, but that's OK, really. Catholicism has had a grand run at it, don't you think? Do NOT, under any circumstances, try to mimick what those swine are doing! It's just WRONG!"

In "A Populist Shift Confronts the U.S. Catholic Church" in today's Times, Fernanda Santos wrote, "Today, [the Pentecostal Church] has more followers in the United States than any other denomination...they are drawn...by the faith's joyous worship, its use of Latino culture and the enveloping sense of community it offers to newcomers...half of all Latinos who have joined Pentecostal denominations were raised as Catholics."

I don't claim to speak for U.S. Latinos, but I must declare, as a "U.S. Latino", that there is no fucking way I would ever join those bizarre freaks for all the money in the world, or even for a seat at the right hand of God, or whatever. I love Catholicism. I don't practice it, but most Catholics don't, anyway.

What is there to love about Catholicism? The clarity, for one. There are RULES that Catholics have to follow. Among them are:

1. Don't have sex.
2. When you do have sex, be it with someone who isn't your spouse, or someone of your own gender, or whatever, just make sure you keep it quiet. Don't let anyone know. If anyone finds out, pay them off handsomely and make sure they are happy and don't go shouting about it to the authorities.
3. Go to Mass and dress nicely and behave.

It's pretty easy. It's maybe not so easy for the younger folk who get abused, but they get on with their lives and learn to live with it, right? Enough with all the whining already.

The Pentecostals are disgusting. They want to talk about everything, they think they have the authority to speak directly to God, they wear the wrong things, and they are just pathetic. Fuck them! The Pentecostals are nothing. They haven't wooed kings, swayed dynasties, or killed millions of people, but claim they are important because they created bad rock bands and have instituted ministries on the Web. I could do that, I just don't have the time.

So cheer up, Joseph. There is no hope for Catholicism, but you'll be dead long before any real decisions on the matter need to be made.

In the meantime, do your best to deal with the situation at hand. The immediate problem is, you've gotta start getting Catholics to write checks again. To do that, it probably requires stuff that dogmatic Catholics don't want to do, like sponsoring art exhibitions and the like. All I have to say is, "Swallow the pill, fartheads. You got us into this." Get over yourselves and do what has to be done, for chrissake.

Jesus!