Another Week: Number 127

As part of my ongoing identity project, I’m trying to simplify and minimize. I enjoy my little patch of landscape and the creatures that visit it, but gardening is just one of many chores that I’m now trying to juggle without a helpmeet.

Last year, I tried annuals without mulch, and spent way too much time watering and weeding. This year, mulch is back in, and perennials have been gathered.

There’s also an experiment in progress: Moss.

One of my garden beds had some patches of moss growing in it, and I’ve always thought moss would look great covering the stone blocks surrounding my Taylor Junipers. I have also heard about a method of propagating moss using a blender and some stale beer or something – so I found a great website that’s all about moss, and it recommended buttermilk.

My friend Wendy found me a blender for $7 at Goodwill, and I whipped up a moss milkshake, then painted the blocks with the dark purple slurry. Now I’ll just keep the wall damp and wait a couple of weeks with fingers crossed.

In sportsball news, the WNBA season has quickly been hampered by injuries. Caitlin Clark, Sophie Cunningham, and Paige Bueckers are all out for a bit. The Chicago Cubs, though, are putting together some impressive victories.

And, of course, our national nightmare goes on and on — but a few cracks are starting to show. A federal court struck down Donald J. Trump’s tariff nonsense because it’s illegal, but an appeals court quickly blocked that ruling, so America’s paralysis continues for now. And Trump finally showed co-president Elon Musk the door, humoring him out with an Oval Office event and a crappy gold key.

Musk was writhing in some sort of internal anguish that reminded me of the jeans-jacket guy at Altamont — and then he snapped when asked about a New York Times story detailing his drug abuse. He claimed he was admiring Trump’s Oval Office redecorating, but honestly, Trump has jammed so many sculptures, paintings, trinkets, and doodads in there that the Oval now looks like a rummage sale at the Franklin Mint.

 I walked 9.94 miles this week. 

NATURE: Hummingbirds of Hollywood

On Memorial Day, I came up from my basement to find a Ruby-throated Hummingbird sipping from my hummingbird feeder. Attracting these little wonders to my yard became a goal of mine shortly after moving here, and has remained a fascination ever since. Amy used to squeal with glee and stomp her tiptoes when the first hummer sampled our juice each spring.

We only get the one — but in California, they see seven to nine hummingbird species. Monday evening, I watched an episode of PBS’s NATURE series called Hummingbirds of Hollywood that premiered on May 7.

It’s an hour spent with Terry Masear, a Los Angeles woman who has been nursing hurt and orphaned hummingbirds back to health since 2004. Most of the episode is just her and her current patients — watching as she coaxes them from wand to perch, then gradually into larger cages with other birds, finally releasing them back into the wild.

This was one of the most relaxing and uplifting hours of TV I have watched in some time.

Bono: Stories of Surrender

Back in the last century, there was a channel called VH1 that was MTV’s more mature sibling. One of VH1’s most popular shows was Storytellers, which consisted of a songwriter performing a few songs for a small audience and also saying something about each one.

Back in 2016, Bruce Springsteen’s autobiography Born to Run was published, and the following year, he took to the stage in New York City, performing his songs for a small audience and saying something about each one — including quotes from the book. The show was eventually released on Netflix.

In 2022, Bono’s memoir — Surrender: 40 Songs, One Story — was published and he immediately took it on a 14-date tour as a one-man show, with him telling stories interspersed with songs.

Now, his performance in New York City’s Beacon Theater has been released on Apple TV+ as an 86-minute film, Bono: Stories of Surrender. If you happen to own an Apple Vision Pro, who can watch a special 3D version during which you are right onstage with Bono.

I watched in 2D on my Roku TV.

It’s a very arty, black-and-white production. It’s dynamic: Bono is accompanied only by a harpist, a cellist, and a keyboardist/percussionist — but it thunders at points, building from a whisper.

He has some plain chairs on stage to represent his bandmates — and an upholstered chair to represent the show’s main character, Bono’s father Brendan Robert “Bob” Hewson, who he imitates at times, recreating their taciturn hang times at Finnegan’s of Dalkey.

There’s also a table — representing the operating table for Bono’s 2016 heart surgery. This scene opens the show with a moment of high drama and Bono’s crisis of faith.

Astoundingly, I watched the entire show, and this crisis was never resolved — or even returned to.

That inattention exemplifies my disappointment with this “movie.” It’s high on style. Key phrases from Bono’s monologue appear onscreen in what I assume is his handwriting. There’s deep, grievous tragedy concerning Bono’s mother. There’s a funny story about Luciano Pavarotti, including an unexpected impression. U2 songs bubble up and then explode.

But even as you’re looking into his eyes, studying his stubble, or registering the logos of the many charities through which he’s contributed enormous good — it’s hard to make out the artist behind the brand. Part of this production rings true and human, but much of it feels like an ad. So many pull quotes are used that they all become blah blah blah.

Ironically, I got a better understanding of Bono from a Deadline interview promoting this film than I did from the film itself.

He does, however, do an excellent job with the closing song.