Weird, the story that fragments can tell.
1995
"The only thing you can do now, the only religious thing you can do, is act. Act for God if you want to - be God's actress, if you want to ... You can at least try to, if you want to - there's nothing wrong in trying. You'd better get busy though, buddy. The goddamn sands run out on you every time you turn around."
-- Franny and Zooey
I lie here in the Sri Lanka darkness, + I find myself yearning ...
-- No matter what I say to you, I'm telling you I love you --
"There isn't a word evolved enough for what we are." -- M. 1/11/95 Dawn
Fear and regret are twin thieves who rob us of today.
"Both of us loved her, and neither of us liked me very much." -- Cliff Eberhardt, 2/9/95
Dream: 2/11/95 I was working in a diner. It was P's diner. He was the cook. He wore an apron. It was my first day. I was so nervous. I was shaking. There were 10 booths. I was leaning over to check for the table's #s. P. was in the kitchen, getting the stove ready. He wasn't really paying any attention to me. He wasn't being mean, but he wasn't pampering me. I was on my own. I went to the first table. It was Siobhan and a friend. But she wasn't acting like Siobhan at all. And she ordered a candy bar (a very specific candy bar that I can't remember right now.) And one other thing. I looked at my check pad and could barely write the order. I went into the basement to look for the candy bar. There was a long line of boxes labelled w/ dif. candy bars. I searched and searched, getting more and more panicked. I really was panicking. Talking to myself, near tears. "Where are they? Where are they?" Having a breakdown. I kept waiting for "someone" to come rescue me. I knew I had stayed down in the basement too long (hm. Wonder what that's about) and I was afraid to go back - afraid of what I'd find.
I came back up and the whole place was full, already eating. P. had clearly taken all the orders and brought their food while I was weeping in the basement. (Hm.)
I was afraid P. was angry with me. I looked into the kitchen (the kitchen wasn't a separate room, it was at the end of the diner) - P. was 3/4s turned away from me, I saw him wiping the stove clean of grease. He didn't seem angry. He was just doing his job.
River river carry me home
River river carry me home to the place where I come from
So deep
So wide
You take me on your back for a ride
If I should fall would you swallow me deep inside?
River - show me how to float
I feel like I'm sinking down
Thought that I could get along
But here in this water my feet won't touch the ground
I need something to turn myself around
Flowing away
Away toward the sea
River deep
Can you lift up and carry me
Roll on thru the heartland
Til the sun has left the sky
River river, carry me high
Til the washing of the water makes it all right
Let your waters reach me
Like she reached me tonight
Letting go is so hard
The way it's hurting now
To get this love untied
So tough to stay with this thing
Cause if I follow through, I face what I denied
I get those hooks out of me
And I take out the hooks that I sunk deep in your side
Kill that fear of emptiness, loneliness I hide
River, oh river, river running deep
Bring me something that will let me get to sleep
In the washing of the water will you take it all away
Bring me something to take this pain away
-- Peter Gabriel
There's a letter on the desktop that I dug out of a drawer
The last truce we ever came to from our adolescent war
And I start to feel a fever from the warm air thru the screen
You come regular like seasons shadowing my dreams
The Mississippi's might and it starts in Minnesota
At a place that you could walk across with 5 steps down
And I guess that's how you started -
Like a pinprick to my heart
But at this point you rush right through me and I start to drown
And there's not enough room in this world for my pain
Signals cross and love gets lost
And time passed makes it plain
Of all my demon spirits I need you the most
I'm in love with your ghost
-- Indigo Girls
Dream: 3/4/95
Only image I clearly remember: an older black couple lying in bed. The dream camera was diagonally up on the ceiling - not directly over them. The room was dim, had an underground Hobbit-like feeling. Patchwork quilt on bed. The situation as I understand it: Everyone (I was included in this, all my friends) was meeting for breakfast. A kind of potluck breakfast. And this black coule was coming too and it was expected that they would come because they made great waffles. This couple knew we would all be disappointed if they didn't come. However (this is a huge setup for this tiny remembered image) - their baby had just died. So all I remember is the dim image of the 2 of them in bed, lying on their beds, holding each other, tears rolling down their cheeks, yet saying to each other, "We have to go to breakfast. They expect us. We can't not go."
3/3/95 3 am "Are you crying? That ain't right. You should never cry when you're with me. You crying has nothing to do with You and Me." -- M.
Before everything fell apart, he became one of the few who mattered to me in the world. -- Goldbug Variations
The Care and Feeding of Foreigners spectral trees glazed with lapidary trills and mordants of winter growing more variegated four-ale tetragrammaton semaphores phloem-pipes, palisades Franciscan of 4th Street capacitance emaciated as a Cranach Christ Disraeli - never complain, never explain worse than aphasic w/ quotes metastasized cells steady call to tonic Limerick Ladies from Lunt St. Francis prayer Dr. Arendt attacca multifoliate counterpoint reagent
"He feels a strange euphoria, an overwhelming sense of inevitability. The thing about to make its grand entrance surprises him by its uncanny familiarity." -- Goldbug Variations
"Are you waiting for someone?" -- P. to me, '92
The Cluny tapestries - ? research
Good Thing by Patty Larkin Looking at the face of forever Well I've heard enough And I've seen enough And I know enough to know I know a Good Thing when I see it And it's a bad thing to let go Well I've been around I've been up and down Until I bent out of control With your world all in motion Got to put a ball and a chain on your soul All those angels running Picking up the pieces Putting back together hearts broke long ago I know a good thing when I see it And it's a bad thing to let go There will always be lovers with borders of their own And you may charge across in a golden chariot But you will never be home I had dreams like distant thunder I had hope like a prayer unheard Now this is nothing less than perfect In a less than perfect world All those angels running Picking up the pieces Putting back together hearts broke long ago I know a Good Thing when I see it And it's a bad thing to let go
3/13/95 Dream: My wallet - cheap white leather - was stolen. I was SO UPSET because my license was gone. I was having a FIT. Screaming. My voice all hoarse. "Don't you GET it? My ID! My ID!" I was in a long weird dim room, long ceiling, fucked-up perspective, like Willy Wonka. P. was back in a corner and I believe he was on roller skates. And I just wanted him to deal with my crisis of lost identification. We sat on steps, he one step below me - and I was SO UPSET - and he was glancing behind his shoulder, at me but not at me. Very blase, indifferent.
"I lay as I had fallen, merely turning apprehensive eyes slowly left, toward the wall, to look fully into the wicked gaze of my creature. It no longer frightened me. Indeed, I felt as if I were seeing the cause of my anxiety itself for the first time, exactly as it was." -- Alice Walker, "Possessing the Secret of Joy"
"There was a boulder lodged in my throat. My heart surged pitifully. I knew what the boulder was; that it was a word; and that behind that word I would find my earliest emotions. Emotions that had frightened me insane." -- Alice Walker, "Possessing Secret of Joy"
The Troubled Face of Quiet
If I can run fast enough, I could fly --
"I am really asking whether woman cannot begin, at last, to think thru the body, to connect what has been so cruelly disorganized - its fertility, its desire, its so-called frigidity, its bloody speech, its silences, its changes and mutilations, its rapes and ripenings." -- Adrienne Rich, Of Woman Born
Dream: 4/12/95 Dreamt of P. We were in this country academic town - like Ithaca - green lawns I remember - a big grey church - that academic feel of autumn and bells ringing. I was on a quest to get P. some water. He needed water and I was searching everywhere. I think I only found him a glass. There was a lot more to the dream. He was leaving. My parents were somehow there. I said, "I'll walk you to the van." He said, "Okay." He seemed very sad - weak - I wanted to take care of him. He was trying to explain to me why he couldn't be with me. That there was something more to the story. Then he whispered to me - so so quiet - he basically just moved his lips, exaggeratedly forming the words, "I have a virus." And - it wasn't a flu - he definitely had a disease - he was dying.
Dream: 4/13
Lying in a messy bed with M. I said something that made him laugh so hard - he was burying his face in the blankets, screaming with laughter.
-- When I woke, I remembered the dream + it made me feel very weird. And wistful. Because in the 3 years I've known M. I've never made him laugh like that. I've actually never seen him laugh like that with anyone.
June 16
Horrible and scary dream this a.m. I had to wake myself up from it. I was looking on as this Arabian man tortured a cat. It escalated and escalated until he stuck a pen in the cat's eyeball. I felt like it was happening to me. I was screaming as loud as I could. "No! No!" I heard the cat start to scream too. And the Arabian fuck was getting satisfaction out of it. He took a grim pleasure in the torture. "Roger told me to keep the cats off the lawn." It was in the middle of the eyeball gouging that I pulled myself up out of sleep, screaming. I scared M. He's used to my nightmares now.
June 18 Last night: FAULKNER
WAITING
Recognition
Connection
Expanding
Surrender
Crossroads
Dissolve
Core
Plea
Roots
Yearning
Defeat
Shadowland
Letting Go
Letting Go
Letting Go
LEGACY
Dream July 4th 1995 Pieces I remember: Browsing in a bookstore. Saw a rack of blank books and started browsing. Black cover with white pages, oversized. Then I saw a thick book covered with an odd kind of crushed velvet that looked like leopard skin. But there was a greenish tint to it. I picked it up, drawn to it. It was falling apart in an endearing way, and on the binding was a sticker saying "Free". I opened it and I realized that it was already full of writing. It was someone's journal. There was a lot of different colored pens used, some crayon too - red, blue, pink. It took me a second to realize that it was my own handwriting. Someone had covered up my recognizable journal with the leopard skin. In the dream, I hadn't even realized that I had lost a journal. I saw the date: 'July 7'. And I thought - 'Oh, this is last summer's journal.' (The P. summer.) And immediately, I was back there, in that summer. Image - with a moving camera - a crowd outside - summertime - clearly waiting for P. Then I read the words in the journal: "He said Hello with such gentleness and love and excitement." (That really is how I feel about P. and how he would talk to me. Even Hellos were deeply layered experiences.)
Then there was a whole section about M. I can't tell this part literally - I don't remember images or anything - but I learned something about M. I learned that he had been married long before - or maybe just seriously involved with someone - and they had had a baby girl - and for some mysterious reason the baby girl died. And M. felt responsible, guilty, ashamed, and everyone kind of did blame him for the death. But he never ever ever spoke of it.
July 13 a.m.
Dream: I was at Mum and Dad's and I was going downstairs to meet T and his new wife. The dream was like reality. I hadn't seen him in years. I had never met her. I could hear the voices downstairs. Mum and Dad talking with them in the hallway. I descended. T had the weirdest most unattractive haircut I had ever seen. It was kind of like a shag, but the top of it was curly, guido-ish - it looked perfectly horrible. His back was to me. He turned. We hugged. I said, "Your hair!" and touched the back of his head. Our hug ended abruptly and awkwardly. Very unsatisfying. Turned to the wife. She seemed to be standing on a step above me.
July Dream:
After my show. But it wasn't at Shattered Globe. It was like a high school, or Shiel Park. People, audience members, were milling about. Laverne was there, sitting, waiting for me. I thought P. had been there so I was searching for him. Looking everywhere. I saw many people that I knew from all parts of my life, but no P. I was very hurt and disappointed. Then - and this section was separated from the rest of my dream -
I was listening to P. on the phone. He was in an office, the door was open, I could see him. I eavesdropped. He was calling his girlfriend for some reason, and he called her "Bijou". It was his pet name. "Well, my little Bijou ..."
July 25
God what was my dream
what was it --
P. ---
August 18 1995
Dreamt: I was in the moivie Waterworld. Very elaborate dream. In helicopters flying over endless ocean with this big island with a weird scooped-out end. "You know what that is, don't you?" "A volcano?" Little dirty people - a lot of high-up shots - Then I was down on a boat or a raft with a girl who was my Waterworld guide, as though this world were real and I was new to this world. She was telling me everything, showing me how everything worked. The sea was full of activity - boats and sea monsters. There was an enormous fish going by, half in the water, half out - like a submarine - and it was as long as an ocean liner. Far away, there were frolicking little Lochness monsters. I looked down into the water. Not too far down, I saw what looked like the bottom - only it had big black and white designs - too close to the surface to be the bottom. It was a huge animal of some kind. Then someone pointed way out to sea - and I saw the tidal wave. Somehow, there were 2 mountain/volcanoes sticking up out of the ocean, and the wave was being funneled through that channel. I was terrified. It was like I was there - but also like I was a scared spectator ("There's a tidal wave in this movie?"). It was HUGE. White - roaring. The 2 of us crouched down and hid our heads to wait it out. Then - and this will be very hard to explain - it was just after the tidal wave went over us. And - then it was gone - but it had this suction effect, like a whirlpool - only on a massive scale - and suddenly my entire field of vision was taken up by brown and then - it pulled back - and back - and it was a HUGE ocean liner - right over us - and the ocean liner was being sucked backward by the tidal wave at a very fast rate. It was terrifying. Abd then it was gone too. I was glad I wasn't on that boat.
Then I was zooming around in a motorized hangglider - I remember one other girl - in a pink bikini and sunglasses - and then the Waterworld section ended and I was moving into a new house. It was a huge house and people were moving into rooms all over it. I was on this glassed-in porch. I remembered walking by the house years earlier and taking a picture of it it was so pretty. Fountain in front yard, flowers, grass - and now I lived there. Then I heard Mitchell's voice - his actual voice - I mean, it woke me up - and I heard him say, "Hey, Sheila, your old friend M. came by and sang us a song." I woke up like a shot, saying, "What? What? M? M's here?" I put on my T-shirt and went out of my room, totally expecting Mitchell to be standing right there. After all, I heard him. But he wasn't there. That was all a part of the dream.
1996
"She's a trophy wife, she used to be a wild child, and she loves museums." - Wade on some girl
"Did I come at a bad time or are you rehearsing Strindberg?" - Melissa, 30something
9/21/97
Michael proposed last night.
Everything in the universe is subject to change, and everything is right on schedule.
The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.
-- Jack London
12/5/97 P.'s wife B. came to me in a dream. It felt like a visitation. P. was in the dream, but only subliminally. I was in their apartment. I had let myself in (I was told to) and I felt sort of awkward and anxietal. Just standing around, waiting. Would he introduce me to her? Would she even be there?
Then she walked into the kitchen. She had long dark hair, she was very angular. She looked vaguely anorexic - prominent teeth - not very good skin - yet not unattractive. She was holding a bag of groceries. She put them down on the counter. She sort of smiled at me, not really.
I awkwardly made the first move, held out my hand. 'I'm Sheila."
Everything changed then. She looked at me again - and then came over to me and put her arms around me. She said to me as she hugged me, "I know you think the world of my husband."
_______
Kate made this observation: "An anorexic holding a bag of groceries? What's that about?"
David: "She's got the abundance that you want, but she's not being nourished."
12/15/97
Emerging from - where? Subway station - I came out into a place like Washington Square Park - bright sunny day - lots of people (dream extras) - and then there were these turnstiles placed randomly - not connected to anything apparently. And we had to go thru them. Michael was waiting by one of them for me. He had sunglasses on - a huge smile. Something was weird about it, though. Something wasn't quite right. The ground was covered in something. Confetti? Leaves? Scuffing thru them.
Is this a marriage metaphor?
1/17/98
Very cool dream with Michael - we were hanging out - I needed him to do something for me. He was sitting on a chair - I was on a chair beside him - only sitting up on the back of the chair, so I was higher. He wasn't looking at me.
I said, "Could you--"
He said immediately, "Come on." Or soemthing like that. "Let's go." "Of course." "Absolutely." Immediate unconditional agreement and I burst into laughter.
Then there was a whole underwater drama which I cannot remember.
1/19/98
Okay. Lots. Dream:
I was in a bar with Rich, it was sort of well lit - and it was like we were in a movie. Somehow it was artificial. And I said, "And there's M.!" Introducing him as a character. He was sitting down at the end of the bar (of course) and he had this white thing wrapped around his head - a cross between a bandage and Arab headgear. He looked insane. W/ this placid look on his face. Rich did a sort of violent karate move to get M.'s attention. M., alert, looked @ Rich - ready for anything - + the look on his face in that moment - I was so struck by it. The un-real blueness of his eyes, the very alive expression. Then M. said, referring to what was clearly an imaginary entity beside him: "I'd like you to meet my sidekick ... Dobat." Yes. Do-baht. Dobat? Robot? What?
Nov. 14 Dream:
Going down to the beach? - to watch the end of the world. I was w/ Brendan, Maria, and we had Cashel's stoller but Cashel wasn't in it. And at first we were driving - we didn't know what we were driving to see - we didn't know what was going to happen - was it going to be a natural disaster? A meteor? An asteroid? And as we drove (and the road was filled with cars) - in the distance we kept seeing this sort of highly mechanized huge slingshot-type apparatus - it was as big as a crane. We could see it from far away, and randomly - it would sort of unbuckle - and release something up into the air - a missile? It seemed like a futile attempt to stave off the disaster. Primitive. But - it was giving it its best shot. I remember Maria's calm energy. I was so happy I was with her. Eventually, the road got so clogged with cars that we got out and walked. Everybody else was doing that, too. I said something like, "Do we really want to be getting close to this disaster? Front row seats?"
And Maria said something - in a phrasing I can't remember - something like, "This will be a morning in history."
And we still didn't know if the end of the world was a sure thing, so maria was saying: if it's a mistake, then we'll go home - but let's not hide from it. Let's greet it with open eyes.
Nov. 22 98
My dream world is really coming back. In this past week alone:
1. M. got an office job - he wore a blue suit. It upset me SO MUCH. I went to visit him and we were looking for a private place to make out. No luck. M.'s feet were suddenly the size of a child's. I wanted to cry, seeing those small feet - it was like M. had been totally diminished. Tragedy.
2. Slow deliberate movement of a monstrous "s" - I was so scared in the dream that my brain would not accept what I was seeing
3. Claude Monet was being fucked up the ass by this claymation pygmy fertility-doll type man with a penis the size of a tree trunk.
Books read this year. I actually may end up adding a couple more to the list - since I am bed-ridden at the moment and could finish 2 more books by the time the damn ball drops across the river. This list is in chronological order. Some I have discussed on the blog and when that is the case I'll provide a link. But many have gone un-commented-upon by moi. Oh, and many of these are re-reads. I will make note of that when applicable. It's funny - I look at some of these books (like the 2 Annie Proulx short story collections) and remember exactly where I was when I was reading them (on Alex's couch, during my vacation in LA).
Next year I'd like to read more fiction. That's one goal, anyway.
2006 Books
1. Now I Can Die in Peace: How ESPN's Sports Guy Found Salvation, with a Little Help from Nomar, Pedro, Shawshank, and the 2004 Red Sox by Bill Simmons
Sheer liquid joy. Every word. I think I read this book in 2 days. I had given a copy to every member of my immediate family for Christmas - and then had to buy one myself. At one point, day after Christmas, I looked around the living room - and nobody was speaking - everyone was reading the book - occasionally guffawing with laughter.
2. Marlon Brando by Patricia Bosworth
A short book, a quick read. Bosworth wrote what I consider to be one of the best entertainment biographies of its kind - her biography of Montgomery Clift - and she's a member of the Actors Studio - so her writing on actors is, in general, knowledgeable and precise. She understands the importance of certain elements of the craft, and knows how to write about them. Some entertainment biographies treat the art of acting as a mystery (the most recent Cary Grant bio is a good example) - but Bosworth knows what she's talking about. I've read other Brando biographies, so much of the anecdotal stuff here is not new to me - but still - it was a good read. She's a good writer.
3. Close Range: Wyoming Stories , by Annie Proulx
Annie Proulx is one of my favorite writers. I had never read this whole collection before - the only story I had read was "Brokeback Mountain" but I read that when it first came out in The New Yorker. This collection of short stories cannot be overpraised, in my opinion. They are magnificent.
4. Bad Dirt : Wyoming Stories 2 by Annie Proulx
I had brought both short story collections to LA with me. I was on an Annie Proulx kick. Close Range, the first of the collection, is much more bleak. There is almost a pre-apocalyptic feel to some of them. Bad Dirt is a much more lighthearted collection. It's humorous - absurd (the one story of people falling into the hole, etc.) - and I guess I wasn't in the mood for lighthearted absurdity. Especially not after just reading the transcendent bleak brilliance of Close Range. But Annie Proulx's a favorite. I'd read a grocery list if it were written by her.
5. The Innocents Abroad by Mark Twain
I can't believe I had never read this book before. It's terrific. Laugh out loud funny.
6. Play It As It Lays by Joan Didion
I'm a huge fan of Didion's non-fiction and had never read her novel. Finally picked it up, and boy am I glad I did. I read it in 2 days, I think, it's not very long. But it has that cold clear relentless quality that is so recognizably Didion. She scares me. I love her.
7. At Swim-two-birds, by Flann O'Brien
I had read this before (it is practically a requirement if you belong to the O'Malley clan) but I felt like reading it again. It is a nonsensical ridiculous at times hilarious book ... that somehow has something to do with Mad King Sweeney, and Finn MacCool, and also with a loser college student who lies around in his room all day planning his perfect novel. This book is a lot of fun. It's totally imitated now - Dave Eggers, David Foster Wallace, all of those experimental meta-esque writers now owe a huge debt to Flann O'Brien.For example - he writes characters who are aware that they are characters in a novel - etc. It's a literary experiment. Much fun.
8. His Excellency: George Washington by Joseph Ellis
I love Joseph Ellis. Wonderful writer. He doesn't really write typical biographies. They're more like musings on the character of the man in question. Contemplative, open-minded, thought-provoking. I was excited to read this one, after having read Ellis' books on Jefferson and Adams - and I was not disappointed.
9. Stalin: The First In-depth Biography Based on Explosive New Documents from Russia's Secret Archives by Edvard Radzinsky
An emotional book written by one of Russia's premiere playwrights. I posted about it here and here
10. The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown
I had never read the book when it first came out - I'm just not a best seller kinda gal ... but I was in Philadelphia for a week for an acting job - and I had time to kill at night in my hotel room - and I bought the book in the train station. I needed something completely distracting and not taxing - because I would be working my ass off all day long. Da Vinci Code totally fit the bill. I finished it in 3 days. It is HORRIBLY written. I mean, you can feel that from the first page. What - was he paid extra for the number of exclamation points? Did he get extra money for italicized words? Yes, it is a piece of crap, but I could not put it down!!!!!!! (to imitate Dan Brown's writing style).
11. The Smartest Guys in the Room: The Amazing Rise and Scandalous Fall of Enron by Bethany McLean and Peter Elkind
VERY interesting. Made me feel like I wanted to take a shower after reading it. Highly recommended.
12. Why Orwell Matters by Christopher Hitchens
I consider this a must-read. I'm an Orwell fan anyway, so Hitchens is preaching to the choir as far as I'm concerned (not to mention the fact that I will read anything that Hitchens writes). But still. Must-read.
13. The Language of the Third Reich: LTI -- Lingua Tertii Imperii: A Philologist's Notebook by Victor Klemperer
Linguistic observations jotted down by a German Jew living in Dresden in the 30s and 40s. Anyone at all interested in totalitarian thinking, and thought control - will not want to miss this book. Klemperer wrote it in the midst of his own oppression - at times it was the only thing keeping him going, the thought of his LTI ... he jots down notes about newspaper articles, ads, the way words are twisted and stand in for something else - words like "father" and "land" and "work" - all end up having sinister meanings under the Third Reich. Klemperer looks at this language control systematically. Terrifying and fascinating book.
14. The Dragons of Expectation: Reality and Delusion in the Course of History by Robert Conquest
I love Conquest but to be honest I can't remember anything about this book.
15. Shopgirl by Steve Martin
I don't know why I picked this book up, but I am so glad I did. I hadn't even seen the movie - so I'm not sure what the draw was. It's a wonderful little book, and it actually struck a very deep chord within me. I felt named by this book. And the movie ended up slaughtering me in a completely unexpected way when I did get around to seeing it - but the book is just a lovely little piece of writing. It really is. I'll read it again.
16. The New Biographical Dictionary of Film: Expanded and Updated by David Thomson
This book is, what, 1500 pages long? I think I started reading it way last year - it's alphabetical - the entries are long and detailed (or, some of them are) and I decided to read through it alphabetically. This meant it took forever. It also meant that I became acquainted with some names I have never heard of before. I kept a running list of movies I haven't seen that I need to see because of this book. It's massive. A GREAT reference tool. Indispensable. (It has already shown itself to be indispensable to me.)
17. Rubicon: The Last Years of the Roman Republic by Tom Holland.
I made fun of this book here.
18. Lighthousekeeping by Jeanette Winterson
Winterson deserves her own post. I have a complicated ongoing relationship with her as an author - it's a funny thing. Her novel The Passion is one of my favorite novels ever written ... but I've felt that she has lost her way in the last decade. Or - no, not lost her way. But the way she has chosen to go does not interest me. Kinda like me and Tori Amos. I'll always love Tori ... I'll keep buying those albums, my dear, but ... I like the OLD Tori! It's a rare artist whom I will follow thru their experimental stages - but Winterson is one of them. FASCINATING. I find her writing captivating. Lighthousekeeping is, in a way, Winterson coming back to form ... but not really. It does have some of the old whimsy though - her arresting images (the vertical house where you have to anchor down the cups so they won't fall, etc.) - and her mixture of fairy tale logic witih reality. She's fantastic. LOVE her. Reading Lighthousekeeping made me go on a rampage of re-reading - as you will see.
19. The PowerBook by Jeanette Winterson
I had read this book when it first came out but quickly tired of it. I found it much better the second time around. The narrator (we do not know the gender, typical Winterson) touts him/herself as a deliverer of fantasies. The narrator, through the Internet, can make people's fantasies come true - identity becomes fluid, permeable - the narrator learns what your fantasy is and then, like a true storyteller, writes it out - and the reader can be transported into another time. So we go back in time to Turkey, to the Dutch tulip bulb frenzy, we travel to Capri ... I'm not sure what it all MEANS but I know it has something to do with the yearning of many of us to resist classification. To resist labeling, or pinning down. Even down to something as seemingly elemental as gender. The thing I like best about Winterson is probably the thing that annoys her critics: her joy in her own creative capabilities. I love that about her. And sometimes it does get the better of her (uhm Art & Lies, Jeanette? What the hell was that?) - but still: if you take risks, you're bound to fail sometimes. I appreciate the fact that she is willing to fail.
20. The Journalist and the Murderer by Janet Malcolm
I consider this a must-read. I remember the controversy that erupted when this piece first came out (in a shorter form, of course) in The New Yorker. In a way, that controversy still rages. This book is the reference point for many conversations about journalistic integrity. Malcolm is relentless in her critique.
21. In the Wake of the Plague: The Black Death and the World It Made by Norman Cantor
I believe I referred to this book as I was reading it as The Black Death for Dummies. I think I need to read something a little more advanced next time.
22. Like Life by Lorrie Moore
One of the best fiction writers out there. Period. This is her most recent collection of short stories. She is so so so good.
23. Weight: The Myth of Atlas and Heracles by Jeanette Winterson
This is part of a really cool series where modern-day authors take on re-telling certain myths. Winterson was asked to do Atlas - this is her most recent book - and I LOVED it. She is totally in her prime here.
24. The Rasputin File by Edvard Radzinsky
This book was criticized when it first came out for being out of control, incoherent ... and I guess I can see where the critics are coming from, but whatever, I had a great time reading it. Couldn't put it down, in fact.
25. Goldie: A Lotus Grows in the Mud by Goldie Hawn
I know, who else goes from Rasputin to Goldie Hawn. I had had this book for a while - and hadn't picked it up (I buy pretty much any new entertainment biography or autobiography that comes out - I will get to all of them eventually) - and then it was Annika's ongoing Goldie Hawn series (first part here) that made me finally pick it up. It's one of my favorite books I've read this year. Annika and I exchanged a couple emails about it, it was good to talk with someone who loves Goldie and loved the book. It's not greatly written or anything - but there was just something about it. First of all: you could tell it was all her. There was no ghost writing going on here. Second of all: it wasn't a strict linear biography. She was more interested in sharing what she felt she learned in her life, rather than just listing her resume. And there were times the book made me cry. I love her anyway, always have ... but I ADORED her book and I highly recommend it. It's not just a "ooh, here was my triumph HERE, and here was my triumph THERE" ... she talks about her struggles, her views on men and marriage, on being a working mother, on losing her privacy when she became famous, on how to keep herself from having a big head (she credits a lot of that to her father, but also to her rigorous dancing training) ... I loved every word of this book.
26. Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking by Malcolm Gladwell
I'm a huge Gladwell fan. HUGE. I didn't like this book as much as The Tipping Point but still: worth a read.
27. Kiss Me Like a Stranger: My Search for Love and Art by Gene Wilder
A fun read by an all-time favorite of mine. Posted an excerpt here.
28. Kate Remembered by Scott Berg
This came out right after Hepburn died. Scott Berg had been sitting on the manuscript for a couple of years - Hepburn had asked that he not publish it until she died, and also that his be the first. Hepburn fans: you don't want to miss this. It's not a typical biography. Berg and Hepburn were friends, of a sort ... and this is a book of his remembrance of her, his impression of her. If you're fascinated by this hard-to-pin-down woman, Berg's biography will captivate you. Tons of fantastic anecdotes.
29. Slouching Towards Bethlehem: Essays by Joan Didion
This is a re-read. "Goodbye to All That", one of my favorite essays ever written, is in this collection.
30. The White Album by Joan Didion
More essays from Joan Didion. This one was a re-read too - but Slouching Towards Bethlehem made me want more. Didion can be like a drug for me. She spoils other writers.
31. Vintage Didion by Joan Didion
A compilation of Didion's stuff. Awesome essay about California and Patty Hearst. Truly, I think Joan Didion is one of my favorite writers. She takes my breath away.
32. A Collection of Essays by George Orwell
I had been working on this collection, off and on, for some time. Many of them I had already read (his political essays, certainly) but a lot of this was new to me. His massive essay on Charles Dickens was thrilling to read. Excerpt here and here. I love Orwell.
33. Cooper's Women, by Jane Ellen Wayne
Horrible. Wonderful. More here.
34. The Cleopatra Papers: A private correspondence by Jack Brodsky and Nathan Weiss
Probably only a real movie buff would like this book. I actually had been keeping my eye open for this book for years - it's referenced often in other books - and finally I found a used copy on Amazon, ordered it, and read it in an afternoon. It's a private correspondence between two publicists working on Cleopatra - being filmed in Rome and in England. Amazing to imagine working on a film without emails, or cell phones, or blackberries. It really is. These guys had to cram in all the information into a letter - and then sometimes they would telegram later with urgent stuff. Cleopatra is one of the most notorious movie shoots in cinematic history and I just ate this book UP. Because it's an unedited version of the correspondence between 2 guys who were trying to put out the fire, trying to calm down the PR nightmare that the film was becoming ... It was the death blow to the studio system, and these guys were ground-level witnesses to it. FASCINATING. Corporate politics, star power, paparazzi (already going strong), board meetings, creative control, art and commerce - this book has it all.
35. Dino: Living High in the Dirty Business of Dreams by Nick Tosches
Wow, is all I can say. There's a reason why this book is a reference point for other books in the same genre. It doesn't even really classify as a biography. It's a poetic contemplation, it's an act of ventriloquism, it's arrogant, it's deep, it's emotional ... I could not put this book down. I had heard people praise it. David Thomson, critic extraordinaire, used the word "magesterial" when describing it - and I remember thinking to myself, before I read it, "How good could it be? It's a biography of Dean Martin, how good could it be?" It's that good. Within the first paragraph I knew I was reading a different kind of biography altogether. It's controversial, yes, and some people hate it. I loved it.
36. The Men Who Made the Movies by Richard Schickel
Schickel was one of the guys on my list so when I saw this book I had to get it. Interviews from the 1970s with Howard Hawks, John Ford, Raoul Walsh, Vincente Minelli ... and I forget who else. 2 or 3 more. Great stuff. I love books like this. Great backstage anecdotes, funny stories, how they managed to film this or that ... Love it.
37. Because They Wanted to by Mary Gaitskill
Another one of my favorite writers. Short story collection. She's piercing. She's a hard writer for me to read. It's almost too raw at times. Here's an excerpt.
38. Life of Pi by Yann Martel
Posted about it here.
39. The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova
I went on a new fiction kick which I'm not normally into. Figured I'd see what the fuss was about with some of these. I think the fuss was a wee bit over-the-top in this case (especially the monumental advance she got) - but still I will say this: I could not put it down. It is a helluva book. I posted about it here and here.
40. Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld
Great read. Just a great great read. It's quite a debut. Posted about it here.
41. The Master and Margarita, by Mikhail Bulgakov
Holy shit, is basically all I have to say. I posted about it here.
42. The Sisters: The Saga of the Mitford Family by Mary S. Lovell
This was a re-read. Why on earth would I re-read this biography of the 6 Mitford sisters? You got me. No - it all came about because Decca Mitford's letters were just published - and I heard about that - and wrote this post about the Mitford family and that got me all worked up all over again. I re-read the book in a weekend. I recommend it.
43. Isaac Newton by James Gleick
I VERY much enjoyed this book. Learned a lot. Posted about it here.
44. Snapping: America's Epidemic of Sudden Personality Change by Flo Conway, Jim Siegelman
Before I even finished this book I had to send a copy of it to Emily. I knew that she, above all people, would get this book. Brainwashing. Cults. It's amazing. Terrifying. It's really about what goes on in the BRAIN during the cult's recruitment efforts ... and what happens when someone snaps. Very important book.
45. The Making of the Misfits by James Goode
Like The Cleopatra Papers - another first-hand in-the-present recounting of one of the most harrowing film shoots in film-making history. I had been wanting to read this book for a long time as well - tracked down a copy on Amazon for, like, 2 cents and read it. Posted about it here.
46. Stalin and the Kirov Murder by Robert Conquest.
Incredible book - even more incredible when you realize that Conquest wrote it when very little of any of this was in the public record. He had to rely on second-hand sources, samizdat literature, dissident memoirs, etc. Conquest amazes me. I posted about it here.
47. Young Patriots: The Remarkable Story of Two Men. Their Impossible Plan and The Revolution That Created The Constitution by Charles Cerami
I changed my tune by the end of the book. I liked it in the beginning (I'll read anything about that period, I don't care) ... but by the end, I thought; Hmm. What does this book offer that other books don't? Uhm ... not much. It's a bit shallow. I think I might have liked the IDEA of the book better than the actual book - it doesn't really do what it says it's gonna do - hone in on Madison and Hamilton. You can get that story just fine in the Chernow biography of Hamilton which covers that period in depth - I don't know, I was a bit disappointed. Posted on it here, here, and here.
48. James Madison: (The American Presidents Series) by Garry Wills.
I do love the American Presidents Series and hope to collect them all eventually. Madison's Presidency is not often focused on - mainly because it wasn't all that spectacular - but also because his work with the constitution tends to overshadow everything else. And probably rightly so. Madison- the serious little thinker, covertly moving behind the scenes ... qualities that made him a superb legislator and organizer but maybe not so good a president. Good book. Highly recommend it.
49. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
What a read.
50. Marie Antoinette: The Journey by Antonia Fraser
Chuck sent this to me as a Christmas present which I received just as I was leaving town last week. I, of course, had other books on me - other books to read - but I had a disastrous commute back up to my parents (uhm - it took me 9 hours to get to Rhode Island. Normally it takes 3 and a half. It still wasn't as bad as this infamous trip, however.) So I was stuck on busses, sitting around in terminals waiting, blah blah ... so I took out my brand new book and started flipping through it. 4 days later, I had finished it. Once I started it I could not put it down. Wow. I learned a LOT.
51. Peter Bogdanovich's Movie of the Week by Peter Bogdanovich
Miker sent this to me for my birthday, I think - and I've been reading it here and there ever since and I just finished it. Bogdanovich started it as a column for the New York Observer, I think. The editor asked him if he would do a weekly column on classic movies that would be shown that week on television - and Bogdanovich said yes. The columns were a huge success - and eventually Bogdanovich came out with a book, only these were HIS favorite movies, not just ones that happened to be showing that week. Bogdanovich chooses a movie a week - so we get 52 reviews - and he writes with such an immediacy and an accessibility that it makes me excited to rush right out and see the ones I haven't seen. He knows a helluva lot about film - I mean, he's encyclopedic - and sometimes it's daunting when I realize how much I still have to learn - but he's a great guide. An excited happy guide, psyched to show you the treasures he has.
52. They Call Me Naughty Lola: Personal Ads from the London Review of Books by David Rose (Editor)
I love a book that I cannot read on the bus or the train because my wild guffaws would disturb other commuters. OH, how I love a book like that. I tried to read it on the bus once - and that was it. Never again. Snorting, guffawing, wild barks of laughter ... it was too much holding all that noise back. I'll post some of my favorites at some point, but seriously, this book is a HOWLER. I LOVE THOSE PEOPLE.
I'm no fool. I've killed the boss, you think they're not gonna fire me for a thing like that?
-- I'd like to make her look a little more attractive, how far can you pull back?
-- How do you feel about Cleveland?
-- I joined the army 'cause my father and my brother were in the army. I figured I better join before I got drafted.
-- Son, there ain't no draft no more.
Suddenly it came over me that everything would go wrong. It sounds crazy, but it's true, so help me. I couldn't hear my own footsteps. It was the walk of a dead man.
There are things you do hate, Lord. Perfume-smellin' things, lacy things, things with curly hair.
I know you and Frank were planning to disconnect me, and I'm afraid that's something I cannot allow to happen.
Would ya just watch the hair. Ya know, I spend a long time on my hair and he hit it. He hit my hair.
My father was fond of saying you need three things in life - a good doctor, a forgiving priest, and a clever accountant. The first two, I've never had much use for.
-- Everybody thinks I'm anorexic, but I'm not.
-- Really? Cause ... yeah ... cause I thought you were anorexic.
-- I know, I know ... Thank you.
I do not, for one, think that the problem was that the band was down. I think that the problem may have been, that there was a Stonehenge monument on the stage that was in danger of being crushed by a dwarf.
They are retreating into a cloud of smoke where they will congratulate each other for being masters of the universe.
You're the first woman I've seen in one of these things that dresses like a woman, not like a woman thinks a man would dress if he was a woman.
-- What's this doohickey?
-- It's a brassiere! You know about those things, you're a big boy now.
Wouldn't it be wonderful if we were old? Then we could say we survived all this. Everything thing would be uncomplicated, the way it was when we were young?
-- I do not attempt to deny that I think very highly of him - that I greatly esteem him... I like him.
-- Esteem him? Like him? Use those insipid words again and I will leave this room this instant.
You can act like a man! What's the matter with you. Is this how you turned out? A Hollywood finocchio that cries like a woman.
Loneliness has followed me my whole life, everywhere. In bars, in cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. There's no escape. I'm God's lonely man.
This chick, man, without the sole benefit of dying herself, has broken down the process of dying into five stages: anger, denial, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Sounds like a Jewish law firm. 'Good morning, Angerdenialbargainingdepressionacceptance!'.
-- Teaching is just a way to pay the bills until I finish my novel.
-- How long you been workin' on it?
-- Four and a half years.
-- It must be very good.
-- It's a piece of shit. Would anyone like to smoke some pot?
I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'll never understand or forgive myself. And if a bullet gets me, so help me, I'll laugh at myself for being an idiot. There's one thing I do know - and that is that I love you. In spite of you and me and the whole silly world going to pieces around us, I love you. Because we're alike. Bad lots, both of us. Selfish and shrewd. But able to look things in the eyes as we call them by their right names.
The prettiest sight in this fine pretty world is the privileged class enjoying its privileges.
-- My astrologist has read my horoscope, he's read DeMille's horoscope.
-- Has he read the script?
I'll tell you what. Until I get back my five thousand dollars, you're gonna get more than you bargained for. I'm your goddamn partner!
People say, You must have been the class clown. And I say, No, I wasn't. But I sat next to the class clown, and I studied him.