King Sized Confusion
Please, somebody tell me they saw the Anna Nicole Smith interview on Larry King Live last night. Oh my God, that was painful. Anna may have lost a lot of weight, but her head is still full of rocks. It got to the point where Larry King was actually answering his own questions cause he was tired of waiting on her extremely slow and muddled responses. At one point she was referring to her vagina as a biscuit. Here is the actual transcript:
SMITH: OK. Well, OK, they had a cake of me there, you know, a naked me, and they had — it was naked and they had the biscuit, you know, the biscuit and the boobs, and I was standing by the cake, and there was this guy there, and he’s like, oh, you want me to show you how to eat biscuit? I was like, sure. Sure. Show me.
KING: We’re approaching halftime at the Super Bowl here, Anna. I think it sounds a little wild.
SMITH: What?
KING: It sounds — that was just a start of the party.
SMITH: That was the start of it. Do you want me to finish telling you about the cake?
KING: No.
Larry King was baffled and had to stop her story. About half way through they brought out her lawyer and King directed most of his questions to him, seeing as how he could actually answer them.
Warm Embrace
Christmas lights are strung on the moulding. They are plain white and don’t flash. I have a fake plastic tree in the corner. But I have seven or eight real plants in other corners. One of these plants, on the window sill, is dead. But I haven’t gotten rid of it yet. I have a porcelain green monkey holding a turnip. I have a cluttered desk. I have to dust. I have some sort of strange instrument that can’t be played. I don’t think. I have overdue bills my heart can’t pay. I have a corner-shelf filled with colored glass. None of it is useful. I have a wood and wrought iron coffee table. And matching end stand. Both haven’t been taken from me yet. Though they should be. I have a box full of blankets. And a box full of magazines. Another full of photographs. I have a suitcase record player. A coffee cup stolen from an all-night restaurant. I have tropical temperatures on the coldest of days. I have the perfect lamp for a 25-watt bulb. A dripless candle that smells ok. And I could use more light. I have a taken down the drapes. Because I like to look outside. An acoustic guitar on a stand. I’ve got only 2 photographs on the walls. But I don’t want more. This room has a lifetime full of memories. A ratty sofa that nobody really enjoys. Often open windows. Sometimes there’s a phone call from far away. “So what did you do today?” There are always shoes on the floor to trip over. Pools of my life gather in nearly every available depression. I have games. But I don’t play them often. Maybe I’ll open a jigsaw. I have a warm embrace. My ceiling has few right angles. And a fan. Which makes it nice to stare at.
True Stories
I’ve basically been snowed in the for the last few evenings. We only got like three or four inches worth over the last couple of days, not enough to actually snow anyone in, but it was enough to keep me from wanting to go out. I spent some of my recent indoors time staying late at working and doing some design stuff.
The night before I watched a really cool flick called True Stories. First off this movie was starred in and directed by David Byrne. And being a huge fan of both his music and his artwork may have effected my opinion of this movie, but I thought it was great. It was “A film about a bunch of people in Virgil Texas” who are observing the states sesquicentennial: the 150th anniversary and “a celebration of special-ness”. David Byrne did a wonderful job with his perfect alliteration, straight face, and odd-ball comments – “This car is not a rental. It’s privately owned”. Yet, he still makes his unabashed annotations on mass-consumerism, fashion, architecture, corporate America, and marriage without being satirical (for the most part) without being pretentious. The quirky characters were incredibly entertaining. Make no doubt, this movie is a musical, with some of the songs written specifically for the film. My favorite was “Dream Operator” sung during the fashion show. Anyway, great flick, go rent it.
Running With Scissors
Augusten Burrough’s first memoir, Running With Scissors is a paradox. The novel is filled to the brim with the awfulness and horrors of modern life. Pedophilia, excessive drug use, child abuse, rape, animal cruelty, exploitation, abandonment, sexual deviancy, coprophilia, mental illness, and manipulation all have their place in this novel. But somehow, despite all of this dreadfulness and misery, Augusten’s story is heart wrenchingly hilarious. The entire novel is filled with hope and laughs. Any sort of pity for Augustus is always followed by at least a chuckle. And despite all of the abuse, very little of it is done with intentional cruelty. At no time is this book ever boring, it’s simply (or not so simply) intelligently crafted entertainment. But then again, I’m a rubber-necker at train wrecks.
After his insane mom and deadbeat, alcoholic father get divorced, Augusten is sent to live with his mother’s psychiatrist, Dr. Finch. Living at the Finch’s dilapidated home are a host of Dr. Finch’s patients, children, and “wives”, all providing Augusten with varying degrees of hopefulness and despair. By the end of the novel Burroughs discovers that during adolescence, without an adult around to tell you what not to do, freedom is just like being trapped.
Basically, Burroughs has created a wonderfully entertaining novel. I’d recommend this to everyone but my Grandma. Now, if you’ll excuse I’m gonna go perform some bible dips.
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The Bone Palace Ballet
I was introduced to Charles Bukowski’s writing when I was a sophomore in college. Some hippie from Humbolt County came up to visit a roommate and told me to read him. I’m glad I listened. He is now one of my favorite authors. I fell in love with him almost immediately. That semester my drink, when we went out, was half-and-half whiskey and waters. I found myself going to the bar more, and paying attention to the people who were there. I saw the romance in dark, dingy, rent-by-the-week hotels. I fully realized the allure of the racetrack. I stayed away from the fighting though – I saw no cause to injure myself. I remember I saw a signed copy of his book in the library and schemed out a plan to sneak it past the alarms. However, shortly after I finished the plan and recruited the necessary accomplices, the library flooded and I graduated shortly after that. I still wonder if that book is there.
I’ve read all of his novels but Post Office. This is because I want something to hold onto. Something to read on my death bed. I’ve also read most of his short stories. Over the last few years, I’ve been in the slow process of reading his poems. I keep a book of them in the shitter with me and whenever I have to go bust out a few, I open the current book of poems and bust a few of those out too. A while back I just finished The Bone Palace Ballet, a collection of mostly newer poems that were put together posthumously. It was pretty good. Great shitter reading material. And you know what? I think Bukowski would take that as one of his best compliments.
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Flowers For Algerhubs
Today was great. When I came into the office this morning the receptionist called me up and told me I had a FedEx waiting up front. I told her, “Cool thanks. I’ll be up there in a bit,” thinking that the proof for a report I had sent to the printers had arrived. After an hour or so the receptionist called back and said that I had better come get the package because it may be urgent.
Well it was, because waiting up front for me was a box full of Winter Lillys. From out of nowhere. For no reason. And it totally made my week. They’re wonderful and they’re sitting in a big glass vase on my desk right now just itching to pop into bloom. I’ve never been sent flowers to the office before. It creates quite a commotion. Lots of people are asking questions I’m not used to answering. Words like “jealous” and “admirer” and phrases like “who is she?” and “you must have done something right” have been making me blush and stumble around all day. I love it. Thanks.
I got an email from a reader offering to send me one of the books on my list. Since I hadn’t read it, I accepted and sent her my home address. A few days later it arrived with a note: “Hi! I hope you enjoy this more than I did. If, not don’t give up on Hemingway, ‘The Sun Also Rises’ was a really great book. Happy reading. Connie.”
Well, Connie, I haven’t given up. A Farewell To Arms was by no means a terrible novel. Nor was it an incredible novel. Mostly, it was just good. I haven’t quite figured out what all the fuss about Hemingway(‘s writing) is. It’s good. It’s got style. It’s poignant yet unemotional. It’s no frills and thus it seems his works may work best under the surface. It is said that Hemingway has done more to change the English-language novel than any other twentieth-century writer. I can vouch for or against that statement, I can only say I enjoy his style. Equally, I enjoyed the novel but it’s not worth all the commotion. I likely will not read it again.
A Farewell To Arms is simply a story of love during war-time (ignoring most of the political complexities, thank god). An overdone idea, but one that is fairly fresh to me, so that aspect didn’t wear on me.
After having read the last word of this novel I thought to myself, “That was just a sad story. A sad and crude story.” And it was. It was unrefined and raw and that’s the way I liked it. However, this sparseness led to little character development. And for much of the story I thought of the two main characters, Henry and Catherine, as shallow and somewhat infantile. Their relationship seemed so lovey-dovey as to be artificial. It seemed phony. But after a while, I realized their love was actually thin only to begin with. He was war-torn and she was damaged. However, the war brought on a healthy co-dependency, between the two. They ended up genuinely needing each other and their conversations became endearing and earnest. And by the end of the novel I was proven wrong.
Thanks Connie.
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Holiday Lights
A while back SE was in town. We took a little architectural rehab tour of the Lodo area. While walking around, we tried to see if the Denver Gas & Electric (which is now a datacenter) building was lit up. Everyone was disappointed that it wasn’t. Well now for the holidays it’s been lit up again (Denver has lots of great christmas lights). So this one is for you SE…
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