Summer plans: break brain

Yesterday, I received in the mail the fruit of my birthday gift card to Powell’s Books: a huge box of words to busy me for a year. I’m going to try to do them this summer. All of them. This includes the cookbook. A rundown:

A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson: Ok, I read it already this year. But I needed to own it. This happens to me quite often; I read a library book and decide the many notes I took on it are not nearly enough. It needs to be on my shelf. Now I can scare myself with the notion of Yellowstone exploding whenever I damn well please.

Ulysses by James Joyce: I got it during Bloomsday week, which is one of the timeliest book purchases I’ve made as a reader. I’m hoping that by next June 16th I’ll know what all the fuss is about.

The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams: Yes, it’s 100% necessary to own all the books (and novelettes) in this series.

Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard: I almost reread by library copy immediately after finishing it. This one’s a keeper.

On the Road by Jack Kerouac: My sister stole mine. With all the insightful notes I took as a 17-year-old. It’s probably better that I start fresh.

Sometimes A Great Notion by Ken Kesey: Most of my family members own this book, but my dad’s copy (which I’d be most likely to inherit) is signed, so I doubt he’s gung-ho to send it to his reckless 23-year-old kid just yet. Uncle Lou says it’s the best book of the ’60s.

Street Gang: The Complete History of Sesame Street by Michael Davis: Because I should know everything about the show that shaped my childhood — and still keeps me company on the mornings I want to smile.

Selected Poems by Robert Lowell: As my second-favorite poet, Lowell deserves a spot on my bookshelf. Just try “Skunk Hour” and see if you don’t agree.

The Moosewood Cookbook by Mollie Katzen: Since Mom wouldn’t let me have her copy, I bought my own. My newest genius plan is to spend the next few months preparing every recipe in the book — sort of a Julie & Julia for vegetarians. And the elaborate farmers markets will help.

I now have a to-read list piling higher and higher, and my produce list features the summer-iest of the fruits and vegetables. As we speak, the library holds two books for me to check out, read and return in the next three weeks. That is, of course, once I finish the Richard Russo book I’m only 1/5 through.

Self-exile isn’t so bad when you’re doing it for these adventures. Stay tuned for reports from the front lines.

1000 words on my very own Lester Bangs.

According to the previous post, I have the option of writing about my homegrown herbs, my disappointing and my better-than-real friends, or Chuck Klosterman’s foray into fiction writing. To avoid boring you, my faithful audience, or offending you, my disappointing friends, I’ll say a few words about CK. And being that I just finished the novel on today’s lunch break, it’s probably most relevant.

Though I did just water the parsley. No? Ok.

So let me establish validity. I purchased CK’s Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs on a whim in the summer of 2005, just before I took my summer campers on a sleep-away weekend. I remember getting completely absorbed into this guy’s insights and idiosyncrasies, and I was simultaneously obsessed with and insanely jealous of him. I spent the next few years acquiring everything he’s written – at least what can be bound and put on my shelf. And it’s not much, I realize. Four collections and one novel. And about a zillion articles I’ve perused in that time. Since that summer, I think about him constantly, always questioning “What would CK have to say about that?” when any inane pop culture reference is made. I think like him, in bullet points, sentence fragments and curse words; this infuriates me, because I think that sometimes if I would just get over myself and put my shit on paper, I could be a lot like him.

Now, I’d heard a great deal about Downtown Owl, the novel in question. As Chuck’s first fiction piece available to the masses, I was not so much curious as I was wary. This can’t add up, I thought. I waited to buy it – waited nearly a year after its release in fact – when I could pick it up free at Book Expo. And, as an added bonus, I’d get to say Hi to Chuck while he signed the book.

The story itself isn’t much of a big deal here; sort of like there’s not really ever a “big picture” in Klosterman’s books, but the premise is this: 1980s small town, lots of nicknamed drunks, high school athletes struggling with self identity, old men philosophizing. A small-town lover for the ages, I’m thrilled to find these things in a novel. So far, so good.

A good week to be me, maybe.

I officially turn 23 years old in 10 minutes, at 12:10 a.m. on June 3, but I’ve been pretending it’s my birthday since Sunday, and it will be until Sunday. I even got a gift from one of our most charming authors since she read my birthday Tweets all week. I call that a Birthday Win.

I’m completely against the notion that growing old could be a bad thing. Because it’s not like I can stop it. So, hello, let’s all just get excited that we’ve made it another year.

It’s beginning to deeply sadden me that my writing inspiration now comes through in short bursts. I think of one sentence I’d like to share with the world, but I still can’t formulate a story. I can’t blame Twitter; this is how I’ve always thought. Twitter just helps me hone my craft. Damn. I need writing assignments again.

Maybe that’s what I’ll get myself for my birthday this year. Aside from the stovetop grill pan, which I’m already beside myself about. Maybe I’ll promise myself to begin drafting outlines. To begin putting to paper those stories I have jettisoning around the inside of my brain, waiting aimlessly to self-destruct unless I do something with them. I scribble a poem or a short story now and again, but it’s not enough for me. Now and again won’t do it.

So, here we go, for my birthday, I will give myself my full potential. I will scribble always and write again and again. Don’t I swear this every year?

It’s summer time, and I know it’s different in the summer when there’s a job to keep you busy all day and mounting temptation to drink beer and read books until the sun sets, but there’s got to be some self-motivation, just a bit of reassurance that what I do is what I love and I’m loving what I’m doing.

I’m doing all right. Happy birthday to me.

Where the hell is my iPod?

Briefly:

• I’m disgustingly busy. Hence not posting and keeping this one to simple bullets.
• I started reading Green Hills of Africa. Hoping Hemingway can do for big game hunting what he did for big fish fishing.
• I went swimming last night in the clouds and dusk. Makes me curse my six days per week in the office when the sun beats all day long. Summer? What?
• We got a new propane tank. I grilled successfully. This weekend: shellfish.
• A woman called today to inquire about her daughter’s job application. Sorry, that shit doesn’t fly.
• I still haven’t seen The Dark Knight
• I watched The Darjeeling Limited last night. Entertaining, yes, but Mr. Anderson, I don’t think you’ll ever do better than Tenenbaums. And that’s OK.
• I finished every season of Weeds. Now I have the munchies.

This fulfills my duty to post. Back to writing press releases. This most recent one, by the way, is for A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which the director has set in pre-industrial Germany. If I can make that sounds whimsical, by George, I can do anything.

The Poisonwood Bible

Finally finished the book. In terms of metaphors, research, word choice and overall story, Barbara Kingsolver is one of the greatest contemporary authors I’ve read. Now, I realize I fall in love with nearly everything I read, but this is quality I will only ever aspire to — never reach. To spend 550 pages on the Belgian Congo/Zaire/The Republic of Congo and its many horrific political takeovers — through the eyes of a strict Baptist family, no less — and actually get it factually correct? This was a dream.

And since I’m finally making a conscious effort to do a book journal, I’ll be copying down the following (some of my favorite excerpts).

“If God had amused himself inventing the lilies of the field, he surely knocked His own socks off with the African parasites.” – Adah, “The Genesis” p. 76

“And what red-blooded American boy will look twice at a Geography whiz with scabs on her knees, when he could have a Sweater Girl? I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see. God must know his arithmetic. He’d plan it out well enough to plunk down a husband for every wife that He aims for to have one. If the Lord hasn’t got a boyfriend lined up for me to marry, that’s His business.” – Leah, “The Revelation” p. 150

“‘…I’ll tell you a secret. When I want to take God at his word exactly, I take a peep out the window at His Creation. Because that, darling, He makes fresh for us every day, without a lot of dubious middle managers.’” – Brother Fowles, “The Judges” p. 248

“They left me. And my mirror, strewn all around, reflecting moonlight in crazy shapes. Just left me flat, in the middle of all that bad luck and broken sky.” – Rachel, “The Judges” p. 302 (emphasis added)

“Where is the easy land of ice-cream cones and new Keds sneakers and We Like Ike, the country where I thought I knew the rules. Where is the place I can go home to?” – Leah, “The Judges” p. 309

“It’s just lucky for Father he never had any sons. He might have been forced to respect them.” – Rachel, “Bel and the Serpent” p. 337

“We were all cut down together by the knife of our own hope, for if there is any single thing that everyone hopes for most dearly, it must be this: that the youngest outlive the oldest.” – Leah, “Bel and the Serpent” p. 371

“To live is to change, to acquire the words of a story, and that is the only celebrations we mortals really know.” – Orleanna, “Exodus” p. 385

“I was allowed to have an interview with a gentleman named Dr. Holden Remile, whose job I think was to discourage people such as myself from asking for interviews with people such as himself. His desk was immense.” – Adah, “Exodus” p. 409

“When I’m nervous or sad I also fall prey to the awful itch from filaires, tiny parasites that crawl into your pores and cause a flare-up every so often. Africa has a thousand ways to get under your skin.” – Leah, “Exodus” p. 456

“Tall and straight I may appear, but I will always be Ada inside. A crooked little person trying to tell the truth. The power is in the balance: we are our injuries, as much as we are our successes.” – Adah, “Exodus” p. 496

“I wake up in love, and work my skin to darkness under the equatorial sun. I look at my four boys, who are the colors of silt, loam, dust, and clay, an infinite palatte for children of their own, and I understand that time erases whiteness altogether.” – Leah, “Song of the Three Children” p. 526

So, you know, check it out.

I’m just happy to get a 550-page hardcover beast out of my purse. This at least creates more room for the excessive copies of TIME and National Geographic I’ve been collecting.

no subject at all, really.

I read this great line in “The Poisonwood Bible” this morning that I was all prepared to come and regurgitate here, but I forgot the book. Ho hum.

My family visit was phenomenal. They loved the play, and my mom, daughter of the 70s she is, recognized Stuart from “Love American Style” immediately. Silly silly.

Oh, they forgot my fishing rod. I think it’s about time I take matters into my own hands — literally – and just start snagging pike like a bear would a salmon. Of course, it would be much easier if there existed 1. a current and 2. a fervent pike spawn in Chautauqua Lake. Again, ho hum.

In ridiculously glamorous news, I had a job interview this morning (he called 15 minutes late; i was pacing and sweating like a schoolboy…haha “i desperately want to make love to a school boy.” stream of consciousness, sorry.) and i think it went brilliantly. So much so, in fact, that I have a flight booked and ready to take me to Madison Avenue in a few weeks to meet him in person and see the office for myself. I’ll be spending the time until then working diligently to learn Chicago Style.

Thanks to a new photo spread in National Geographic, an excursion to Bolivia is now on my bucket list. Right below seeing the Northern Lights and right above reading Finnegan’s Wake.

Tomorrow Jenny turns 23. And then Matt Howard turns 23 on Saturday. What is with this aging thing? It’s such crap. I’d desperately like to remain comfortably in Clare College and under my parents’ health insurance for quite some time. Eh, actually, I take that back. I just don’t want to be penniless. What an odd word. Anyway, I bought them both books. Tremendous shock there.

“There’s always somebody who is paid too much and taxed too little – and it’s always somebody else.” – Cullen Hightower

Distractions so I don’t break things

I’m “hate-the-world Tanya” today. This happens every now and again, and people know to stay away. I don’t have the world’s worst death stare for nothing. So to zonk my brain out, I stole this from my LJ friends:

The Big Read reckons that the average adult has only read 6 of the top 100 books they’ve printed.

Well,

1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicize those you intend to read.
3) Underline the books you LOVE.
4) Put a star next to the ones you’ve started but never finished.

The List!

1. Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen
2. The Lord of the Rings – JRR Tolkien
3. Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte
4. Harry Potter series – JK Rowling
5. To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee
6. The Bible
7. Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte
8. Nineteen Eighty Four – George Orwell
9. His Dark Materials – Philip Pullman
10. Great Expectations – Charles Dickens
11. Little Women – Louisa M Alcott
12. Tess of the D’Urbervilles – Thomas Hardy
13. Catch 22 – Joseph Heller

14. Complete Works of Shakespeare (so i’ve probably missed one or two..)
15. Rebecca – Daphne Du Maurier
16. The Hobbit – JRR Tolkien
17. Birdsong – Sebastian Faulks
18. Catcher in the Rye – JD Salinger
19. The Time Traveller’s Wife – Audrey Niffenegger
20. Middlemarch – George Eliot
21. Gone With The Wind – Margaret Mitchell*
22. The Great Gatsby – F Scott Fitzgerald
23. Bleak House – Charles Dickens
24. War and Peace – Leo Tolstoy
25. The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams
26. Brideshead Revisited – Evelyn Waugh
27. Crime and Punishment – Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28. Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck
29. Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll
30. The Wind in the Willows – Kenneth Grahame
31. Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy
32. David Copperfield – Charles Dickens
33. Chronicles of Narnia – CS Lewis
34. Emma – Jane Austen
35. Persuasion – Jane Austen
36. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – CS Lewis (why didn’t they include this…?)
37. The Kite Runner – Khaled Hosseini
38. Captain Corelli’s Mandolin – Louis De Bernieres
39. Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden
40. Winnie the Pooh – AA Milne
41. Animal Farm – George Orwell
42. The Da Vinci Code – Dan Brown
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44. A Prayer for Owen Meaney – John Irving
45. The Woman in White – Wilkie Collins
46. Anne of Green Gables – LM Montgomery
47. Far From The Madding Crowd – Thomas Hardy
48. The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood
49. Lord of the Flies – William Golding
50. Atonement – Ian McEwan
51. Life of Pi – Yann Martel
52. Dune – Frank Herbert
53. Cold Comfort Farm – Stella Gibbons
54. Sense and Sensibility – Jane Austen
55. A Suitable Boy – Vikram Seth
56. The Shadow of the Wind – Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57. A Tale Of Two Cities – Charles Dickens
58. Brave New World – Aldous Huxley
59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time – Mark Haddon
60. Love In The Time Of Cholera – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61. Of Mice and Men – John Steinbeck
62. Lolita – Vladimir Nabokov*
63. The Secret History – Donna Tartt
64. The Lovely Bones – Alice Sebold
65. Count of Monte Cristo – Alexandre Dumas
66. On The Road – Jack Kerouac
67. Jude the Obscure – Thomas Hardy 
68. Bridget Jones’s Diary – Helen Fielding
69. Midnight’s Children – Salman Rushdie
70. Moby Dick – Herman Melville
71. Oliver Twist – Charles Dickens 
72. Dracula – Bram Stoker
73. The Secret Garden – Frances Hodgson Burnett*
74. Notes From A Small Island – Bill Bryson
75. Ulysses – James Joyce*
76. The Bell Jar – Sylvia Plath
77. Swallows and Amazons – Arthur Ransome
78. Germinal – Emile Zola
79. Vanity Fair – William Makepeace Thackeray
80. Possession – AS Byatt
81. A Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens
82. Cloud Atlas – David Mitchell
83. The Color Purple – Alice Walker
84. The Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro
85. Madame Bovary – Gustave Flaubert
86. A Fine Balance – Rohinton Mistry
87. Charlotte’s Web – EB White
88. The Five People You Meet In Heaven – Mitch Albom
89. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90. The Faraway Tree Collection – Enid Blyton
91. Heart of Darkness – Joseph Conrad
92. The Little Prince – Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93. The Wasp Factory – Iain Banks
94. Watership Down – Richard Adams
95. A Confederacy of Dunces – John Kennedy Toole
96. A Town Like Alice – Nevil Shute
97. The Three Musketeers – Alexandre Dumas
98. Hamlet – William Shakespeare
99. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – Roald Dahl
100. Les Miserables – Victor Hugo*
 

So 35? More than 1/3. Still have some work to do. They should add Charley.

Sigh, back to work.