Where My Head's At Now
George Carlin, 1937-2008. He's been thrown up on the roof and gotten stuck, I think. On a lighter note, maybe he is in the full light of the god he worshipped (literally). At the very least, I hope he got that CNN-Tropy channel he wanted in his afterlife cable package.
I should finally watch "Cars".
* * *
David Sedaris's name kept cropping up throughout the day, so often I lost track of where or of what was the fourth mention of his name. My two most immediate co-workers were discussing ...Engulfed In Flames, a friend mentioned David Sedaris's name in conversation, and when I was in the Harvard Book Store tonight, I found at the check-out counter small bins of 1-inch pinback buttons with authors' names on them. David Sedaris was amply represented. So does this mean I should break down and read him? I have hit an odd, unfamiliar spot where I really don't feel like reading anything.
* * *
Why would anyone want to wear a 1-inch pinback button with an author's name on it? I sifted through the bucket of them, reading names--Kurt Vonnegut, Howard Zinn, Albert Camus, Salman Rushdie, but also (amusingly) Neil Gaiman and Frank Herbert. Then I thought it might be unbearably pretentious to wear such a button, as if one were pledging devotion to a band. At the very least, I'd feel pretentious wearing same, particularly as I hadn't spent a lot of time reading any of the authors name-checked on those buttons. One Tom Robbins button, but I haven't read any of his stuff since Skinny Legs and All.
* * *
Yes, I said it. There's nothing in particular I feel like reading now. I was underwhelmed by Childhood's End (but will read it again later to see if it sings louder to me on a re-read). I finished reading Margaret Laurence's The Stone Angel in less than a weekend, but as well as it was written (and I loved Laurence's The Diviners when I read it in college fourteen years ago), and I felt...unmoved. I finished Who Censored Roger Rabbit? and...I don't know, I'd read it to get a feel for Gary Wolf prior to tackling a review on Space Vulture. Space Vulture was a sweet space operatic juvenile, but I don't think it made me feel, "Wow! What an amazing book!" Maybe it's just a time when anything I read makes me feel 'bleah'.
Similarly, I started reading A Glorious Way to Die a month ago only to find several pages had been lost from the book (I'm a "Star Blazers" fanfic' writer and I've wanted to read the real history of the IJN Yamato). I returned the copy to the library immediately, and didn't reserve another copy. I was losing track of who's-who with all the Japanese surnames to deal with, anyway, and if my wits are only as sharp as a bowling ball, why bother? Another time.
Although I haven't succeeded in my so-called media fast, in some ways it's been easier to cut down or back on books, movies, music, and Internet. I've held to limiting how many books I check out of a library, rented way fewer DVDs recently, and dumped some of my webcomic bookmarks when I realized the strips they linked to just weren't funny. I've been borrowing lots of CDs from the library, but that's to make MP3 files so I can "de-access" some of my CDs and cassettes.
But, wow. I've prided myself for years in being a "Constant Reader", literally as well as figuratively. (I'm one of the ones outside of North Station who's mastered the art of reading as I'm walking. That's largely because I was accustomed for eight years of having a long commute and lots of reading time.) Tonight I walked into the Harvard Book Store and headed for the fiction section in the basement 'cause I didn't have anything to read on me. (That I wanted to get out of the rain was motivation, too.) I had no idea what I wanted to read.
I remember musing it might be time for me to reread Erica Jong's Fear of Flying; there was a copy on the shelf. I gazed at an omnibus paperback of "The Deptford Trilogy" novels; I liked Fifth Business very much, and the other two novels were OK reads, too. (In general I like Canadian writers, and that I'd read Margaret Laurence recently nudged me towards Robertson Davies.)
And, still, I didn't feel like reading anything. Pro forma, I did buy a copy of Black Rain by Masuji Ibuse--$4.20, I've meant to read it for several years and mentioned it in conversation recently, and I liked the feeling of buying it hard on the heels of today's slashing, sideways-raindrops, monsoonish thunderstorm. I may start it on tomorrow's commute, I may not. I could tackle Wicked again, or whatever else I've got in my bookcase, unread (even an old "Nancy Drew"). And then again, I may try _not_ reading for a while.
Incidentally, to hold a "reading fast" is one of Julia Cameron's directions in The Artist's Way (it's been a while since I've read that book, but in general it lays out a regimen for inducing creative production, especially writing...or I've confused it with Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones). I read Cameron's plan in TAW, half-heartedly tried to follow it and, predictably, caved on the reading fast. (To fail in one point usually makes me throw out the whole tub of bathwater, baby and all.)
It feels like I may be genuinely ready to tackle a "reading fast". I've wondered that the very least I want to do with my life is read whatever I want, as much as I like. I've also worried that's a chump's goal. So the irony is, I might be able to follow "the Artist's Way" at last, but I need to read the book again to refresh my memory on the other tasks and desiderata beyond the reading fast and the "artist's date".
And you know what? I don't really feel moved to read The Artist's Way either. Ha, ha!
* * *
<*sigh*> Yes, I just bookmarked http://www.theartistsway.com/.
* * *
I did buy a couple of cheap DVDs this weekend just past: "Ghostbusters" to replace my VHS copy, and "The Abyss", one of my favorite movies period, and a great deep-water SF piece. While surfing (heh!) imdb.com on the later, I realized that it's one of three terrific SF films I like that are directed by James Cameron. Yeah, I really liked "Aliens" and "Terminator 2", and for right now, like them ahead of the originals. (I can take or leave "Twister" and "Titanic"; I've never seen them more than once, if that.)
Even more interesting, I got the faux-corporation "Benthic Petroleum" link between the three of them and "Twister". Is there a t-shirt? I think I want it, for SF/fan con' wear, or just to confuse non-fans on an average day. (I usually eschew wearing advertisements of any kind.)
* * *
When I was a little girl at the movies, my parents would buy for me a package of small, tart candies, the logo bright metallic print on white, and a tiger(?) with metallic stripes. I believe they were called Sour Bites. This was my usual movie snack, and I held to the habit of having small, tart candies for movie watching at least until I was in college. On occasion, if I'm organized enough, I will bring in rolls of (American) Smarties or a box of Nerds, or SweeTarts.
It amused me to watch "Titanic" with a roll of Butter Rum Life Savers in hand, though.
* * *
Oh, good, there's a "Benthic Petroleum" logo and t-shirt for the day I'm ready to do Internet shopping. Yay.
* * *
Did you ever notice that it's when you _don't_ check your pockets before putting the clothes in the wash that you've left a tissue/ballpoint pen/cough drop/lip balm in a pocket?
Guess who has bright pink spots all over most of her summer pants and brand-new white no-show socks, and probably baked said spots in permanently? *growl*
* * *
In recent years, I've discovered that watching Ray Harryhausen films can give me ideas for creative projects. I half-watched "It Came From Beneath the Sea" recently, and I got a few rhyming words that I might put into a praise-poem ("shy", "octopi", "cephalopod", "exceeding odd").
A couple of years ago his fairy-tale short "Rapunzel" put me in mind of doing a adult-novel-fairy-tale twist with same set in Depression-era coastal Maine. I swear the tower in which she was imprisoned reminded me of a lighthouse.
* * *
I signed up for NanoWriMo, though whether I will follow up this year is anyone's guess. I think I may hold off tackling either of my current novel ideas until then: the aforementioned "Rapunzel" novel, or a darkly comic horror novel about a Boston MBTA cop who, badly injured in a subway wreck, is now subject to fear of being underground.
* * *
It doesn't always make me productive, but it can: putting on a DVD for background noise while I'm writing. It helps if the movie is in the same genre as what I'm trying to write. When writing "Star Blazers" fanfic, I will put on the old cartoons or some other SF film. For my coming-of-age/away-at-college/fish-out-of-water novel set in the 80s, I put on any of my teen comedies or a John Hughes film. I have yet to try with "Real Genius" or "The Manhattan Project" specifically, though, and those might be the cinematic equivalent of fertility drugs for me.
That being said, I keep thinking this is a bad habit--to light the 21st-cent' hearth--and I need to break myself of it.
* * *
As with David Sedaris's name, I wonder if the recurrence of the name "Cameron" should mean anything to me.
I should finally watch "Cars".
* * *
David Sedaris's name kept cropping up throughout the day, so often I lost track of where or of what was the fourth mention of his name. My two most immediate co-workers were discussing ...Engulfed In Flames, a friend mentioned David Sedaris's name in conversation, and when I was in the Harvard Book Store tonight, I found at the check-out counter small bins of 1-inch pinback buttons with authors' names on them. David Sedaris was amply represented. So does this mean I should break down and read him? I have hit an odd, unfamiliar spot where I really don't feel like reading anything.
* * *
Why would anyone want to wear a 1-inch pinback button with an author's name on it? I sifted through the bucket of them, reading names--Kurt Vonnegut, Howard Zinn, Albert Camus, Salman Rushdie, but also (amusingly) Neil Gaiman and Frank Herbert. Then I thought it might be unbearably pretentious to wear such a button, as if one were pledging devotion to a band. At the very least, I'd feel pretentious wearing same, particularly as I hadn't spent a lot of time reading any of the authors name-checked on those buttons. One Tom Robbins button, but I haven't read any of his stuff since Skinny Legs and All.
* * *
Yes, I said it. There's nothing in particular I feel like reading now. I was underwhelmed by Childhood's End (but will read it again later to see if it sings louder to me on a re-read). I finished reading Margaret Laurence's The Stone Angel in less than a weekend, but as well as it was written (and I loved Laurence's The Diviners when I read it in college fourteen years ago), and I felt...unmoved. I finished Who Censored Roger Rabbit? and...I don't know, I'd read it to get a feel for Gary Wolf prior to tackling a review on Space Vulture. Space Vulture was a sweet space operatic juvenile, but I don't think it made me feel, "Wow! What an amazing book!" Maybe it's just a time when anything I read makes me feel 'bleah'.
Similarly, I started reading A Glorious Way to Die a month ago only to find several pages had been lost from the book (I'm a "Star Blazers" fanfic' writer and I've wanted to read the real history of the IJN Yamato). I returned the copy to the library immediately, and didn't reserve another copy. I was losing track of who's-who with all the Japanese surnames to deal with, anyway, and if my wits are only as sharp as a bowling ball, why bother? Another time.
Although I haven't succeeded in my so-called media fast, in some ways it's been easier to cut down or back on books, movies, music, and Internet. I've held to limiting how many books I check out of a library, rented way fewer DVDs recently, and dumped some of my webcomic bookmarks when I realized the strips they linked to just weren't funny. I've been borrowing lots of CDs from the library, but that's to make MP3 files so I can "de-access" some of my CDs and cassettes.
But, wow. I've prided myself for years in being a "Constant Reader", literally as well as figuratively. (I'm one of the ones outside of North Station who's mastered the art of reading as I'm walking. That's largely because I was accustomed for eight years of having a long commute and lots of reading time.) Tonight I walked into the Harvard Book Store and headed for the fiction section in the basement 'cause I didn't have anything to read on me. (That I wanted to get out of the rain was motivation, too.) I had no idea what I wanted to read.
I remember musing it might be time for me to reread Erica Jong's Fear of Flying; there was a copy on the shelf. I gazed at an omnibus paperback of "The Deptford Trilogy" novels; I liked Fifth Business very much, and the other two novels were OK reads, too. (In general I like Canadian writers, and that I'd read Margaret Laurence recently nudged me towards Robertson Davies.)
And, still, I didn't feel like reading anything. Pro forma, I did buy a copy of Black Rain by Masuji Ibuse--$4.20, I've meant to read it for several years and mentioned it in conversation recently, and I liked the feeling of buying it hard on the heels of today's slashing, sideways-raindrops, monsoonish thunderstorm. I may start it on tomorrow's commute, I may not. I could tackle Wicked again, or whatever else I've got in my bookcase, unread (even an old "Nancy Drew"). And then again, I may try _not_ reading for a while.
Incidentally, to hold a "reading fast" is one of Julia Cameron's directions in The Artist's Way (it's been a while since I've read that book, but in general it lays out a regimen for inducing creative production, especially writing...or I've confused it with Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones). I read Cameron's plan in TAW, half-heartedly tried to follow it and, predictably, caved on the reading fast. (To fail in one point usually makes me throw out the whole tub of bathwater, baby and all.)
It feels like I may be genuinely ready to tackle a "reading fast". I've wondered that the very least I want to do with my life is read whatever I want, as much as I like. I've also worried that's a chump's goal. So the irony is, I might be able to follow "the Artist's Way" at last, but I need to read the book again to refresh my memory on the other tasks and desiderata beyond the reading fast and the "artist's date".
And you know what? I don't really feel moved to read The Artist's Way either. Ha, ha!
* * *
<*sigh*> Yes, I just bookmarked http://www.theartistsway.com/.
* * *
I did buy a couple of cheap DVDs this weekend just past: "Ghostbusters" to replace my VHS copy, and "The Abyss", one of my favorite movies period, and a great deep-water SF piece. While surfing (heh!) imdb.com on the later, I realized that it's one of three terrific SF films I like that are directed by James Cameron. Yeah, I really liked "Aliens" and "Terminator 2", and for right now, like them ahead of the originals. (I can take or leave "Twister" and "Titanic"; I've never seen them more than once, if that.)
Even more interesting, I got the faux-corporation "Benthic Petroleum" link between the three of them and "Twister". Is there a t-shirt? I think I want it, for SF/fan con' wear, or just to confuse non-fans on an average day. (I usually eschew wearing advertisements of any kind.)
* * *
When I was a little girl at the movies, my parents would buy for me a package of small, tart candies, the logo bright metallic print on white, and a tiger(?) with metallic stripes. I believe they were called Sour Bites. This was my usual movie snack, and I held to the habit of having small, tart candies for movie watching at least until I was in college. On occasion, if I'm organized enough, I will bring in rolls of (American) Smarties or a box of Nerds, or SweeTarts.
It amused me to watch "Titanic" with a roll of Butter Rum Life Savers in hand, though.
* * *
Oh, good, there's a "Benthic Petroleum" logo and t-shirt for the day I'm ready to do Internet shopping. Yay.
* * *
Did you ever notice that it's when you _don't_ check your pockets before putting the clothes in the wash that you've left a tissue/ballpoint pen/cough drop/lip balm in a pocket?
Guess who has bright pink spots all over most of her summer pants and brand-new white no-show socks, and probably baked said spots in permanently? *growl*
* * *
In recent years, I've discovered that watching Ray Harryhausen films can give me ideas for creative projects. I half-watched "It Came From Beneath the Sea" recently, and I got a few rhyming words that I might put into a praise-poem ("shy", "octopi", "cephalopod", "exceeding odd").
A couple of years ago his fairy-tale short "Rapunzel" put me in mind of doing a adult-novel-fairy-tale twist with same set in Depression-era coastal Maine. I swear the tower in which she was imprisoned reminded me of a lighthouse.
* * *
I signed up for NanoWriMo, though whether I will follow up this year is anyone's guess. I think I may hold off tackling either of my current novel ideas until then: the aforementioned "Rapunzel" novel, or a darkly comic horror novel about a Boston MBTA cop who, badly injured in a subway wreck, is now subject to fear of being underground.
* * *
It doesn't always make me productive, but it can: putting on a DVD for background noise while I'm writing. It helps if the movie is in the same genre as what I'm trying to write. When writing "Star Blazers" fanfic, I will put on the old cartoons or some other SF film. For my coming-of-age/away-at-college/fish-out-of-water novel set in the 80s, I put on any of my teen comedies or a John Hughes film. I have yet to try with "Real Genius" or "The Manhattan Project" specifically, though, and those might be the cinematic equivalent of fertility drugs for me.
That being said, I keep thinking this is a bad habit--to light the 21st-cent' hearth--and I need to break myself of it.
* * *
As with David Sedaris's name, I wonder if the recurrence of the name "Cameron" should mean anything to me.