Vic Chesnutt: Runnin', jumping', flyin' in heaven.
Vic Chesnutt sings “Very Friendly Lighthouses,” on the somewhat available Left to His Own Devices, and by request on NPR.
The artist who was capable of writing that song right there died yesterday. Vic Chesnutt, 45, overdosed on a muscle relaxant earlier this week and then lingered in a coma until the Christmas twilight. Chesnutt already had a seat on the train, as they say, having made several active suicide attempts in a life defined by more passive ones.
Chesnutt was a brilliant person — a humanist, a cynic, a believer, a “sub-realist,” as he once sang. And my goodness, could he write a song.
It hurts to think that an artist with so many successful friends, not to mention so many people who loved his music, could fall into despair over $70,000 in unpaid medical bills. In this, Chesnutt was twice a casualty of our country’s health care system. He should never have faced those bills to start with, and if we’d had better care to offer maybe we’d have caught his depression in time to save him, one more time.
His friend Kristin Hersh has set up a donation page for his family, to help them cover his last expenses. You can buy his newer music from Constellation and the rest elsewhere. If you’re new to Chesnutt, just close your eyes and pick a record: They’re all good.
In November, I got a surprise chance to spend 10 days in China, three of which I spent pedaling around Beijing. I recommend it. Holler if you need advice. Here’s what I have for now.
Parking in the bike lane: A growing threat to biking in Beijing
If You Go, Pedal
There will be a bike for rent somewhere nearby.
It will require a deposit of 200 or 300 yuan, cash, and cost the equivalent of about $8 a day.
There will be a bike lane everywhere but the hutongs — the old alley neighborhoods — and you won’t need one there.
If the bike lane is separated from the road in any way, treat this like a bicycle highway. Cyclists coming toward you will generally keep to their right, pedestrians to their left.
If the lane is exposed to traffic — even if the lane seems enormous and there are no cars at all — cyclists coming toward you will keep to their left. Do not attempt to keep to your right and force the cyclists over. They will not move away from the curb.
Cars turn right on red. They have the right of way.
When you come to an intersection — and Beijing has some enormous ones — stop with the pack of cyclists. They know where to get clear of cars turning right. When the cyclists take off, you go, too.
That traffic warden snapping his flag means you. Stop. You have to wait for this light.
Street names often change at intersections. Your map may not account for this. Otherwise, navigating is fairly easy and gets easier with only a little practice.
Night cycling on a protected lane with friendly strangers is a new definition for peace on Earth.
Hungry? Eat something from a vendor with a bike-mounted stove. The grilled boiled-egg kabobs with special spices are delicious.
Chillag’s the blue guy. (I’m posting this from a hotel room in China, and I can’t quite tell if it works. If it doesn’t, try the direct link — it’s worth it.)
It’s here. At last. My interview with Jim Shepard, author of Like You’d Understand, Anyway, the inaugural selection of the Radio Galaxy Book Club. Many thanks to Laura Conaway for technical support.
Shepard was an incredibly gracious interview subject. We talked for nearly an hour about the stories in the book—whose protagonists include an executioner during the French Revolution, a soldier in Hadrian’s army, and an engineer at the Chernobyl disaster. Shepard fielded questions from some of our loyal book club members, including Kymm in Barcelona and Seth in Kansas. I asked him about the prevalence of male suffering and ineptitude in his stories (he thinks women have a reason to care about this, too, despite Rebecca in Berlin’s opinions to the contrary). And he spoke compellingly about the writer’s duty to go out in the world and report on what he or she finds. “Part of the project of literature,” says Shepard, “is empathy.”
The piece is between 12 and 13 minutes long. Enjoy.
I’m working on a new selection, and will keep you posted.
I didn’t expect to question my self-worth as an astronomer while watching the third Presidential debate last night, but that’s what happened.
Sen. McCain’s relentless harping on Sen. Obama for destroying “Joe the Plumber’s” American dream was just too much. Let me tell you about my American dream. It has to do with stars.
I have been studying them my entire life. It began before my earliest memories, but once evident, my interest in everything celestial was supported by my mom, encouraged by my teachers, and bolstered by an elementary school field trip to a planetarium. Nothing special, just a high school in the area that was endowed well enough to have a small dome and an even smaller star projector. If I had to guess, I would say it couldn’t have cost more than $3,000. (And that was in 1986.) But the opportunity to actually see the motion of the planets and stars across the sky was — as the commercial says — priceless.
I was fortunate enough to grow up in a great public school district in Northern Virginia where a field trip to such a high school was possible. For many students both then and now, this may not be the case. This is especially a tragedy for inner city students; those who can’t even see the stars on their own because the skies over their heads are lit day and night by the sun or the ever-increasing electric glow of urban life. The best way these students can get access to the stars is through a museum planetarium that can both educate and inspire. In Chicago, the Adler Planetarium fills this role. And yes, top of the line, robust, professional star projectors cost a pretty penny. About $3 million, as Sen. McCain is so fond of pointing out.
By categorizing this proposed expense (that Sen. Obama supported) as pork, Sen. McCain is belittling my American dream, and the dream of young kids who, after a trip to the Adler, might one day grow up to share my love of the universe. Planetariums such as the Adler are in a unique position to help inspire students to pursue science and math — something our country is in desperate need of as Sen. McCain himself acknowledged in last night’s debate.
I would like to remind Sen. McCain that the American dream comes in all shapes and sizes. Why does Joe the Plumber matter more than Summer the Astronomer? After all, my future observatory is going to require some plumbing.
During last night’s vice presidential debate, Win Rosenfeld tweeted a happy first anniversary to the Bryant Park Project.
If we had made it to day two of our second year, I’d give better than even odds we’d have booked Politico’s Jim VandeHei to talk about Biden vs. Palin. He’s up there in video — better looking than I expected, for some reason — and I can’t help thinking his analysis would be so much more fun as a live talk on radio.
(Me, I’m living on Planet Money these days, all economy, all the time. Sarah Goodyear’s got the Book Club interview with Jim Shepard on the way. And I’m thinking of what more could be done with this space. Thanks for waiting it out with us.)
In case you hadn’t seen enough signs of the apocalypse lately, I’ll lay another one on you.
This businessman from Ohio came to New York in 2003, drank a glass of water, and got an idea. He’d put our local tap water in a bottle and sell it for a buck-fifty a pop. This is not a joke:
Tap’dNY is a New York City bottled water company with a local twist and knack for honesty. We don’t travel the world from Fiji to France seeking water or offer the usual bottled water gimmicks. We work with NYC’s public water system to source the world’s best tasting tap water, purify it through reverse osmosis and bottle it locally, leaving out ludicrous transportation miles.
We offer an honest and local alternative to thirsty New Yorkers, giving them a smarter choice: to drink their own (award winning) water.
I’m waiting for my fellow citizens to laugh this guy out of town. Please, people. Start laughing.
By now, I think all you Radio Galaxy Book Club people who intend to read Jim Shepard’s Like You’d Understand, Anyway along with us have probably gotten the book. I know some of you have read it. So it’s time to start getting questions together, because I have set a date to interview Shepard.
It’s going to happen October 1. And I want your help in figuring out what I’m going to talk with him about.
Then I’ll get you the results, in some form—audio, text, or a combination of the two.
Sound good? Get reading, and drop me your questions in the comments or by e-mail here.
In the meantime, check out the video above, in which Shepard reads from the book, starting with the beginning of the story “Pleasure Boating in Lituya Bay.” It’s a brilliant example of his ability to enter a real historic moment and use it as a jumping-off place for creating characters.
If you want to learn more about the extraordinary events of July 9, 1958, in Lituya Bay, you could start here.
My father-in-law, Richard Goodyear, has revised his take on the present state of the electoral votes. A dedicated Obama supporter, he sees a mixed and still-evolving picture, writing:
[The] polls haven’t yet caught up with the Palin effect. Assuming that effect persists, the RCP Averages will catch up with it, and when it does the map, and the outcome in EVs, will change in McCain’s favor.
