Anton D'Auria

It's just like learning to ride a bike for the first time! You have to "let go" and magically your body figures out how to balance itself on spinning aluminum drums. This requires total concentration and hooks into my obsessiveness nicely. I get an "intense coordination" high. (It's not so easy to develop coordination on the road, as you can with, say, strength, for which you can ride uphill. There aren't a whole lot of close calls with riders, roadkill, cars, etc.) This is great fun, and safer than it looks. Taken by Justin H. during a spinning party at my house.) PS It's 20ºF in Pittsburgh.

I participated in my first official cycling race today as a Category 5 USCF rider! I felt great in the last half of the ride. My heart rate was between 170-180. No fatigue in my legs. I was just sticking to the wheels of graceful and aggressive riders and relaxing in their draft. In the last half of the 35th and last lap, I saw a large man attack. I chased after him, but he slid back into the peloton with no room for me. What do I do? I had no idea--this was my first race, and my first approach to the finish line! I tried to cut in, but he threw a tantrum in the second to last turn. I panicked and let about ten riders pass me in the most crucial moment. At the last turn, I knew I had plenty of energy left and blew past the peloton that so nicely protected me, and in a mad sprint, screaming, I crossed the finish line in 10th place! Maybe all those years of climbing on my fixie endowed me with sprinting prowess... or maybe it was just luck. We'll have to see. There are at least another five criteriums left this season.

Anna Politkovskaya, an extraordinary dissident journalist, and courageous critic of Putin and the war in Chechnya, was killed execution-style yesterday in the elevator of her apartment building in Moscow. I met her in the summer of 2005 at a courthouse where forty "National Bolshevik" activist teens were being tried for barricading themselves in Putin's Administration building. Reporters weren't permitted into the first few sessions of the proceedings, but Politkovskaya ingeniously got in. She yelled, "I'm the mother!", walked right past the OMON (special police forces) guards, and was able to write about the political show trial. She was a hero to me. Journalist Critical of Chechen War Is Shot Dead (NYT, 10/07/06), Politkovskaya Gunned Down Near Home (The Moscow Times, 10/09/06).

I did it! I rode my first near-century (90mi/144km) in about 5 hours, with two guys from the U Pitt cycling team. I was completely taken aback by how beautiful the landscape was just north-east of Pittsburgh. We passed farms, industrial ghost towns, and gorgeous forests, on varied, hilly roads with relatively few cars (it could have been the Steelers game). The route: Tarentum, Saxonburg, Red belt, Sewickley, Neville Island, McKees Rocks. No photos this time, sadly. I'm indebted to Sharp Edge burgers, Maredsous #8, and Southampton Porter for the nutritional advantage over my companions.

subpar is in town this weekend, and we went out for a 27-mile (43.7km) ride through Verona, Oakmont, and Fox Chapel. I just found out about Bikely.com, a Google Maps "mash-up" for plotting bike routes that also graphs elevation against distance. Here's a plot of today's ride.

After riding a fixed gear for four and a half years (in NH, and long before they were hip in Pgh), I've finally gotten a road bike. It's an 05 Bianchi FC Alu/Carbon with complete Campy Centaur components. I'll try to do a century ride with some kids from the U Pitt cycling team this weekend.

31 December, 1958, Paris
There is often a contradiction between the meaning of our actions toward a person and what we say we feel toward that person in a journal. But this does not mean that what we do is shallow, and only what we confess to ourselves is deep. Confessions, I mean sincere confessions of course, can be more shallow than actions. I am thinking now of what I read today (when I went up to 122 Bd. St-G to check for her mail) in H's journal about me — that curt, unfair, uncharitable assessment of me which concludes by her saying that she really doesn't like me but my passion for her is acceptable and opportune. God knows it hurts, and I feel indignant and humiliated. We rarely do know what people think of us (or, rather, think they think of us)... Do I feel guilty about reading what was not intended for my eyes? No. One of the main (social) functions of a journal or diary is precisely to be read furtively by other people, the people (like parents + lovers) about whom one has been cruelly honest only in the journal. Will H. ever read this?

My cast was taken off today and I can finally put some weight on my right foot in a large clunky boot. While I was being examined, I clandestinely snapped a photo of my x-ray. There was some nerve damage around the plate, so my whole foot tingles when I lightly tap on the skin over the steel. Oh, and it looks like I won't need a second surgery!

I've decided that I won't do a radio show this semester. I'm afraid that I won't be able to handle all the running around between the air studio, library, decks, etc. Maybe I'll sub soon, and if it's not too exhausting I'll take a dead-air slot. Here's a nice message from Wolf Krakowski, who somehow found out I played him.

Subject: Attention Anton le fou
Date: Tue, 24 Jan 2006 10:00:00 -0500
From: Kame'a Media <media@kamea.com>
To: <comments@wrct.org>

Dear Anton:

Thank you for playng my music.

It is very gratifying to learn that people who dig Sun Ra,
Bob Marley, Antibalas and Tom Waits also find my music
worthy.

Peace,

Wolf Krakowski
Northampton, MA

I'm recovering pretty quickly from the fracture and surgery. My ankle feels unbelievably better after yesterday's checkup, in which my lifeless foot was painfully contorted and the joint strained while the physician put on a new cast. I feel so good today, actually, that I no longer feel like a helpless and trapped invalid. As long as I continue to improve, I'll be able to leave my mom's house and resume my own life in Pittsburgh.

I got a glimpse of my joint in the x-ray room yesterday. I have eight screws of various sizes and a plate lining my diagonally-fractured fibula. Some of the screws are about two inches long and look like they belong in 2x4's. Of course this was very disturbing, but everyone in the room seemed impressed with the surgeon's job. Hopefully, I'll heal quickly and forget about this permanent deformity.

I slipped and fell in front of Jacobi Hospital in the Bronx and got a triple fracture of the ankle (every bone broken in the joint). Here's what it looked like for your human injury porn pleasure.



I underwent a surgery today and I'm now sporting a steel disk and some screws. Because of its apparent success the doctors let me go home in crutches! After lots of yelling and cursing, I'm comfortably propped up in my mom's living room. Hopefully, I'll be back in Pittsburgh in a few weeks.

This is my second attempt at blogging through Flickr. If you're not familiar with this photo stream site, notice the little "note" boxes in photos, which let you comment on the objects they enclose.

this is a flickr blogging test.

I'm back in Moscow after a week in St. Petersburg. Michelle and I were accredited to the Message to Man documentary film festival. We didn't see one Russian documentary that we liked. This genre appears to be completely undeveloped here. The redeeming film of the festival was Czech Dream (Vít Klusák and Filip Remunda, Czech Republic, 2004). The filmmakers tracked the creation of a brand and a marketing campaign that drew hundreds of people to their fictional supermarket.

Here, Michelle and I are goofing around in a park near Dom Kino. I'm trying to finish Mayor Luzhkov's painfully dull manifesto for a Times profile piece.

Michelle and I had a pleasant dinner at a Georgian restaurant on Novy Arbat. It's probably gangster-run, as the menu suggests.

We had a great time, lazily recovering from roaming around Moscow until 9 a.m. this morning.

I'm beginning to acclimate to Moscow, and already started my internship at the NY Times. This week, I'm reporting (but not writing) on the Khodorkovsky trial, which bears some similarity to the show trials of the Stalinist Great Terror that I'm researching for my thesis.

Yesterday I had an unpleasant experience with Russian menty (cops) at the Frunzenskaia metro stop. I was stopped while walking with a Russian friend, and accused of possessing psychedelic mushrooms. Clearly, they were dropped into my bag by the menty who searched me. It played out like a professional frame-up, with good cop-bad cop tag-teaming. I felt that they could do anything they wanted with me, so I just kept talking and talking (how predictable!) When I proposed we part on "peaceful" terms, the nicer ment tried to justify what they were doing--they only earn $100 a month; the big money is made by people with the right pogony (shoulder mark/rank). I wiggled out of it after showing them my NY Times accreditation letter for the Khodorkovsky trial and giving them $40. I asked the "nice" cop about how much more corrupt melitsia is these days, and he said it's gotten worse and much more overt. Today, a BBC journalist near the courthouse told me I was lucky and paid very little--his friend was beaten and fined $1500 after menty dropped in a bag of marijuana. The NYT bureau chief suggested I shave like a skinhead (I did just get a haircut!) and register with the embassy. What a great crash course in Russian justice.

Otherwise, everything is else is quite good. I've been spending time with U Pitt grads from the Medieval Rus' course, and will go to the symphony tonight.

I just sent this out to over 800 email addresses. Please come.

CMU's AB Political Speakers presents the film

Hearts and Minds (1974, Peter Davis, 112 min, newly restored 35mm print)

Monday, April 25, 7:00, 10:00 PM
McConomy Auditorium, University Center, CMU
Free to the public

First released in 1974, this fearless, Oscar-winning film about Vietnam is considered one of the best documentaries ever made. It recalls this nation’s agonizing military involvement in Vietnam, and discusses the power the US inherited after WWII, and the nearly suicidal effects of that power. The film contains dozens of interviews with peasants, policy makers, soldiers, and a wealth of vivid, often harrowing archival and original footage. Peter Davis masterfully allows his images, subjects, and the events his camera witnesses to speak for themselves.

"One of the most unsettling discussions of Vietnam and its aftermath ever to appear in any medium."
- Don Druker, Chicago Reader

"A landmark! The definitive American documentary about Vietnam!"
- Michael Atkinson, Village Voice

"The charity of spirit that flood Hearts and Minds give it the right to be considered not only a true report but also a work that has the individual point of view possessed by art…It is an extremely contemplative picture about some of the origins and consequences of the American involvement in Vietnam. Impressive that a work so coherent and mature can have been completed when the book is even now not closed."
- Penelope Gilliatt, The New Yorker (1975)

Last night I saw Jens Lekman at Benedum Auditorium at U Pitt, and he was splendid. He is a shy, soulful, and young Swedish singer-songwriter, with wacky, witty, sensitive, and genuine lyrics and melancholy, simple, pretty compositions. I also really enjoyed Audrey's and Bob's company. Bob and I adored Jens long before the concert (thanks to rumrug who discovered him for us), and Audrey was under his spell, I think, for a couple of days before the show. After the concert, Jens played "Julie" for us on his ukulele. You can download a couple of his songs at the Secretly Canadian mp3 archive. Black Cab is one of my favorites!

I'm still booking monthly documentaries for CMU's AB Political Speakers, and the February movie will be The Battle of Algiers (1965, Gillo Pontecorvo, Algeria / Italy, 35mm). This is one of my favorite political and historical thrillers of all time. We're showing it on Feb 21, 7, 10 p.m., McConomy Auditorium, University Center, Carnegie Mellon.

Here's the last draft of the capsule:

Gillo Pontecorvo's powerful and lucid 1965 docudrama about the Algerian struggle for independence in the 1950s is one of the best movies about revolutionary and anticolonial conflict ever made--convincing, balanced, passionate, and compulsively watchable as storytelling. It depicts the violent struggle between Algerian nationalist insurgents and French colonial forces, which starkly parallels the drama of insurgency and counter-insurgency in our present Iraqi predicament. This film was screened at the Pentagon in 2003.

The Battle of Algiers was Oscar-nominated for Best Foreign Film (1967), Best Screenplay and Best Director (1969) and took the Golden Lion (Grand Prize) at the Venice Film Festival (1966). This new 35mm print features new subtitles that convey the French and Arabic dialogue accurately for the very first time.

“A MASTERPIECE! Surely the Most Harrowing Political Epic Ever!"
- Philip Gourevitch, The New Yorker

“ASTONISHING! A Political Thriller of Unmatched Realism!”
- A.O. Scott, The New York Times

This week I watched The Gleaners and I and Super Size Me, and both movies inspired a kind of rude awakening in me. I haven't prepared a healthy meal for myself in a very long time. I have to confess that in Moscow, where I ate out every day, I'd grab a quick snack at McDonald's regularly before catching a movie or on my way home from the archives. (Like the Frenchwoman in Super Size Me, I can say that it's not at all repulsive in Moscow like it is in the US.) So today, I already made two delish veggie meals, with tofu, kale, pasta (gemelli), basil, scallions, and carefully brewed Hubei Silver Tip tea. It's one of my favorite green teas, with a sweet, vegetate flavor. (Genmai Cha comes close; it's Sencha with tangy roasted rice!)

The Gleaners and I is one of my favorite documentaries of all time. The spontaneous diversions of the director into her personal, playful ruminations about time, age, and the meaning of human life were beautiful, and poetically relevant to the political and historical aspects of the film. Check out Jonathan Rosenbaum's review in the Chicago Reader.

Now I'm finishing up a medieval Russian tale about a great defeat of the Tatars in 1380, called Zadonshchina (meaning "The Tale of Events Beyond the Don"). It was the first Russian victory after 150 years of Tatar domination over Russian land.