The Writer's Life 5/4

Sad news out of the music world today. Brooklyn's own Adam Yauch, 47, founding member of the Beastie Boys, has succumbed to cancer. I'm not going to pretend to be hip about rap. In fact, I find a lot of what I hear from passing car stereos absolutely appalling. Years ago I did enjoy a couple of funny tracks and their accompanying videos, Will Smith's I Think I Can Beat Mike Tyson and Tone Loc's Funky Cold Medina, but I don't know enough about the genre to comment on its worth as art. The Beastie Boys were the first rap artists to reach number one on Billboard's charts (Licensed to Ill, 1987). They've won three Grammys and several other awards. I can only name four of their tracks: Sure Shot and Sabotage seem pure hip hop. If I were younger, they would probably be among my favorites. One of my favorite lines in rock 'n roll comes from You Gotta Fight for Your Right to Party, even though I hate tobacco products: "Your dad caught you smokin' and he said no way,/but that hypocrite smokes two packs a day." I am not fond of the fourth song: No Sleep 'til Brooklyn, despite the fact that it mentions my beloved home. Yauch, aka MCA, was too ill to attend the ceremony when the group was inducted into the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame. Sometimes life is not fair even to the famous. Rest in peace. Ya did good, kid.

It was a quiet day at the floating book shop, just a few small sales for the first two-and-a-half hours. Fortunately, late in the session, an old timer came along and bought six hard cover thrillers and a VHS of Schindler's List (1993), which I'd brought out for the first time today. Some items seem guaranteed to sell immediately, no matter the format. Tomorrow I will bring out ET (1982) and I'll be very surprised if it goes home with me. I wasn't crazy about either film, but millions disagree.

Thanks, folks.

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