old fashioned day
Tuesday March 30th 2010, 10:03 pm
Filed under: HelLA,politrix,something new,the book of the new global cool Tags:

Not entirely, really, but partly. Off to the fracking Valley in order to get YCTNW’s car serviced, so on foot to a Starbucks filled with a steady stream of people ranging from wack to downright silly. Four hours of work or so, and the call from the dealership just as I settled into a fresh cup of coffee and the New Yorker. The walk, headphones, manbag, lack of attachment (YCTNW is out of town until Sat.), thoughts to think and work to do but also work done. Home only long enough to ditch the sweater and change from jeans to shorts, then pup and I hiked up through Runyon. More music, more walking, more thinking, more second-order work, but with nice views, a happy pup, and 100% less hangover than last time. Followed by some more New Yorker, a cheese-on-bread dinner, and topped with a flick with subtitles – The Edukators, a krautflick on 20somethings coming of age with political beliefs in a world where even the vague and ill-defined anti-capitalist protests of the late 90s/early 00s have lost what little clarity or sense they ever had. The 20somethings making their political points end up taking a hostage, some poor sod in his 50s, who turns out to be a former SDS leader, with less paunchy memories of ’68. As his father told him, “If you’re not a liberal before you’re 30, you have no heart. If you’re still a liberal after you’re 30, you have have no brains.” I don’t want to make excuses, with my comfy flat and job and dog and wife and life. But I’m holding on to the shreds of not having brains. Really.



covers
Tuesday March 02nd 2010, 11:08 pm
Filed under: blah,Miscellaneous, Truly,self-indulgent Tags:

Your Ghost, In Spite of Me, The Killing Moon. Unexpected, the “bard of San Diego” and his guitar, singing my songs in a voice not far from what I imagine mine to be, but isn’t. A historical novel that isn’t trash (Booker Prize! It’s trash, but not! Though, judging the Booker by its cover [props to Sean for that, ages ago], this is one part Strange and Norrell with its black and white, three parts trash with its faux medieval font for “a novel”, Holbein portraits embedded in letters, etc.). That I’m enjoying. The Polish war novel just wasn’t doing it for me, had me stalled out on the reading for pleasure. Not that I expect a whole lot of pleasure between now and March 28. I have a chapter to write. It can be done; it’s been simmering, in various ways, on various back burners, for months and months on top of years and years. And it’s time to write the book that I will write, rather than the one I might have hoped I might write, at the cost of skipping the one before me. I’ve been entirely too sensible, too sensical on this site (recently renewed! no more domain squatters here, beyotch.) for quite a while. The charm of the enigmatic, hell, of the pretentious, diminished. Maybe I need to use more big words, as it were. While being fitter, healthier, happier, more productive, of course. So there it is. Airfare to the ford of Oxen in 2 1/2 months arranged, hotel in the city of the Palio arranged, and in the place, apparently, the Italians use as the placename for Bumblefuck. Which is charming, really. That was the day that wasn’t.



i fricking knew it
Monday March 01st 2010, 11:38 am
Filed under: blah,can't make that shit up Tags:

Via Ferule & Fescue,

[Social psychologist Joe] Forgas said he has found that sadness correlates with clearer and more compelling sentences, and that negative moods “promote a more concrete, accommodative and ultimately more successful communication style.” Because we’re more critical of what we’re writing, we produce more refined prose, the sentences polished by our angst. As Roland Barthes observed, “A creative writer is one for whom writing is a problem.”

Hah. Link here.