All too often, as I’ve come to discover, it takes the death of a writer before I finally take a serious interest in his or her books.

Such was the case a few times in the past year or so. After hearing about the death of someone whose work I either knew in passing, such as John Updike, or had knowingly passed over, such as Jonathan Williams, I headed to the shelves, mine or the library’s, and began pulling out volumes.

Rereading Lucille Clifton is a blessing in disguise.

Sadly it is the case again this week. Lucille Clifton, a prize-winning Maryland-based poet who held several high-profile positions, including the state’s Poet Laureateship, died on February 13 after a long battle with cancer.

However, unlike most of the authors I’ve discussed in this space, I had a personal connection to Clifton that outweighed my interest in her public output. In other words, though I am fairly uninformed about Clifton’s books and their contents, a near-encounter with her more than a decade ago left me feeling we were somehow linked.

In early 1995, Clifton chose me to participate in a literary event sponsored by HoCoPoLitSo, a highly respected arts organization in Columbia, Md. On a whim, and at the considerable urging of my mother-in-law, I had entered a poetry contest for which Clifton was the judge — and the prize. The group of winners, which included a dozen or more pretty well-known local writers (and me!), was invited to give a reading with Lucille Clifton in May of that year, in front of a large audience.

I was thrilled. It felt like a vote of confidence, a real Sally Field moment for my burgeoning career in the literary arts. Even though I had read very few of Clifton’s poems — in fact, I (ever so wrongly) confused hers with Maya Angelou’s — I knew who she was and sensed that she already had a place reserved in the poetry Pantheon. I couldn’t wait to stand next to her at the podium.

Unfortunately, I never got the chance. Although I participated in the reading and had a great time — and even befriended a few writers with whom I later helped form the Wineglass Court Poets workshop, which still meets regularly — I never read with Lucille Clifton. As it turns out, she had gotten a better offer for that day: to give a reading for the Academy of American Poets at The New School in New York.

(Ironically, as I found out later, through the Academy’s newsletter, Clifton’s reading buddy that day was Hayden Carruth, my former teacher, longtime mentor, correspondent, and friend! Here’s a picture of them together, presumably discussing the merits of my poems.)

Although none of us could blame Clifton for choosing to read at a hip New York venue, rather than an indifferent interfaith center in Columbia, I still felt a little cheated. I secretly hoped I’d have another opportunity to meet her and say thanks. But none materialized and, sadly, none ever will. Still, the news of Clifton’s death has afforded me the chance to remember that happy day in May, and it has given me an excuse to read, and reconsider, some of her poems.

Clifton published more than a dozen volumes of poetry in her lifetime, as well as a memoir and many books for children. What I picked up from the library, though, was Blessing the Boats: New and Selected Poems 1988-2000, which seemed the most appropriate because it includes a selection of the poems she likely would have read at the HoCoPoLitSo event.

It’s a book I remember reading through when it was published in 2000, partly in honor of our “near miss” and because it won the National Book Award. But I didn’t remember much about its contents or my reaction to them until I opened it again last month.

What struck me immediately was how candid, emotionally raw, and confrontational many of her poems were. I had forgotten how inaccessible they had felt to me at the time, how alienating, because, though I tried, I just couldn’t relate to the subjects she celebrated (and, at times, railed against) — her working-class African-American heritage, her femininity and sexuality, her role as a wife and mother, etc.

With titles like, “poem to my uterus,” “poem in praise of menstruation,” “why some people be mad at me sometimes,” “slaveships,” and “my dream about being white,” these poems were almost too hard to read, let alone comprehend or enjoy, for a young man raised in a white, fairly affluent, privileged and protected world. Not that it should matter, but it did and, I’m afraid to admit, it kept me from delving much deeper.

But in rereading this book now, 10 years later, I have found a new appreciation for Clifton and her poems. Sure, I’m older and likely closer to the age she was when she wrote some of these poems. And I’ve also shared some of her storied experiences, namely aging and parenthood.

But, more to the point, what I’ve come to realize is that it’s not what she wrote about, but how she wrote it, that is most appealing. For one thing, she crafted her words in a spare, informal style, unadorned by traditional poetic trappings and often without punctuation or capitalization. And that honest simplicity is something I seek out in other writers (such as Li-Young Lee) and try to emulate in my own poems.

More important, what I see now is the fact that, in spite of her often combative tone, her poems couldn’t contain or conceal her humanity. In other words, in the face of even the harshest realities, Clifton maintains a warmth and kindness, and even a little humor, that disarms and delights. For example, among her “wishes for sons” are “cramps,” “a strange town / and the last tampon,” with “no 7-11″ in sight. Most of all, she hopes (as only a mother could),

let them think they have accepted
arrogance in the universe,
then bring them to gynecologists
not unlike themselves.

Here’s another example, from an untitled poem in her book Quilting, that I imagine was inspired by the many encounters she had, and readings she gave, with folks like my friend Carruth.

when i stand around among poets
i am embarrassed mostly,
their long white heads,
the great bulge in their pants,

their certainties.

i don’t know how to do
what i do in the way
that i do it. it happens
despite me and i pretend

to deserve it

but i don’t know how to do it,
only sometimes when
something is singing
i listen and so far

i hear.

This is a sentiment that I think transcends its subject matter. Anyone who has accomplished a seemingly difficult task, one beyond all “certainties,” can understand and relate to this feeling of accidental triumph. Clifton’s gift, then, seems to be the ability to embrace her fears and harness them to solve the mysteries, large and small, she uncovers in life. And that’s a lesson that anyone — of any age, race, or upbringing — can learn.

I encourage you to get a copy of Blessing the Boats and read it all the way through. You may be surprised at what you learn and “hear.” As an incentive, I’ll leave you with the title poem from that collection. It seems like a fitting way to say thanks and farewell to a poet who, though I never met, nonetheless has become important to me — “despite me”:

may the tide
that is entering even now
the lip of our understanding
carry you out
beyond the face of fear
may you kiss
the wind then turn from it
certain that it will
love your back   may you
open your eyes to water
water waving forever
and may you in your innocence
sail through this to that

As always, tell us what you think. Do you have memories of Lucille Clifton to share? Which poems or books of hers would you recommend to others? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more!

We recently made you a mixtape of new songs designed to be a distraction from the wrath of The Snowpocalypse (and the inevitable Shovelations) and to inspire you to take a brief mental, warm-weather “staycation.”

And normally that’s how we roll, allowing the sum of the parts — in this case, 10 songs by 10 different artists — to speak for the whole. But we have since come across, and played continuously (or is it continually, I can’t remember), two new full-lengths — by a band you may have heard about and one you may not — that should prove more compelling, on the whole. In fact, after a few spins of either, I suspect you may find yourself online, booking tickets to a wholly different dream getaway.

Be sure to click on the links below to sample the songs (open each as a new tab or window), and then follow the threads to find out where you can download them. Or you can listen to a playlist that features some of these songs along with a few others at the Scribbleskiff page on the 8tracks Web site. Just click HERE, open as a new tab or window, and let the music play as you read along. Enjoy!

Vampire Weekend, Contra. This young Brooklyn-based quartet swooped in at the end of 2008, seemingly out of nowhere, and whipped the blogosphere into a frenzy. They were quirky and likable, and they were instantly everyone’s “it” band. Then, just as suddenly, they weren’t, and spent much of last year dealing with — and, more likely, trying to avoid falling from — such great hype. Which may explain why their sophomore record is titled Contra: after suffering the joys and agonies of such a meteoric pop-music popularity contest they could (rightly) declare, “if you like us, and even if you don’t, you must be against us.” And that might also account for all the tropical island getaway references in their lyrics.

The band’s self-titled debut was lauded for its uniquely eclectic and upbeat, almost manic style — a mix of indie, pop, and world-beat, sort of like The Talking Heads covering Paul Simon’s Graceland. But it was also accused of being derivative, phony, and uneven. Their new one, however, should firmly establish Vampire Weekend as the genuine artifact. They have maintained some of the original’s playfulness and novelty, but the soundscapes on Contra are more expansive and balanced, with more complex instrumentation.

There isn’t a runaway hit on par with the whimsical “A-Punk.” But that one was almost too standoutish, compared to the rest. On Contra, in contrast, all the songs are standouts, in their own way. For instance, it’s the varying rhythms that make the first single, the jaunty “Horchata,” so fascinating. And while “Cousins,” “Holiday,” and “California English” riff on the giddiness and frantic pace established in the debut, other songs, such as “Taxi Cab” and “Diplomat’s Son,” trip along more leisurely, revealing a band happy to revel in the sounds they make. My favorite track, though, is “White Sky,” which combines all these elements, and more (including a groovy, birdlike falsetto chorus), and seems to sum up the LP’s overall sunny disposition.

Beach House, Teen Dream. Sometimes it takes me a couple of tries, and several different approaches, before I get hooked by a band. Beach House is a case in point. I have been hearing about this duo for several years, mainly because they are Baltimore-based, though I hadn’t heard much by them. The local college radio station played an occasional song, prompting me to grab the woozy “Gila” from their 2008 record, Devotion, which I liked. But that was it. Nothing else lured me to strike.

Until this winter, that is. First, I reeled in the podcast version of “Norway” in December, just ahead of the new release, Teen Dream. I took to it right away and played it repeatedly, sensing something was different. Then I saw them perform the album’s leadoff track, the stark, hazy “Zebra,” on the Jimmy Fallon show, and that was all it took. I swam over iTunes and threw myself on their hook, ready to be hauled in to shore.

What had changed? Well, their sound, for one thing. It’s always been unique but not all that different from other electronic/dream-pop/indie bands I drool over, such as Band of Horses or The Helio Sequence. And they openly kowtow to their droning psychedelic forebears, like The Velvet Underground and Mazzy Star, which I appreciate. Now, though, their echoey arrangements seem cleaner and richer, catchier and more melodic. But it’s singer Victoria Legrand’s voice — that voice! — that makes all the difference. She used to hold back, blending her vocals with the wash of vintage organs and guitars. On Teen Dream, she steps out of the shadows, sounding more mature and surprisingly sultry and vulnerable, the way Billie Holiday or Nico could. And she’s got a lighter, gutsier touch, like Grace Slick’s. As a result, songs like “Lover of Mine,” “Silver Soul,” and “10 Mile Stereo” can sound at times both ethereal and soulful, spacey and gritty, upbeat and bluesy. In other words, it’s the perfect music collection for some beachy, California (Md.?) dreaming.

As always, tell us what you think. Have you heard either of these new records? Or are there others that you think might help take our minds off winter? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

Not too long ago, I had to face a harsh reality: lactose no longer tolerates me.

And not the other way round, either. I’ve got nothing against the disaccharide sugar component of a glass of milk. We were BFFLs, in fact. Milk helped sweeten a lot of unpleasant and otherwise bland foodstuffs, like oatmeal. And I always cried when I spilled a glassful. But something changed between us over time, something deep down inside, and for whatever reason we just don’t get along anymore.

Our break-up was not without casualties — butter, for one, which I soon realized I could live without, and ice cream, which has been a more difficult separation. Overall, I have managed to get by pretty well without Holstein harvest. Soy milk now serves as my morning cereal surrogate, for instance, and there are plenty of non-dairy coffee creamers to satisfy any craving.

And then there’s cheese. Sigh. I really hated having to pull this staple from my diet. (Aside from the aforementioned oatmeal, I could put cheese on anything.) A few of the older, hardened ones, such as Cheddar and Swiss, seem to have little affinity with lactose and, thankfully, have remained neutral parties. It’s the soft and flavorful cheeses, the ones that are virtually inseparable from their creamy dispositions and have clearly chosen sides, that I miss most — Brie and Camembert, especially, and bleu, to name a few. And don’t even get me started about eating a bagel without cream cheese. Oy!

Fortunately, I discovered I could switch to goat cheese as a soft and supple substitute (here’s why). Reluctant to try it at first — I mean, have you seen how goats live? — the goat’s milk-based variety has become my soft cheese of choice.

Luckily, too, beer has no lactose in it. (Even milk stout, despite its confusing name, is dairy-free.) So I have been able to resume consuming my favorite before-dinner combination — microbrews and cheese.

I know, wine is what you’re supposed to serve with cheese, right? Wrong. Think about it: If I offered you a hunk of, say, chevre cheese, all herbally and aromatic, would you wash it down with a jug of Welch’s? Of course not. Even water would be a better choice. And I’d bet you’d prefer to eat that cheese on a wheat or rye cracker, or even a slice of yeasty bread, right? Chevre can be a little dry and bitter, so you might want to add something moist and sweet, too, like a drizzle of honey. Sounds good, doesn’t it?

That’s because I just described the basic ingredients in a glass of beer — water, grains, yeast, and sugar — plus a little fizzy lift to cleanse your palate and prepare you for the next nibble. Now do you see what I mean? Wine may be the usual drinking buddy for a chunk of cheese, but beer is its soul mate.

And if you really want to see my zymology-fromology theory in action, try combining craft beer with craft, or artisanal, cheese. I’m talking about a mix of ingredients that produce a host of complex flavors and aromas. For example, if you hanker for a sharp, crumbly English farmhouse Cheddar, I recommend a brisk, bitter-ish, British beverage, such as Samuel Smith’s India Ale. The dry, hoppy fruitiness in the beer harmonizes with the acidity in the cheese, while the ale’s sweet maltiness melds with the creamy, nutty flavors. (Here’s a great site for finding other pairing ideas.)

The beer-and-cheese two-step really takes off with the soft varietals, however, which brings me back to my predicament: What do you do if your partner just won’t do it for you anymore? Well, if like me you’re a beer drinker who occasionally craves a silky, ripe, rind-bound cheese and are relegated to goat-only status, then I’ll let you in on a little secret. Have a hunk of Humbolt Fog, an award-winning aged goat cheese from California-based Cypress Grove.

Humboldt Fog is the billy-goatest of goat cheeses, grizzled and rough on the outside, with two delicate cakes separated by a layer of ash on the inside. And it’s the ash that gives the cheese its fey, grayish appearance and distinctive earthy tanginess, like a mix between Gorgonzola and Brie. As with most goat cheeses, this one benefits from being in the company of something sweet and zesty, like a Belgian-style ale. But as Garrett Oliver suggests in his beer-mating Bible, The Brewmaster’s Table (where I discovered this remarkable combo), the proper coupling for this American original is an American-made beer.

And since we at Scribbleskiff like a challenge, we recently followed his advice and picked three Yanks with Belgian mannerisms to pair with a wedge of Humboldt Fog. It was a humbling experience, to say the least:

• Merry Monks, Weyerbacher Brewing Co. This bottle-conditioned Abby ale, brewed in Easton, Pa., has a complex mix of flavors, both fruity and bready, that enhanced the creaminess in the cheese and teased out its subtle saltiness.

• Triple, Stoudt’s Brewing Co. As a Belgian triple, this is a big, full-bodied beer with lots of malty sweetness, a hazy orange hue, and brisk carbonation that both coddled and tamed the tangy cheese.

• Hennepin, Brewery Ommegang. Mr. Oliver avers (and I concur) that this golden saison, brewed in Cooperstown, N.Y., has the right mix of citrusy herbal flavors and aromas — such as orange peel to coriander — to make it Humboldt’s humble servant.

Of course, there are plenty of other goat’s milk cheeses that provide a similar experience, such as the snowy Liberty’s Cream, appropriately named Blue Logs, or even simple Goat Brie. And there are many options for excellent Belgian-style beers handcrafted by Americans, such as New Belgium and Allagash. (Start your search here.)

And if you are looking for an opportunity to test the strength of this alliance, search no further than the upcoming Valentine’s Day weekend. In fact, according to research reported by at least one Internet site, cheese, especially the highly aromatic kinds, can be a powerful aphrodisiac. More potent than chocolate, if you can believe it. Even better, the sex of your partner will determine your selection: Men, not surprising, like to eat cheese that’s strong and spicy, while and women like it soft and sweet.

So, instead of a cheesy gift, like a Whitman’s Sampler and red wine, give your paramour something unique, like a few microbrews and a rousing assortment of  cheeses. Then, dim the lights and do a little “blind tasting” as part of your evening’s romantic activities.

As always, tell us what you think. Have you ever tried pairing Humboldt Fog and a Belgian-style ale? Is there another beer-and-cheese combo that you adore? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

You would have to have “a mind of winter,” as poet Wallace Stevens once remarked, to look around at all the snow, ice, and cold, cold rain that’s poured down on much of the country this January and not be affected by it all somehow. Call it the Modernist’s remedy for SAD.

But this winter — which could be one of the coldest in 25 years — has instead inspired me to develop a mind of summer. When I glance at the pine-tree boughs “crusted with snow,” for instance, what I see (or tell myself I see) are beaches frothy with sea foam. The leaden, gray clouds stretching from horizon to horizon are not the harbingers of a sleet-storm but simply the remnants of a summer squall, warm and gentle and fleeting. Or so I believe. And the cracked, itchy skin stretched across my hands and face is the byproduct of sunburn, not windburn. Right?

Take a bite out of winter with new music from Surfer Blood and others.

Well, no. And unfortunately, as it turns out, my imagination is the only destination getaway I can afford these days, warm, warped, or otherwise. So I’m going to have to discover (and learn to love) the advantages of a mental “staycation,” for the foreseeable future. Luckily, though, I know the single, most effective and enjoyable mode of transportation for such a trip — music. Nothing like a few hot licks and a steady back-beat to shake the snow from a wintry state of mind. James Taylor and The Go-Go’s know what I’m talking about.

So if, like me, you are unable take the vacation of your dreams any time soon, then let Scribbleskiff carry you away to a vacation in your dreams, instead. For a little while. Following are 10 new songs that are sure to snap winter’s icy grip — on your psyche, at least — and free your mind to think of warmer days to come.

Be sure to click on the links below to sample the songs (open each as a new tab or window), and then follow the threads to find out where you can download them. Or you can listen to the playlist in its entirety at the Scribbleskiff page on the 8tracks Web site. Just click HERE, open as a new tab or window, and let the music play as you read along. Enjoy!

“Warm Heart of Africa (feat. Ezra Koenig),” The Very Best, Warm Heart of Africa. The title of this song says it all: If the swelling Afro-Cuban rhythm and burbling guitar lines don’t heat your innards, and the fact that the featured singer is the frontman for Vampire Weekend doesn’t get your blood pumping, then you must be made of snow.

“The Rain Becomes the Clouds,” Emanuel and the Fear, Emanuel and the Fear. With its evaporation-themed title, lush instrumentation, and undulating, sparkly dance-pop beat, this catchy single by an 11-piece “orchestra-rock” band from Brooklyn is as beachy as they come. Download it and let it wash over you like a summer shower.

“Floating Vibes,” Surfer Blood, Astro Coast. Angular, fuzzed-out guitar riffs, an uptempo beat, and melodic harmonies — these are the makings of a hit for any number of amped-up indie bands. So, if you like The Shins, for instance, then you should like Surfer Blood. But beware, they will change your life, too.

“C’mon,” The Soft Pack, The Soft Pack. Sometimes all it takes is some bright, slightly raucous, three-chord rock like this to coax my keister off the couch, throw the “wild” Snuggie onto the carpet like a beach blanket, and make me dance like Frankie and Annette (or Frank Black). You? Aw, come on!

“Wishes and Stars,” Harper Simon, Harper Simon. Some famous offspring hide their stellar lineage (think Emilio Estevez), while others embrace their name but distance themselves sonically (think Jakob Dylan). But a glance at the surname and one listen to the deft finger-picking and near-falsetto vocal harmonies here will reveal whose kid this is right away — think “59th Street Bridge Song” meets “I Am a Rock.”

“These Roads Don’t Move,” Jay Farrar & Benjamin Gibbard, One Fast Move or I’m Gone. This is somber summer “road music.” The song is part of a collaboration between the leads for Son Volt and Death Cab for Cutie, respectively, for a documentary about the harrowing events in Jack Kerouac’s novel Big Sur. Which explains why the upbeat, syncopated guitar strumming — like car tires clacking over tar strips on an open highway — never outruns the mournful, this-trip-ends-badly mood of the pedal steel.

“Lives of Strangers,” Friday Mile, Good Luck Studio. Ever attend an outdoor summer concert of your favorite band and wonder, who are all these strangers and what are they doing in my backyard? If not, then maybe you’re just curious to hear what a mash-up between Fleetwood Mac, Tom Petty, and R.E.M. — with a mariachi horn section — might sound like? Either way, you’ve come to the right place.

“Generator^Second Floor,” Freelance Whales, Weathervanes. Any rocker that starts with not one but two near-dueling banjos is always a deliverance. Add in a xylophone, a droning guitar, some group singing, and a big bass drum, and you have the fixings for a baroque-pop classic, similar to what Sufjan Stevens or Arcade Fire churns out. But these young New Yorkers add their own spin, including life-affirming, hopeful lyrics about rebirth. Isn’t that what you need in the dead of winter?

“Coffee Spoon,” Cold War Kids, Behave Yourself EP. Not only is this my favorite song by this smart, sophisticated Long Beach, Calif.-based quartet, but it also might be my favorite song, period. For now, at least. Its groove is bluesy and soulful, comfy and intimate enough to serve as the ideal excuse for a late-day swing in an old hammock. Hold the coffee, though.

“Blue Skies,” Noah and The Whale, The First Days of Spring. Charlie Fink, the lead singer for this alt-folk foursome from London, begins by intoning, hopefully, “this is a song for anyone who can’t get out of bed.” And though he’s speaking to the brokenhearted, it seems like a fitting call to action for anyone suffering any malady — such as cabin fever. Don’t despair, he soothes, “cause blue skies are calling.” And he’s right, dear reader, they are.

So, there you have it, a ten-spot of new songs to keep your mind focused on what lies beyond your frosted windows and frozen lawn. Namely, the other months that begin with “J” and that, though comprised of four letters, don’t inspire four-letter words.

As always, tell us what you think. Have you heard any of these songs before? Or are there other summery tunes that help take your mind off winter? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

Hardly leading-edge technologists, we at Scribbleskiff are no Luddites, either. We try to keep pace with newfangledness as best we can, though our vantage point is often the middle, rather than the front or the back, of the pack.

We’ve been faithful bloggers for almost two years now, for instance, though this still makes us relative newbies by comparison to many (one of the first blogs to be termed a “blog” was reportedly started in 1997). We have a groupies’ page on Facebook, with a small but dedicated following (visit and join our ranks, please). Etc.

Electric Aphorisms, by John Roderick

But one techno-gimmick I just haven’t been able to flock to is Twitter. Sure, I signed up for an account awhile back, and I log on as often as I can, reading what the folks I’m “following” are saying, responding in kind to my “followers,” and so on. But I just didn’t see what all the chirping was about. Until now, that is.

Much has been written about the value, longevity, and inherent silliness of this relatively new form of “social networking” (I still haven’t been able to grasp that term, either). I’ve read articles ranging from the sublime (why it will endure, according to the Times) to the subversive (why it shouldn’t, according to The Oatmeal), with everyone praising and condemning Twitter, its peculiar format, quaint rules, and infantile terminology (for example, all updates, or “tweets,” as they’re called, must be written with 140 characters or fewer).

But still I couldn’t get hooked. I was lacking a proper introduction, a way into The Castle that made sense to me. And then I read an entry in John Roderick’s new book, Electric Aphorisms, and it all became clear:

Sometimes I worry that Twitter is an undignified literary format. Then I look to my inspiration, the great Bazooka Joe, and I am humbled.

Now, I’m not expert (or interested) enough to discuss the cultural significance of the so-called “Twitterati.” But I can say that what Roderick makes clear is, tweeting — in the right hands, at least — can be an art form. An invaluable one? Who’s to say? But it’s one that I find downright hilarious, that’s for sure.

Roderick is best known as the frontman for Seattle indie rock stalwarts, The Long Winters, a band I’ve had a crush on for years. His songs almost always reflect an understated pop sensibility: lo-fi but catchy, with lots of hooks, and lyrics that swing between touching and tongue-in-cheek. (You can see what I mean on this video, a new song featuring Kathleen Edwards and written for a local charity event.)

In late 2008, Roderick hopped on the Twitter bandwagon, transferring his musical gift of glib to the written word, refining and condensing it to fit within the limitations of the form. For a period of about six months, he posted an average of three times a day. And what he discovered in the process is that the essence of tweeting is its precise insignificance: a whole lot of nothing can be said in a tiny space.

Whenever I despair about life’s pointlessness, I remember that one day Richard Gere is going to come carry me out of this paper bag factory.

With his characteristic wit — part haiku, part hi-jinx — Roderick used his Twitter account to provide a running commentary on a wide range of topics, everything from the boon of bachelorhood, and living the rock-and-roll life, to local Seattle and national politics, art, and pop culture. His perspective is often zany, off-kilter (and occasionally off-color), and insightful, just like his songs. Mainly, he’s just LOL funny. Judge for yourself:

It’s inevitable: first you take an interest in plants and gardening, eventually you find ceramic dancing pigs amusing.

* * *

I’m planting several Japanese Maple trees in my yard in anticipation of many stacks of delicious Japanese pancakes once they’ve matured.

* * *

When it’s my time to die, I hope that those closest to me realize that I’m only doing it facetiously. Just as I’ve done everything else.

* * *

When labor is cheaper than raw materials, you get the Chartres Cathedral, when labor is more expensive you get the 1977 Chrysler LeBaron.

Quite often, he speaks directly to my sense of humor and word-wonder:

Spent the first part of today searching for the grammatical derivation of Bread’s 1972 hit “Baby I’m a want you.” What is this “I’m a want”?

* * *

If you’re going to criticize my metaphors, be forewarned that the cat is out of the henhouse and cuts both ways!

* * *

I’m not some guy who just goes around correcting people’s grammar. I only correct the bad grammar.

There’s an everyman’s quality about these missives, too — or, at least, they reveal things that everyman has thought but would not necessarily admit:

My waffle-eyes are always bigger than my waffle-stomach, which is odd considering how closely my chicken-fried-steak eyes and stomach match.

What’s so rewarding to me is that Roderick figured out how to comment on the inanity of the technology while at the same time providing very insightful but totally useless comments about its users (and the rest of us, too). It’s the ultimate Scribbleskiff primer. Moreover, reading Roderick’s little brick of a book, which collects 365 of his messages, one per page, makes me wish I (and everyone else) could tweet in such a concise and cheeky manner.

Go buy Electric Aphorisms (you can get it here). It’s a great deal: for $15 you get the book and a “free” CD of musical “treats” from bands on the Barsuk Records label, many of which are on the favorites list at Scribbleskiff, like Say Hi, Ra Ra Riot, Mates of State, and more. And maybe it will inspire you to discover the “wit” in your Twitter feed.

As always, tell us what you think. Are you a fan of The Long Winters? Have you read any of John Roderick’s “aphorisms” on Twitter? What do you think about social networking in general? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

How do you like your India Pale Ales, or IPAs? “Hoppy”? Yes. “Brisk and bitter”? You bet. “Strong”? Me, too! “Dark”? Whoa — I dunno. That sounds kinda weird, and scary.

A little "dark" humor from Stone.

Well, that’s what I thought, until I met “Sublimely Self-Righteous,” the newest member of Stone Brewing’s “Year ‘Round Limited Releases.” This new-to-me brew may also be the harbinger of a new beer style, the enigmatically termed dark, or black, IPA.

Technically, this beer ranks as an “American strong ale,” which is really just a catch-all term for — you guessed it — any kind of strong ale (7% alcohol and up) made in the USA. Plenty of other beers fall into this class, including Stone’s very own “Arrogant Bastard Ale” and “Double Bastard Ale,” as well as “Immort Ale” from Dogfish Head and “Eye of the Hawk” from Mendocino Brewing, to name a few. All of these are very hoppy, flavorful, and quite bold — some classmates, such as the Cuvee Series Two from Southern Tier Brewing, clock in at upwards of 10% alcohol or more.

But it’s the “dark” element that makes this relative newcomer so appealing. In addition to the bracing, hops-infused fruity aromas and tangy, resiny bitterness that you would expect from a typically strong India Pale, each mouthful of “Self-Righteous” provides unexpected waves of dark-roasted malt flavors, like caramel and chocolate. And these are bitter- not candy-sweet flavors, dry and earthy, that resemble something like an extremely hoppy porter.

All in all, it’s a super winter sipper, to enjoy before or after supper. I thought it tasted sublime with a slice of a hard Vintage Irish Cheddar, drawing out both the saltiness and creaminess locked in the cheese. It also blended well with homemade chocolate cake topped with Cool Whip (because, why not?), though I suspect it would be great with a grilled steak, too.

Since my encounter with the “Self-Righteous,” I’ve begun to notice other beers, either on the shelf or on the Web, that are similar in nature (and that I want to try), including:

• “Black Perle,” RJ Rockers Brewing Company. The folks at Beeradvocate.com label this an “American Double/Imperial IPA.” Double the pleasure, double the fun, right?
• “Yakima Twilight,” Victory Brewing Company. The brewery uses words like “harmonious,” “bright,” and “warm” to describe its dark IPA entrant. Ahhh.
• “DogZilla Black IPA,” Laughing Dog Brewing. This Northern Idaho-based brewery says its mutt is “a big, bold, hoppy, IPA that finishes with a dark twist.” That should get the tails wagging, for sure!

As always, tell us what you think. Have you tried any of these beers yet, or others like them? What do you think about this newly emerging beer style? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

This is the time of year when the supporters of self-help, the boosters of betterment, the promoters of purposefulness, and everyone else who exalts in the ethics of uplift, start hymning the glories of making New Year’s resolutions. Oh, joy.

The general belief is that the start of a new calendar year affords a kind of spiritual and physical tabula rasa, a period of reflection, self-examination, and a chance to wipe the slate clean and start over. Simply create a list of your traits (personality- and otherwise) that are worthy and capable of being changed, and commence creating a better you.

That always sounds appealing, in general. But, specifically, what does it really entail? Not surprising, examples abound on the Web. For instance, some experts suggest a step-by-step method for breaking bad habits (and, presumably, learning new ones). While others believe that merely renaming the problem provides the solution. There are even online tools to help you manage your personal improvement regimen.

Self-reformation is not a new concept, by any stretch. Even the ancient Greek poet Hesiod wrote a book on the subject. Some people, though, seemingly go to great lengths to promote their home-spun remedies.

But don’t worry, dear reader, this is Scribbleskiff and that hog doesn’t wash here. This is a resolution-free zone. We know that no matter what you call them, New Year’s resolutions are made to be broken, and quickly — 20% of the makers abandon their lists by the first week, according to studies. Why bother, then? The only thing worth resolving to do at year’s start, it seems, is to remain firmly irresolute.

(Our patron saint, Issa, has something to say on the matter, of course: “there’s so little / I do it in my head … / New Year’s inventory.”)

No, at Scribbleskiff we prefer to extol the virtues of other, more wasteful pursuits. Navel-gazing, for example;  it’s one of the things we do best. And thinking about how we think about ourselves at this time of year has allowed us to pursue one of our favorite pastimes: loafing and puzzling over and listening to music.

Right now, at a time when we are looking and moving forward, hoping to improve at least our music collections with some soon-to-be-releaseds — the new Vampire Weekend LP (which is streaming in full here), for instance, or the return of Starbucks’ Sweetheart CD compilation (here’s what we thought about last year’s version) — it’s amusing and gratifying to glance backward, to remember some highlights from a year that had many, musically speaking. Here then are some of the top 2009 musical moments at Scribbleskiff.

Be sure to click on the links below to sample the songs (open each as a new tab or window), and then follow the threads to find out where you can download them. Or you can listen to the playlist in its entirety at the Scribbleskiff page on the 8tracks Web site. Just click HERE, open as a new tab or window, and let the music play as you read along. Enjoy!

Best Musical “Adventures”

• Taking my 14-year-old daughter to her first “real concert,” as she called it, a triple billing of Robyn Hitchcock & The Venus 3, Andrew Bird, and The Decemberists. It was quite a night for both of us, for sure.
• Rediscovering my greatest musical power — the ability to play my vinyl LPs at will again (and again and again).
• Finding out that the best things in life — when it comes to music on the Internet, at least — are still free.

Some Songs We Played A Lot

• “Bang Bang (Feat. Adam Levine),” K’naan, Troubadour
• “Summertime Clothes,” Animal Collective, Merriweather Post Pavillion
• “1901,” Phoenix, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix
  
• “Ancestors,” Throw Me the Statue, Creaturesque
• “I and Love and You,” The Avett Brothers, I and Love and You

Some Songs That Made Us Laugh A Lot

• “Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh,” Say Hi, Oohs & Ahhs
• “The Ancient Commonsense of Things,” Bishop Allen, Grrr…
• “Carol Brown,” Flight of the Conchords, I Told You I Was Freaky
• “The Fear,” Lily Allen, It’s Not Me, It’s You
• “DC Comics and Chocolate Milkshake,” Art Brut, Art Brut vs. Satan
  

Most Searched Song Title

• “Fireflies,” Owl City, Ocean Eyes. Although I thought this newcomer’s sparkly pop song made for perfect beach music, most people were falsely drawn by its cute Death Cab-like sound.

Most Popular Tags

• For no obvious reason, the tags, or search engine terms, that attracted the most traffic to this blog in ‘09 were “indie summer songs.” (Go ahead, Google it and see what comes up.)

Most Seasonally Appropriate Record

• Embryonic, by The Flaming Lips, was the most Halloweenish album, from beginning to end, I have heard in many years. No tricking.

Songs We Liked But Didn’t Get to Write About

• “Kiss with a Fist,” Florence and the Machine, Lungs. Tough-lady love; it’s better than none.
• “Gimme Sympathy,” Metric, Fantasies. This is Blondie’s most stylishly likable successor.
• “The River,” Akron/Family, Set ‘Em Wild, Set ‘Em Free. A three-piece that makes big, lush, psych-pop music.
• “Neverends,” Vijay Kishore, 13 Rounds. Sounds like a more radio-friendly version of Thom Yorke.
• “Cloud Nine,” Ben Howard, These Waters EP. If Tracy Chapman and Ray LaMontagne had a baby…

So, there you have it, a few good reasons to believe that (sometimes, at least) looking backward is the best way to prepare for what lies ahead. As always, tell us what you think. Do you have any favorite musical moments from 2009? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

On a slightly different note: In addition to thinking about what we listen to around here, we have been thinking about how we do things here at Scribbleskiff and how we might do them differently. As a result, you may notice some changes in the coming weeks, such as shorter, more frequent postings, or articles on entirely new subjects, or by different writers, etc. Then again, you might not notice anything new at all because we may have decided to do things exactly the way we’ve always done them. Who knows. This is Scribbleskiff, after all, and we resolve to do whatever we want. We hope you like it that way.

Flummoxed. Faltering. Discombobulated. Inarticulate. Dumbfounded. Dumbstruck. Nonplussed. Tongue-tied. Tight-lipped. Laconic. Hushed. Speechless.

In other words, dear reader, Scribbleskiff is at a loss for words this week. I’ve been so busy again, getting caught up in the rigmarole of regular life, managing (and being managed by) the important things, that I’ve been unable to get carried away by useless things. When that happens, I turn to other people’s words for inspiration and sustenance.

And what’s kept me going recently? A regular dose of “Daily Issa,” for one thing. Here are a few of his recent, ancient, timely bons mots that I’ve thumbtacked to the bulletin-board:

a bird making a nest
a temple being built…
when will they finish?

…

on the ancestors’ altar
without fail
a lucky wind blows

…

in the next life
don’t be a snake!
temple grounds

…

upon writing a note
of apology, ice
in my ink-stone

And here’s a shard of a gem by Olav H. Hauge, a new-to-me Norwegian poet whose collection, The Dream We Carry, was published by my favorite press, Copper Canyon:

There’s so much to think about here in this world,
one life’s not enough.
After work you can roast pork
and read Chinese poetry.

As Hauge once wrote, “A good poem should smell of tea. Or of raw earth and freshly cut wood.” Hauge offers words to live by, and poems you want to live with every day.

I’ve also been nibbling on some local, home-cooked verse by Steve Ward, the quieter half of the Ward Brothers, legendary decoy carvers. Though known in his hometown as “The Bard of Crisfield,” most of Ward’s poems were never published widely or even collected until now, under the cover of Closed for Business, which my dad gave me for Christmas. This finely carved, touching, little epigraph, in fact, was found written on the bottom of a Canvasback decoy:

The Record I Keep

It isn’t so much what my
neighbor may think
Though I value his friendship a lot.
It isn’t some record they’ve
Written in ink
That I want to keep free
From the blot.
It isn’t some tale people whisper
About the way I gather myself.
I want to keep evil and crookedness
Out of the record
I keep for myself.

And, for a little levity, I’ve been nosing through Fart Proudly: Writings of Benjamin Franklin You Never Read in School, which I picked up in the gift shop at Independence Hall last month, on a 5th grade field trip with Will. It’s full of funny, often bawdy bits of Franklin’s wit — including satirical essays, phony letters, cartoons, aphorisms, drinking songs, poems, etc. — much of it not worth a “FARThing,” as he stated, during his lifetime, but all of it worth reading and repeating. Like this pungent apothegm from Poor Richard’s Almanack:

He that is conscious of
A Stink in his Breeches,
is jealous of every Wrinkle
in another’s Nose.

I think I’ll let that be the final word, on this the penultimate day of the year. It’s been a gas, for sure. I’m looking forward to seeing your wrinkling noses poking around here in 2010.

As always, tell us what you think. Do you have any words of wisdom for the rest of us? Are there books or authors that inspire you during this hectic time of year? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

Snow.
Snow, what? So,

snow.

Snow. Snow, snow. Snow!

Snowsnowsnowsnowsnowsnowsnowsnowsnowsnowsnowsnowsnowsnow.

Unless you were living under a rock, or hiding under your bed covers, you have probably heard by now that the normally temperate middle Atlantic region got snowballed over the weekend. It snowed so hard and so quickly, in fact, that it felt like we were living in a snow globe for about 48 hours. Snow much snow.

Snow many beers, snow little time.

Such blizzard-like conditions are truly an amazing and mesmerizing sight. The kind of thing that coaxes the kid out of all of us. In fact, all of us at the offices of Scribbleskiff took turns staring out the window to watch the white stuff at play — swirling, drifting, rising and falling, piling up, blanketing everything: sidewalks, shrubbery, sleds, soccer balls left in the yard, etc. Then, all of a sudden, it would slow, thin out, settle down.

Then, just as suddenly, the big hand in the sky would give us a shake, and it would start all over again.

I know a snowstorm of this caliber is no big deal for many people, especially those living in points north of the Mason-Dixon. But it’s a big deal around here, a truly wondrous and rare event, and something we hope for every year and never tire of, not matter how long it lasts (and, alas, it never lasts long).

I recognize that not everything about this whiteness is wonderful. There’s the clean-up, for instance. Although the Inuit reportedly do not have 100’s of words for snow, I can tell you that, after shoveling as much slush as I did in the course of two days, I have accumulated my fair share of words for the stuff, most of which should not be uttered above my steaming breath.

But I really shouldn’t complain — I got to go sledding on my birthday! And besides, all of this snow, dropping down on us like it did this mid-December, got me think of two of my favorite things: a hearty meal and a warming beer.

Not long before the Nor’easter struck, I had begun investigating this year’s “seasonal” arrivals — Christmas ales, traditional “winter warmers,” etc. — to see how they stacked up. Part of that effort involved partaking in a private tasting of some Belgian imports that, like the Blizzard of ‘09, blew me away. Even more revealing, though, was simply strolling the aisles of The Wine Source, my favorite holiday beer hub (despite all the hubbub). I was overwhelmed by the number of winter beers on the shelf — truly more than are dreamt of in your sugar-plummy visions, Horatio. Every brewery, it seems, has something unique to offer. I would wager that you could consume a mix-pack a day for the 25 days of Advent (not that I advise you to do so) and you would still have leftovers.

So, once it appeared that the big storm was a sure thing, we decided to stock up on the necessities — including the fixings for some homemade comfort food, and more than a few bottles of malt-based bubbly — to finish my “research.” Here, then, are the byproducts of my inquiries: a sampling of the 2009 seasonals, organized pretty much in order of encounter. Cheers!

Delirium Noel, Brasserie Huyghe. The most distinguishing feature of this alluring, crimson traditional Belgian strong dark ale is its inherent fruitiness. The complex bready, raisiny, dried-currant aroma is unmistakable from the moment you pop the cork — like a pleasing waft of fresh Christmas stollen (which I consumed by the loaf as a child). There’s plenty of rich malty sweetness, nice spice, and racy carbonation to inspire a little holiday giddiness, too.

Kerstmutske, Brouwerij Slaapmutske. If you like rum, you’ll love this ruddy, creamy, very warming Belgian strong ale (by a boutique brewery whose name means “nightcap”). The base malt is molasses, which imparts a slight, tempering bitterness to the overall sweetness, along with a little burn, reminiscent of the West Indian potable. Luckily, the rich assortment of other malts and aromatic hops, along with the noticeable hints of plum, toffee, and other flavors, combine to create the perfect capper for a wintry night.

Santa’s Private Reserve, Rogue Brewery. Despite its ruddy glow, this red ale is not what I think of when it comes to a Christmas beer, not in the traditional sense. Maybe that’s intentional (though there’s a picture of Santa on the label). Nonetheless, this was a very unreserved, hoppy, resiny ale, like an Imperial IPA, with plenty of body and moderate malty sweetness. It was certainly Scrooge-like in terms of the expected spiciness, though, which should please anyone who doesn’t wish to receive the gift of fragrances that some seasonals bring.

Christmas Ale, Abita Brewing Co. As the final beer brewed each year, the recipe for this annual offering reportedly changes with every incarnation. Another reddish amber ale, its spiciness is present but subdued and, as a result, pairs well with traditional holiday fare, such as gingerbread (cookies or house) or spiced cakes. Try it also with a rich, creamy cheese, such as Camembert, which draws out a sweet, nutty aftertaste.

Snow Cap Ale, Pyramid Brewing Co. Styled after a British winter ale, this full-bodied beer pours out mahogany in color with a rich, malty aroma. Although the initial taste is dry with a slight hops bitterness, the chocolate and caramel flavors peak right away, finishing with a touch of spice. Heavier than a pale ale but not quite a porter, it’s quite jolly with dark chocolate.

Winter Ale, Stoudt’s Brewing Co. Here’s another brewery that changes things up for its annual winter release, and it’s always surprising. In 2008, I popped the top to find a porter. This time around, it’s a red ale (I’m sensing a theme). One thing’s for sure, their beers are consistently good. I enjoyed this smooth, hoppy cracker a lot, mainly because it floats nicely between a super-spicy Christmas and a souped-up malty “warmer.” Can’t wait to be surprised again in 2010.

Doppelbock, Fordham Brewing Co. I had the good fortune to taste this old-school Bavarian seasonal when it was released in early December at The Rams Head in Savage Mill (thanks, Jeani). Very stouty, yet smooth and sweet as it is dark. It’s also quite bold and strong (8.4% alcohol), with a hint of smokiness that’s tamped down by a subtle, syrupy almost-molasses quality. Double up with a slice of German chocolate cake.

Winter Ale, Smuttynose Brewing Co. A perennial favorite, this tasty, toasty, full-bodied amber ale features a Trappist ale yeast, creating a Belgian dubbel-like warmth with pleasing fruity aromas and a caramelesque flavor. It’s dry but plenty sweet, with hints of cinnamon and nutmeg spice. There is just enough hops to make it the perfect match to homemade carrot cake.

Winter Warmer, Lancaster Brewing Co. As the name implies, this very dark, very strong (9% alcohol), malty-sweet beer will certainly take the edge off a chilly night. What’s less direct is the complexity of flavor, which after a sip or two reveals chocolate, vanilla, caramel, and even some cherry notes. It’s a great with rich and spicy foods, like the salsa and corn chowder that Amy made on Saturday.

Shiner Holiday Cheer, Spoetzel Brewery. Apparently, it’s not just the stars that shine big and bright in Texas. You could even say the beer glows, at least during the holidays. This new-to-me brew, an old world dunkelweizen (or dark wheat ale), is nutty as a fruitcake — literally. With bright peach and pecan flavors, a yeasty aroma, and crisp taste, it’s a unique, refreshing, and cheerful alternative to the usual Christmas beers.

Yule Tide, Clipper City. Like its Heavy Seas siblings, this Belgian triple ale packs a wallop. At 10% alcohol by volume, it is one of the stormiest seasonals I’ve tried. Yet, above decks, it shows a nice balance between malty rich and lightly sweet. It was so surprisingly drinkable, in fact, I nearly forgot it’s intended as a seasonal sipper — though it made a super supper companion to savory homemade chicken pot pie.

Special Ale, Anchor Brewing Co. Every year since 1975, Anchor has brewed a Christmas ale that is both unique and equally as enjoyable as its flagship Steam Beer — and well worth the wait. It’s the closest thing to the traditional winter warmer I have tasted: dark and treacly, pungent, full of old-world aromas, such as balsam, allspice, ginger and peppercorn. It’s also my favorite.

So, there you have it, 12 reasons why winter really is the most wonderful time of the year. At least for beer-drinkers. After all, St. Nicholas himself is the patron saint of brewers and coopers, among others, and reportedly loved nothing more than a mugful of good beer. It’s no wonder, then, his eyes twinkled and his nose was red as a cherry.

As always, tell us what you think. Have you tasted any of these beers? Or are there other seasonals that you prefer? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

Dear Reader:

How are things with you? We here at Scribbleskiff have been very busy lately, preparing for and trying to enjoy the holidays. We’ve been trimming trees, decking halls, lighting lights, as well as reading, listening, sipping, supping, and writing ourselves silly. We ought to change our name to “Scrabbleskiff” it’s been so frenetic around these parts.

As a result, we’re once again running out of runway to be able to bring gifts to all our friends and relatives (and relative friends). The staff at this blog may be many things to many people, but we are not highly organized, thoughtful planners; we amble, we meander, we loaf along (we’re “Scribbleskiff,” damn it). Luckily, we’ve been making a list over the past year, keeping track of things we’ve seen or want to see more of, things we have merely skimmed, briefly heard or, in some cases, just heard about. So at least we know what we want to buy, even if we don’t know when we’ll do the buying.

And, in the spirit of generosity, we thought we’d share our list of ideas with you, fellow procrastinators. With Chanukah half over and only 10 days or so left until Christmas, we thought you might appreciate some gift-giving suggestions to please those last-minute, hard-to-buy-for recipients. Keep in mind the following recommendations are geared toward the person who has everything and needs nothing. (That’s the main reason they’re left until last, right?) Frivolity is the motto here, while “aimless” and “a waste of time” come to mind, as well.

But these notions are not mere triflings: our goal is to point out the novelty to the novitiate, to uncover something unusual, something you may not have known about but is worth having, though not necessarily something for the collector. All of these trinkets are readily available and should not require much effort to obtain. Most important, most of these items are on our wish list, too (hint, hint). Happy shopping!

For the Beer Lover
Not surprising, a number of breweries use this season of celebration as an opportunity to roll out very limited releases. I’m not talking about your typical “winter warmers” or Christmas beers, which are as numerous and varied as fruitcake recipes this time of year. No, I’m thinking of extra-ordinary malt-based beverages that are as unique as they are extravagant. Top of the list has to be Samichlaus Bier, an Austrian dopplebock that’s brewed only once a year (Dec. 6) and aged for 10 months before bottling. As such, it’s one of the rarest beers in the world (at 14% alcohol, it’s one of the strongest, too) and it’s the ideal gift for the adventurous beer drinker on your list. Also, because each vintage is unique and the beer is made to age in the bottle, it’s ideally suited for the collector. Best of all, it’s delicious. Serve with hearty dishes or dessert, especially chocolate.

Another exclusive elixir is Prestige de Nuits, from Brasserie Dubuisson. Aged for six months in Pinot noir barrels, this very complex Belgian pale strong ale is awash in flavors and textures — tart and fruity aromas, yet with a hint of toffee and caramel; a dry and slightly bitter initial taste that mellows sweet and slightly sour; a high alcohol content (12%) that’s kept in check by the yeasty, Champagne-like carbonation; etc. All in all, it’s a beer that’s so pleasing and easy-going you may almost forget such sudsy sophistication comes at a price — $45/750 ml — I said almost. Enjoy it with sweet, complex cheeses, such as Beemster Extra Old.

Glassware is another distinct, often overlooked bestowal for the bibulous on your list. As with wine, a good beer goblet can enhance the enjoyment of its contents. Unfortunately, the typical pint glass used by most bartenders is not well suited for the job. Primarily designed to serve as a tumbler, or top half of a cocktail shaker, this glass is durable and easy to stack but not much good for drinking good beer — its cylindrical shape lets the aromas and fizzy goodness escape. You need a vessel with some shape, like a tulip, that will trap the aromas and guide them to your nose and palate. A wine glass will do in a pinch, but why not furnish the proper beer glasses (not to be confused with “beer goggles”). Sam Adams recently introduced “The Perfect Pint,” a glass specifically designed for beer-drinking (you may read about it here). A set of four retails for $30. I’ve also seen beer glasses that are both functional and elegant for sale at places like Pottery Barn and, locally, Red Tree. Here’s a quick, concise guide to the basics, to help you get started.

Then, once you have your memorable malts properly poured, it’s time to sit down and watch “Beer Wars: Brewed in America,” an eye-opening documentary that offers both an insider’s look at the battle between breweries (both big and little) and a heady examination of the plight of small business in America. Think of it as a pint-sized “Roger and Me.”

For the Music Lover
In retrospect, 2009 could be called the year of the compilation, or at least be notable for marking its comeback. So often, the idea of getting a group of musicians together to celebrate an artist’s life or to provide the soundtrack to a movie sounds charming in theory but often falls flat on vinyl (or polycarbonate). You may get one or two real “hits” while the rest are, well, misses. This year, however, was different. Not only was there a greater-than-usual outfall of such records (as far as I can recall) but also a higher amount of quality issue. And since compilations are essentially mixtapes, offering an admixture of music that’s similar in sound or theme with enough variety to make it interesting, they make uniquely personal presents. Here are this year’s standouts:

• Dark Was the Night, 4AD, a double-CD benefit collection featuring songs by major and minor indie-rock all-stars, such as Feist, Ben Gibbard (Death Cab for Cutie), The Decemberists, Bon Iver, Grizzly Bear, The National, Spoon, and more.
• War Child — Heroes, War Child, another benefit collection, this time featuring new bands covering songs by their “heroes” — for instance, The Hold Steady rocking up Springsteen’s “Atlantic City” — often with help from the original artists.
• Ciao My Shining Star: The Songs of Mark Mulcahy, Mezzotint, a tribute album created as a fundraiser for Mulcahy (of Miracle Legion), featuring covers by everyone from Thom Yorke, Frank Black, and Vic Chesnutt, to Ben Kweller, Josh Rouse, and Juliana Hatfield.
• The Twilight Saga: New Moon Soundtrack, Chop Shop Records, a veritable who’s who of hip artists — including The Killers, OK Go, Editors, and Lupe Fiasco — all penned new material for this sparkling teen swooner.
• Live at KEXP Volume Five, KEXP.org, is what the name implies — a compilation of exclusive live tracks, recorded in studios at or affiliated with Seattle’s KEXP (Scribbleskiff’s favorite radio station), by a wide range of musicians, including DeVotchKa, Andrew Bird, MGMT, Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds, Vivian Girls, and more.

As any reader of this blog knows, I have become single-minded, as it were, when it comes to digital music. I don’t pay much heed to full-lengths anymore — not right away, at least. I prefer downloading a song on its own first; then, if I like it, I might go back and buy the rest. Over this past year, I did that at least five times, and I can heartily recommend those decisions to you here, in no particular order (click the links to find out why):

• Merriweather Post Pavilion, Animal Collective
• The Hazards of Love, The Decemberists
• Embryonic, The Flaming Lips
• Goodnight Oslo, Robyn Hitchcock & the Venus 3
• These Four Walls, We Were Promised Jetpacks

But I still have an affinity for phonographs, as I have mentioned several times in the past. I have a large collection of LP records that I can’t bear to and won’t part with. Why? Music just sounds better played on a record player, and the album side provides the perfect amount of the music for any given mood. The problem with (or inherent beauty of, it could be argued) a turntable is that it must be connected to the stereo console to be of service. In other words, it is an anti-mobile device — until now, that is. I have recently encountered several portable turntables that are not only versatile and affordable but also elegant and nostalgical (like this handsome throwback). Now the audiophile on your list can live in the past, wherever he or she may roam.

What Scribbleskiff musical compendium would be complete (or completely gratuitous) without mention of REM? Although our favorite band did not release any new material this year, they did make two offerings that could serve as bookends to their career thus far. The first, the 25th anniversary Deluxe Edition of Reckoning, came out in June, remastered and including a second CD-ful of songs recorded live during their 1984 tour. Perhaps not their best record, Reckoning was certainly their best-known for years and, looking back a quarter-century later, it’s a clear-eyed indication of their star-making potential. A more recent release, Live at the Olympia (CD and DVD), captures the band’s gutsy five-night “rehearsal,” held live in Dublin in 2007, of new songs written for their most recent LP, the aptly titled Accelerate. (I’m sorry.)

For the Book Lover
Why does the book industry hold competitions? To sell more books, of course. The National Book Award may not be the most popular of all American literary prizes — that superlative belongs to the Pulitzer — but I think it usually points out the best new books. That’s especially true with poetry, and I always try to buy the winning volume each year, even if or especially if I don’t know the author’s work. This year’s winner was Keith Waldrop. Although I have read some of his poems, I’ve never nosed my way through a complete book. So I’m hoping to find a copy of his award-winning Transcendental Studies: A Trilogy under the tree (you can read an excerpt here).

In terms of new poetry books I’ve read, enjoyed, and in some cases written about, I can recommend Endpoint and Other Poems, the final collection of poems published by the late John Updike. Although Updike forged a lucrative career as a novelist, short-story writer, and essayist, it’s his poems that appealed most to me. There are several reasons why I think his matter will matter to you.  I was also dazzled by the bountiful bouquet of new poems that were distributed via e-mail, one day at a time, this past April in honor of National Poetry Month. Check out a sampling (with links) here. You never know, you might find something you like and (like me) want to track down the whole collection.

I also want to mention Poem in Your Pocket: 200 Poems to Read and Carry, a clever belles-lettric device created by the Academy of American Poets. The idea is simple: select a poem you like, tear it from the book, and carry it around with you all day to read alone or share with others. It’s an indispensable literary dispenser, ideal for the poet or poetry lover on your list.

Two other items on my list could serve to satisfy any books-and-music or books-and-beer connoisseur you may know. The first, By the Time We Got to Woodstock: The Great Rock ‘n’ Roll Revolution of 1969, written by Bruce Pollock, a self-professed “player in the deviant subculture,” promises to be a rollicking chronicle of one of the most important years in the history of rock music. You may also want to eyeball, though warily (and blearily), Things Drunk People Say, a compendium of humorous, sometimes crass, and embarrassing quotes from a group of New York-based “boozy social butterflies.” Potty talk begets bathroom reading, I suppose. Fortunately, or unfortunately, there’s no index of names — yes, that’s where I turned first, wouldn’t you?

Seasonally speaking, the most interesting book on my coffee table right now is Christmas Miscellany: Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Christmas, by Jonathan Green. This little cracker is filled with tons of information, useless or otherwise, about Christianity’s second-biggest day.  Discover everything, from the origins of your cherished traditions — why stockings are hung on Christmas Eve, why we use evergreens as decorations, what a yule log is — to explanations of more arcane items — where myrrh comes from, who the real Santa Claus is, and why reindeer didn’t always pull his sleigh. No one sitting within reach of this book has been able to resist picking it up, and neither should you.

So there you have it, a sackful of Scribbleskiffian gift ideas, suitable for an assortment of holidays. Maybe, if you’re good, and you pick the right prizes for the right people, they’ll all re-gift them right back to you right away.

As always, tell us what you think. Do you have other, unique holiday gift ideas that you’d like to share? Who tops your list of last-minute shop-fors? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.