53. Called Out of Darkness: A Spiritual Confession by Anne Rice

I’ve tried to read Interview With a Vampire twice, once in high school (to be cool) and once about 4 years ago (to be well read), and I couldn’t get into it either time. This was mainly because Anne Rice can describe something to death. It had nothing to do with homoerotic, andro-y vamps and their glorious hair. It was more to do with she could write a book just describing Lestat’s hair or the architecture of a building. And while I love hair and architecture, I’ve had plenty of art history classes, thank you, and I’m not interested in books that go into huge amounts of detail that seem to slow the plot. I recognize that some people love that stuff, and that’s awesome for them, but for me… just get on with the story!

First and foremost, I was not raised Catholic and am currently non-Catholic, and I think that if I had been raised Catholic this book may have meant more to me. If you are Catholic or were raised Catholic I would recommend this book to you because I think you’d be surprised at how much you probably have in common with Anne Rice.

This nonfiction book of hers on her conversion back to Christianity started out very descriptive of her childhood. She goes on to describe everything. Her church, the statues in the church, the stations of the cross in her church…it went on and on. And look, I love memoirs. I do. It’s probably the grenre I read the most. So I get that memoirs are going to be self-aborbed, that that’s even kind of the point. But the first 100 pages where she talks about her childhood were ridiculously described to death, and many parts of it were redundant. If she could’ve shortened the first part to 50 – 60 pages it would have been great.

Another annoying thing about this book is the redundancy. She would say something and then say something like, “To repeat:….” and then say the same thing again. This really only works when one is giving a speech. In the written word it’s a bit pointless. I imagine then that the audiobook would be a pretty good listen.

The third thing I found annoying was that several times she’d say something like, “And now I’ll tell you about This Important Thing. But before I tell you about This Important Thing, first let me tell you about This.” This seemed a bit bush league. She did it more than once. It was like reading a first draft or something, where the ideas are all laid out but not quite in the right order yet, and it’s good that it’s all written down, but maybe you should go back and move some paragraphs around and do some general tweaking.

Now, with all my negative pet peeves out of the way, I’ve got to say that this was a good book. Well, after the first part it becomes a good book. Her break from the church was really interesting because it actually wasn’t that interesting at all. I was expecting some kind of huge dramatic thing to have happened to make her turn away from the church, but it was so subtle and nearly boring that to me, that was an even scarier thing to think about.

One thing I must praise Mrs. Rice on is her honesty. And she should be commended on her bravery. I mean, let’s say you’ve been an atheist for 30 years and you’ve been writing books about gay vampires and demons (which I imagine are not being read by the christian right) and then you convert back to Catholicism and start writing books about Jesus. Not only have you pissed of your loyal like-minded readers, but now you’ve many judging judgehole Christians to contend with who are quite possibly thinking, “Just what does Anne “queer vampire fiction” Rice know about Jesus anyway?”

Turns out, she knows quite a lot.

The second half of this book is interesting, enjoyable, thought-provoking, and I’m very glad she wrote this book.

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Tags: Anne Rice, books

this evening we had a birthday party for Aline. it was so much fun. she brought over some of her international friends. one was from Brazil, one from China, a Korean, and a Colombian. they were so sweet! i made a vegetarian chili (from a great recipe that Carol had) and Terica made the cornbread (from a great recipe she got from someone, hee!).

we made a fire in the backyard and we taught the kids how to make s’mores. they were SO EXCITED. they had never had them before but knew about them from american movies. they loved them. it was so funny cos when they’d catch their marshmallow on fire they would start swinging the stick to put it out and we were all, “no! not like that!” cos you know, you gotta blow it out. you can’t be swinging around flaming marshmallows. that shit is like napalm.

Aline loved her gifts and she was shaking as she opened them. i guess she was excited. she gave us all hugs and was crying even though Nathan told her if she cried we’d take all her presents back.

i put Aline in charge of the fire at first because as i’ve mentioned she’s a firefighter in Brazil. we were having bad luck with the fire cos the wood i had was too fresh and not dried out enough. and Aline pointed out that she was much better at putting fires out than starting them. but then she told us about as a kid she started a fire once under her bed. and once on the roof. and this other time she started a fire on a tank of gas. i guess it’s a good thing she became a firefighter.

then when the fire was getting low and the poor kids were freezing we went inside and played some Guitar Hero.

it was so much fun. i wish we could do that every week!

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Tags: Aline, birthday, conversation partner, guitar hero

so i tweetered this yesterday, but here it is in more than 140 characters.

this lady comes up to the desk with her husband. she asks, “do you have Against Medical Advice?”

that’s the new James Patterson book, and this time he’s trying his hand at nonfiction. i guess he saw where it didn’t exactly hurt John Grisham when he did a NF last year (The Innocent Man). And since James Patterson is used to writing with other people (i’m not sure what the last JP book that he wrote by himself even is.) i’m sure the collaboration will be fine.

i point to the book which is on a display right behind her (the book is not even a foot and a half away from her arm.) and i say, “yes. it’s right there.”

“you do?!”

“yes ma’am. it’s there. right behind you.” again, i’m pointing at the book.

“it’s in?”

“…yes, right there. it’s the yellow-y one.”

“you mean you have it here?”

“that is what i’m telling you.”

“and i can check it out?”

“yes. but you have to hand it to me first.”

okay. now, i’m going to show you how the convo really went down because while the lady was in complete disbelief over our having an actual book she wanted to read, the husband was also talking to her. or maybe at her would be more apropos.

“do you have Against Medical Advice?”

“yes, it’s right there.”

“i need a jacket?”

“you do?!”

“yes ma’am.”

“no, not me. she texted “i need a jacket.” what does that mean?”

“it’s there. right behind you.”

to her husband, “she probably forgot a jacket. she wants me to bring her one.”

to me, “it’s in?!”

“…yes, right there. it’s the yellow-y one.” pointing.

in a loud voice, “SHE DIDN’T EVEN SAY PLEASE?!”

“you mean you have it here?”

“that is what i’m telling you.”

“SHE COULD AT LEAST SAY PLEASE. WHAT’S SO HARD ABOUT THAT? “COULD YOU PLEASE BRING ME A JACKET?” SEE? NOT HARD, BUT NO. I GET, “I NEED A JACKET.” LIKE I’VE GOT NOTHING ELSE TO DO TODAY.”

“and i can check it out?”

“yes. but you have to hand it to me first.” right now. quickly. before i have to kick your freakshow out of the ‘brary for being a loudmouthed d-bag.

and it took her forever to find her card and he continued to postulate on her child’s lack of manners. which of course was not awkward at all. he continued his tirade while they were walking out the door.

as soon as the door closed, “geez. did anyone time that?”

“no, why?”

“it felt like forever.”

“what was her deal about that book?”

“i dunno, i felt like i was in a comedy sketch, but wasn’t told about it. in fact, i’m still waiting for someone to yell “cut!”‘

“don’t hold your breath, it’s monday.”

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Tags: James Patterson, John Grisham, library

you win this round, october.

i wasn’t going to turn on the furnace until it either reached 60 degrees (we use Fahrenheit in the Jones’ household, because we love America and The Lord.) or colder in the house or november. whichever came first.
jimmy’s been all, “damn, woman. trying to kill me?”

and i’ve been all, “here’s a blanket; deal till november.”

this morning it was 55 degrees in the house. that’s quite a refreshing temp to wake to. that’s a lie, that’s some chill-in-my-bones cold. we don’t own enough blankets for me to torture mr. fleegan with a, “but november’s only 4 days away. it’ll be like camping!” so i turned on the furnace.

now it smells like burning witches in my house, but, it’s warm. although i’m totally going to turn it off when i leave to go to work.

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Tags: rant

52. Man in the Dark by Paul Auster

I haven’t read all of Mr. Auster’s work, but the three books of his I have read I’ve enjoyed. I don’t know why. They aren’t exactly mainstream. Perhaps I’m a sucker for the metafiction, the stories he creates within his stories (the one character in his book is a writer and he writes a story in his head. the book jumps from the story in the guy’s head to the “real” story. It sounds difficult and annyoing, but it wasn’t that confusing.), or maybe I just like a complex storyline every now and then.

The main story is a bit sad, but it’s sweet because the grandfather (writer) gets to spend time with his granddaughter and they discuss movies and literature and it’s all very interesting.

A bit of warning: the dialogue is not written with quotation marks around it. Usually this sort of thing is daunting and annoying, but Mr. Auster is a good writer so it works, and it’s not hard to follow at all. I hate to gush, but it’s like he handcrafts each of his sentences to not only be simple and elegant but to look good on the page as well. That’s how easy it was to read. Bah, that’s total gush.

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Tags: books, Paul Auster

i have some great pals.

when i posted pictures of how pathetic my sock situation was, none of them actually made fun of me. not a single one of them (including my mom) took me aside and lectured, “for the love of christ! you are over 30 years old! i think you can make it to the store and buy yourself your own goddam socks. you’ve got arms and legs and means of transportation! get thee to a sockery!”

nay, instead my pals rose to the occassion and bought me some socks. and books. and a recycled bag made from baby seals. and book shelves. and money to go toward a chiminea. but mostly socks:

SOCKAPALOOZA!

there were even more socks than that, but i had already worn them and they were in the dirty clothes basket.

and also, my very first THEMED CHESS SET.

Transformers! (Fergie, you go first.) the cats were VERY interested in the chess.

i know, right? great friends.

asking for socks was a great idea, plus, they’re cheaper than booze so we all win.

the food was great as well. jambalaya, hotdogs, Adult Pizza Rolls, cheese grits, dips, a giant cookie, Clark bar cake (dad totally found clark bars at the hardware store.), crackerjack, and booze.

we also watched (“watched”) the World Series game 1. Phillies are up by one. it’s a shame no one cares.
hee.

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Tags: baseball, birthday, chess

mr. fleegan had to go to some computer place for something (it’s the place FA used to work for) and the fella working there looked at mr. fleegan and asked, “hey, aren’t you part of that group that calls themselves the fleegans?”

*GASP* we’ve been made!

ABORT! ABORT! THIS INTERNET WILL SELF-DESTRUCT IN 30 SECONDS. BITE YOUR CYANIDE PILLS NOW.

we’re assuming (uh oh) that he recognized mr. fleegan from laura’s site because i don’t really post many pictures… of humans. mostly just pictures of Roxy.

***

c’mon a my house tomorrow night for some World Series and birthday fun. i’ll say the party starts at 6pm.
i say sausage you say balls!

sausage!

sausage!

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Tags: birthday, mr. fleegan

didja know that today would be Mickey Mantle’s birthday if he were still alive? and that tomorrow (my birfday) is Whitey Ford’s birthday?

it’s also Ivy’s birthday tomorrow.

you can always tell who had sex on Valentine’s Day.

***

and for all my friends who love the ’80s and libraries:

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Tags: birthday, nerd

yesterday i came home for lunch at 1pm. i ate a sandwich and then sat in the green comfy chair by the front window. i had the windows open because there was a nice breeze blowing. i picked up one of the trillion books i have on the table to read. it’s Anne Rice’s Catholic Memoir of Supreme and Holy Self-absorption.

i read a lot of memoirs/autobiographies, it’s one of my favorite genres, but this book is one of the most self-absorbed, self-gratifying (i want to use masturbatory as an adjective, but i haven’t finished the book yet and there’s about 100 more pages to go and maybe it finally goes somewhere interesting?), and boring memoir i’ve read yet.

anyway, point is, i was sitting in the quiet room reading a book when i heard a faint noise. the noise got louder and i realized i could hear my dad playing his banjo across the street in his house. apparently he had the front door opened. it wasn’t so loud that i couldn’t read my book, but it made me laugh because it reminded me of the Bugs Bunny cartoon where the opera singer is practicing in his house with the door open and Bugs Bunny is playing his banjo and singing songs, and the opera singer can hear him in the background and keeps slipping the wrong lyrics into his opera and getting mad about it.

it’s about the first two minutes of that video. and the best part is when Giovanni Jones prances his huge body with his tiny little legs across the livingroom singing, “one and two and three and four she dances all day long!” it slays me. every time. and, because we are supreme nerds, mr. fleegan and i sing that song all the time. it’s one of those things we absently sing as we walk down the hall, make coffee, wait for the computer to boot up… (oh, and to add to my total nerdness, everytime we had to study David Hockney’s work (the paintings of L.A. houses and pools not his collages) i would think of that house. man, i may have a problem.)

i think about Looney Tunes cartoons all the time. if not once a day then at least every other day. i mean, just the Yosemite Sam mumble swearing i do under my breath after dealing with certain patrons alone covers three days a week. and at the start of a baseball game when they’re doing the roster i can’t help but think, “catching Bugs Bunny, left field Bugs Bunny, right field Bugs Bunny, Pitching Bugs Bunny…” and the whole “out!”/”safe!” gag. and at the end with the Statue of Liberty, “that’s what the man said you heard what he said he said that…”

one of my favorites is Bully for Bugs where he’s in the bull fight. i love the Mexican Hat Dance/la cucaracha  when he slaps the bull in the face. classic.
but to me, the best part of that one is when the bull somehow swallows the rifle and it’s in his tale and every time he moves his tale a bullet shoots out of his horn. and at first the bull is all, “what the-?”

but then he figures it out and the look on his face is so great.

i mean, come on, that’s perfect.

i could write a whole book on my childhood and my love of Daffy Duck and Bugs Bunny and my favorite parts of Looney Tunes cartoons and how often i quote it and which quotes i use where (like when i’m with dad and he does something silly/embarrassing/goofy and i say, “oh father…” in that exasperated way that Sylvetser’s son says it when Sylvester gets creamed by a mouse or whatnot…) but that would be self-absorbed and boring, Anne Rice.

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Tags: Anne Rice, Bugs Bunny, Looney Toons, nerd, popsicle

as my pals all know i’ve a birthday coming up. it’s on the 21st. i’ll be twenty eleven. it’s a boring birthday. not a milestone. not a very cool number. it’s on a tuesday. very vanilla, no?

every year people ask me what i want for my birthday and every year i’m all, “meh.” cos when you’re an adult you can pretty much buy your own presents all year ’round, right? within reason? yes?

and the things you need, well, you could never ask your pals for that. i mean, i need hundreds of dollars for the property taxes since the buttfucking revenuers wouldn’t let me claim homestead until 2009. but it’s not like i’m going to ask anyone for that. we’ve all got our own shit to deal with, yeah?

so this year, for my boring birthday, i’m requesting a simple gift. a simple gift that i need so badly i’m willing to share with you in photos of just why i need this gift. and yes, it’s something i could buy for myself. easily. it’s just that i never do. i never think about it, at least, i never think about it while i’m out running errands or on the rare occassion i make it to Walmart. i’m constantly thinking about it while i’m at work hoping that my shoes don’t accidentally slip off (Birks, you know) and show off the hideous embarrassment that is my socks:

 

that is pathetic isn’t it? that’s like, all my socks, except my paint/work socks that are white tube socks. the tube socks for painting are okay because i bought a bunch of those last year when i realized that my previous work/tube socks were so far gone that they were basically just tubes with no foot part to them anymore. it was like painting all day with just white legwarmers on. hey, i’m owning it, all right?

but my fancy library working socks, i mean, look at them. that’s eight pair of sadness right there. i don’t know if my feet sweat acid instead of sweat, or if my birks have lasted this long because they are actually feeding on my socks all day like some kind of parasite. it doesn’t really matter because the point is I NEED SOCKS. and apparently, I WILL NEVER BUY THEM. because honestly, two pair of those up there i’ve had since high school. and that was 12 years ago, fools.

am i capable of buying socks?

i’d like to think so. i buy underwear and bras and coffee, and i use those things everyday just like socks. but for some reason i never buy socks. ever. never ever.

so, for my birthday… my feet are size 7 – 7½.

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Tags: birthday, nerd, socks

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