The View from Colorado

by R.B. Moreno



Spike Jonze and Dave Eggers' adaptation of Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are opens tonight across North America. "The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind and another," the original story begins, "His mother called him 'WILD THING!'" Sendak's 1963 picture book runs just 338 words, and it tells of a boy who must go to bed without supper:

That very night in Max's room a forest grew and grew––and grew until his ceiling hung with vines and the walls became the world all around and an ocean tumbled by with a private boat for Max and he sailed off through night and day and in and out of weeks and almost over a year to where the wild things are.

On Thursday morning, Sendak fans might realize, Jonze and Eggers' adaptation was spectacularly upstaged. Because for a couple of hours here in Fort Collins, the walls did become the world around another mischievous boy––as his imaginary self took to the sky in another kind of boat. "'Balloon boy' Falcon Heene found safe in attic of Fort Collins home," is how a team from The Denver Post reports the story in today's paper, which continues:

the bizarre image of a homemade, helium-filled flying saucer — thought to be carrying a 6-year-old boy — transfixed a global television audience as it blew for 50 miles across the Colorado sky.

But the tale of a boy's unplanned flight from his Fort Collins backyard aboard his father's experimental aircraft took two jarring turns: first when the craft settled to earth with no sign of the boy; and later, when young Falcon Heene reappeared, frightened but safe, from his hiding place in the family's garage attic.

Along the way, rescue workers from several jurisdictions mobilized, helicopters filled the air, Denver International Airport rerouted planes and perhaps millions of television viewers watched with reactions ranging from horror to disbelief.

At a news conference after the boy emerged, the family said Falcon hid because his father had earlier yelled at him when he tried to climb into the craft.

Police want to know more about why Falcon hid in the attic. But last night, there was also good news for the boy and his brothers at home in blustery south Fort Collins: despite satellite trucks at the playground and reporters lounging on the front lawn, in this adaptation, there would be supper.

Update: the county sheriff now says Falcon's disappearance was part of a hoax orchestrated by his parents.

Gossip!

Every Friday, our friends at the journal Suss post "some number of things currently interesting us . . . be it a book, a building, an awesome peony bush." Today's gossip includes this excerpt from "Made in China," RBM's forthcoming essay on human hair:

DOUGH CONDITIONERS reads the fine print on a bright blue box of Texas Garlic Toast. It’s made by Great Value, or GV (“When Quality Counts”). Wal-Mart, the product’s distributor, describes GV as the country’s largest food brand. Peering closer at the ingredients listed under dough conditioners, which fall just before sugar but after yeast, I spot a familiar term: L-CYSTEINE.

Some time later, deep in the bowels of the European Union’s legal archive, in correspondence with an alarmed German legislator, I find that one means of dough conditioning hinges on a process called hydrolysis. This entails boiling hair, usually human hair, in vats of hydrochloric acid for several hours on end, which makes the follicles decompose into a white, odorless powder: L-CYSTEINE.

Don't Jump Off This Thing, You Don't Have Wings

An essay by RBM about BASE jumpers––parachutists who prefer fixed objects, or Buildings, Antennas, Spans, and Earth––is out today in Suss: Another Literary Journal. Here's an excerpt from "Don't Jump Off This Thing, You Don't Have Wings":

These are the last words many BASE jumpers utter. Not a prayer, not “I love you,” just “See ya!” The man’s body leaves the platform in a kind of forward-rotating cannonball. His fingers grip the exposed skin of his shins, concentrating enough centrifugal force around his midsection to become an Olympic high diver, a human flywheel turning once, almost twice. Clack! Already he’s coming out of the rotation, becoming a distant fleck of color against the south wall of the canyon. I can see his skinny legs flair wide—just a body now falling to earth. Clack! He’s too small to pick out with my lens. It’s not clear he’ll survive this. The bridge crowd leans forward. Pop! An oblong shape erupts against the granite, slowing the jumper’s fall just before impact. He’s already whipping his canopy back toward the river, sailing for the shoreline in an arc that draws cheers.

From the archives: our slideshow of the jumpers at last year's Royal Gorge Games, which were canceled this year.

You can follow Suss and Lintel, Sash, & Sill Press on Twitter @lsspress. A definition for suss? "To discover or realize information," says Urban Dictionary, "usually with a level of intuition playing a role."

The View from Colorado

by R.B. Moreno

Lampposts in Fort Collins are kindly asking for your assistance in locating Dog, who's fond of red and hasn't been heard from since last weekend's Tour de Fat.

September Reading

On Thursday, September 17, Colorado State University's Organization of Graduate Student Writers debuts its fall 3 Voices series with a reading hosted by The Vault, in downtown Fort Collins. RBM will read from a forthcoming essay and be joined by writers Kir Jordan (poetry) and Mark Clements (fiction).

Photo update: the reading opened with a quick poll of public radio fans. At stage right, the Tivoli audio complement to RBM's essay.



Thanks to ST and family for help with photos and publicity and to LP for a glittering introduction.

The View from Colorado

by R.B. Moreno

Slideshow: Pooch Plunge 2009

At summer's end in Fort Collins, Colorado, the public pool in City Park closes for cleaning. Just before the shutdown, something a little strange happens.