Category Archives: Books

Books, James Joyce

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

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I’m currently listening to A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, by James Joyce, published 1916, begun in 1903 as Stephen Hero.

It’s hard to compare other authors to Joyce, especially when read by someone as talented as Donal Donnelly. During the fire and brimstone sermon, I almost found religion myself. Right there on I-95, in the dark, at 70 miles per hour.

Perhaps Joyce should have become a Jesuit priest after all…  reference…

It’s no wonder this book is considered one of the greatest English-language works in history.

Books, Sexuality

Fifty Shades of WHAT

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Eve asked me the other night if I had ever read “Fifty Shades of Grey.” At first, I wondered if she was talking about my yacht club photos.

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But no, I haven’t. I haven’t ever. Which is odd, because I’ll read anything. I guess I was turned off of it from the beginning because it seemed like an orchestrated attempt to create mainstream romanticized porn for people who don’t normally allow themselves the luxury of porn.  With all the hype, people are granting themselves permission. News flash, I’m a guy, and…

allmenYes, ALL guys. So I never really felt the need to take in Fifty Shades. Plus, personally, I’ve never had an interest in the whole dom/sub paradigm. To me it’s right up there with phone sex — too abstracted and contrived to hold any interest for me. We all have our kinks, and I say “meh.”

Then there’s the idea that when something is mainstreamed, it is cartoonified and watered down to an extent that long-time enthusiasts will find it objectionable. So even though I don’t have interest in dom/sub kind of things, I’m pretty well-versed and know all the bullet points, and I object in advance on behalf of those of my friends who live in that world. How’s that for prejudice?

Of course, now that the question has been raised, I feel like I should give it a fair chance just so that I know what I’m talking about. I wonder if it’s out on audiobook. Or should I risk listening to that on the way to (or from) work???

Sean Brijbasi, So-called Coincidences

Coincidence diary

I friended two old friends on Facebook the other day. One was from my first high school, he’s one of the people responsible for my introduction to punk, and I’m pretty sure 100% responsible for my introduction to dub reggae. The other was from my second high school, miles away, and was part of a relatively small circle of “alternative” friends in a school full of normals. They both accepted on the same day. They don’t know each other, I’m pretty sure.

However, their facebook “cover photos” generated a sublime spark of coincidence:

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Then tonight, when I got into the bath, and reached to pick up Sean Brijbasi’s One Note Symphonies (I believe I blogged about this earlier this month), the Grateful Dead song Ramble On Rose was in my head, and in my head the chorus was playing, “Did you say your name was Ramblin’ Rose?” Just as it reached that point, I opened the book to the dogeared placeholder from the other night, and it was a new chapter: “Among the ruins, a trembling rose” were the only words on the page.

Amanda Palmer, Musicology, Neil Gaiman

Review: An Evening With Neil Gaiman & Amanda Palmer

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Upon finishing up my listen of American Gods, I decided to shift the paradigm just a little bit, and move from delightfully compelling audiobooks to … performance. But just a little bit, as I kept Neil Gaiman in the mix, and added his beautiful, entertaining and sometimes naked wife, Amanda Palmer of the Dresden Dolls.

Maybe it’s just the space I’m in, but I honestly had no idea just how entertaining this would be. Whether I’m listening to Neil’s poems, probably half of which are to or about Amanda, or Amanda’s absolutely captivating songs, I found myself with a grin on my face the entire time.

Especially… ESPECIALLY… “Judy Blume”…

What a joyful confession! Fuck the “decent church-going women, With their mean, pinched, bitter, Evil faces” who work so hard to ban the works of Judy Blume. This all the evidence you need that Judy Blume is vital. Someone needs to tell your kids the things that you’re too afraid to talk about.

Amanda also does a touching version of Death Cab for Cutie’s I Will  Follow You Into the Dark, dedicated to Ashlie Gough, who died of an overdose in her sleep at the Occupy Vancouver protests.

To be honest, the marriage of these two is so perfect that I’m not quite sure who to be jealous of.

Anyhow, please go out and buy this beautiful 3-cd set of live performances of the two of them, from their Fall 2001 tour.  You won’t regret it, I promise.

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Dreams, General Musings, Neil Gaiman

Be careful with earbuds at bedtime

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girl_with_pearl_earbudsI woke up early this morning, like work-day early, and i figured I’d get some listening time in. I’m still working on the last 20% or so of American Gods. Well, I guess I wasn’t really ready to be awake, because I fell back into dreamland while listening. In my dream, I was at my father’s place in Florida, with the family on a visit, I suppose. In the dream I was listening to the same audiobook, and I guess he was trying to get my attention, so I pressed stop on the player, but the words kept coming. Strange. So I pulled the earbuds out of my ears (in the dream) and the WORDS KEPT COMING.  There I was, confused as to why these words kept coming from inside my ears with no player and no earbuds. After a few more dream moments of this confusion, I woke up, laughed, removed the earbuds again and was actually relieved when the words stopped in real life that time. One of those recursive dreams would have really thrown me for a loop.

Books, Neil Gaiman

My Little Pony Sex Toys? Or American Gods?

Let’s go with American Gods for $1,000, Alex.

I wanted, desperately wanted, to dedicate a post to My Little Pony sex toys. I really did. Because apparently there’s a larger-than-life inflatable Rainbow Dash love doll available, for those who aren’t ashamed to own such a thing. There’s also a plush Lyra Heartstrings with a receptacle sewn in, if you think there’s anything at all socially redeemable about such a thing.

I also desperately want to believe that more than 90% of Brony culture is ironic in nature. I try to remain free of judgement, tolerant of all cultural choices, and encouraging of diversity, but there’s a tiny part of me that believes you should seek therapy if you can get it up for either of these.

So, on to American Gods, because it’s far more important, because it’s literature, honest to goodness literature that causes a person to think and perceive and exercise a muscle other than the penis. I’ll try not to subtract points for being written about America by an Englishman. I mean, fuck it, Nick Cave does it, and he’s fucking Australian.

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In American Gods, Shadow, in prison for doing something stupid, is about to be released when he discovered his wife has been killed. He’s released a couple of days early, and encounters his first fascinating stranger on the way home.

Always watch out for those strangers, especially the ones that seem to know too much about you.

The book seems to take Aleister Crowley’s polytheism to a literal extreme, portraying various gods as inhabiting physical entities in an effort to recruit him for work. Seems the god business is suffering a bit in the current climate.

I’m not finished with the story yet, but my favorite moment so far is when the television god inhabits Lucille Ball during an I Love Lucy rerun, and begins to unbutton her blouse, offering Shadow a peek. “C’mon, haven’t you ever wanted to see Lucy’s tits?”

By the way, according to the internet, they’re available.

Lucille-Ball I’m relieved that American Gods is so much more solid than Fragile Things, and understandably so. It’s meant to be a work that stands on its own, as opposed to Fragile Things, which never claimed to be anything more than a stew of leftovers and shells. I suspect I was correct about it being the wrong first exposure to Neil’s work. But it was still very engaging and entertaining.

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Books, Sean Brijbasi

Book review: One Note Symphonies

buy this book:

One Note Symphonies, by Sean Brijbasi

I like to support my friends in the arts when I can. I believe it’s a person’s duty to leave something in this world that is an artifact of you, that will live on long after you are gone. Something someone can hold in their hand and say “I knew this person.”

I have a surprising amount of paintings, books, CDs, etc. from friend that I have collected over the years. Some of it marks moments in time, and some of it is burned into my soul.

I didn’t know Sean. I mean, I went to school with him, so I knew him, but I never “knew” him. And that was a long time ago. In school, I was in my head. All the time. Very bad at being social. Even now, I know him about as well as I know Thomas Pynchon. And like Pynchon, I can maybe get to know Sean a little bit better through the words he committed to paper (and Kindle).

Reading this book was startling to me. The first time I started, life got in the way, and this book was put aside in a stack of books, along with another Brijbasi title, while I dealt with those other things, and then of course life just kept on moving along and the stack lay undisturbed. Also in the stack were three Lawrence Wright titles. When you have the exuberant and sometimes haphazard passion for life that I do, combined with a busy work life and social schedule, it can be difficult to find time to just sit and read.

Recently, I finally made the time to attack these books again, and was startled all over again. Reading this book was like exploring dreams I had a long time ago. It was as if these other people in other cities were having some of the same tiny little moments, or tiny variations of them, that I’ve known in my own life. His observational skills are excellent, and he describes events in better detail than I would have remembered them. The nuance is impeccable. Emotions are transmitted. Most importantly, he enables you to share the mysteries, because at its core, it’s all a mystery. A mystery of coincidences and near misses.

I just ordered his more recent title, and I’m looking forward to making time for its consumption very soon.

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Books, Fringe Living

Support the free library…

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I came across this today, it’s a video by someone who has moved into the free library at Slab City, and is kind of now the de facto caretaker of the library.

I love the idea of this place.  I love the idea of this library in this place.

In the expanded text under the video is the following verbiage. I plan to go through and find some of my more exotic books that I collected in my youth, that can maybe find another life among the “dirty kids” at the Slabs. I encourage you consider doing the same.

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If you would like to send support in a different form, you can also send support-packages to
PO Box 642
Niland, CA
92257

Some of the things that we can use are educational books on travel, survival, philosophy, politics, art, ‘zines, queer resources, science, alternative health and healing, spirituality and classic literature, “banned” books, beatnik poetry, etc….

Some things that I could use personally are gluten-free and health-food snacks (the grocery options are very limited here in this part of the desert), nails, medicinal herbs, toilet paper, outdoor gear, reasonably healthy canned cat food, decent acrylic paint, professional grade paint brushes, small canvases, india ink and stones for energy purposes.