Dear Carol,

making the fragments speak – not for themselves – but with…

                        …someone else’s voice

                        capital’s?

Yep, we’re back to this.  I was thinking about curating as a way that this sort of process often gets described, and as an area where we expect things to be placed in conjunction with each other for particular reasons.  I suppose to your average person in an art gallery (ha ha) the curator figure isn’t particularly important, but in criticism and theory and in terms of actual art world power the curator is very prominent.  They are understood in a similar way to an author, but really the artist is seen as the author so maybe the curator is more like the editor.  The authentic voice is supposed to come from the artist-author, and the curator-editor hones it, presents it, enables it.

I find the idea of the curator coming up quite irritating, because, not being one or knowing any (really, let’s face it), she just remains a marker of pretentiousness for me, and art world ego bullshit.  However.  It’s the way that the phrase has started to be used for other things, like music festivals, that really annoys me – activities that hadn’t previously felt the need to emphasise the choosing of the acts or to attach a prominent figure to that process.  The idea of curating has become rather tainted for me.

I was more interested in the idea of all instances of speaking or writing being curated, being choices from among all the words and ideas available to us.  All instances of language then being quotation.  Jeanette Winterson should not be referred to for anything, but she did have a bit of a ponder about this I think in Written on the Body.  So the idea is, then, that it is in a way more honest to put together a load of things that other people have said, to put forward a combined text, rather than claim the position of author.  I think the drawback is that it could appear as demurring, deferring to a canon of substantially male authors and potentially suggesting that they can speak better or more interestingly or more usefully, that they may be more worth listening to.  This could be an idea to make larger, I’ve so far being seeing it as just a bit of a drawback.  But the question of which fragments and whose fragments and what they’re doing with each other is important, why those authors have been chosen, these founders of discursivity…

So the idea of making the fragments speak, and to speak in a new formation, so that the line no longer comes at a particular point in the author’s poem, for example, but now comes at a certain point in a text about an artwork (or whatever it is), a new text.

Out of time Carol, sorry.

04.10.2012

Dearest Carol,

Before we continue our discussion of Barthes (to which I think you could contribute more, frankly), let’s refer ourselves to this – I’m hesitating to say diagram.  Mind map.  Instance of notes.  I’m hoping that if I try to expand or explain each bit then that will allow me to articulate this chain of thought about my research.

ventriloquising

removing or putting at a distance the authorial voice

making the fragments speak – not for themselves – but with…

…someone else’s voice

capital’s?

making the Henry V speech ‘speak’ some other meaning

‘our business speaks’

Pennine Street             -            democracy group project

am I trying to get capital to speak

the text is written by me and capital

& when I speak capital is also speaking

This is obviously why the diagram is better because it’s got arrows and isn’t stuck into this rigidly linear structure of writing.  I think some names and references could do with being added here.

ventriloquize, v.

Pronunciation:  /vɛnˈtrɪləkwaɪz/

Etymology:  formed as ventriloquist n. + -ize suffix.

 1. intr. To use or practise ventriloquism; to speak or produce sounds in the manner of a ventriloquist; to cast the voice.

 2. trans. To utter as a ventriloquist.

ventriloquism, n.

Pronunciation:  /vɛnˈtrɪləkwɪz(ə)m/

Etymology:  < ventriloquy n. + -ism suffix: compare ventriloquist n.

1.a. The art or practice of speaking or producing sounds in such a manner that the voice appears to proceed from some person or object other than the speaker, and usually at some distance from him. (The common use.)

1797—1874(Show quotations)

 b. An instance of this; a ventriloquial sound.

1839—1878(Show quotations)

 2. The fact or practice of speaking or appearing to speak from the abdomen.

Etymology:  Latin, < ventri- , venter belly + loquī to speak, after Greek

So we have two related ideas here, one of speaking from the abdomen rather than the mouth, which I’ve never heard of, and another of speaking from another person or object.  This is the sense I was interested in.  This connects to the Pennine Street collage writings particularly, in which I struggled to remove my own voice from the texts and make them purely assemblages of other people’s words.  In the texts my sense changed of wanting to incorporate long chunks of quotation rather than the very short bits of phrases, to allow for more of the other author’s voice to come through.  Very short references, like just a the, function more as just placeholders in the text for the author’s name, which is displaced to the end of the text in a footnoted reference.  Those quotations were appearing in a blog format, and the only way I could work out to indicate the references as plainly as possible was the number in square brackets [3].  But really, you then have each sentence interrupted numerous times by these odd, out of place numbers popping up.  I think it’s clear that they are meant to be overlooked when one is reading for the sense of the text, and should only be used to find out the author, but they are still there.  I think small superscript numbers would be best.  On a practical level I don’t have the understanding of wordpress that I assume would enable a more satisfactory method of presentation to be found.

But thinking of this in terms of ventriloquism brings up whose voice could possibly be emerging.  Leaving aside for now the troubling observation that the OED imagines the ventriloquist to be male (that’s right Carol), if the process is one of making the voice appear to belong to another person or object, what is the object in Pennine Street?  I’m not substituting another speaker, or making up any kind of authorial character to which the voice could be assigned.  Maybe ventriloquism will turn out not to be a useful way of talking about this.  There’s no character in the vein of The Robinson Institute, unless I’m perhaps performing some character of ‘author’ or ‘writer’ or ‘removed author’ who is quite substantially me and also in some ways another entity.  Because of course there is an author and the author’s name is connected with the writing, but not in the same way that the authors are connected with their writings.  I’m wondering that making up one’s authorial avatar or nom de plume is a slightly heavy-handed way of insisting on displacing the author strictly understood.  We all know it’s a fiction and we go along with it in order to experience the artwork.  Its fictionalness is emphasized to us.  Robinson’s name was given a whole display case of meaning-lineage.

I want to keep the author in the text and it’s not quite a case of disavowal.  There isn’t a delusion or any dishonesty or any overt invitation to engage in a fiction of the author.  Maybe the author is multiplied, in a sense, and demoted from being ‘The Author’ to being an author among the other authors who are all speaking together and interrupting each other – being made by me to interrupt each other and silence each other and give each other new contexts.

Not for now but in the definitions of ventriloquism it’s interesting that the voice is to come from the belly, keeping it very bound to the speaker’s body, whereas my interest in displacing the voice seems quite anti-body or to be interested in disembodying the voice rather than emphasizing its bodiliness.  Isn’t text, writing, a way of disembodying a voice, making it separate from utterance and turning it into a visual phenomenon rather than an auditory one?

P.S. This popped up when ‘publishing’ this post:

If the writing is honest it cannot be separated from the man who wrote it. Tennessee Williams

ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

This is like the Macduff quandary over not being born of woman – maybe my writing is not honest if it is not written by a man – my writing is separable and dishonest.

we visited my mom yesterday. It was the first time for my sister and me. A friend of my parents’, who also was with them on the tour, drove us. He and my dad had seen her before already in the hospital in france. I didn’t say to her yet what I described in my last post, that I wanted to tel her. Although I thought about what and how to say it, in case other people would listen, too, and I wouldn’t be able to say it directly the way I would if we had been alone. During the visiting hours in the hospital the doctors take some time off and go through the rooms talking to the relatives. The doctor didn’t say much. We already knew the next steps and for now there’s not much more we can do than just wait. When the doctor was there, she told us my mom is biting quite a bit when they’re doing the oral hygiene. Understandably so. Who would like someone else “fumbling around” in our mouth and the tube to breathe certainly isn’t comfortable for her. As the doctor went away, I would have liked to tell my mom what I want to tell her. Especially since the doctor had talked about biting. Not that my mom would take it as an order to bite. I didn’t feel all too comfortable about it though that such words were used in her presence. I don’t believe that people need to be that strict and have to watch there every word thinking three times about which ones to use, before actually saying them in her presence. After all she’s still very far away and they sedated her, that’s giving her tranquilizer, for the transportation to germany and the other day too, to change the tubes as well. A part of me is mean and wondering how the heck she’s supposed to wake up from the coma if they sedate her again. On the other hand, of course, I see the point of doing that and that its necessary to do. We’ll see. I wonder if it’s possible to wake someone up by first picking up on the breathing rhythm of the other person and then taking over so to speak and leading to breathe together in such a way that would wake her up. Adjusting the breathing and then leading to breathe together in a different way is very indirect and often the other person doesn’t notice, but it can be very effective and create change. That’s especially important in hypnosis and relaxation and an inconspicuous, but very important thing. When we like other people in our daily life, this often happens, too. We adjust our breathing to match theirs, the tempo of how fast or slow we talk adjusts to one another and other aspects attune as well. I don’t know what’s possible in that aspect for my mom and me. My knowledge about hypnosis is mostly theory and otherwise limited to a little playing around with myself. apart from the two already mentioned friends where what I wanted to do didn’t go too well. The situation with my mom will indeed be a test, just like the headline of my last entry read. Writing it this way has a morbid taste to it, or at least one may read it that way. Test. Like my mom is a test subject, someone to play around with. We’ll see what comes out. (So much for: not giving continued details…)

I believe it was the beginning of this week when I brought my bat Gaston from Bochum back to my parents here. I wanted to have him to practise ventriloquism better with a real figure. Besides he’s soft and warm and a pretty good substitute for my guinea pigs, which I often take out in the eve in front of my tv to have them on my lap. Up until two days ago my dad had some stomach problems. I gave him a big heart cushion, but he said it didn’t fit that well. The other day we sat together watching tv. I had Gaston on my belly, because mine wasn’t doing all too good either. My dad didn’t want to have Gaston for himself. But then I wanted to get something from the kitchen. Normally I gave the guinea pigs away to my parents if I wanted something from the kitchen in the past so I wouldn’t need to take them with me when I had them out on my lap. And now I did the same with Gaston somewhat casually giving him to my dad. He spread the wings, like I did and placed him on his belly. Some time later he said that the bat was really good. The wings would keep it all nice and warm. Up until the day before yesterday we took turns taking Gaston. When he had him, I took the heart. The day before yesterday he didn’t want Gaston anymore. Only yesterday again I casually left him with my dad and as I walked out I saw my dad about to stick his hand into Gaston. When I was back from the kitchen with a yoghurt, Gaston said to me, “Hello. Getting hungry, aye?” I saw that my dad’s lips were, quite “professionally” slightly parted, but they didn’t move. We both had to grin.

Ventriloquism helps. Even if it’s just by turning a figure into a hot bag for the belly. Another aspect of it is that for ventriloquism the jaws have to be relaxed. Otherwise you’ll feel it in your jaws after a while. Many people when they’re stressed are literally clenching their teeth so their jaws are all tense. I realised now that I’m getting more playful again and started practising ventriloquism again. It seems that I don’t watch my jaws when I’m stressed. In theory ventriloquism could help against stress, since you’ve got to have relaxed jaws to do it. Now that my mom is closer to us again, the situation is more relaxed again for all of us. It was nice to see my dad getting a bit more playful again and seeing him play a bit with Gaston. Given that he knows nothing and only has seen some short videos with ventriloquists that I showed him, I was pleasantly surprised. Then again “Hello. Getting hungry, aye?” doesn’t have difficult letters in it, for which you’d usually need to move your lips.

Until next blog,

sarah

It is possible to learn ventriloquism without the help of a professional, but like anything, educating yourself on what works best is always better than just trying to pick it up on your own.

www.learn-ventriloquism.com

An amazing evening full of fun, laughter and surprises! I had the privilege of photographing a wonderful Birthday Celebration on Saturday at Erinvale Golf Estate in Somerset West. Everyone involved pulled out all the stops to create a flawless event with wonderful food, great entertainment and loads of laughter. Well Done Amanda O’Connell for doing such a great job!

Here are a few images of the evening. The very talented Magicians Stuart Lightbody and Russell Fox amazed guests in between meals and stage performances. Conrad Koch and Nik Rabinowitz entertained on stage. The wonderful music by Shiraz filled the room and certainly got feet tapping and guests dancing. Chef Michael Broughton and his team outdid themselves with the wonderful meal.

Above and below you can see a surprise from Chef Michael Broughton from Terroir Restaurant

One of the Amazing Magicians for the evening was Stuart Lightbody! I love this pic

Above is another great magician, Russell Fox. He had everyone amazed with his spoon bending trick.

Comedian Nik Rabinowitz above

Very entertaining Conrad Koch above… Ventriloquist

Beautifully Presented dishes by Michael Broughton – Terroir Restaurant

Ventriloquism is an ancient art, but it is surprisingly easy to master. If you follow the tips below then you too can learn all of the basic skills that you need to make a start as a ventriloquist. I myself have only been ‘venting’ for a few months but already I have reached the final of the Yorkshire Best New Act 2012 competition: I will be performing live on stage at Huddersfield’s Lawrence Batley Theatre this Thursday (13th September) at 8pm. If you are in the area then please come along and give me your support – I need all the help that I can get!

The first thing for a budding ventriloquist to do is to purchase their ‘dummy’. Buy one that you love and cherish, that fits your personality. There is a wide variety of vent dummies available online, I myself have a tortoise puppet (of course) that I call ‘Sheldon’. Here is a picture of us on our visit to the London 2012 Olympics last month.

Once you have your dummy practise in front of a mirror every night, try to ensure that your dummies mouth moves in a co-ordinated fashion with the words that they are saying. Just ten minutes of practise a night should soon have you at a level where you can impress friends and family.

Now we come to the art itself: speaking without moving your lips. This is surprisingly easy – there are only six letters that require any movement of the lips at all. That’s right – only six. Say your alphabet in the mirror now and try to keep your lips apart, relaxed and unmoving. What letters did you have difficulty with? W, F, V, B, M and P. These are the only problematic letters. ‘W’ can be circumvented by saying ‘oo’ in front of the word – ie, instead of ‘water’ say ‘oo-ater’ and instead of ‘wedding’ say ‘oo-edding’. Easy peasy. When saying the letter ‘F’ simply say a soft ‘Th’ as in ‘think’, and when saying ‘V’ use a hard ‘Th’ as in ‘then’. These ‘th’ sounds can easily be said without lip movement and are indistinguishable from ‘F’ and ‘V’ when used in a sentence.

So now we see that in reality there are only three difficult letters: B, M and P. Did I say difficult? I actually meant impossible. Even the best ventriloquist in the world could not say these letters without moving their lips – it is physically impossible. So what do we do? Well, we substitute different letters with similar sounds. For ‘B’ we use ‘D’ (ie ‘dottle’ for bottle – not ‘gottle’ as is commonly thought), for ‘M’ we use ‘N’ (so ‘nask’ instead of ‘mask) and for ‘P’ we use ‘T’ (so ‘terfect’ is ‘perfect’). When saying this ‘substitute’ sounds place your tongue against the back of your upper teeth and this will help to create the effect that you are saying the impossible letters. This does take a bit of practise, but after a while substituting will become second nature. Of course, you can help yourself by using words that don’t contain these troublesome letters: for example instead of saying ‘Bring me a pint of milk’ have your dummy say ‘fetch me a glass of water’.

Now that you can speak without moving your lips how do you throw your voice? You don’t – again it is an illusion created by a skilful ventriloquist. To create a ‘distant’ voice speak softer and for a ‘near’ voice speak louder. It really is that easy.

So there you are – thanks to Tortoise Soup you now know all the basics that you need to begin your life as a ventriloquist. It is such a fulfilling  hobby – you get a real sense of satisfaction as you see and hear yourself improving day after day. I hope to use my puppet when I am doing talks and book signings for ‘Tortoise Soup’, my fantastic upcoming children’s novel, so in this way I will get to combine my career and my hobby! Give it a go, it’s lots of fun – please comment below and let me know how you get on. And don’t forget that Sheldon and I will be doing a brief routine at Huddersfield’s Comedy Cellar night this Thursday from 8 at the Lawrence Batley Theatre! Come along and say ‘Hi’!

One-line chapter summaries

1: Parcel wrongly picked up turns out to be client.
2: Girl raises killer cat. (Also Ao’s sad backstory..)
3: Revenge on the dead.
Embalmer International Magazine ranked them “Hottest Interfaith Funeral Home!”
4: More behind Ao’s family’s murder than it seems. AKA brainwashed sister.
5: The plot thickens.
6: Everything is moving towards the confrontation/fugutaiten.
7: Resolution

Well. I felt a little silly typing that out, but this entire volume was pretty much one arc. There were a lot of heavy concepts introduced in this volume, which revolves around Ao’s backstory.

When she was eight years old, Ao witnessed the aftermath of the brutal murder of three of five members of her family. Many years on, the convicted murderer is sentenced to death. Around the same time, word of a ‘revenge ceremony’ comes around, and she is approached by her sister to participate in the one involving the murderer of her parents and little sister.

MVP: Ao. Even in the face of what is probably one of her deepest traumas, and also what might have led her to develop a penchant for looking at pictures of bodies, she remained calm. I thought the killer was a little too quick to confess, though. (“What are you trying to say…? // That I killed your mother and sister? That I cut your father open? Well, I did.”) ^^” I guess they’d decided the arc/volume had gone on long enough!

Tidbit: The death penalty is mentioned right at the start of the volume with little fanfare. Coming from Singapore, I have to admit that I pretty much had a somewhat-blasé reaction. The death penalty is legal there, and also carried out by hanging. In other parts of the world (including the part I currently reside in), though, capital punishment is a hot topic, and there are many people for and against it. To be honest, it’s not really something I want to go into.

Far more dubious is the idea of this particular fugutaiten (不倶戴天) ceremony – Raising a murderer just to kill them again as a form of revenge or closure to the victims. From the translator’s/editor’s notes,

Fugutaiten means having to take revenge against another even if it means one’s own death. The kanji literally mean that one person cannot live under the same heavens if the other is to stay alive.

Is it right? Is that a good way of dealing with grief? The writer leaves this open-ended, with the Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service (i.e. Sasaki Ao) declining a merger with Nire, which will (it is presumed) continue on its business. Condemned or approved, it is certaining a chilling ceremony to consider.

As an aside, Yata raises in this volume the fact that everyone thinks he’s a ventriloquist. While I do believe he’s channeling an alien, it’s true that his general depiction is very similar to that of what few ventriloquist acts I’ve seen. (Humble, quiet, likable ventriloquist and rude, brash, noisy puppet.) After having recently watched Her Master’s Voice, I have a newfound respect for the art of ventriloquism. With the amount of swearing Kereellis does, though, I sometimes wonder how it sounds in Japanese..^^”

Every once in a while, it’s really nice to go back to old hobbies–hobbies I’ve hoarded, for life, in the past. Like old friends, they tend to welcome us back in with open arms when we let them.

I’ve been running races for just over three years now. In the spring of 2009, I ran my first 5k in Rhode Island, and just two months later, I ran my first half-marathon–which for a long period of time, I considered the proudest moment of my life. Since then, I’ve ran a number of 5ks, several 5 milers, a 4 miler, and a second half-marathon. Post second half-marathon, my legs yearned for a break. I went a month without running–and then another month. In June, I took my first run again–and still my legs said, “What do you think we are? Machines.” And thus began my longest hiatus from running, since my field hockey team was cut in college.

At this point, I had already signed up for the much anticipated Color Run. Nervous, I began to run three weeks before today’s run–to try and get back into 5k shape. I woke up early during my work trip, I ran, I walked for an extra work out, and today, on race day I woke up with an excitement that I knew very well beating in my chest. I threw on my white shirt, my white shirts, and slid on my bright new yellow socks:

If you could see my face at the same time as I took this photo-you would know that I totally had my game face on. While my friends and I made our trek out to Floyd Bennett Field and the Aviator Complex, I continued to spontaneously yell about how we were heading to the “Happiest 5k On the Planet.” And the truth was–we did end up at the happiest 5k on the planet. (Even the post color run patterns on my shirt said so!—Check out THAT smile on the back of my T)

As my friends and I made our way through the thousands of color runners, we stopped for free samples–happiness mingling–and special photos (which I am sure we will have a great laugh about later). When we reached the race track, I already felt a huge smile forming across my face–it could have been because “Call Me Maybe” was playing, but I have a feeling it was because I was surrounded by tens of thousands of people who signed up to have BRIGHT COLORS thrown at them in a city that tends to stick to it’s blacks and grays. I spotted neon sunglasses, much like my own (I went with the blues today instead of the yellows–for color stain reasons), neon socks, neon wristlets, neon shorts, neon everything. New York was already looking happier!

As our wave approached the starting line, I watched smiles turn to grins. It felt much different than many of the road races I’d done before, where everyone paced at the start line, worrying if their clip on their shoe to record their time was attached right. This was much more relaxed–much more anticipated–much more happy. We weren’t racing for medals–we were racing for bright yellows, pinks, greens, oranges, and blues. We were racing for happiness–and it was clear that, even in the early moments–we had won. As I ran and rolled through (YES ROLLED THROUGH) color stations, I felt life begin to feel a bit brighter–a bit more beautiful–a bit more happier.  (Just call me a hippie already ) But really–it truly was–the happiest 5k on the planet.

In the words of the Muppets: “Life’s a happy song–when there’s someone by my side to sing along”–or in this case: Run along.

________________________________________________________________________________

On another “Happiness” note, my good friend, fellow comic, and ventriloquism teacher April Brucker will be releasing her book this week entitled:

 I came, I saw, I sang: Memoirs of a New York City Singing Telegram Girl

 Join her fanpage HERE - and PURCHASE the book next week. I know I will!

Wieland is by a guy named Charles Brockton Brown. His contribution to literature, aside from having one of the best names in it, was to write the first recognizably Gothic novels in America, set in America. He thought the landscape of the wildernesses could replace the moldering castles and crypts. Fair enough. He was also, to judge by his fiction, batshit insane. For instance: before I tell you anything about this novel, let me tell you that when he finished it, Brown mailed a copy to Thomas Jefferson, then-president, because he felt it would help with the social problems of the developing United States. Got that? This book was supposed to work as a social tool.

OK. The Wieland family – made up of Clara and Theodore, and their father, live out in the woods in New England (but before it’s New England, it’s set before the Revolutionary War), sitting in a pavilion all day, talking about Cicero and philosophy, and generally being very dull and complacent. Then their dad spontaneously combusts, is very ill… you know, because he spontaneously combusted. Then he dies.

It turns out he was a religious nut with a deity that might or might not have been the Christian God, and he put off doing anything for his religion until all he could do was move to America and try to convert the natives… which he never did.

Clara is in love with Theodore’s friend Pleyel, by the way. Well, brother-in-law, actually: Theodore married Pleyel’s sister. Clara lives near her brother, his wife, and their kids, in a little house basically on the edge of the property. She is getting up the spirit to tell Pleyel how she feels. Then she meets a random vagabond named Carwin. Carwin is a biloquist, which was a weird alternative word for ventriloquist. He tells Clara this.

Please remember as we go on that Carwin tells Clara he is a ventriloquist.

Theodore starts to act really fucking weird. Carwin’s hanging out with everyone all the time, now, he’s really smart too I guess. But then they kick him out, whatever. Pleyel acts a little weird too. Then Clara finds Carwin hiding in her closet, at which point he admits he was going to assault her, but changed his mind, so he leaves. She tells no one about this.

Pleyel acts weirder, then yells at Clara about her affair with Carwin – the one that doesn’t exist – and runs off to throw his life away on a stupid trading voyage to Wherever I Guess, destination of thousands of disaffected youths over the years. Clara pines for a few days, then decides to go tell Pleyel that she’s not having an affair. Something she might have considered doing earlier, except he was really angry.

Carwin writes Clara a letter, he wants to see her, and totally not rape her at all, he pinky swears. That doesn’t really go well either.

Clara runs away to her brother’s house, except everyone seems to be asleep. EVERYTHING IS SPOOKY. She can’t find anyone at all. EVERYTHING IS SPOOKY.

EVERYTHING IS… Oh, you get the idea.

EVERYONE’S DEAD! Theodore’s wife and children have been brutally murdered, and it turns out Theodore did it. He appears and tries to kill Clara, who in turn bravely passes out. Theodore realizes what he did when Carwin imitates the God-voice. Theodore promptly kills himself.

So it turns out Theodore was hearing voices all this time. Voices claiming to be God. Eventually the voices convince him he has to kill his family, so he’s a crusader now. Pleyel also heard some voices, telling him Clara was sleeping with Carwin.

No one ever thinks that maybe the crazy ventriloquist they pissed off earlier could have been throwing voices around everywhere. Even though they know he can. Nope, random voice is most likely God. Awesome.

Carwin admits to nearly all the voices, the ones making Theodore crazy, the hoodlums Clara thought she heard planning to rob her, and Pleyel’s little birdie who told him Clara was banging the vagrant.

This makes Carwin the first recorded instance in American literature of an Epic Troll.

However, Carwin denies telling Theodore to murder his family. He denies it right up until he becomes a farmer in the countryside, living happily ever after I guess?

All right. First, do you have any idea how that would have helped Jefferson run the country? Because I don’t.

Second, should you read this book? The language is stilted and generally unconvincing, the characters are idiots, the whole thing’s based around a gimmick (something contemporary critics pointed out). And yeah, you might want to consider it. With the typical caveat that you’ll need to be prepared to deal with 18^th century prose, maybe grab it off a free ebook site. Sometimes it’s really spooky (as opposed to IT’S SPOOKY TIME NOW, which it also does), and historically it was just about the first Gothic work published by an American (some people make claims for some of the women’s poetry of the time, which seems to have been influenced by the Gothic).

Why did I talk about it? The book seems to explain away all its supernatural elements, but Carwin does swear for the rest of his life that he didn’t tell Theodore to kill anyone. And there was that spontaneous combustion, coupled with the father’s apparent worship of a strange deity. So there is a possibility that a supernatural force is at work, and certain kinds of fantastic literature make use of that teetering uncertainty, though of course the stuff we would identify as fantasy genre work only uses it to deepen a mystery that it usually reveals was right – yes there is magic, or what have you. But it’s an interesting way stop on the road through non-genre fantasy that might be worth checking out.

By the way, Brown also wrote a way better book called Edgar Huntly, but there’s really no fantasy element at all in it. So, yeah.

Thank you. Thank you for every pass-by, every read, every click, every motivating comment. Thank you for supporting me. I am happy to announce that on July 24^th, I hit the halfway mark of my yearlong quest to become a professional amateur and completed my 26^th NEW hobby (activity)—two weeks ahead of schedule. I guess you could say I’ve been on a Hobby High!

In New York City, it is extremely difficult to find a significant other who will stick around for much more than one or two dates—and with each of these significant others we learn something new about ourselves. On February 17, I began my one year love fest with activities—and what I’ve found now, one half of the way through the year, is that I am much more content “getting around” than I ever was standing still.

Since starting the Hobby Hoarder project, I have become more confident, more ambitious, and more versatile as a blogger, vlogger, writer, and speaker. In taking on so much, I have actually become even more focused than I ever was. I have become less judgmental of myself. I have stopped using the word can’t. I have developed new friendships with people who now join me on my adventures, want to document them, or really just want to hang out on the weekends. I have found that I am more open and willing to activities that I never imagined myself trying–like Jedi Light Saber training–or samurai sword fighting–or stunt jumping–or break-dancing—or pole dancing.  And for the first time since picking up a field hockey stick in 8^th grade, I have felt passionate about something–and that’s what living life is all about–passion.  Most important, I’ve learned that my adventure is much bigger than ME just trying to do something new – it’s about inspiring others to do something new too.

And honestly, you’d be amazed at how much you can do when you try something new every week. You really become incapable–of being incapable.

This year has taught me, thus far, that time is short but full of opportunity. So often, in the past, I found myself whispering “I want to do “that” some day” about a whole lot of “thats” and then never doing any of them. Now I am.

Additionally, this year, so far, has been about human interaction–meeting new people each week–hearing stories–spreading their stories–and building new relationships. I have found many times that the hobbies I am trying–are made that much more enjoyable because of the people I am meeting and spending time with.

In the past I found myself following a routine of waking up, working out, going to work, eating, and going to bed. And then by the time the weekend would roll around–I didn’t want to do anything–but sit–and then complain about how I accomplished nothing all weekend. I don’t think I am the only one who’s done this–repeatedly. And who the heck decided that work days should be 9 to 5 anyway? Why is it that living has become such a rare hobby in itself?

Here’s where I call on you:

 If you have a hobby—have tried something new—or are dying to do a new activity, reach out to me—send me a video—a blog post—photos—whatever, and I’ll feature YOU on the site. I want to know what OTHERS are doing. THAT’S what this is all about—pushing ourselves to try new things, take risks, and jump without knowing where we will land.

I challenge you to start your own quest–and try something new: Remember- we can fly anytime we want, because life’s accidental blessings will be there to catch us. Nothing like a bit of sweet serendipity.

Ciao for now,

Libs

The Hobby Hoarder

It seems somewhat apropos that such a strange little duo would be found selling such a strange-looking device. The camera was simple in that it simply took two pictures at the same time from two viewpoints. When you looked at the photos through the viewer, which just made sure that your left eye got one picture and your right eye the other, then you saw the result as three-dimensional. This concept was almost as old as photography itself but during the 50s entered wider use with cameras like this one costing only(!) $182. Adjusting for inflation this is a $1,500 camera, folks.

Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy are hawking this little device and as I’m sure you ALL remember from the 30s through the mid 50s they were a hilariously popular radio ventriloquist duo. Let me just allow that to sink in a bit. They were ventriloquists… and they were primarily known for “appearing” on the… radio… yes, yes indeed, that ancient device in which you can hear the people doing the show but can’t actually see them so you would never be able to TELL that one half of the conversation was held up by a wooden dummy. It never ceases to amaze me how creepy they both look in print advertising and how redundantly they use jokes of the form “Charlie’s no dummy he uses product X!” But if it worked then so be it.

that’s it now: I’ve got my own flat. The contract is signed, I’ve got the keys. The moving can begin.

At the moment there’s no happiness yet. Too much to organise for now.

But I will buy a rocking chair soon. I wanted that when I get my own flat and now I have it.

And something else I’ll get, too: a Charlie McCarthy. Sadly most of those which are sold on eBay are with a string to pull on the neck to open and close the mouth. The easy version. I at least would like the next version. That’s like all professional figures of that kind with a stick to control the moving head, which goes to the back and is controlled there with just one hand. With the string you pull on the string with one hand and hold the figure with the other hand to keep it from falling from the pulling. I don’t remember the seller right now, but there is one on eBay, who sells another kind of figures, too. Those are with headstick, and also control to move the eyes of the figure from left to right and with wig for hair. I hope I get one of the second version or maybe I can talk to the seller to get me a mix of the 2nd and 3rd. Because Edgar Bergen’s Charlie McCarthy didn’t have moving eyes and the hair with the seller is dark brown. What it should be is red. I don’t care about the moving eyes or not. But I insist on the red hair – or no hair at all, like with most figures which are sold for play for kids and such. With those the hair is made out of the same material like the rest of the head. So it’s version 2. Would be fine with me for my first real figure. Although hair would be nice. Wait and see what the seller has to say. For now I would need my laptop back to begin with!

Until next blog,

sarah

my laptop is away for repair. I am writing a few thoughts on paper for the blog for later and limit my time on my parents’ computer to the necessary: reading mails, checking Jay Johnson’s blog for new entries (great, I just read that he, too, had a computer problem. After 4 hours of talking on the service phone his problem was solved. My laptop will be back in 3-4 weeks the sales woman said.) Then I also check Bob’s Vlog, if there’s anything new there. That’s it.

Of course I could do more. But I don’t want to do that on another computer, even though my parents would let me. I could, for example, typewriting the blog entries and publish them. Would be too much time on another computer for me though. But I don’t mind that really. I can write on paper as well.

What I really miss above all else is listening to Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarhty on their radio show. That’s right. I don’t miss chatting the most, not even the internet in whichever form, but an old radio show. I do have the files on my external hard drive and I could plug it to my t.v. That should work. Wouldn’t be as nice as with my laptop though. I’ve got a few short pieces on my ipod, too. But that’s getting boring with just 6 tracks of each about 5 minutes length. The shows are 30-60 minutes and I hadn’t listened to half of them when I gave away my laptop for repair.

So my “missing link” is an old radio show.

Until next blog,

sarah

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Members of IBWE local 405 in Miami, meeting to discuss details of their ongoing labor dispute last Thursday.

Striking members of the International Brotherhood of Wooden Elocutionists elected to begin “phase 2″ of their protest Monday, further prolonging a work-stoppage that has crippled geriatric entertainers and comedian Jeff Dunham.

The dummies, among whose demands is the stipulation that they be referred to as “vocal reception engineers,” walked out, as it were, on June 15th, after talks broke down in the Catskill Mountains community of Hamden, NY.

Local ACLU representative Bruce Halloran, acting IBWE spokesman explains, “Many entertainers like to talk, figuratively, about how they live out of a suitcase. The sad fact of your average vocal reception engineer is that he lives in a suitcase. Literally.” Halloran adds that the dummies’ demands of better travel accommodations, more sick time and higher pay are reasonable requests being unreasonably ignored by an industry of antiquated entertainers refusing to engage in fair labor practices.

For their part, the ventriloquists adamantly refuse to yield an inch. “A dummy is a dummy is a dummy,” fumes Catskill entertainer Marv “The Magnificent” Blutarsky. “I’m the one throwing my voice. I’m the one with my hand up your back. All you gotta do is sit there and look stupid. Stop acting like you’re something special, dummy.”

Industry experts predict a protracted impasse, though many think the dummies’ unnerving negotiating tactics – inscrutable, wide-eyed expressions of enigmatic passivity accompanied by deafening silence – will eventually wear down their opponents. As one observer close to the proceedings put it, “I spent 20 minutes in a room with those creepy wack-jobs staring at me and not saying one damn word. I was ready to jump out the window.”

And I remember going to a friend’s birthday party when everything stopped for Doctor Who – this would have been the old black-and-white version, with the original Doctor, William Hartnell – and I had to stay with the adults away from the TV so that the monsters didn’t frighten me.

I was fine with the Daleks, they didn’t bother me. My mother’s theory, and I think she was right, was that it was a distorted human-like face that scared me.

My mother would also tell me in later life that as a small child in the early Sixties I did not like Lenny the Lion. “Not keen on Lenny Lion,” I said, apparently. Not keen? What sort of annoying child says that?

But I must have overcome my fear of Lenny quickly because I remember liking him very much. To explain, he was a lion with, and this might have been what initially put me off, a clown-like face. He was, in fact, a ventriloquist’s dummy. The ventriloquist was a man called Terry Hall who, with hindsight, was a very camp man.

I imagine Lenny the Lion must have been the beginning of my fascination with ventriloquists and their dummies.

At around the same time I remember a gentleman appearing on TV variety shows with a little girl doll called Daisy May, who spoke in a very quiet whisper. He appeared very old to me though with hindsight I don’t suppose he was. I now know his stage name to be Saveen, and he was one of the wave of British entertainers who came into showbusiness after the Second World War.

But perhaps the most famous ventriloquism team as I was growing up was Ray Alan and Lord Charles. Ray Alan was an amazing vent – you really couldn’t see anything move. His dummy, Lord Charles, though this seems a poor word for such a colourful character, was an upper-class drunk sporting a monocle. I loved him. “Silly arse,” as Lord Charles would say.

Don’t take my word for it, take a look at this video showing a master, perhaps the master, at work:

Some years ago Ray Alan presented a documentary about ventriloquists, on BBC Radio 2 as I recall. Yes, I know, a radio programme on the subject! But the fact is at least two very famous practitioners made their names through the radio, or should I say four counting the so-called dummies.

In Britain Peter Brough and his little friend Archie Andrews starred in a 1950s radio programme, Educating Archie, which at various times featured upcoming stars including Tony Hancock, Benny Hill and Julie Andrews.

Over in the United States Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy had their own radio show, from the 1930s to the 1950s, featuring some of the biggest stars of the day as guests.

Ray Alan came across in his documentary as a rounded, pleasant and, essentially, normal man. He did have hidden depths though. I’ve since read that he wrote scripts for Morecambe & Wise and The Two Ronnies under the pseudonym Ray Whyberd.

And, in later life, he wrote murder mysteries. I recently bought online, through Alibris, A Game Of Murder and Death And Deception. So far I’ve read the latter – a good holiday book, I would say, with an interesting twist.

Ray Alan told in his radio documentary that the famous US vent Edgar Bergen would, in rehearsals, be all over the place while his dummy Charlie McCarthy was word perfect.

Other aspects of voice-throwing highlighted in the programme were more unsettling, hinting at a darker side of the art. For example, the ventriloquist who habitually set a place for his dummy at the meal table; and another who strapped his dummy in the car seat when they went out.

Perhaps this is part of the fascination. Yes, ventriloquism can be very funny and the technique of those who can do it really well is a marvel. But there is something sinister about bringing a dummy to life, particularly one with a brightly-coloured scary face. Careful, we’re getting back to my clown-phobia again.

Take a look at this clip of Michael Redgrave in the 1945 Ealing film The Dead Of Night as he brilliantly portrays a man falling apart as his dummy Hugo takes him over:

Recently modern-day ventriloquist Nina Conti, and her dummy monkey Monk, appeared in two documentaries on BBC Four, Nina Conti – A Ventriloquist’s Story: Her Master’s Voice and Make Me Happy: A Monkey’s Search For Happiness.

I suppose you could say the first documentary was about Nina dealing with her past, and the second was about Nina dealing with her present. The programmes were revealing, emotional and, at times, disturbing, even uncomfortable.

But what struck me most was the way Monk – I was going to say “was used by Nina” but that seems to undervalue him – was the way Monk said what Nina felt and, in particular, said what she was too polite or introverted to say herself.

Here they are in action in Australia in 2009 (with strong language):

This has got me thinking. Perhaps I could use a dummy to say what I really think about life and people? I need to practise though. And I must avoid the word “hospital” at all costs.

PS: If you do not know why I should avoid the word “hospital”, go back and watch the Ray Alan and Lord Charles clip – I promise, your life will be better for it.

Some scary photographs

Scary vintage dummies: http://sobadsogood.com/2011/12/15/14-creepy-vintage-ventriloquist-dummies-photographs/

To find out more

Lenny the Lion: http://www.turnipnet.com/whirligig/tv/children/other/lennythelion.htm

Ray Alan: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ray_Alan

The Dead of Night: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dead_of_Night

Nina Conti – A Ventriloquist’s Story: Her Master’s Voice: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b01jv1yr

Nina Conti website: http://www.ninaconti.co.uk/

Off-topic

Alibris, recommended for buying second-hand books: http://www.alibris.co.uk/

I knew for a while that the ventriloquist Paul Winchell is dead. I didn’t knew it just when I wrote that post where I wrote about some known ventriloquists. But at the beginning of this week I got an idea of what those things he had written in the last chapter of his book “Ventriloquism For Fun & Profit” could mean. This entry today couldn’t come close to a letter or e-mail to him. But I fear it’s the only thing left to do for me now. Because as much as I would have liked to write to him, I cannot do that anymore. So all that’s left for me is this blog entry here.

In the last chapter Paul Winchell argues especially for 2 things: one is bringing ventriloquism into schools to teach in classes, the other thing is using ventriloquism as a sort of speech therapy for people who stutter or lisp. His points are sharp as they are simple and logical:

We probably all were mad a lot about the seemingly meaningless topics in higher classes in school. Above all in mathematics in higher classes, which has things that are so far beyond anything we need in our daily life like nothing else. They are not totally meaningless as such, but the percentage of students who take on a job in a field that needs these kinds of math is very very low. Most people feel more like this is torture.

Paul Winchell says that it makes much more sense to teach and learn ventriloquism instead. This is because you have to use both hands at any time: one hand to bring the figure to life and the other hand for yourself at least to gesture a bit. Because you use both hands, both brain hemispheres are active, get connected and are used at the same time. It’s one thing to argue that to write essays teaches you to structure and make good points. It’s a totally different thing, I think, not only to entertain, but also to be creative and bring together both brain hemispheres at the same time. What really makes sense in the long run and is a true argument here?

Stuttering, according to Paul Winchell, happens with a kid, who thinks faster than he or she is able to speak their thoughts. Their thoughts come faster than the words can come out. Thus they stutter. As a ventriloquist you need to bring the figure to life for starters and also you have to think for two people at the same time: talk for yourself and at the same time think about what the figure can say in reply and when the figure is talking you need to think about what you can say to that in reply yourself. The kid has to think about many things. That slows down the many thoughts, thus the stuttering stops.

Lisping, Paul Winchell says, is a certain way of saying s-sounds in a different way than people, who don’t lisp.  For lisping s-sounds are substituted for th. Ventriloquism is similar. About a hand full of sounds are made with the lips. F for example is such a letter. But when you say f-sounds with a th instead, you get a pretty decent substitution. You get rid of the lisping the similar way. If a lisping child understands the sound substitution for ventriloquism and is able to do that, the child should have no problem at all using the same principle for the s-sounds and the lisping is history, as they say.

At the beginning of this week now I thought about my own handicap. When I was born my upper jaw, my upper palate and my upper lip where split in two. (Hence this handicap is called double cleft-palate.) Well, that’s not the case anymore. I had surgery of course. Before the surgeries the upper palate was open and the upper lip couldn’t close properly. Which means, that kids with this handicap, at least until they had surgery, couldn’t use their upper lip the right way. With ventriloquism you don’t need your lips at all.

I wish I had known about ventriloquism, sound substitution and sound making earlier. I think ventriloquism is also a chance for people with the handicap like mine. We make some sounds different from other people and hear ourselves making the sounds a different way than they actually sound for other people. That’s why people with a handicap like mine often need to go to a speech therapist. With the sound substitution used for ventriloquism people without a handicap at least speak inarticulate or worse than usual. Unless they all learn to make perfect sound substitutions.

Paul Winchell also was the person, who wrote in his book that the tip of the tongue is at the same place on the roof of the mouth for the sounds D, N and T. I didn’t read that in any other book so far and my sound making can’t be taken as criteria with my handicap. So T is one of the letters that may be difficult for someone with my handicap. Paul Winchell’s note was a really good one for me to know where to be with the tip of my tongue for the T.

A couple of weeks ago I recorded my voice. Just to hear what I sound like now. I had only the memory of recordings of my voice from when I was a child.  I wanted to know how I sound. I needed several attempts to press the record button. I forced myself to record my voice on my computer. The first time was a failure. I had connected the plugs for the mic and the headphones the wrong way. The second time the display showed me green for sound recording. After I had spoken the 2 lines to set up the mic and recorded it, I was curious to listen to my voice right away. I deleted the recording right after I heard myself. I know many people hate their own voice. But I think I should record myself speaking a couple of lines with sound substitution. At least all people sound equally terrible that way. Ventriloquism gives the same rights for all.

As I write this post here the sadness from the beginning of this week comes back. This entry seems so meaningless to me. But what I really want, to write to Paul Winchell, is not possible anymore. I’m about 7 years too late. Paul Winchell was 82 years old when he died of natural causes in 2005 (according to wikipedia). What’s left is this blog entry.

Until next blog,

sarah

I’d asked if I could have a few minutes with the audience to warm them up prior to performing and this was great for helping to get rid of any last minute nerves. The two guys they’d picked as helpers for me were great and the whole thing went very quickly. My voice didn’t feel 100% – the results of doing 3 shows yesterday and recording early in the morning, but it was agreed that the one take was enough.

It was a lot of fun watching this show come together – Dick and Dom performed several truly surreal and hilarious pieces to camera and it was nice to chat to Dominic Wood afterwards about Supreme Magic and meeting him at the Reading Junior Day when he was a young lad. The boy has certainly done very well for himself!

I had one more piece to perform to camera – my introduction, from a rapidly spinning waltzer!  I was in a car alongside Timo Marc and our brief was that he was supposed to appear super-relaxed, while I was to act terrified!  I’m not a big fan of spinning rides, so my acting skills weren’t pushed too hard!

All that was left to do then was sign some autographs and say my goodbyes.

After filming wrapped I thought it would be fun to move the door sign from my trailer to a porta-loo and have a picture taken. Timo and Terri were up for this and we took some shots, only to realise that there was someone actually using the loo and afraid to come out while we were messing about outside. We all ran off like giggling school children.

So all in all, a very fun weekend – the cast and crew of this show is great and I can’t wait to see how it looks in September.

I’m off to bed now to sleep for a week!

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Yesterday was probably the most tiring day I’ve had in years. I said goodbye to Tamar in the morning and drove to my first show, a birthday party in the north of Sheffield. That was followed closely after by another full 2 hour party in Chesterfield, then an evening show in a particularly soggy marquee in Winster. I finished my gigs at 9pm, exhausted – then had to drive nearly 300 miles to Devon, where I am filming for Dick and Dom’s new TV show, Hoopla.

It was a 7am call this morning. I got about 3 hours sleep and I staggered into Dingle’s Heritage Fairground bleary eyed and feeling pretty lousy. . I’m writing this in my trailer and people keep running back and forth Bringing me coffee and food, so I’m starting to pick up already! It’s a far cry from doing birthday parties, but it’s best not to get used to this kind of treatment. It doesn’t last long.

I’ll blog later when I’ve recorded my performance.