Blowing the carbon out of the lead pipe...
So 
Sean talked me into re-reading "The Mysteries of PIttsburgh" by Mike Chabon. I would just, for the record, like to know what I was smoking when I read it the first time. I do not remember a large portion of this text at all, so re-reading it is not really such an apt term. However, having the desire to re-experience it with a more critical eye is proving quite interesting. I've already had a discussion with
Mike about it. He insists that he could never write this book ... or at least not until a few years after grad school (Chabon got it published almost immediately after grad school). I argued that the prose in this, his freshman book is not good. Well, not polished. It doesn't reflect the narrator well (seems as if this Art Bechstein would speak in such a contrived way). But anyway. It's fun to re-read it. I finished Daniel Wallace's "The Watermellon King" and am starting in on the second story in Andrew Sean Greer's "How It Was For Me." Both are amazing.
Watched "Big Fish" again tonight with my parents. Cried again--lightly.
Tomorrow takes me Maryland for the weekend. Suprise party for my cousin Pam for mother's day. Sunday we're gonna take the metro into D.C. and go to Georgetown. It'd be more fun if my dad knew I was gay. (But don't anybody tell him.) However, I'm excited, gonna take the camera. I've been meaning to go down and shoot some film. Hopefully some weekend I"ll go to Virginia to see Davey and we'll go into D.C. and paint the town "Beer Puke."
Umm, what else ... Greek Food Fest is now over, pretty much. Booo! It was SOOO good. I miss Greece.
Oh yeah, and I finally snuck out onto the roof of the Cathedral (16th floor).
Had intestinal fortitude held out in certain parties, I'd have gone up to the 40th floor seeings how the elevator on 36 wasn't locked out at the time we were up there.
Dad and I went to see David Bromburg last night. I've never seen a jewish blues musician. It was like Harvey Firestein and BB King had an illegitimate child which they weaned on marijuana and 60s propoganda. He sang songs against Bush and made all kinds of great liberal jokes. And the second encore song was brilliant. Not to mention the heartbreakingly beautiful Irish-esque jig with the penny whistle.
I'm so glad my parents are hippies and drag me to strange concerts. I end up enjoying them.
This randomness shall now be concluded.
Sean talked me into re-reading "The Mysteries of PIttsburgh" by Mike Chabon. I would just, for the record, like to know what I was smoking when I read it the first time. I do not remember a large portion of this text at all, so re-reading it is not really such an apt term. However, having the desire to re-experience it with a more critical eye is proving quite interesting. I've already had a discussion with
Mike about it. He insists that he could never write this book ... or at least not until a few years after grad school (Chabon got it published almost immediately after grad school). I argued that the prose in this, his freshman book is not good. Well, not polished. It doesn't reflect the narrator well (seems as if this Art Bechstein would speak in such a contrived way). But anyway. It's fun to re-read it. I finished Daniel Wallace's "The Watermellon King" and am starting in on the second story in Andrew Sean Greer's "How It Was For Me." Both are amazing.
Watched "Big Fish" again tonight with my parents. Cried again--lightly.
Tomorrow takes me Maryland for the weekend. Suprise party for my cousin Pam for mother's day. Sunday we're gonna take the metro into D.C. and go to Georgetown. It'd be more fun if my dad knew I was gay. (But don't anybody tell him.) However, I'm excited, gonna take the camera. I've been meaning to go down and shoot some film. Hopefully some weekend I"ll go to Virginia to see Davey and we'll go into D.C. and paint the town "Beer Puke."
Umm, what else ... Greek Food Fest is now over, pretty much. Booo! It was SOOO good. I miss Greece.
Oh yeah, and I finally snuck out onto the roof of the Cathedral (16th floor).
Had intestinal fortitude held out in certain parties, I'd have gone up to the 40th floor seeings how the elevator on 36 wasn't locked out at the time we were up there.
Dad and I went to see David Bromburg last night. I've never seen a jewish blues musician. It was like Harvey Firestein and BB King had an illegitimate child which they weaned on marijuana and 60s propoganda. He sang songs against Bush and made all kinds of great liberal jokes. And the second encore song was brilliant. Not to mention the heartbreakingly beautiful Irish-esque jig with the penny whistle.
I'm so glad my parents are hippies and drag me to strange concerts. I end up enjoying them.
This randomness shall now be concluded.