With Spring Break at the Uni on ground zero, zilch kale in the messenger bag, the Vespa broke down and no deck tassel or cronkite to get liquid with, whaddup?
How about dunging out? That’s an old creepy term for getting rid of all the fin stuff clogging up the home, while hanging onto the deck, especially if it’s kitsch, or if it could be ironic. Cleansing the Augean stables, as it were.
The deck place to start all this is just lying in bed, thinking. Perhaps your bookcase is in sight and you can start separating the deck from the fin. You can try trading some fin titles for berries at Powell’s, but if they reject, donate to the library sale.
Scale off any novels by Chuck Palahniuk, Mark Poirier and Tom Stanbauer. All midtown, sometimes identified as PoMo. Banish Jennifer Lauck. Perish all Halberstam.
Scour away anything by Jay McInerney except possibly “Bright Lights, Big City.” Out with Bret Easton Ellis, especially in view of the fin movies sucked out of his books, also oust Tammy Janowitz. “Cold Mountain” will soon be out as a movie, that doesn’t make it a deck novel.
For acceptable literature, Don DeLillo’s “Great Jones Street” is deck, but “White Noise” is only midtown and “Mao II,” fin. Paul Auster’s “New York Trilogy” is deck. Anything by Haruki Murukami is deck – some more than others. Especially deck, “The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle” and “Dance, Dance, Dance.” Respect Jack Kerouac and William S. Burroughs.
Unexpectedly, Ernest Hemingway is deck with “A Moveable Feast.” Raymond Carver – some of his stories more deck than others. Raymond Chandler, if you can believe, is deck, although if you have the VHS of “The Big Sleep” with Bogart and Bacall, it’s deck first half, fin last half. The Brit version with Robert Mitchum is infinitely more deck.
Enough of the book case, although if you have a catalog from Evergreen State College, keep it. It’s deck even if it’s past due. As for magazines, where did you get those midtown National Geographics? Out. Entertainment Weekly is deck but best read in private. Harper’s is deck even if you don’t read it.
When it comes to deck poetry, preserve Sylvia Plath, ditto Ezra Pound and Gertrude Stein. Allen Ginsberg? Started out deck, became a stage act and turned midtown and, when “OMing,” turned fin.
Next, to the wardrobe. Here you have to make decisions. Some are easy. Anything with Mickey Mouse on it, fin. Contrariwise, Macheesmo Mouse on a T-shirt can be deck, since Macheesmo is fast going out of business. Keep T-shirts with totally obscure messages, like Green Algae.
If you’re a guy, examine your bennies carefully. Favor the mesh tops. Avoid those Ishtar Nike symbols at all costs. (However, if you happen to have some old blue and yellow Nike shoes with the original waffle iron soles, they’s deck.) Favor bennies like Copeland Lumber, long gone.
For a dress, think Norah Jones. Not for singing but because she wore a dress to the Grammys right off the swag rack. Avoid anything Lilith.
For any item, ask the question, “Could I have bought this at the Salvation Army store on MLK? If yes, it’s probably deck. Never wear a flogger from anywhere else. Except if you’ve been given one. At all costs, avoid the Ishtar look of the gutter punks. Never accessorize with an iguana.
Now to your old music collection. You can keep a Linda Ronstadt provided you pretend it’s ironic. If you have Velvet Underground & Nico, it’s borderline. Has been deck, but they’re talking about a reissue, which might make it midtown. On the other hand, you may owe Lou Reed a tri-grip with slide. He hasn’t smiled in 40 years, and he maintained that integrity when he appeared on the Grammys. You’re deck enough, of course, to avoid the jock high five.
Back to music. The Ramones should qualify as deck in spite of their commonness today, what with half of them dying and all. If you must keep The Beatles, settle for Revolver. If you have Curtis Mayfield’s Superfly, he qualifies. The Clash will never die. Sonic Youth is showing some slight danger of becoming midtown. Great current deck: Sleater-Kinney and White Stripes.
For movies, David Lynch is deck, especially “Blue Velvet”; but “Dune” is dreadfully fin. Nothing more deck than Orson Welle’s “Touch of Evil,” but it’s got to be the third version. If you have versions one or two, they’re midtown at best. If you’ve got Welles’ “Chimes at Midnight,” consider yourself lucky. After all the midtown Shakespeare, there’s a sword fight scene that Peter Jackson should have looked at before he mangled the fights in “Lord of the Rings.”
By now, the job is not done, but you’ve lost enthusiasm. Go back to bed, sip a bronson and watch a repeat of “Magnum P.I.”