A THOUSAND WORDS - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward's blog on pictures, plants, politics and whatever else is on his mind.




 

Jim Carroll - Les Wiseman Remembers - Patti Smith Weighs In
Saturday, September 19, 2015



 
Jim Carroll - Photograph Alex Waterhouse-Hayward


Saturday was a day of melancholy, anger and depression. I left home and walked to the nearest refuge. The refuge was the Oakridge Branch of the Vancouver Public Library. I brought my umbrella. The persistent rain added to my melancholy. It takes just a few days of a Vancouver rain in the fall to make one forget all those days of sunny heat. At my age I am already turning on the heat at home.
My first stop at the library is always their reject book bin. It was fairly empty except for one book that stared at me. It was Jim Carroll’s posthumously published novel The Petting Zoo. When it came out in 2010 after his death on September 11, 2009 it was panned by most critics.

I plan to read it. If you consider that I was charged $0.50 for it and after you read Patti Smith’s Introduction (A Note to the Reader) you will understand that my purchase was a steal.
From the library I went to Oakridge Mall and sat in one of their comfortable red single chairs and watched people go by. My melancholy became one of alienation as I found myself feeling I was living in a foreign country. One of my plans in a near future is to stay a few weeks in Patagonia to perhaps relieve this enajenamiento.

I walked home protected by my dark blue Vancouver Umbrella Shop umbrella wondering what kind of omen (if any) was finding such an odd book in what really is a mainstream public library going through a demographic change which might explain the massive unloading of such good books. Below is Patti Smith's intro to Carroll's novel.

Jacket illustration - Raymond Pettibon
In the monastic seclusion of his room, Jim Carroll, with a prescience of his own mortality, reached out and drew this novel – his last work – from the nucleus of his mysticism and remembered experience.

The Petting Zoo unfolds with a series of fated events. The artist Billy Wofram is so profoundly moved by the paintings of Velázquez that he finds himself irrevocably altered. Stumbling from the Metropolitan Museum of Art into an eddy of avalanching absurdity – a defunct Children’s Zoo, the Aztec façade of the Helmsley Building, the bowels of a dysfunctional mental ward – he diagnoses that he is no longer in sync with his former self.  His descent and ascent, so candidly observed, are reminiscent of René Daumal’s A Night of Serious Drinking, as our narrator reels from numbing cocktails to the nakedness of his mischievous soul.


The poet is the aural lamplighter. He projects himself within the labyrinth of Billy’s burgeoning consciousness as he seemingly adjusts to the most outrageous turns of fortune. Jim’s mythic energy is at once laconic and vibrating; his bouts of meandering humor are punctuated by undeniable common wisdom. Whether the discourse is with a Chinese psychologist, a Hindu driver, or an extremely loquacious raven, these Socratic dialogues slide pole to pole, from uncanny clarity or a realm where digression is an art of the first order, the multifarious zone of the nod.



Jim Carroll died at his desk on September 11, 2009, in the Inwood neighborhood of Manhattan, where he was born and raised. His diamond mind never ceased writing, even as he read, scribbling copious notes in the margins of his books, the references of his life, Frank O’Hara, Saint Francis, Bruno Schulz. He was without guile, disdainful of his beauty, red-gold hair, lanky body, abstract, bareheaded, empty headed. Yet he was athletic with singular focus, netting his prey, able to pluck from the air with exquisite dexterity a rainbow-winged insect that quivered in his freckled hand, begetting memory.


The catastrophe of loss, the loss of a true poet, is so pure that it might for many pass unnoticed. But the universe knows, and no doubt Jim Carroll was drawn from his labors and the prison of his own infirmities to the distances of the greater freedom.
Patti Smith, May, 2010



JimCarroll                                Les Wiseman

I remember lying in bed listening to some evening CFOX radio show. It was keyed to new music and was cohosted by Jerry Barad who, I believe, worked at Quintessence Records and maybe had some financial interest in it, as well. Barad went on to become COO of LiveNation. His role in 1980, was hepping listeners to new product at the record shop.

He led into a cut by The Jim Carroll Band off its debut album, Catholic Boy. He told about how Carroll was a New York underground writer and poet. Then he played People Who Died. 

It was terrifying. It was the bleakest, darkest most macabre song I’d ever heard. It was a litany of people who had died and the various ways they shuffled off this mortal coil.

Teddy sniffing glue, he was 12 years old
Fell from the roof on East Two-nine
Cathy was 11 when she pulled the plug
On 26 reds and a bottle of wine
Bobby got leukemia, 14 years old
He looked like 65 when he died
He was a friend of mine

I mean, Holy hell, what the heck was this?

G-berg and Georgie let their gimmicks go rotten
So they died of hepatitis in upper Manhattan
Sly in Vietnam took a bullet in the head
Bobby OD'd on Drano on the night that he was wed
They were two more friends of mine
Two more friends that died

I was no wilting lily of the valley; Lou Reed’s depression fest, Berlin, was my favorite album, but this Jim Carroll guy was beyond the pale. He wasn’t just down, he was the voice of total devastation and evil. He was celebrating these deaths.

Those are people who died, died
They were all my friends, and they died

I lay in bed, terrified. I don’t think I slept a wink that night. But, next morning, I know I was at the door of the record store the minute it opened to get my hands on a copy of that dark moist thing.

Postscript 1983: AW-H and I were in Manhattan and Lenny Kaye asked us if we wanted to go the Danceteria and see Jim Carroll read his poetry. Spectral Jim came over and joined our conversation that night. He was pale and as cold as the grave. I bet the guy pissed ice cubes.

                                                                  30
If like me you are wondering what Wiseman's above 30 means here is his answer:



TheVenerable 30                        Les   Wiseman
 - 30 –
  
The 30 means your story is done. It was particularly important when sending material by telegraph and modem. It is still important today and you will lose marks on job tests if you do not use it. It also lets the editor know that the writer intends the story to end there. Many times I’ve had a story that just ends with no rhyme or reason and I’ve had to call the writer and say, “Hey, I don’t think I’ve got the ending to your story. I don’t have the 30 page. What was the last sentence of your story?” They tell me; I see it and then I have to launch into an explanation that their story doesn’t have a kicker. It just ends. Using a 30 shows your editor that they are dealing with a pro. Plus, in the modem days, I dealt with a number of editors who didn’t receive my entire story, yet printed it anyhow, with no discernible kicker. (Yes, Times-Colonist weekend editors I’m talking about you, you frickin’ morons.) I’d say, “Did you see the 30 at the end?” They’d say, “No.” And I would shriek, “Then you should have known you didn’t get all of the story, shouldn’t you, you amateur low-rent subliterate pudknocker!!!”

These days, email is fraught with dangers, though mostly human error and many a document can get greeked or corrupted and editors need to see what they can make of it. In order to do that, they need to know where it ends. Plus, I like the sound of tapping out -- 30---. It sounds a bit like the opening of Louie Louie. It also means another damned piece is finished. A sweet sound for sure.

--Les Wiseman--




 People who died Patti Smith talks after this and a known stellar groups sing People who died




Discontinuance
Friday, September 18, 2015

Anna

In 2007 the once mighty Kodak brought back from usage retirement the word discontinuance. They then began to stamp the products that they were rapidly removing from the market with that unnerving expression. It was in 2007 that the mighty owners of Rochester, New York decided to ax the wonderful Kodak b+w  Infrared Film which I purchased in 35mm cassettes. The beauty and wonder of the film is that results were not always sure. There was a dangerous air of unpredictability. Those photographers who liked the film then resorted to having camera technicians remove the built-in infrared blocking filter of their digital cameras. It made unpredictability not so and quite a few lost interest in that exercise.

Yours truly still has about 30 rolls of the film in his freezer. He (me) is waiting for that ideal paragon of female beauty to appear upon the horizon. Until then I can only dream and hope that the paragon does not appear after this man is issued his discontinuance.





Three Intimacies - Sex, Eating & ...
Thursday, September 17, 2015






When my Rosemary and daughters Ale and Hilary arrived in Vancouver in our Mexican Beetle ( it was of a prescient colour, arctic blue, to events that would shock us in living in this northern new land) we moved immediately to a townhouse on Springer Avenue in Burnaby. It was close enough to Vancouver (not that much traffic at the time) and the same to Coquitlam’s Mallardville where our daughters would learn French.

There was a girl that lived in the compound called Moira. She was high-spirited. Our daughters would disappear to Moira’s house after school. At 6 Ale and Hilary would arrive back. In the beginning I asked why they had returned. Ale’s answer was, “Moira was about to have dinner.” I thought this strange as when Moira was in our house we always invited her to have supper with us.
I had also observed in the MacDonald’s on the corner of Boundary with Lougheed Highway that people eating (and in particular those doing so alone)  would furtively look around as they ate hoping (I believed) that nobody was watching them do so.

In another occasion the young higher official of the Bank of Montreal, Willingdon and Hastings Branch, and his wife invited us one weekend for what was defined as “after dinner drinks.” This, to this Latino felt odd.

I came to the conclusion that while only a pervert would want to be watched having sex Canadians considered sex and eating as something very private and intimate. In my youth in Buenos Aires I had observed many couples in my neighbourhood practicing what the Brits call tremblers. They were oblivious to my prying eyes.

In the last few weeks as our house has been listed I have observed a third very private situation to be added to sex and eating (a corollary would be the embarrassment of having someone open your bathroom door while you are in that place where the King is always alone). This happens when people want to view your home (never a house, home sounds more intimate).

Your friendly real estate agent informs you of the fact through texting. A time is revealed and the agent is to arrive 15 minutes before. We are to turn on all the lights in the house. We have not eaten for hours before so that the kitchen will look immaculate. I refuse to shroud Pancho de Skeleton who in life-size casually sits in the dining room Windsor chair. Rosemary says that potential buyers might be superstitious. Our friendly real estate agent covers Pancho with a sheet. Rosemary instructs me to open up the baby grand piano. She says that potential buyers will be impressed. In my discomfort to all this I suggest I might go to a nearby London Drugs to buy an Atlantic Monthly, and a couple of Vogues to put on the living room coffee table.

Lauren & Pancho
We are whisked out of the house (not quite so gently). It seems that potential buyers are not to see what we might look like. The house we are selling seemingly is not occupied by anybody.
Routines like reading the NY Times in bed for breakfast are eliminated. I must scrub this or that.
So then eating, sex and selling a house must be done without being observed.

But then there is that other side of the coin. The house we have purchased (near Lens & Shutter on Broadway) had three nude paintings. One was in the living room. It must be of a local artist as the two female nudes are surrounded by exfoliating Arbutus. In the bedroom (imagine observing someone’s bedroom, almost as intimate as going to a party and looking into your guest’s medicine cabinets as per Franny and Zoeey) there were two more nudes. This is not  your average Canadian home.

All I was able to get from that owners real estate agent was that his business was installing home fire sprinklers and that he was Hungarian.  

All the above somehow brings to mind the story my pension mate in Mexico City when both of us were attending Mexico City College in 1963. He was a retired US Marine Corps colonel who had fought in Laos and in particular assisting the Montagnards as a military adviser. He told me that once in a patrol they went past a couple having sex in the jungle. While the man was busy at it she was munching on a fruit oblivious to him and to the passing soldiers.




That Wondrous Tatra & the Straight's Fall Arts Preview
Wednesday, September 16, 2015




Space in print media is limited. On the web the real estate is infinite.

Since I am an all but retired/obsolete/redundant magazine photographer and sometime writer I can take advantage of that real estate with my blog. I can write what I want, write at whatever length I want, put the pictures I want (within my standards of contemporary aversion to showing bits and pieces) without fear of an editor, art director or some unbearable fact checker thwarting me. That’s because I am all the above including that of “publisher”. I use those double quotes because I am old-fashioned and I don’t believe that anything can be truly published unless the results can stain your fingers.

Today’s Georgia Straight (which does suffer from limited space in its printed form) features five of my photographs that represent the Straight’s annual Fall Arts Preview. They are of five pairs of artists, representing music, comedy, dance, acting and the visual arts. Every year I choose a theme. This year’s theme is not explained so I will do so but at length. I think the circumstances behind the use of that 1948 Tatra motorcar are interesting. Space in the Straight prevented them (perhaps?) from explaining the theme.

My journey to Tsawwassen (where the Tatra resides) began in 1961 when I saw  Phil Karlsen’s espionage film The Secret Ways with Richard Widmark. At the time and for many years I indulged in my pre-literary/un-highfalutin taste in novels. I consumed all of Alistair MacLean’s thrillers.  I will point out here that at least 16 of Maclean’s novels became films (The Guns of Navarone is the most famous of them).

The Secret Ways featured (I noticed!) a big, black aerodynamic car that like a killer whale had a prominent dorsal fin in its rear. I fell in love for the car but never saw another in my life until I met up with Gary Cullen’s 1948 Tatra a couple of weeks ago in Tsawwassen.

The centre headlight
The Tatra has been in my mind for a couple of months ago as there was a lengthy spread and article about Cullen’s car in the Vancouver Sun (alas the pictures have been taken down!).
Then this happened:

I had to find a connection between Andrea Stefancikova’s curves and knowing that she was born in Bratislava, Slovakia I compared her to the wondrous Tatra made in what used to be Czechoslovakia.

A week later I received a phone call from the Straight’s Arts Editor, Janet Smith giving me the Fall Arts Preview and asking me what my theme would be.
If you have gotten this far you will be able to connect the dots.

But there is more.

Gary Cullen’s talents included a recent past of repairing mechanical cameras (not digital ones with those unromantic circuit boards shrouded by poly-carbonate plastics). In fact his onetime establishment, Brighouse Camera Repairs in Richmond repaired my Mamiyas.

When I went into Cullen’s house I noticed a glass case with immaculately restored German cameras. One of them was made in Dresden which after the war became the Russian Occupied Zone. The Exakta was one of the first (if not the very first) single lens reflex plus for reasons that nobody has ever revealed to me had its shutter release on the left hand side of the camera. Great for left-handers but if you were not a southpaw that would mean that you would have to focus with the right hand.


With Cullen I concocted the private joke of including the Exakta in some corner of every one of the photographs for the Straight. What is its significance? It was the camera model used by Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window to spy on the mysterious man on the other side of his apartment ( Raymond Burr). Cullen informed me that the long lens mounted on the Exakta VX in question was a Kilfitt Fern-Kilar f/5.6 400mm lens.


One pair of artists could not make the trek to Tsawwassen. These were artists Fiona Ackerman and Steven Brekelmans. In Ackerman’s web site I found this which gave me the justification to include a mirror (my guest bathroom mirror) in the photograph. In Brekelmans’s site I found this. I asked Brekelmans to bring one of his wooden gold bars to use it as a base for one of Cullen’s antique models of his Tatra.

All along besides the terrible problem of navigating around that Deas (George Massey) Tunnel my standing frustration was the fact the Straight has always insisted that the photographs used to illustrate the Fall Arts Preview must be vertical. The Tatra as seen from its side is very horizontal.  
But for this assignment I had an excellent assistant, Cullen’s wife Karoline. She seemed to know at all times where I had deposited my camera or light/flash meter and warned me of many mistakes I almost made but she caught them in time.



The shots of a the dancers presented me with a problem. I needed a different angle from the one of the comedians. I thought the dorsal fin would be a good place but I could not do that twice. On the first shoot, my friend Paul Leisz (a former resident of Tsawwassen) came along. It was he who suggested the suicide door angle. Before I had arrived I had come up with the idea that I wanted von Riedemann barefoot. Leiz's idea worked just fine with that.

For the night shots I asked Cullen if we could turn on the car’s three headlights (the center one turns with the steering wheel). To his dismay two were burned out. But our persnickety Tatra owner produced two brand new but antique bulbs whose brand name was Tesla (the old Tesla, the Yugoslavian electrical scientist). In the dancers' photo the light coloured car in the background is Cullen's own Tesla.

Of the Tatra Cullen sent me this:

The Tatra is a "1948 Tatra T87" Built from 1936-1949 in Czechoslovakia. Technical design by Tatras Hans Ledwinka, streamlined body design by Paul Jaray (who did the aerodynamic design for the German Zeppelin Airships). The car was tested for wind resistance in the Zeppelin wind-tunnel. Tatras were the first serial produced scientifically designed aerodynamic cars.
It has an air cooled overhead cam V8 engine in the rear, all independent suspension, rack and pinion steering and a central lubrication system with no grease fittings. Top speed was 160km per hour.

Cullen further informed me that the original VW Beetle was really a small Tatra. Tatra successfully sued VW. More on this here.   Tatra now only manufactures trucks.




Christine Quintana & Meaghan Chenosky - Actresses

Kyle Bottom & Caitlin Howden - Comedians

Deanna Peters & Christoph von Reidemann - Dancers

Fiona Ackerman & Steven Brekelmans - Visual Artists

Elisa Thorn & Janna Sailor - Musicians

 Photograph by Gary Cullen

Photograph - Karoline Cullen


The Tatra goes to California  

The Tatra goes to Alaska



     

Previous Posts
The Golfer's Indumentum

Neptune Vanitas

Se me va de los dedos la caricia sin causa

Elegance Demands

On the Edge of My Seat at Edge 4

The Beetle & the Magnolia

Beauty & Elegance Up Close

Randomness & Purpose

Dance To The Music Of Time - Arts Umbrella Dance C...

A Ballerina - An Essence



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10/17/10 - 10/24/10

10/24/10 - 10/31/10

10/31/10 - 11/7/10

11/7/10 - 11/14/10

11/14/10 - 11/21/10

11/21/10 - 11/28/10

11/28/10 - 12/5/10

12/5/10 - 12/12/10

12/12/10 - 12/19/10

12/19/10 - 12/26/10

12/26/10 - 1/2/11

1/2/11 - 1/9/11

1/9/11 - 1/16/11

1/16/11 - 1/23/11

1/23/11 - 1/30/11

1/30/11 - 2/6/11

2/6/11 - 2/13/11

2/13/11 - 2/20/11

2/20/11 - 2/27/11

2/27/11 - 3/6/11

3/6/11 - 3/13/11

3/13/11 - 3/20/11

3/20/11 - 3/27/11

3/27/11 - 4/3/11

4/3/11 - 4/10/11

4/10/11 - 4/17/11

4/17/11 - 4/24/11

4/24/11 - 5/1/11

5/1/11 - 5/8/11

5/8/11 - 5/15/11

5/15/11 - 5/22/11

5/22/11 - 5/29/11

5/29/11 - 6/5/11

6/5/11 - 6/12/11

6/12/11 - 6/19/11

6/19/11 - 6/26/11

6/26/11 - 7/3/11

7/3/11 - 7/10/11

7/10/11 - 7/17/11

7/17/11 - 7/24/11

7/24/11 - 7/31/11

7/31/11 - 8/7/11

8/7/11 - 8/14/11

8/14/11 - 8/21/11

8/21/11 - 8/28/11

8/28/11 - 9/4/11

9/4/11 - 9/11/11

9/11/11 - 9/18/11

9/18/11 - 9/25/11

9/25/11 - 10/2/11

10/2/11 - 10/9/11

10/9/11 - 10/16/11

10/16/11 - 10/23/11

10/23/11 - 10/30/11

10/30/11 - 11/6/11

11/6/11 - 11/13/11

11/13/11 - 11/20/11

11/20/11 - 11/27/11

11/27/11 - 12/4/11

12/4/11 - 12/11/11

12/11/11 - 12/18/11

12/18/11 - 12/25/11

12/25/11 - 1/1/12

1/1/12 - 1/8/12

1/8/12 - 1/15/12

1/15/12 - 1/22/12

1/22/12 - 1/29/12

1/29/12 - 2/5/12

2/5/12 - 2/12/12

2/12/12 - 2/19/12

2/19/12 - 2/26/12

2/26/12 - 3/4/12

3/4/12 - 3/11/12

3/11/12 - 3/18/12

3/18/12 - 3/25/12

3/25/12 - 4/1/12

4/1/12 - 4/8/12

4/8/12 - 4/15/12

4/15/12 - 4/22/12

4/22/12 - 4/29/12

4/29/12 - 5/6/12

5/6/12 - 5/13/12

5/13/12 - 5/20/12

5/20/12 - 5/27/12

5/27/12 - 6/3/12

6/3/12 - 6/10/12

6/10/12 - 6/17/12

6/17/12 - 6/24/12

6/24/12 - 7/1/12

7/1/12 - 7/8/12

7/8/12 - 7/15/12

7/15/12 - 7/22/12

7/22/12 - 7/29/12

7/29/12 - 8/5/12

8/5/12 - 8/12/12

8/12/12 - 8/19/12

8/19/12 - 8/26/12

8/26/12 - 9/2/12

9/2/12 - 9/9/12

9/9/12 - 9/16/12

9/16/12 - 9/23/12

9/23/12 - 9/30/12

9/30/12 - 10/7/12

10/7/12 - 10/14/12

10/14/12 - 10/21/12

10/21/12 - 10/28/12

10/28/12 - 11/4/12

11/4/12 - 11/11/12

11/11/12 - 11/18/12

11/18/12 - 11/25/12

11/25/12 - 12/2/12

12/2/12 - 12/9/12

12/9/12 - 12/16/12

12/16/12 - 12/23/12

12/23/12 - 12/30/12

12/30/12 - 1/6/13

1/6/13 - 1/13/13

1/13/13 - 1/20/13

1/20/13 - 1/27/13

1/27/13 - 2/3/13

2/3/13 - 2/10/13

2/10/13 - 2/17/13

2/17/13 - 2/24/13

2/24/13 - 3/3/13

3/3/13 - 3/10/13

3/10/13 - 3/17/13

3/17/13 - 3/24/13

3/24/13 - 3/31/13

3/31/13 - 4/7/13

4/7/13 - 4/14/13

4/14/13 - 4/21/13

4/21/13 - 4/28/13

4/28/13 - 5/5/13

5/5/13 - 5/12/13

5/12/13 - 5/19/13

5/19/13 - 5/26/13

5/26/13 - 6/2/13

6/2/13 - 6/9/13

6/9/13 - 6/16/13

6/16/13 - 6/23/13

6/23/13 - 6/30/13

6/30/13 - 7/7/13

7/7/13 - 7/14/13

7/14/13 - 7/21/13

7/21/13 - 7/28/13

7/28/13 - 8/4/13

8/4/13 - 8/11/13

8/11/13 - 8/18/13

8/18/13 - 8/25/13

8/25/13 - 9/1/13

9/1/13 - 9/8/13

9/8/13 - 9/15/13

9/15/13 - 9/22/13

9/22/13 - 9/29/13

9/29/13 - 10/6/13

10/6/13 - 10/13/13

10/13/13 - 10/20/13

10/20/13 - 10/27/13

10/27/13 - 11/3/13

11/3/13 - 11/10/13

11/10/13 - 11/17/13

11/17/13 - 11/24/13

11/24/13 - 12/1/13

12/1/13 - 12/8/13

12/8/13 - 12/15/13

12/15/13 - 12/22/13

12/22/13 - 12/29/13

12/29/13 - 1/5/14

1/5/14 - 1/12/14

1/12/14 - 1/19/14

1/19/14 - 1/26/14

1/26/14 - 2/2/14

2/2/14 - 2/9/14

2/9/14 - 2/16/14

2/16/14 - 2/23/14

2/23/14 - 3/2/14

3/2/14 - 3/9/14

3/9/14 - 3/16/14

3/16/14 - 3/23/14

3/23/14 - 3/30/14

3/30/14 - 4/6/14

4/6/14 - 4/13/14

4/13/14 - 4/20/14

4/20/14 - 4/27/14

4/27/14 - 5/4/14

5/4/14 - 5/11/14

5/11/14 - 5/18/14

5/18/14 - 5/25/14

5/25/14 - 6/1/14

6/1/14 - 6/8/14

6/8/14 - 6/15/14

6/15/14 - 6/22/14

6/22/14 - 6/29/14

6/29/14 - 7/6/14

7/6/14 - 7/13/14

7/13/14 - 7/20/14

7/20/14 - 7/27/14

7/27/14 - 8/3/14

8/3/14 - 8/10/14

8/10/14 - 8/17/14

8/17/14 - 8/24/14

8/24/14 - 8/31/14

8/31/14 - 9/7/14

9/7/14 - 9/14/14

9/14/14 - 9/21/14

9/21/14 - 9/28/14

9/28/14 - 10/5/14

10/5/14 - 10/12/14

10/12/14 - 10/19/14

10/19/14 - 10/26/14

10/26/14 - 11/2/14

11/2/14 - 11/9/14

11/9/14 - 11/16/14

11/16/14 - 11/23/14

11/23/14 - 11/30/14

11/30/14 - 12/7/14

12/7/14 - 12/14/14

12/14/14 - 12/21/14

12/21/14 - 12/28/14

12/28/14 - 1/4/15

1/4/15 - 1/11/15

1/11/15 - 1/18/15

1/18/15 - 1/25/15

1/25/15 - 2/1/15

2/1/15 - 2/8/15

2/8/15 - 2/15/15

2/15/15 - 2/22/15

2/22/15 - 3/1/15

3/1/15 - 3/8/15

3/8/15 - 3/15/15

3/15/15 - 3/22/15

3/22/15 - 3/29/15

3/29/15 - 4/5/15

4/5/15 - 4/12/15

4/12/15 - 4/19/15

4/19/15 - 4/26/15

4/26/15 - 5/3/15

5/3/15 - 5/10/15

5/10/15 - 5/17/15

5/17/15 - 5/24/15

5/24/15 - 5/31/15

5/31/15 - 6/7/15

6/7/15 - 6/14/15

6/14/15 - 6/21/15

6/21/15 - 6/28/15

6/28/15 - 7/5/15

7/5/15 - 7/12/15

7/12/15 - 7/19/15

7/19/15 - 7/26/15

7/26/15 - 8/2/15

8/2/15 - 8/9/15

8/9/15 - 8/16/15

8/16/15 - 8/23/15

8/23/15 - 8/30/15

8/30/15 - 9/6/15

9/6/15 - 9/13/15

9/13/15 - 9/20/15

9/20/15 - 9/27/15

9/27/15 - 10/4/15

10/4/15 - 10/11/15

10/18/15 - 10/25/15

10/25/15 - 11/1/15

11/1/15 - 11/8/15

11/8/15 - 11/15/15

11/15/15 - 11/22/15

11/22/15 - 11/29/15

11/29/15 - 12/6/15

12/6/15 - 12/13/15

12/13/15 - 12/20/15

12/20/15 - 12/27/15

12/27/15 - 1/3/16

1/3/16 - 1/10/16

1/10/16 - 1/17/16

1/31/16 - 2/7/16

2/7/16 - 2/14/16

2/14/16 - 2/21/16

2/21/16 - 2/28/16

2/28/16 - 3/6/16

3/6/16 - 3/13/16

3/13/16 - 3/20/16

3/20/16 - 3/27/16

3/27/16 - 4/3/16

4/3/16 - 4/10/16

4/10/16 - 4/17/16

4/17/16 - 4/24/16

4/24/16 - 5/1/16

5/1/16 - 5/8/16

5/8/16 - 5/15/16

5/15/16 - 5/22/16

5/22/16 - 5/29/16

5/29/16 - 6/5/16

6/5/16 - 6/12/16

6/12/16 - 6/19/16

6/19/16 - 6/26/16

6/26/16 - 7/3/16

7/3/16 - 7/10/16

7/10/16 - 7/17/16

7/17/16 - 7/24/16

7/24/16 - 7/31/16

7/31/16 - 8/7/16

8/7/16 - 8/14/16

8/14/16 - 8/21/16

8/21/16 - 8/28/16

8/28/16 - 9/4/16

9/4/16 - 9/11/16

9/11/16 - 9/18/16

9/18/16 - 9/25/16

9/25/16 - 10/2/16

10/2/16 - 10/9/16

10/9/16 - 10/16/16

10/16/16 - 10/23/16

10/23/16 - 10/30/16

10/30/16 - 11/6/16

11/6/16 - 11/13/16

11/13/16 - 11/20/16

11/20/16 - 11/27/16

11/27/16 - 12/4/16

12/4/16 - 12/11/16

12/11/16 - 12/18/16

12/18/16 - 12/25/16

12/25/16 - 1/1/17

1/1/17 - 1/8/17

1/8/17 - 1/15/17

1/15/17 - 1/22/17

1/22/17 - 1/29/17

1/29/17 - 2/5/17

2/5/17 - 2/12/17

2/12/17 - 2/19/17

2/19/17 - 2/26/17

2/26/17 - 3/5/17

3/5/17 - 3/12/17

3/12/17 - 3/19/17

3/19/17 - 3/26/17

3/26/17 - 4/2/17

4/2/17 - 4/9/17

4/9/17 - 4/16/17

4/16/17 - 4/23/17

4/23/17 - 4/30/17

4/30/17 - 5/7/17

5/7/17 - 5/14/17

5/14/17 - 5/21/17

5/21/17 - 5/28/17

5/28/17 - 6/4/17

6/4/17 - 6/11/17

6/11/17 - 6/18/17

6/18/17 - 6/25/17

6/25/17 - 7/2/17

7/2/17 - 7/9/17

7/9/17 - 7/16/17

7/16/17 - 7/23/17