Which is to say, I have left the Blogger. And moved to Wordpress.
It's grown-up time, kids.
http://www.abbyjaye.com
See you there :)
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Oh My Goodness Oh My Goodness
Well hey!
Here I am, rounding into my fourth (!) week in New York, and I haven't made it out here to B-Spot to give the comprehensive, all-too-detailed overview of LIFE. When I see funny things, I try to remember them and/or write them down so I can post them here, but then I go back to my real and imagined lists and decide no, that is neither interesting nor funny, get distracted, and play facebook scrabble instead.
But not tonight! Tonight I do it, in modified list form. I am going to try to be somewhat chrono- and otherwise logical, but y'all know that isn't always how things roll when things roll out of my head. So anyway, I give you...
The Non-conclusive Not Quite One Month Transitional Update
[ed note: this does not mean there will ever be a conclusive, nontransitional update; it merely reflects my living situation and other related Facts Of Life]
::ahem::
I have a summer cold, so the ::ahem:: is not to get your attention. I really am clearing my throat.
::ahem::
CURRENT APARTMENT: I live on the upper upper east side in the "guest room" of an apartment I am subletting from two hippies (a med school student and his wife) I have never met. My co-subletters (Tiffany, Brittany) have me them. Sweas and Noel have met one of them. I have not. This actually works to my imagination's advantage, as the picture I build of them gets funnier and funnier with each passing discovery:
- No TV? Doable: I know hippies at this level, and there is internet.
- No nuker? Um, ok. I don't know hippies at this level, but no big deal.
- No toaster oven? WHY? No, seriously, what statement does this make?
- Leftover pot brownies-and-pan in the oven two weeks after vacating? Riiight, brilliant.
- Vacuum cleaner full of hair? Gross! Did your mother teach you nothing?
- Ecofriendly soap? Does not clean dishes.
- Secret stash of disposable cups? LIARS.
I guess this adds up to a picture of two hairless, baked, smart people who eat a lot of cold food, or food that is unevenly heated in their scratched nonstick saucepan.
Anyway, them's the real tenants. Tiffany lives here with me and heads off to her boyfriend's place every now and then, between episodes of Sex and the City on DVD. Brittany I have not met, and she has never spent a night here, which means that somewhere, her boyfriend's roommates really hate her. I'll just leave it at that.
Obviously, I have two more roommates, furry ones, and they are vaguely insane as ever. Sleeping in a twin bed (standard, not XL, wow) does not stop Bear from needing to be rightnexttome all night, except for the parts where she stands up and YELLS AT ME. Lily cries for us to turn the sink on and keeps to herself in an I-hate-you-for-this way until she desperately needs to put her face on my face and then all sins are forgiven. I have tried explaining that we are moving again soon, but Tiffany just looks at me like I'm crazy. Related: I talk to my cats. I always thought I didn't (at least, not beyond saying hello and goodbye on my way in and out of the apartment), but in the somewhat constant presence of other people, I have found that I do. This is pretty mortifying, as it adds water to the theory that I am a crazy old lady. And by theory, I mean cold, hard fact. Speaking of which, Tiffany recently explained some idiosyncrasy of her boyfriend's by saying, "he's older." Which is to say, he is 24.
Also, I make coffee in the mornings. Because I have vowed not to spend any money at Starbucks. This provides the loophole through which I can acquire coffee other places in the mornings when I need to (usually after a hot commute at the place closest to my office on mornings I didn't have any at home), but ensures that I do not spend $4 on it. $1.50 is way more reasonable. This is an exceedingly boring fact.
APARTMENT OF THE FUTURE: September 1!
Noel!
Reinhardt!
Self!
Financial district!
Big enough to throw parties in!
Stairs involved within apartment (what will the cats do?! They have never seen stairs (in my presence))!
Two bathrooms!
Close to subway!
Hilariously high ceilings!
Well-priced!
Needless to say, we are pleased: I, to have somewhere to go that isn't this dorm room and to have actual room for all, and I mean all, of the things currently awaiting movers back in 60657; Reinhardt to not have to take a bus to get to the subway; Noel to have a real apartment that he can show people and enjoy being in! Hooray (is my favorite word to see written these days).
THINGS THAT HAVE MADE ME LAUGH IN THE PAST THREE WEEKS:
- Pam Hair. In her MySpace blog, Jenna Fischer, Emmy-nominated ::ahem:: star of The Office on NBC, once said that the only downside of going back to shoot new seasons of the office is Pam Hair. Pam Hair is notable for its dual nature, almost like a mullet: combed and sleek in the front, formless frizz in the back/bottom. You can see both sides of Pam Hair in this handy visual aid:
See how the "curls" differentiate from the front? It's artwork. And let me tell you, it is big in the tourist community. I had no idea America loved Pam so much! In midtown Manhattan, where my office is and where many hotels and tourist attractions are located, Pam Hair is everywhere. So are unironic fanny packs, but Pam Hair is everywhere! I love it.
- Bad Boy Entertainment. Y'all, Diddy has a building. A building, with Bad Boy Entertainment on the awning! I had no idea! I laughed when I passed it. I can't find a picture of it, but it's there. We can walk by when you visit me.
- Karaoke. Holy crap, have you ever karaoke'd? Because I had not. Really, I had not--I had attended many events wherein others karaoke'd, I had sung along with just about everything in every conceivable public arena, but I kept my distance from actual karaoke. That was dumb. Apparently it is something MZ does every weekend, and it is something I, unsurprisingly, enjoy. You should hear me do "Rehab," for serious. The downside of karaoke is that I sound like a hungover sorority girl for the following four to five days. It has been suggested that I capitalize on those days by working as an at-home phone sex operator at night, but I'm pretty sure I am going to pass on that. Anyway it is hard to not laugh when karaokeing, particularly when karaokeing something like "Everyone's A Little Bit Racist" with your brother. Oh, how I'll miss him.
- PROTECT THE GRID. This is what New Yorkers are supposed to do when it is really hot outside. The grid is the electrical grid. They want 8 million people to turn down their AC units when they can (and keep them at not QUITE so freezing temps when they can't) and unplug their stuff and do other generally thoughtful, conserving things. I just get a kick out of the fact that it is called PROTECTING THE GRID, which makes me think that grid terrorists are out there and we must use our torches and pitchforks and link arms to PROTECT IT! I expressed this thought to my coworkers at our department meeting today and was generally met with stares of, "new girl is crazy but I like her dress." On a related note, I work with all women and gay men, and it is great.
- Hot Pants. Hot Pants is a person. He is the star of the weekly dodgeball games that take place here. When I saw him, he was not actually wearing hot pants; he was wearing knee-length athletic shorts. This was disappointing. But just a few games in, he took them off, and to the delight of Reinhardt, self, Reinhardt's straight male roommate and Reinhardt's gay male coworker, was wearing this:
What a commitment to waxing! And tooth-bleaching! And dodgeball! Hours of entertainment and hilarity there, tell ya what. They were real short in the back.
- Flight of the Conchords. See it. Seriously.
- Blogs. Not mine. Others. They are really funny sometimes! One recently coined the word "Ruddaissance" regarding Paul Rudd. The Ruddaissance began with Wet Hot American Summer, did you know that? I cannot find this blog now, but maybe I will track it down in a few days.
- People watching. Y'all, it is 90+ degrees and hipsters are still wearing black knee socks with their keds. Do you know how hot and stinky those hipster feet must be? Scene is PAIN. Teenage tourists wear their MOST FASHIONABLE outfits to walk around midtown, and this has included UGGs. For serious. Yesterday there was a woman on the six wearing a clearly repurposed bridesmaid dress. To work. Light green satin.
MISCELLANY
- I am learning how to use Tessitura and WealthEngine. After 2+ years of telling people to use these things, it is somewhat surreal to be faced with them myself.
- Bumble & bumble is a terrifying place with glorious hair products. I am scared of them, but not of their normal hair curl creme.
- East-west blocks are always longer than you think they will be.
- Today I saw a woman with a scrunchy on her wrist on the subway. It matched her dress. She did not seem like a tourist.
- for Megan: when it rains, everyone wears galoshes. I am so glad they made it.
- I went to the planetarium with Levin! It is still great. It would have been better if the corned beef sandwiches we got afterwards hadn't averaged out to $18 each. I ate the leftover corned beef for four days.
- I have mentioned facebook scrabble already. I will mention it again. It is my saving grace in these days without teevee, even though I suck at it.
- Weeds and Big Love on DVD = also my saving grace.
- Not my saving grace but related: I listen to a lot of talk radio now (while getting dressed, while falling asleep), and I hate it (sorry Mom, MZ, various and sundry family members who talk about talk radio too much). But I do always know which baseball teams won, and I know what delusional yankee conservatives sound like now! Educational all around.
AND FINALLY
The transitional phase goes into its final throes on August 23, when I come back to Chicago to play with visiting and staying friends and to move out of the ol' 535 on Saturday morning. Odds are high that I will cry. Odds are equally high, however, that the weekend will be awesome. So if you are one of those broke-ass punks who I will never see again because you will never buy a plane ticket to New York Austin Bainard Harvey, I'd best see you that weekend.
I've said it a'fore and I'll say it again: Someday some sense of normalcy will return and blog posts will be less informative and more... dorkness-as-usual. Until then, just the facts, kids.
Here I am, rounding into my fourth (!) week in New York, and I haven't made it out here to B-Spot to give the comprehensive, all-too-detailed overview of LIFE. When I see funny things, I try to remember them and/or write them down so I can post them here, but then I go back to my real and imagined lists and decide no, that is neither interesting nor funny, get distracted, and play facebook scrabble instead.
But not tonight! Tonight I do it, in modified list form. I am going to try to be somewhat chrono- and otherwise logical, but y'all know that isn't always how things roll when things roll out of my head. So anyway, I give you...
The Non-conclusive Not Quite One Month Transitional Update
[ed note: this does not mean there will ever be a conclusive, nontransitional update; it merely reflects my living situation and other related Facts Of Life]
::ahem::
I have a summer cold, so the ::ahem:: is not to get your attention. I really am clearing my throat.
::ahem::
CURRENT APARTMENT: I live on the upper upper east side in the "guest room" of an apartment I am subletting from two hippies (a med school student and his wife) I have never met. My co-subletters (Tiffany, Brittany) have me them. Sweas and Noel have met one of them. I have not. This actually works to my imagination's advantage, as the picture I build of them gets funnier and funnier with each passing discovery:
- No TV? Doable: I know hippies at this level, and there is internet.
- No nuker? Um, ok. I don't know hippies at this level, but no big deal.
- No toaster oven? WHY? No, seriously, what statement does this make?
- Leftover pot brownies-and-pan in the oven two weeks after vacating? Riiight, brilliant.
- Vacuum cleaner full of hair? Gross! Did your mother teach you nothing?
- Ecofriendly soap? Does not clean dishes.
- Secret stash of disposable cups? LIARS.
I guess this adds up to a picture of two hairless, baked, smart people who eat a lot of cold food, or food that is unevenly heated in their scratched nonstick saucepan.
Anyway, them's the real tenants. Tiffany lives here with me and heads off to her boyfriend's place every now and then, between episodes of Sex and the City on DVD. Brittany I have not met, and she has never spent a night here, which means that somewhere, her boyfriend's roommates really hate her. I'll just leave it at that.
Obviously, I have two more roommates, furry ones, and they are vaguely insane as ever. Sleeping in a twin bed (standard, not XL, wow) does not stop Bear from needing to be rightnexttome all night, except for the parts where she stands up and YELLS AT ME. Lily cries for us to turn the sink on and keeps to herself in an I-hate-you-for-this way until she desperately needs to put her face on my face and then all sins are forgiven. I have tried explaining that we are moving again soon, but Tiffany just looks at me like I'm crazy. Related: I talk to my cats. I always thought I didn't (at least, not beyond saying hello and goodbye on my way in and out of the apartment), but in the somewhat constant presence of other people, I have found that I do. This is pretty mortifying, as it adds water to the theory that I am a crazy old lady. And by theory, I mean cold, hard fact. Speaking of which, Tiffany recently explained some idiosyncrasy of her boyfriend's by saying, "he's older." Which is to say, he is 24.
Also, I make coffee in the mornings. Because I have vowed not to spend any money at Starbucks. This provides the loophole through which I can acquire coffee other places in the mornings when I need to (usually after a hot commute at the place closest to my office on mornings I didn't have any at home), but ensures that I do not spend $4 on it. $1.50 is way more reasonable. This is an exceedingly boring fact.
APARTMENT OF THE FUTURE: September 1!
Noel!
Reinhardt!
Self!
Financial district!
Big enough to throw parties in!
Stairs involved within apartment (what will the cats do?! They have never seen stairs (in my presence))!
Two bathrooms!
Close to subway!
Hilariously high ceilings!
Well-priced!
Needless to say, we are pleased: I, to have somewhere to go that isn't this dorm room and to have actual room for all, and I mean all, of the things currently awaiting movers back in 60657; Reinhardt to not have to take a bus to get to the subway; Noel to have a real apartment that he can show people and enjoy being in! Hooray (is my favorite word to see written these days).
THINGS THAT HAVE MADE ME LAUGH IN THE PAST THREE WEEKS:
- Pam Hair. In her MySpace blog, Jenna Fischer, Emmy-nominated ::ahem:: star of The Office on NBC, once said that the only downside of going back to shoot new seasons of the office is Pam Hair. Pam Hair is notable for its dual nature, almost like a mullet: combed and sleek in the front, formless frizz in the back/bottom. You can see both sides of Pam Hair in this handy visual aid:
See how the "curls" differentiate from the front? It's artwork. And let me tell you, it is big in the tourist community. I had no idea America loved Pam so much! In midtown Manhattan, where my office is and where many hotels and tourist attractions are located, Pam Hair is everywhere. So are unironic fanny packs, but Pam Hair is everywhere! I love it.
- Bad Boy Entertainment. Y'all, Diddy has a building. A building, with Bad Boy Entertainment on the awning! I had no idea! I laughed when I passed it. I can't find a picture of it, but it's there. We can walk by when you visit me.
- Karaoke. Holy crap, have you ever karaoke'd? Because I had not. Really, I had not--I had attended many events wherein others karaoke'd, I had sung along with just about everything in every conceivable public arena, but I kept my distance from actual karaoke. That was dumb. Apparently it is something MZ does every weekend, and it is something I, unsurprisingly, enjoy. You should hear me do "Rehab," for serious. The downside of karaoke is that I sound like a hungover sorority girl for the following four to five days. It has been suggested that I capitalize on those days by working as an at-home phone sex operator at night, but I'm pretty sure I am going to pass on that. Anyway it is hard to not laugh when karaokeing, particularly when karaokeing something like "Everyone's A Little Bit Racist" with your brother. Oh, how I'll miss him.
- PROTECT THE GRID. This is what New Yorkers are supposed to do when it is really hot outside. The grid is the electrical grid. They want 8 million people to turn down their AC units when they can (and keep them at not QUITE so freezing temps when they can't) and unplug their stuff and do other generally thoughtful, conserving things. I just get a kick out of the fact that it is called PROTECTING THE GRID, which makes me think that grid terrorists are out there and we must use our torches and pitchforks and link arms to PROTECT IT! I expressed this thought to my coworkers at our department meeting today and was generally met with stares of, "new girl is crazy but I like her dress." On a related note, I work with all women and gay men, and it is great.
- Hot Pants. Hot Pants is a person. He is the star of the weekly dodgeball games that take place here. When I saw him, he was not actually wearing hot pants; he was wearing knee-length athletic shorts. This was disappointing. But just a few games in, he took them off, and to the delight of Reinhardt, self, Reinhardt's straight male roommate and Reinhardt's gay male coworker, was wearing this:
What a commitment to waxing! And tooth-bleaching! And dodgeball! Hours of entertainment and hilarity there, tell ya what. They were real short in the back.
- Flight of the Conchords. See it. Seriously.
- Blogs. Not mine. Others. They are really funny sometimes! One recently coined the word "Ruddaissance" regarding Paul Rudd. The Ruddaissance began with Wet Hot American Summer, did you know that? I cannot find this blog now, but maybe I will track it down in a few days.
- People watching. Y'all, it is 90+ degrees and hipsters are still wearing black knee socks with their keds. Do you know how hot and stinky those hipster feet must be? Scene is PAIN. Teenage tourists wear their MOST FASHIONABLE outfits to walk around midtown, and this has included UGGs. For serious. Yesterday there was a woman on the six wearing a clearly repurposed bridesmaid dress. To work. Light green satin.
MISCELLANY
- I am learning how to use Tessitura and WealthEngine. After 2+ years of telling people to use these things, it is somewhat surreal to be faced with them myself.
- Bumble & bumble is a terrifying place with glorious hair products. I am scared of them, but not of their normal hair curl creme.
- East-west blocks are always longer than you think they will be.
- Today I saw a woman with a scrunchy on her wrist on the subway. It matched her dress. She did not seem like a tourist.
- for Megan: when it rains, everyone wears galoshes. I am so glad they made it.
- I went to the planetarium with Levin! It is still great. It would have been better if the corned beef sandwiches we got afterwards hadn't averaged out to $18 each. I ate the leftover corned beef for four days.
- I have mentioned facebook scrabble already. I will mention it again. It is my saving grace in these days without teevee, even though I suck at it.
- Weeds and Big Love on DVD = also my saving grace.
- Not my saving grace but related: I listen to a lot of talk radio now (while getting dressed, while falling asleep), and I hate it (sorry Mom, MZ, various and sundry family members who talk about talk radio too much). But I do always know which baseball teams won, and I know what delusional yankee conservatives sound like now! Educational all around.
AND FINALLY
The transitional phase goes into its final throes on August 23, when I come back to Chicago to play with visiting and staying friends and to move out of the ol' 535 on Saturday morning. Odds are high that I will cry. Odds are equally high, however, that the weekend will be awesome. So if you are one of those broke-ass punks who I will never see again because you will never buy a plane ticket to New York Austin Bainard Harvey, I'd best see you that weekend.
I've said it a'fore and I'll say it again: Someday some sense of normalcy will return and blog posts will be less informative and more... dorkness-as-usual. Until then, just the facts, kids.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
In the City of Exploding Pipes
Hello! I moved to New York. There is a lot to say (about flying with cats (DON'T, at least not with mine), about the dorm room I live in and the hippies I'm subletting from, about my co-subletter Tiffany and her darling Boston accent, about my new jobjob, about all the stories I've heard about Patti LuPone in the last three days, about having no sense of direction, about learning how to wear big girl shoes), but for now, I will leave you with this excerpt from an email I just wrote to the future Mrs. Krameador, who sent me the following: "Did you get a panicked phone call from your mom after the steam pipe explosion yesterday? Is she ready to pack you up and move you back to chicago, or your basement at home?"
My reply:
Both Mom and Jessica commented that they were glad I was hanging out with Morgan last night, because somehow that meant I wasn't trapped in some asbestos-laden downpour of mud and 100-year-old concrete. Not sure where the logic is in that, but whatever.
Anyway I had no idea it had happened till Morgan and I went to leave this Discovery Channel party we were at (Mike Rowe of Dirty Jobs = INCREDIBLY short, but still quite hand- and awesome. Stacey London = My Everything) and he tried to check his voicemail and accidentally called Mom, who gave us the lowdown. And then we got on the M23 and I rode all the way to Park from Chelsea Piers only to find that the 4/5/6 was not going anywhere, and the guy at the station said I should take the M23 back to the 1/2/3 or the A/C/E or something uptown (I do not know the west side yet) and then take the M86 and then get on the 4/5/6 at 86th for one stop. To which I replied, "no." And then I paid $14 for a ride home.
If it weren't 10:00 and if I weren't toting a bottle of shark-themed wine and a shark week tshirt and shark cookies (!) I would have done it, but I'd been wearing heels for three days and a dress for more hours than is common for me, so I was in no mood to re-ride the same bus. And from my cab on Madison I got to look east down the high-30s, low-40s streets that had been evacuated, so that was cool/exploitative and gawky of me. I am very glad I do not live in that area right now. I am also very glad I am not a tourist at a hotel in that area right now. Also, I am glad I am not dead/in the hospital, for the record.
More soon!
My reply:
Both Mom and Jessica commented that they were glad I was hanging out with Morgan last night, because somehow that meant I wasn't trapped in some asbestos-laden downpour of mud and 100-year-old concrete. Not sure where the logic is in that, but whatever.
Anyway I had no idea it had happened till Morgan and I went to leave this Discovery Channel party we were at (Mike Rowe of Dirty Jobs = INCREDIBLY short, but still quite hand- and awesome. Stacey London = My Everything) and he tried to check his voicemail and accidentally called Mom, who gave us the lowdown. And then we got on the M23 and I rode all the way to Park from Chelsea Piers only to find that the 4/5/6 was not going anywhere, and the guy at the station said I should take the M23 back to the 1/2/3 or the A/C/E or something uptown (I do not know the west side yet) and then take the M86 and then get on the 4/5/6 at 86th for one stop. To which I replied, "no." And then I paid $14 for a ride home.
If it weren't 10:00 and if I weren't toting a bottle of shark-themed wine and a shark week tshirt and shark cookies (!) I would have done it, but I'd been wearing heels for three days and a dress for more hours than is common for me, so I was in no mood to re-ride the same bus. And from my cab on Madison I got to look east down the high-30s, low-40s streets that had been evacuated, so that was cool/exploitative and gawky of me. I am very glad I do not live in that area right now. I am also very glad I am not a tourist at a hotel in that area right now. Also, I am glad I am not dead/in the hospital, for the record.
More soon!
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Ch-ch-ch-Changes!
Hello, friends!
I have been gone a while. Some funny things have happened, some boring things have happened. Mostly what has happened was me getting a job at this place, which is not in this city, so I am moving to New York. Tomorrow. With the cats. If you do not know this by now, clearly you stumbled onto this blog by mistake. On Monday morning, the cats and I move into a summer sublet with some girls named Tiffany & Brittany, and in six weeks, I'll come back to Chicago to meet some nice movers who will bring my things to a slightly more permanent home, a Three's Company lovenest with Miss Reinhardt and actor and improv master Winston Noel. (I just did that so when he Googles himself he'll find it. Well heeeey!)
Anyway, here is what will likely happen: Once I get settled later this week I will write a long email and/or blog post about my AWESOMELY EXCITING NEW LIFE in which I work for a nonprofit and live in a closet, letting Time Out New York's The Cheap Issue dictate all of my purchases.
So that is that. I am very excited and more than a little nervous. Traveling with the cats tomorrow will be an adventure of its own. But you know, one step at a time. The things that are the hardest are the things worth doing. Insert cliche here.
See you in Eastern time...
I have been gone a while. Some funny things have happened, some boring things have happened. Mostly what has happened was me getting a job at this place, which is not in this city, so I am moving to New York. Tomorrow. With the cats. If you do not know this by now, clearly you stumbled onto this blog by mistake. On Monday morning, the cats and I move into a summer sublet with some girls named Tiffany & Brittany, and in six weeks, I'll come back to Chicago to meet some nice movers who will bring my things to a slightly more permanent home, a Three's Company lovenest with Miss Reinhardt and actor and improv master Winston Noel. (I just did that so when he Googles himself he'll find it. Well heeeey!)
Anyway, here is what will likely happen: Once I get settled later this week I will write a long email and/or blog post about my AWESOMELY EXCITING NEW LIFE in which I work for a nonprofit and live in a closet, letting Time Out New York's The Cheap Issue dictate all of my purchases.
So that is that. I am very excited and more than a little nervous. Traveling with the cats tomorrow will be an adventure of its own. But you know, one step at a time. The things that are the hardest are the things worth doing. Insert cliche here.
See you in Eastern time...
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
The Internets Are Full Of Love!
I just received the following comment, from Anonymous, on a nine-month-old blog post:
"I stumbled...literally across this blog and realized that you had absolutely nothing worthwhile to say....why bother? Do you need to be heard or known? Is it that you think this will be an adequate substitute for the fame/notoriety you will never have? Why?"
I love the ellipses (y'all know nothing makes me happier than ellipses). I love that s/he can't decide whether it's fame or notoriety that I'll never have.
Here are my suspects:
1) Angry exboyfriend. Look, they're out there. Maybe one of them came out of the woodwork to try to make me feel bad about myself?
2) Miscellaneous angryperson who stumbled...literally across a nine-month-old blog post. I would like to have seen that literal stumble. What happens when you trip on the Internet? Is there an Internet floor to hit if you can't catch yourself? Can someone with Internet know-how fill me in?
3) Internet Crusader! This person goes from Blogger to LiveJournal, from Xanga to Rotten Tomatoes, from TypePad to WordPress, bestowing his/her anonymous guidance upon the disillusioned, the wandering, those who seem to seek fame/notoriety they will never have. This person has a lot of free time, a lot of determination, and is surprisingly optimistic (which you gotta be if you're gonna crusade against pointlessness on the Internet which, I dunno if you noticed, is chock full of it).
"People say she's crazy" will have been around in some form for five years next month. It's had its ups and downs, its periods of neglect and self-indulgence. It was green for a while. I've gotten some meanie comments in the past, and I continue to not really care. I mean the four of you who read this get a smile once in a blue moon, yes?
Also if s/he'd taken the time to see my latest entry, s/he would have seen my thoughts on everyone's quest for fame.
Anyway, to answer your probing questions, mysteryperson:
To quote Ben Folds, "Because I want to."
No.
Huh? I think you just made something up.
To quote Ben Folds again (same song, next line), "I really, really want to."
"I stumbled...literally across this blog and realized that you had absolutely nothing worthwhile to say....why bother? Do you need to be heard or known? Is it that you think this will be an adequate substitute for the fame/notoriety you will never have? Why?"
I love the ellipses (y'all know nothing makes me happier than ellipses). I love that s/he can't decide whether it's fame or notoriety that I'll never have.
Here are my suspects:
1) Angry exboyfriend. Look, they're out there. Maybe one of them came out of the woodwork to try to make me feel bad about myself?
2) Miscellaneous angryperson who stumbled...literally across a nine-month-old blog post. I would like to have seen that literal stumble. What happens when you trip on the Internet? Is there an Internet floor to hit if you can't catch yourself? Can someone with Internet know-how fill me in?
3) Internet Crusader! This person goes from Blogger to LiveJournal, from Xanga to Rotten Tomatoes, from TypePad to WordPress, bestowing his/her anonymous guidance upon the disillusioned, the wandering, those who seem to seek fame/notoriety they will never have. This person has a lot of free time, a lot of determination, and is surprisingly optimistic (which you gotta be if you're gonna crusade against pointlessness on the Internet which, I dunno if you noticed, is chock full of it).
"People say she's crazy" will have been around in some form for five years next month. It's had its ups and downs, its periods of neglect and self-indulgence. It was green for a while. I've gotten some meanie comments in the past, and I continue to not really care. I mean the four of you who read this get a smile once in a blue moon, yes?
Also if s/he'd taken the time to see my latest entry, s/he would have seen my thoughts on everyone's quest for fame.
Anyway, to answer your probing questions, mysteryperson:
To quote Ben Folds, "Because I want to."
No.
Huh? I think you just made something up.
To quote Ben Folds again (same song, next line), "I really, really want to."
Friday, May 04, 2007
One in a Million
Allison emailed me a very interesting question this morning: "Why don't we get paid to review TV shows?" She also sent along links to today's EW.com reviews of last night's episodes of The Office and Grey's Anatomy, both of which were extended (the episodes, not the reviews. Well actually, maybe both.).
My answer, the only one I can think of and the one I'm pretty sure is 100 percent correct, is as follows:
"Because everybody in the world wants to."
And I don't think she was asking it because those reviews are bad. As a matter of fact, they're pretty spot-on and not unclever. What's remarkable about them is that yeah, I could have written them. She could have written them. We watch, we know the jokes, the connections to previous episodes. More important, we know the conventions of that addictive combination of Web-based humor and mass media. So when you add all of that to well-above-par writing skills, what's the problem? Why isn't TWOP banging down my door?
My answer, this time in three parts, is once again as follows:
Part One: In Which I Blame A Lack of Connections
I have very fake blog-to-blog-to-real-life links to one or two TWOP writers through Miss Doxie, but for serious, I got nothing. A friend recently told me that she was the only person she knew in her undergraduate career who didn't have some "in" at the college she attended and in the exclusive groups she was a part of. An Ivy League fluke somewhere between the scholarships and the legacies, and that she was still getting over this, four years into her professional career. The key word in this one is fluke. You can't break into something new without an in. This is old news, but it's truer than ever.
Part Two: In Which I Blame Society
Ok, this is where my research department would pick up the slack for me (in the universe where I have a research department). Someone recently (last three years) wrote a book/article/essay/rant about how "kids" today (those thirty and under) all think they're special and on track for fame fame fame, and all totally wrong about this.
Aside: I would not be lying if I said I may have seen this on the Today Show, where Matt and Meredith (possibly Katie, depending on dates) nodded their heads while the little wheels inside churned out well obviously not my kids, my kids are special!
The point is, whoever wrote/ranted about this is right. There are too many of us in the first place, and too many of us think we are the greatest thing since Justin Timberlake, and upwards of than 99 percent of us aren't even up to par with an unsliced loaf, much less JT.
It reminds me of Joe Epstein's 2002 op-ed piece in the New York Times, "Think You Have a Book in You? Think Again," the one that boiled my 19-year-old blood so much that I looked him up on the NU directory and shot him an email, which was probably dumb considering I was banking my entire college career on getting into the Creative Writing program. You have to have TimesSelect to read it online, but the gist is that everybody (81 percent of Americans) thinks he or she can write a book.
Epstein writes:
"Certainly, it is a democratic notion, suggesting that everybody is as good as everybody else -- and, by extension, one person's story or wisdom is as interesting as the next's. Then there is the equally false notion of creativity that has been instilled in students for too many years. It was Paul Valéry who said that the word ''creation'' has been so overused that even God must be embarrassed to have it attributed to him."
Epstein also makes a brief argument that the drama of religion (the struggle for personal salvation, being unique in God's eyes) took care of an individual's need to be recognized and admired by his or her peers, but that as society secularized, that inner need became an outer one.
Regardless, it's the same story as why I'm not writing TV reviews.. Too many irons in the fire. Too many spoons in the pot. Too many eggs in each poor Web or print publication's basket. Standing up and standing out among the sea of eggs outside each basket is particularly difficult, given the fact that eggs don't have legs, unless they are Sheldon. This metaphor is now over.
Part Three: In Which I Blame Myself
I have a difficult time identifying what I really, truly want. Rather than engaging in self-study or meditation, meeting with people who can help me make these decisions (not you, Mom), or learning how to cut my losses when I aim wrong, I tend to attempt anything and everything that looks remotely appealing. This is how I end up with most of the things in my closet, most notable the shoes and bags that don't get a lot of action and a seemingly infinite quantity of shirts. Shirts shirts shirts. This is how I end up spending a bit too much time with the occasional bad-decision male companion. This is how I end up with many, many types of cereal which I will never eat.
My answer, the only one I can think of and the one I'm pretty sure is 100 percent correct, is as follows:
"Because everybody in the world wants to."
And I don't think she was asking it because those reviews are bad. As a matter of fact, they're pretty spot-on and not unclever. What's remarkable about them is that yeah, I could have written them. She could have written them. We watch, we know the jokes, the connections to previous episodes. More important, we know the conventions of that addictive combination of Web-based humor and mass media. So when you add all of that to well-above-par writing skills, what's the problem? Why isn't TWOP banging down my door?
My answer, this time in three parts, is once again as follows:
Part One: In Which I Blame A Lack of Connections
I have very fake blog-to-blog-to-real-life links to one or two TWOP writers through Miss Doxie, but for serious, I got nothing. A friend recently told me that she was the only person she knew in her undergraduate career who didn't have some "in" at the college she attended and in the exclusive groups she was a part of. An Ivy League fluke somewhere between the scholarships and the legacies, and that she was still getting over this, four years into her professional career. The key word in this one is fluke. You can't break into something new without an in. This is old news, but it's truer than ever.
Part Two: In Which I Blame Society
Ok, this is where my research department would pick up the slack for me (in the universe where I have a research department). Someone recently (last three years) wrote a book/article/essay/rant about how "kids" today (those thirty and under) all think they're special and on track for fame fame fame, and all totally wrong about this.
Aside: I would not be lying if I said I may have seen this on the Today Show, where Matt and Meredith (possibly Katie, depending on dates) nodded their heads while the little wheels inside churned out well obviously not my kids, my kids are special!
The point is, whoever wrote/ranted about this is right. There are too many of us in the first place, and too many of us think we are the greatest thing since Justin Timberlake, and upwards of than 99 percent of us aren't even up to par with an unsliced loaf, much less JT.
It reminds me of Joe Epstein's 2002 op-ed piece in the New York Times, "Think You Have a Book in You? Think Again," the one that boiled my 19-year-old blood so much that I looked him up on the NU directory and shot him an email, which was probably dumb considering I was banking my entire college career on getting into the Creative Writing program. You have to have TimesSelect to read it online, but the gist is that everybody (81 percent of Americans) thinks he or she can write a book.
Epstein writes:
"Certainly, it is a democratic notion, suggesting that everybody is as good as everybody else -- and, by extension, one person's story or wisdom is as interesting as the next's. Then there is the equally false notion of creativity that has been instilled in students for too many years. It was Paul Valéry who said that the word ''creation'' has been so overused that even God must be embarrassed to have it attributed to him."
Epstein also makes a brief argument that the drama of religion (the struggle for personal salvation, being unique in God's eyes) took care of an individual's need to be recognized and admired by his or her peers, but that as society secularized, that inner need became an outer one.
Regardless, it's the same story as why I'm not writing TV reviews.. Too many irons in the fire. Too many spoons in the pot. Too many eggs in each poor Web or print publication's basket. Standing up and standing out among the sea of eggs outside each basket is particularly difficult, given the fact that eggs don't have legs, unless they are Sheldon. This metaphor is now over.
Part Three: In Which I Blame Myself
I have a difficult time identifying what I really, truly want. Rather than engaging in self-study or meditation, meeting with people who can help me make these decisions (not you, Mom), or learning how to cut my losses when I aim wrong, I tend to attempt anything and everything that looks remotely appealing. This is how I end up with most of the things in my closet, most notable the shoes and bags that don't get a lot of action and a seemingly infinite quantity of shirts. Shirts shirts shirts. This is how I end up spending a bit too much time with the occasional bad-decision male companion. This is how I end up with many, many types of cereal which I will never eat.
And, most notably for the purposes of this entry, this is how I end up not writing TV reviews, skits, plays, columns, photo captions, or anything else that might be read outside the confines of this blog. I mean I did do it once. (Good God, those are so dated.) So it's always possible that I'll do it again, I just haven't felt in a place to, know what I mean?
Conclusion
Anyway, I guess I hang out here in my safe corner for a number of reasons. First and foremost, you know where to find me. I mean you found me, right? Also, I get to write whatever I want (see angry Idol recap--and p.s., I downloaded "Bed of Roses" and it is not as good as it used to be, so nevermind) and post pictures of my dad eating a corn dog.
And frankly? 1) This post isn't even that good. I had a lot of thoughts and I didn't bother to put them together too terribly coherently, and 2) A Whole Lotta Nothing is stopping me from writing TV show reviews. In fact, in some not-too-far-in-the-future universe (Em? Dennis?), maybe that's what I'll do. Ain't nobody gonna pay me, but ain't nobody gonna stop me from saying "ain't nobody," neither.
Anyway, I guess I hang out here in my safe corner for a number of reasons. First and foremost, you know where to find me. I mean you found me, right? Also, I get to write whatever I want (see angry Idol recap--and p.s., I downloaded "Bed of Roses" and it is not as good as it used to be, so nevermind) and post pictures of my dad eating a corn dog.
And frankly? 1) This post isn't even that good. I had a lot of thoughts and I didn't bother to put them together too terribly coherently, and 2) A Whole Lotta Nothing is stopping me from writing TV show reviews. In fact, in some not-too-far-in-the-future universe (Em? Dennis?), maybe that's what I'll do. Ain't nobody gonna pay me, but ain't nobody gonna stop me from saying "ain't nobody," neither.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
I LiveBlogged Idol!
The title is kind of a lie. I updated my away message as Idol progressed, until my away message got too long to fit, so I moved here. It was fun and easy. Perhaps I will make this a habit. Please do note that as I was working in away message mode, capitalization and grammar come and go. Anyway, enjoy:
i'd like to think ryan seacrest overdoes the phrase "this is american idol" every week because he knows how awful it is, or there's some bet about how cheesy he can make it, or it's like an ongoing backstage joke.
also new jersey is PISSED about bon jovi's "Philly Soul" tshirt. PISSED.
also also if we are gonna do this bon jovi night, PLEASE GOD SOMEONE SING BED OF ROSES.
well, now we know why phil is still here. but he still looks like an alien.
holy crap jordin is doing livin on a prayer. holy crap. i am more than a little scared. do we think melinda is gonna sing bed of roses?
insensitive comment re: "rock week" to gina, seacrest.
jbj doesn't think jordin has the chops...
come on come on jordin make this wooorrrrk....
okay. acceptable. got a little scary in the middle but she brought it back. also she looked pretty badass.
lakisha, this sounds like it could be a good song choice. however, it is not bed of roses.
MORE SOUL, LAKISHA, MORE SOUL WILL SAVE YOUR ASS
YES YES YES THAT IS WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT THANK YOU, LET US ALL SEE HOW THIS WORKS OUT FOR YOU.
ooh, drunk-clap paula!
randy, in the middle of the song she heard me begging for soul. that is why she got better. doy.
gross, simon, gross.
OH JESUS GOD NO. oh wow, lip gloss.
i hate blake.
i hate blake more than i ever knew i could. glad he's complementing the new dye job with some guyliner.
the only way to not hate blake is to imagine that he is jason bateman doing an impression of a bad bad pop singer.
prediction: simon is horrified.
how does paula know that a twinkle in jon's eye and a flushed face means he's "diggin' it?"
reality: simon was not horrified. OR WAS HE. you'll notice he did not give his own opinion.
CHRIS, PLEASE SING BED OF ROSES.
aww, screw you chris.
"Nasal is a style of singing" when you can't hit the notes.
Though I do kind of like his evil face.
Mostly, this season blows.
"Melinda shows her rock face" makes me think Melinda is not singing Bed of Roses, so I am pissed.
I enjoy Patrick Dempsey's Mazda commercials. He has a nice voice. Did I ever tell you about the client who sounded like him on conference calls who I then met and was in fact a pudgy Indian man? Disappointing, but not as disappointing as the fact that Melinda is not going to be singing bed of roses.
Have a Nice Day is a shitty song. I'm sorry. Melinda, please do better than JBJ does.
Melinda is making quacking noises.
Which is a shame, because girlfriend can sing without quacking. I must say, though, she is rocking the rock thing.
Simon and I have the same sunburn.
OH HOLY GOD WHY IS THE PRESIDENT ON AMERICAN IDOL
Dubya shouts out for Bono. I don't think Bono deserves that.
Phil: Coulda sung Bed of Roses. Similar syllabic content to Blaze of Glory.
Jordin: Ouch, yeah. Everyone's gotta have a bad one.
Lakisha: Wins the night!
Blake: Not worth a recap. Imagine it's Bateman being funny. Just keep trying.
Chris: Is he really still on this show? Really?
Melinda: Ok, I believe the Tina references the judges were tossing around. But I hate that song.
President & Laura: Please leave the show alone.
i'd like to think ryan seacrest overdoes the phrase "this is american idol" every week because he knows how awful it is, or there's some bet about how cheesy he can make it, or it's like an ongoing backstage joke.
also new jersey is PISSED about bon jovi's "Philly Soul" tshirt. PISSED.
also also if we are gonna do this bon jovi night, PLEASE GOD SOMEONE SING BED OF ROSES.
well, now we know why phil is still here. but he still looks like an alien.
holy crap jordin is doing livin on a prayer. holy crap. i am more than a little scared. do we think melinda is gonna sing bed of roses?
insensitive comment re: "rock week" to gina, seacrest.
jbj doesn't think jordin has the chops...
come on come on jordin make this wooorrrrk....
okay. acceptable. got a little scary in the middle but she brought it back. also she looked pretty badass.
lakisha, this sounds like it could be a good song choice. however, it is not bed of roses.
MORE SOUL, LAKISHA, MORE SOUL WILL SAVE YOUR ASS
YES YES YES THAT IS WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT THANK YOU, LET US ALL SEE HOW THIS WORKS OUT FOR YOU.
ooh, drunk-clap paula!
randy, in the middle of the song she heard me begging for soul. that is why she got better. doy.
gross, simon, gross.
OH JESUS GOD NO. oh wow, lip gloss.
i hate blake.
i hate blake more than i ever knew i could. glad he's complementing the new dye job with some guyliner.
the only way to not hate blake is to imagine that he is jason bateman doing an impression of a bad bad pop singer.
prediction: simon is horrified.
how does paula know that a twinkle in jon's eye and a flushed face means he's "diggin' it?"
reality: simon was not horrified. OR WAS HE. you'll notice he did not give his own opinion.
CHRIS, PLEASE SING BED OF ROSES.
aww, screw you chris.
"Nasal is a style of singing" when you can't hit the notes.
Though I do kind of like his evil face.
Mostly, this season blows.
"Melinda shows her rock face" makes me think Melinda is not singing Bed of Roses, so I am pissed.
I enjoy Patrick Dempsey's Mazda commercials. He has a nice voice. Did I ever tell you about the client who sounded like him on conference calls who I then met and was in fact a pudgy Indian man? Disappointing, but not as disappointing as the fact that Melinda is not going to be singing bed of roses.
Have a Nice Day is a shitty song. I'm sorry. Melinda, please do better than JBJ does.
Melinda is making quacking noises.
Which is a shame, because girlfriend can sing without quacking. I must say, though, she is rocking the rock thing.
Simon and I have the same sunburn.
OH HOLY GOD WHY IS THE PRESIDENT ON AMERICAN IDOL
Dubya shouts out for Bono. I don't think Bono deserves that.
Phil: Coulda sung Bed of Roses. Similar syllabic content to Blaze of Glory.
Jordin: Ouch, yeah. Everyone's gotta have a bad one.
Lakisha: Wins the night!
Blake: Not worth a recap. Imagine it's Bateman being funny. Just keep trying.
Chris: Is he really still on this show? Really?
Melinda: Ok, I believe the Tina references the judges were tossing around. But I hate that song.
President & Laura: Please leave the show alone.
Mens on Baseball, or Writers on Books, and by Writers I Mean Me.
It's that time of year again, the time I copy and paste my goodreads reviews into my blog for you to enjoy and to motivate you to go join goodreads and be my friend there. Huzzah! Enjoy!
Eric Schlosser
Fast Food Nation
I mean, you might say this is the book that started it all for me, but I don't think you would be telling the truth entirely. Not that I know what the book is that started it all, but I'm pretty sure this one came a little later.
Regardless, I could read this book over and over again. Even the boring parts. And yes, there are some boring parts. I want to memorize it and preach it to the masses. Fast Food Nation is more educational than anything else, and pretty spectacularly eye-opening. The damage that McDonald's and its competition has done to this country is pretty painful, and painfully obvious when you drive across it or you know, look at its people. I actually thought of Fast Food Nation last night, in the final throes of White Teeth, when Josh Chalfen joins the animal rights group FATE. It made me want to read Fast Food Nation again to remind myself of the UK animal rights activists who've gone after Mickey-D's in the past.
Anyway, it's good, and I don't eat fast food anymore unless it is an emergency or December in Atlanta and Chick-fil-A, because that is in my blood. One of these days I'll actually be a vegetarian and I'll actually avoid patronizing restaurants with bad supply lines (meaning I will have to eat at the 5 Seasons Brewery in Atlanta every meal for the rest of my life. DARN!), but that's a slow process. If there's one thing I've learned in the last three or four years, it's that you can't just up and change anything that falls in the Lifestyle Change file. You have to work it all in and make it part of your life.
And now I am totally off topic. Go read this book.
Joan Didion
The Year of Magical Thinking
I am, ashamedly, not a learned Didion scholar. I know I've read things of hers, but none of them particularly stuck and they were a pretty long time ago, so I didn't exactly know what to expect with The Year of Magical Thinking beyond what I'd been told: you'll cry, it's sad, nothing happens, you'll cry, and the worst part is Quintana died anyway.
Uh, spoiler alert. Too late.
Anyway, it's been a while since I finished this one off, but it was beautiful. The way to state it is really that I enjoyed being a part of Didion's year. I enjoyed living with her and dealing with people with her, and that made the book fascinating. I guess I should get my Didion on now, for serious. More books!
James Frey
A Million Little Pieces
I don't remember when I read this, but I was just wrapping up its sequel, My Friend Leonard, when the shit went down.
And yeah, I felt a little duped, but in the end I didn't care. The plot was so far removed from anything I've ever known in my life that it might as well have been fiction to me. Call me sheltered, prissy, suburban, naive, whatever. Holes in his face, drug-free dentistry, clandestine love in rehab and beyond... it was all a little far-fetched for me to begin with. I didn't approach it looking for answers or guidance or strength through my own trials, so when it came out that much of it was a lie, I didn't demand a refund or flip my shit. It just became Some Novel that I'd read instead of Some Rehab Travelogue that I'd read.
I certainly understand that people who have lived through similar experiences with addiction and rehab themselves or with family members or friends would be livid with Frey. Those looking for a tale of strength and perseverance had every right to be disappointed. It just wasn't ever relevant enough for me, personally, to care.
Michael Chabon
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay
Everyone I know who has read this book has enjoyed it, and everyone I know who has read this book had to start it once, give up, and start over many months later.
I thought it helped that I'd been to Prague between the first time I tried to read it and now, as that's where the story somewhat darkly begins, but thinking back, I'm pretty sure I'd been to Prague before I tried it the first time, too.
Regardless, this time around, I liked it. I particularly enjoyed Sammy, who I didn't feel was as uselessly romanticized as Joe and Rosa and basically everyone else--he was the only one who wasn't a caricature for me. Meanwhile though, the details and the story and the themes are wonderful. Huzzah.
Truman Capote
In Cold Blood
This might be my favorite book. It also might be my mother's favorite book. We are both pretty awesome, so you should probably give this a read if you have not already.
Gerald Clark
Capote
When I said In Cold Blood was my mom's favorite book, I forgot that there was actually a raging battle on her shelf of favorites between In Cold Blood and Capote. Obviously she is someone who likes ol' Truman a lot. Anyway, I agree with her. Capote is fascinating, but you still have to read In Cold Blood first and only see the movie AFTER. Seriously.
Lorrie Moore
Birds of America
Finding tragedy in the everyday is as valuable as finding joy in it, if you ask me (Hugo!), and I rather enjoy her writing. I agree, it is anything but juicy, but there is something tasty in the communion-wafer-dryness of it all. OMG I just said that.
Johnathan Franzen
The Corrections
I learned that this book will F up your ability to read other books for a short period of time because you become so aware of and attached to Alfred, Enid, Chip, Denise and Gary that in the event that the next book you read has even remotely similar characters anywhere in it (see: The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay's Al somebody, one of the publishing guys) you are immediately thinking of the wrong people.
Which is a good thing. I read The Corrections in March and then I read The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay after it, and though K&C was great, I retained way more of The Corrections. And for me, that's a sign of a darn good read.
Eric Schlosser
Fast Food Nation
I mean, you might say this is the book that started it all for me, but I don't think you would be telling the truth entirely. Not that I know what the book is that started it all, but I'm pretty sure this one came a little later.
Regardless, I could read this book over and over again. Even the boring parts. And yes, there are some boring parts. I want to memorize it and preach it to the masses. Fast Food Nation is more educational than anything else, and pretty spectacularly eye-opening. The damage that McDonald's and its competition has done to this country is pretty painful, and painfully obvious when you drive across it or you know, look at its people. I actually thought of Fast Food Nation last night, in the final throes of White Teeth, when Josh Chalfen joins the animal rights group FATE. It made me want to read Fast Food Nation again to remind myself of the UK animal rights activists who've gone after Mickey-D's in the past.
Anyway, it's good, and I don't eat fast food anymore unless it is an emergency or December in Atlanta and Chick-fil-A, because that is in my blood. One of these days I'll actually be a vegetarian and I'll actually avoid patronizing restaurants with bad supply lines (meaning I will have to eat at the 5 Seasons Brewery in Atlanta every meal for the rest of my life. DARN!), but that's a slow process. If there's one thing I've learned in the last three or four years, it's that you can't just up and change anything that falls in the Lifestyle Change file. You have to work it all in and make it part of your life.
And now I am totally off topic. Go read this book.
Joan Didion
The Year of Magical Thinking
I am, ashamedly, not a learned Didion scholar. I know I've read things of hers, but none of them particularly stuck and they were a pretty long time ago, so I didn't exactly know what to expect with The Year of Magical Thinking beyond what I'd been told: you'll cry, it's sad, nothing happens, you'll cry, and the worst part is Quintana died anyway.
Uh, spoiler alert. Too late.
Anyway, it's been a while since I finished this one off, but it was beautiful. The way to state it is really that I enjoyed being a part of Didion's year. I enjoyed living with her and dealing with people with her, and that made the book fascinating. I guess I should get my Didion on now, for serious. More books!
James Frey
A Million Little Pieces
I don't remember when I read this, but I was just wrapping up its sequel, My Friend Leonard, when the shit went down.
And yeah, I felt a little duped, but in the end I didn't care. The plot was so far removed from anything I've ever known in my life that it might as well have been fiction to me. Call me sheltered, prissy, suburban, naive, whatever. Holes in his face, drug-free dentistry, clandestine love in rehab and beyond... it was all a little far-fetched for me to begin with. I didn't approach it looking for answers or guidance or strength through my own trials, so when it came out that much of it was a lie, I didn't demand a refund or flip my shit. It just became Some Novel that I'd read instead of Some Rehab Travelogue that I'd read.
I certainly understand that people who have lived through similar experiences with addiction and rehab themselves or with family members or friends would be livid with Frey. Those looking for a tale of strength and perseverance had every right to be disappointed. It just wasn't ever relevant enough for me, personally, to care.
Michael Chabon
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay
Everyone I know who has read this book has enjoyed it, and everyone I know who has read this book had to start it once, give up, and start over many months later.
I thought it helped that I'd been to Prague between the first time I tried to read it and now, as that's where the story somewhat darkly begins, but thinking back, I'm pretty sure I'd been to Prague before I tried it the first time, too.
Regardless, this time around, I liked it. I particularly enjoyed Sammy, who I didn't feel was as uselessly romanticized as Joe and Rosa and basically everyone else--he was the only one who wasn't a caricature for me. Meanwhile though, the details and the story and the themes are wonderful. Huzzah.
Truman Capote
In Cold Blood
This might be my favorite book. It also might be my mother's favorite book. We are both pretty awesome, so you should probably give this a read if you have not already.
Gerald Clark
Capote
When I said In Cold Blood was my mom's favorite book, I forgot that there was actually a raging battle on her shelf of favorites between In Cold Blood and Capote. Obviously she is someone who likes ol' Truman a lot. Anyway, I agree with her. Capote is fascinating, but you still have to read In Cold Blood first and only see the movie AFTER. Seriously.
Lorrie Moore
Birds of America
Finding tragedy in the everyday is as valuable as finding joy in it, if you ask me (Hugo!), and I rather enjoy her writing. I agree, it is anything but juicy, but there is something tasty in the communion-wafer-dryness of it all. OMG I just said that.
Johnathan Franzen
The Corrections
I learned that this book will F up your ability to read other books for a short period of time because you become so aware of and attached to Alfred, Enid, Chip, Denise and Gary that in the event that the next book you read has even remotely similar characters anywhere in it (see: The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay's Al somebody, one of the publishing guys) you are immediately thinking of the wrong people.
Which is a good thing. I read The Corrections in March and then I read The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay after it, and though K&C was great, I retained way more of The Corrections. And for me, that's a sign of a darn good read.
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