Wednesday, January 19, 2011

airOplane to pretension


On an air0plane.  Yes. Doing this in a word doc, cause i’m compulsively blogging like song writing.  Urgent urges. Shits dangerous, 0 well, not the worstest vice.

Here we go, nobody, heh

Finished the Corrections, it took me over a month.  It’s the same format as Freedom they’re both written by mr. jonathan franzen.
i devoured freedom.  i like all the characters in their reality like flaws, including the republicans. i liked and disliked the characters as they hated one another.  Complete people.  Like a Russian.  The tragedy being the living condition.

Corrections, i didn’t like any of them besides maybe Denise, Both books everyone was hurt and an asshole and did some hatable things but for a reason i can’t articulate, i trudged through Corrections and then for a 70 page spree (560 page book) be in love. 
Having said that, i can’t say which book i find  better. Or anything of the sort.  When an unlikable man dies and when an unlikable family concludes unlikably- i still would have cried if i was in private. 
i recommend Franzen and the level of pain he inflicts as much as every magazine and literary thing has this past year.  Do it.
“i’m not sure if it’s my favorite book but it’s probably the best book i’ve ever read.  Ever.”  That’s how i sell it when i’m selling books.  I’d say the same things about both and sort of feel the need to re-read them.

But now it’s done.  Like me being in Houston. 
Appropriately, i picked up a book that’s pretentious and self serving at a bookstore that was pretentious and self serving.  Small and all arty.  The kind of place i’d wish to work but can’t figure how the make money, the kind of place i’m annoyed exist in their exclusivity even though they’re targeting me. 
Just like  the book i picked up their. . .
She said she liked to think of the nighttime sky in reverse, as if the Earth were encloded inside a hard black cocoon.  Like an exoskeleton.  With small holes, created perhaps by meteorites or maybe just natual decay.  Like a colander.  Holes revealing just a glimpse of the true sky beyond, pure white ligh.  He told her that was stupid. 

A,  that’s beautiful
B.  if a girl that i said I wasn’t going to speak to anymore (and have restarted speaking to her, again) & i haven’t said that to one another, it’s conceivable we would have.  Like despite not writing god loves ugly  i feel like it’s something I could write. 

Anyways.  i think it’s partially lame because i think things that are representative or relatable are lame, but at the same time, i don’t like reading things that are unlike me.  i don’t read much on Africa is what i’m saying. 
Though, books about art, about the community and social strata in that world, i’m anti, generally.  It makes me feel gross enough with my friends who don’t see the game of it. 
it’s gross enough That the character speaks of anarchy as my former roommate who would over pronounce philosophers names and speaking of the coming reVElotion’ but couldn’t make it off the couch for greater purpose than refilling his stupor, he’s represented in this book too. 

And they have the charm of it that i am missing in absurd amounts too. 

“They were in someone’s bedroom, she was naked, and he was trying to convince her to bounce up and down on the bed, like she had done in the dragon, while he lay underneath, jacking off, and occasionally getting stepped on.  She didn’t seem to want to play that game and kept weeping and talking about her daddy in a shrill, confessional voice.”

Baltimore, i’m so excited for you.  I’m so excited for such bullshit.  You got no idea. 

Zach Plague
You annoy me and potentially are in line of befriending me on two accounts. 
(ironic that in order to talk about the postmodern bullshit i’m about to talk about, i need to separate the parts and try to organize it standard.  i’ll fail.  But the attempt would be worth a chuckle if the three hours of sleep wasn’t catching up.

You write like me.  but better.  You fetched the standard postmodern/punk techniques and use some that i utilize.  Ex. Bolding for the fun, reversing words, different fonts, blacking out words.  Ex2 (the punk techniques) very zine.  The hand writing, the art pages, grainy pictures, doodles along the page… it’s the reason i probably bought you amongst all the other literary people who write books that no one reads. 
(like this blog)
You repeat words for the fun of it too.  This is the shit i pull, you uncapatilize things, the shit i pull, which makes me think you’re lazy or selling con.  Sure, sure sure sure, i like to think that it has an effect or purpose, it contributes, buuut as much as i believe these plays on language count, i also think it’s parlor tricks- - smoke--- mirrors =clever, to avoid developed character or moving plot. 
            I believe that is true as well.
It’s an oppositional  FluX
On the other hand, you’re writing about arts and small urbanite living.
Standard style would be inappropriate.

To the second point, I can’t tell if you’re taking yourself or these people serious.  There’s emotional care, sure, connections and a relatable description in a silly lifestyle that is uncomfortably relatable., but the text like the living I’m waiting to return to, I’m not sure if you’re in on it being a joke. 
When the ring leader of the art community is speaking like a drug lord, I’d like to believe you’re saying fuck you, with me.  but that line teeters so frequently.  Maybe, to continue projecting, if we are alike (which doesn’t answer whether I think we’re buds or if you annoy me) the line blurs consistently for you too. 

No it’s not as serious or melodramatic as you’ve been putting it (mind you I’m like 30/40 pages in)  at times (others it lays off and feels breezy) but maybe the meta point is how guilty we are of forgetting the joke we wrap ourselves in.  Believe in. 

With my tattoo of fucking house of leaves and skinny jeans and sweat and dirt stains, who says, “I rap,” without any sense of irony, who listens to hard knock life while writing this blog on literary fiction and art culture. 

i, who now, is finished and is going to turn off the music and finish my podcast of This American Life. 

Baltimore, bullshit, I’m sososo excited to return to you.

Excited for:
1 Trader Joes and cooking my self dinner
2 My house party show this Friday
3 Classes to begin and my seminar on Attachment Theory
4 Spinning fire at a club for Wickerman
5 Turning 21 and playing Ottobar
6 the gym
7 my car
8 working

but mostly for throwing myself into yall, from my friends going abroad, to the friends that wont sleep with me, to the girls I said I’d stop talking to, to their girlfriends, to my exroommate who over pronounces things & you Rise & you miss Welsh
I couldn’t want to be anywhere else in any other kind of bullshit. 

Post note Entirely unrelated

This episode of TAL, has kids who run there school and make their rules, something I’ve studied before, I want to remark how when given autonomy, kids learn to vocalize themselves well,  come up with complex arguments, feel validated, and have more confidence to deal with confrontation leading to consensus. 
I’m rather amazed.  Almost pushes me towards diplomacy.  

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