tl;dr
Confession: I have never read a Cormac McCarthy novel. Despite my English degree (which I chose to pursue more out of lack of self-confidence than any desire to commit to a scholarly career in literature), I've never been one to challenge myself in my recreational reading, so until recently this didn't seem like a big deal. Since moving to Knoxville, however, I've been reading to read at least one of his books, if only because he's considered something of a local hero, having grown up in Knoxville. This is Kind Of A Big Deal, apparently, and my coworkers like to talk about Cormac McCarthy sightings and refer to him as 'Cormac', as though he is a personal friend. So I feel sort of obligated to read, at the very least, Sutree, which is the lesser-known novel set in Knoxville.
But the thing is that I don't get the fascination. I mean, okay, he's famous and he lived here. But why is that a big deal? They also made a big deal about Brad Renfro's death, because he was from Knoxville, and I didn't really get that much, either. I don't get it in the same way that I don't get people who are so proud of being a native of some part of the country that they feel the need to display that fact with a bumper sticker. I saw this in Colorado all the time, and just recently I saw a car (with Tennessee plates, mind) that had an 'Oregon Native' bumper sticker. So what? Why be proud of the fact that you don't get out much? The only thing that is giving you is a limited world view.
I think I don't get it because I'm not from anywhere. There's no place I can point to on a map and say 'that's home', because I've never lived anywhere long enough to be from there. And maybe I feel the need to read Cormac McCarthy because deep down, I do want to belong somewhere. But it's been a year, and I'm still not sure that somewhere will ever be Knoxville.
So instead of reading Cormac McCarthy I'm reading I'm Not the New Me, which is a memoir about weight loss and self-image by Wendy McClure, aka Wendy from TWOP. It's interesting, if sort of disjointed. At one point she referred to Rum and Cokes as 'goofy', which I don't really get. Maybe I'm just offended because I like Rum and Cokes. (Diet Coke, of course.)
I also just finished reading a terrible romance novel which I don't recommend at all called Ride a Painted Pony. Whatever you're imagining just from reading the title? It was worse. No, really, it was hilariously bad. I was peer pressured into reading it by duckduck (who can back me up on the badness), since we have started our own personal romance novel book club. So in return I am going to make her read The Bewitched Viking, but I have a feeling she will enjoy that one, so it's not much in the way of retribution. Then again, she didn't enjoy it either, so maybe that's payback enough ; )
Still no progress on my own novel. I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe this weekend.
As of this morning I have lost 39 pounds. It's not a subject I discuss much on this journal, but I've been working on it for awhile and it's been on my mind all day, so I thought I'd mention it. It's not a nice round number like 40, or even better, 50, but it still feels sort of substantial for the first time. 30 didn't sound very substantial to me, but somehow that extra nine pounds makes the difference.
I still have a long way to go. You can't even see a difference yet, really. At least no one has said a word to me. Still, it's an accomplishment. I do miss carbs, but you can't have everything.
All my favorite artists are releasing new albums right now, and me with no cash flow. I just purchased Nada Surf's new release, and this morning Amazon helpfully e-mailed me to alert me to the fact that I'd missed Mike Doughty's newest, which came out last month. Plus there's a new Counting Crows due out in March, and of course all of them are albums I want to buy and physically own, instead of just downloading from iTunes for slightly less money, or through bittorrent for free because I'm a bad person.
I know I will love all three of those albums, and I can't wait to get my grubby mitts on them. But my sister's having a baby shower in a few weeks and I'm going to have to buy her something for that, and life is just too expensive. I really need to get cracking on that damn novel.
I thought about doing that 'request something for me to blog about' meme, but then I realized that I have no filter in this journal, and I've probably talked about pretty much everything, whether you want to hear it or not. But if you are dying of curiosity about something, by all means. We all know I do enjoy talking, at least via keyboard.
In fannish news, Reaper comes back tomorrow night! Hooray hooray. I love that show so much I will even forgive them the guest appearance by fucking Jamie Kennedy. Though I read something that makes me worry for the potential of getting a season two. Nggh. Why do I always fall for the unpopular stuff?
But the thing is that I don't get the fascination. I mean, okay, he's famous and he lived here. But why is that a big deal? They also made a big deal about Brad Renfro's death, because he was from Knoxville, and I didn't really get that much, either. I don't get it in the same way that I don't get people who are so proud of being a native of some part of the country that they feel the need to display that fact with a bumper sticker. I saw this in Colorado all the time, and just recently I saw a car (with Tennessee plates, mind) that had an 'Oregon Native' bumper sticker. So what? Why be proud of the fact that you don't get out much? The only thing that is giving you is a limited world view.
I think I don't get it because I'm not from anywhere. There's no place I can point to on a map and say 'that's home', because I've never lived anywhere long enough to be from there. And maybe I feel the need to read Cormac McCarthy because deep down, I do want to belong somewhere. But it's been a year, and I'm still not sure that somewhere will ever be Knoxville.
So instead of reading Cormac McCarthy I'm reading I'm Not the New Me, which is a memoir about weight loss and self-image by Wendy McClure, aka Wendy from TWOP. It's interesting, if sort of disjointed. At one point she referred to Rum and Cokes as 'goofy', which I don't really get. Maybe I'm just offended because I like Rum and Cokes. (Diet Coke, of course.)
I also just finished reading a terrible romance novel which I don't recommend at all called Ride a Painted Pony. Whatever you're imagining just from reading the title? It was worse. No, really, it was hilariously bad. I was peer pressured into reading it by duckduck (who can back me up on the badness), since we have started our own personal romance novel book club. So in return I am going to make her read The Bewitched Viking, but I have a feeling she will enjoy that one, so it's not much in the way of retribution. Then again, she didn't enjoy it either, so maybe that's payback enough ; )
Still no progress on my own novel. I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe this weekend.
As of this morning I have lost 39 pounds. It's not a subject I discuss much on this journal, but I've been working on it for awhile and it's been on my mind all day, so I thought I'd mention it. It's not a nice round number like 40, or even better, 50, but it still feels sort of substantial for the first time. 30 didn't sound very substantial to me, but somehow that extra nine pounds makes the difference.
I still have a long way to go. You can't even see a difference yet, really. At least no one has said a word to me. Still, it's an accomplishment. I do miss carbs, but you can't have everything.
All my favorite artists are releasing new albums right now, and me with no cash flow. I just purchased Nada Surf's new release, and this morning Amazon helpfully e-mailed me to alert me to the fact that I'd missed Mike Doughty's newest, which came out last month. Plus there's a new Counting Crows due out in March, and of course all of them are albums I want to buy and physically own, instead of just downloading from iTunes for slightly less money, or through bittorrent for free because I'm a bad person.
I know I will love all three of those albums, and I can't wait to get my grubby mitts on them. But my sister's having a baby shower in a few weeks and I'm going to have to buy her something for that, and life is just too expensive. I really need to get cracking on that damn novel.
I thought about doing that 'request something for me to blog about' meme, but then I realized that I have no filter in this journal, and I've probably talked about pretty much everything, whether you want to hear it or not. But if you are dying of curiosity about something, by all means. We all know I do enjoy talking, at least via keyboard.
In fannish news, Reaper comes back tomorrow night! Hooray hooray. I love that show so much I will even forgive them the guest appearance by fucking Jamie Kennedy. Though I read something that makes me worry for the potential of getting a season two. Nggh. Why do I always fall for the unpopular stuff?