Kerouac, Lowell, Kevin Nash, Cappy's Copper Kettle, & Synchronicity

Friday night during the Lowell Celebrates Kerouac Pub Crawl, we were having a beer near the pool table in the back of Cappy's Copper Kettle. A rough-looking tattoo-sporting longhair was playing pool (see above), and he had actually ushered us to a couple of seats near the short bar by the table (his drink was sitting there and we didn't know if the seats were taken). While his opponent was playing, he would come over and drink. Out of the blue, he looked at me and said I looked like Kevin Nash (below). "Do you know who that is?" he asked.


Well, as a matter of fact . . . . Click here for a synchronicity laugh.

Or maybe that guy reads The Daily Beat?

Anyway, I wish I were that much of a stud. I did tell the guy I took it as a compliment. He told us he fought Mixed Martial Arts and showed us his hands that he "broke all the time." We were toward the front of the bar later in the night and he shook my hand on the way out and said it was nice to meet us.

I love beat characters!

Jack Kerouac and Professional Wrestling

I just got back from a live pro wrestling event at The Elks Lodge in Augusta, Maine, and was thinking about the Kerouac connection that I blogged about on October 15, 2009. Jack's dad, Leo, managed some semi-pro wrestlers, and I always think about that when I watch pro wrestling.

There were some real beat characters in attendance at this event. A couple in front of me drove clear from Nashua, NH, and they knew everything about pro wrestling. It was great fun talking to them about wrestlers from years ago, like Tugboat and Dick Murdoch and Barry Wyndham and others I hadn't thought of in a long time. The husband said he talks to Sting (Steve Borden) on Facebook, and that he's a really nice guy. He also said he once saw Big Show (Paul Wight) act like a real asshole to a young fan and called him out on it. Generally, though, pro wrestlers are quite good to their fans, realizing that they are their bread-and-butter. And at these lower tier levels (not the big TV productions like WWE), the settings are very small and intimate and it's hard to avoid engaging with the crowd up close and personal.

This couple and I got talking about people who judge us for liking wrestling, and we laughed about the complaint, "It's fake." Like we don't know that. And like he said, what do people watch that isn't fake? Soap operas? Sitcoms? Pro sports (cut me a break if you think that isn't fixed given the money involved). At least pro wrestling doesn't pretend it's a real competition. It's an athletic exhibition with a little drama thrown in for good measure. The physical stuff they were doing today was impressive, and there was a good deal of showmanship, too. Many in attendance dutifully rooted for their favorites, seemingly with great passion even though they knew it was, at least in part, scripted.

I talked with a woman I know who worked the event and was only there for that reason. She ended up really enjoying herself. That's the point. It's entertainment. Like any kind of entertainment, for it to have its intended effect, you have to suspend belief a little bit (or a lot) and just go with it. That's why I'm enjoying reading George R.R. Martin's epic fantasy series, A Song of Ice and Fire. I know it's not real, and that's okay. I still lose myself in it and have a good time doing so.

I will say this: it's much more enjoyable live than on television. If you've never been to a live event, give it a try sometime. Tell them Leo Kerouac sent you.

Goodbye "Captain" Lou

Flamboyant - and legendary - professional wrestling manager (and wrestler) "Captain" Lou Albano died yesterday at age 76 in NYC. He was known to the world outside of professional wrestling for a role he played in the Cyndi Lauper video "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." The Captain was in his heyday when my son, Jason, was very young and we used to watch pro wrestling just as I did growing up when the big attraction was Championship Wrestling with Johnny Powers on Saturday afternoon (along with Monster Movie Matinee where we saw all the great B horror movies like Them and The Day the Earth Stood Still and The Creature from the Black Lagoon and The Thing from Another World where Scotty concluded with "Watch the skies, everywhere! Keep looking. Keep watching the skies!," etc.). Here's the CNN article on Lou: Lou Albano dies at 76.

So what's the Kerouac connection? Well, it turns out that Jack's dad, Leo, managed some semi-pro wrestlers according to author Barry Miles in Jack Kerouac: King of the Beats:

Leo did well in Lowell. He left L'Etoile to set up his own print shop, Spotlight Print, where, in addition to handbills and other such work, he published his own little newspaper, the Spotlight, which featured his own reviews of local theatrical productions. He was a well-known figure in the town though not necessarily well-liked: muscular, short, stocky, overweight, loud, verbose, opinionated, bigoted, leaving a trail of cigar smoke behind him as he stamped from place to place. He was a sporting man who followed the horses and managed a few semi-pro wrestlers and boxers, promoting the occasional fight. He was a classic small-town personality. A big fish in a small pond.

Watch the skies, everywhere! Keep looking. Keep watching the skies!

It's fun to be alive.

The Wrestler: Mickey Rourke's redemption

Crystal and I went to Railroad Square Cinema in Waterville last night to watch The Wrestler, starring Mickey Rourke. He has always been one of my favorite actors, ever since his small but mesmerizing role in Body Heat, the film noir that launched Kathleen Turner's career and established William Hurt as a leading man. Since that film, Rourke's life has epitomized the promising career compromised by lifestyle choices. But he has always remained eminently watchable, even in lousy movies. There's just always something . . . real about him. Convincing. You forget he's acting.

The Wrestler capitalized on that talent. With it's handheld-camera minimalist style, it draws you in to the gritty world of a has-been professional wrestler living in New Jersey, trying to eke out an existence in his hovel of a trailer by wrestling on the weekends in low-paying, non-televised events at VFWs and the like and working during the week at a supermarket. He's estranged from his daughter - played convincingly by Evan Rachel Wood - and trying to court a stripper, Marisa Tomei in a . . . er . . . revealing role.

The wrestling portrayals are spot on. I can say that because I've watched professional wrestling since I was 10 or so when my friends and I waited all week to watch Championship Wrestling with Johnny Powers on Saturday afternoons. That's the kind of wrestling portrayed in the movie - not the soap opera, special-effects, sex-crazed WWE of today. I've been to the small venue events and the movie absolutely captures the absurd rawness of it all, from hiding razor blades to open up "fake" wounds to using whatever is handy to demolish the opponent. In the film, a fan in a wheelchair hands Rourke's character an artifical leg and begs him to hit his opponent with it. He does.

Even the pseudo-relationship with Tomei and the seedy atmosphere of the strip club scenes carry an air of authenticity. You'll just have to trust me on those two scores without elaboration.

During the previews, we heard people behind us in the theatre complaining that they were only watching The Wrestler because Revolutionary Road was sold out. I heard them go from mocking the early locker-room scenes where the wrestlers were choreographing their matches (like that's a surprise?) to laughing genuinely and, I'm guessing, choking back some tears later on.

This is a tour de force for Rourke. It parallels his own life, so the realism oozes from his hard-living bloated face and his boxing-ravaged body.

If you're one of those people who harbor huge disdain for professional wrestling, I highly recommend that you don't let that keep you from seeing The Wrestler. It's not a film about professional wrestling. It's a film about life, relationships, loss, choices, and perseverance. Professional wrestling just happens to be the context. Crystal hates wrestling, and she loved the movie (disclosure: she's a Mickey Rourke fan).

Rourke's last line left me wincing. As he's about to go back into the ring for the big career-rejuvenating rematch against the stern advice of his doctor, he tells Tomei, "The only place I get hurt is out there," referring to the world outside the ring.

Soon after that, cut to black and Springsteen singing "have you ever seen a one-trick pony . . . ?"

Chilling.

Put another checkmark in director Darren Aronofsky's win column.

And Mickey, enjoy your upcoming Oscar. You deserve it.

Six Degrees of Jack Kerouac

This is the first in an occasional series of posts (occurring on a variable ratio schedule) wherein I will be linking Jack Kerouac to another person in 6 or less steps. This is based on the trivia game Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, which is based on the theory of Six Degrees of Separation.

We will be establishing Kerouac numbers, similar to Bacon numbers. A Kerouac number quantifies the separation a person has from Jack Kerouac.

The difference is, we will not be limited in our connections as in the Kevin Bacon version. That is, any connections I think of are fair game - they are not limited to people, but could be events or things. At the same time, I will be connecting Jack to unlikely people, as you will see. And the connections cannot be trivial (for example, having read a Kerouac book does not give you a Kerouac number of 1). Maybe it will be fun. Especially if it becomes interactive and you suggest some unlikely people to connect to Jack.

For our first subject, we will be taking up professional wrestler Kevin Nash.

1. Kevin Nash resides in Venice Beach, CA.
2. My son Jason is streethawking copies of The Beat Handbook at Venice Beach.
3. The Beat Handbook is a daily reader devoted to Jack Kerouac.

So, Kevin Nash's Kerouac number is 3.

Okay. That was kind of lame. But it struck me this morning while watching TNA Wrestling on television* and they introduced Kevin Nash as being from Venice Beach. So I went with it.

I wonder what Barack Obama's Kerouac number might be. Anyone want to tackle that?


*If all you can think of right now is why does Rick watch professional wrestling, get over your bad self. "And ye harm none, do what ye will." Wiccans have it about right.