Balance

I used to be a huge Clive Barker fan, but I've since lost weight.  (Sorry.)  Seriously though.  He was among the first writers whose work I impatiently anticipated.  When I heard he had a new book (or movie) on the way I ran out and picked it up (or saw the movie) right away.  I've seen him read twice, and he was great both times.  

But somewhere along the line I stopped reading his books, though I would still pick up copies of his stuff that I hadn't read.  Granted, I no longer spent $24.95 (or more) on the hardcovers; I'd usually find them at the Brown Elephant for a buck or two then place them on my too-read stack, only to move them to a bookshelf after not even opening the cover for months.

Last week I found a copy of one of his more recent titles, Mister B. Gone.  The premise is clever enough; a demon (from the Demonation, of course) tells his (first person) tale of, well, demony deeds, while repeatedly (and repeatedly) imploring you to burn the book, his manuscript, you now hold in your hands, for he is trapped in the pages and is just trying to save you from your own morbid and dangerous curiosity.  (Why couldn't someone have done this with the bible?)

I'm about 100 pages in (more or less halfway) and the only word I can think to describe my thoughts is 'disappointing.'  The demon has no demonic powers other than a high threshold for pain (inflicted in either burns or cuts) and a piercing scream that he calls his mommy voice, or some such thing. 

While researching other readers' responses (on Goodreads and Amazon) I noticed a peculiar balance of responses.  It seems that there's no concensus on this book whatsoever:

105 Reviews 5 star:  (25) 4 star:  (21) 3 star:  (20) 2 star:  (19) 1 star:  (20)

Now I don't feel so bad about my ambivalence.  

To Kill a Mockingbird

I'm enmeshed in a project for work. A writing project that could be considered only marginally creative. It's rewarding, and occasionally satisfying. But it's never uplifting.

Jung

I took a few minutes and filled out a Jungian personality quiz.  Here's what it said:

[I am] an initiator of change, keenly perceptive of possibilities. I energize and stimulate others through myr contagious enthusiasm. I prefer the start-up phase of a project or relationship, and are tireless in the pursuit of new-found interests. I am able to anticipate the needs of others and to offer them needed help and appreciation. I bring zest, joy, liveliness, and a zany sense of fun to all aspects of my life.  I am at my best in situations that are fluid and changing, and that allow me to express my creativity and use my charisma.  I tend to idealize people, and can be disappointed when reality fails to fulfill my expectations.  I am easily frustrated if a project requires a great deal of follow-up or attention to detail.

Too Easy?

I'm sure that by now everyone has seen and/or heard about flight 1549's amazing landing in the Hudson river.  While this was happening Dubya was giving his farewell speech to America (and apparently no one was watching).  What's interesting to me is the metaphor invoked (coincidentally or not) by a line in this article:

Something unexpected and awesome had happened to shoulder him out of the picture: a jet gliding to a stop in the middle of the Hudson River, with everyone emerging safe.

How crazy is it that while Bush's reign of error was coming to an end (a plane crashing), something "unexpected and awesome had happened" (the election of Obama)...and everyone emerged safely from what by all accounts should have been a life ending disaster.

Maybe it's the writer in me sees metaphors in everything.  Maybe this hope thing has gotten into my bloodstream a little to emphatically.  But I can't help but see this is as an all-too-obvious analogy for the immediate past and the not-too-distant future.  I would say it was a sign, but anyone who knows me knows I don't believe in omens

Homely Spinster

I was hanging out with a friend today and he was talking about his family, people I've never met and knew nothing about.  He'd mentioned that his brother was married and lived with his wife, Cande (not short for Candice) and her daughter, Kat (not short for Katherine).  They also lived with his wife's mother and sister.  The writer in my quickly assessed the scenario (including the fact that they live in the south) and blurted out, "...the pole-dancing college student?" (as I imagined the sister to be).   He responded, "Homely spinster."

I was suddenly struck by the idea that anyone who has ever met me can probably sum up the entirety of my life in a short, hopefully witty, accurate and complimentary, sentence.  

I admit it, I went through a Rolodex of names in my head and summed them up in a sentence or two:

"Talentless, wannabe actress."

"Pretentious, ego maniacal chef."

"Republican nut job."

"Drunk."

I'm fully aware that none of these descriptions is all-encompassing (they may not even be accurate), but each one is evocative of a person, or, at least a type of person.  But I have to remember always that no one is that simple, no one can be encapsulated in a sentence.  Well, maybe some people can, but never a fictional character, because when a character is that simple, then they're never interesting or worth caring about.  And who the fuck wants to read about them?

Great Review

I received one of my best reviews so far.  Unfortunately (humiliatingly) it wasn't for a photo I've taken or something I've written.  It was for bar tending.

The praise came from a user review on citysearch.com that read, in part:

The apple tart with ice cream and caramel was a good ending for the meal. We then stopped at the bar for a after dinner drink. That is where we met a really cool bartender, Pablo. I think that is his name. He can converse about anything. Fun guy. The only shortfall was the wine list. It was limited in selection, but adequate. I am going back tonight for their $5 house martinis.

So there I am, sandwiched between apple tart and $5 house martinis.  My dad would be so proud.