This NY Times article on literary dealbreakers amused me. It's already the most emailed article of last weekend.
I've already mentioned my criteria for potential dates includes that they must read something. I have amended this to something other than Maxim and the paper.
It's funny though, but if you looked at what I'm keeping bookwise, it's so little that you might assume I don't read. Aside from that damn MLIS. Truthfully, most of the books I like would be really cheap to replace or are available through library ILL or consortium services. So I don't think I have to keep things anymore. Live in a place with good libraries, yes. It may be a bit of a rental economy to look at it in such a way, but I am beginning to think the rental economy isn't all that bad an idea.
Obviously, I will have to shanghai men into going to the library with me where I can play reader's advisory and impress them with my literary hots, but that's a small price to pay. And a cheap date.
On a related note, John Moe had an amusing piece on "Weekend America" about those bits and pieces of our past that we can't bear to look out or throw out. I have a lot of this. All Tom Moran's letters, writing projects from high school, the school papers my mom turned over to me, an abundance of other odds and ends. Like Moe, I can't bear to scrutinize my younger self and let it go, even if I know who I am now and how those relationships and experiences shaped me.
In other news, I have thrown out/left for the VOA/Freecycled an embarrassing amount of stuff lately. I have this vision of me and Cain in a studio apartment, (ironically, out in Arizona, studio apartments tend to be larger than my last 1 bedroom apartment and probably have a more workable layout) sitting on a bed in the sunshine while I work on the computer. Maybe I need a box, a physical but not emotional one. That way I won't be tempted by too much stuff, could learn to reign in my impulses, and couldn't substitute distractions for my real needs.
Next up? I'm going to make someone very happy with all that Tupperware my ex gave me.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Curse Of The Spellmans--Lisa Lutz
Dear god, the Spellmans are back.
Dear god, the Spellmans are back!
As you may glean from those two statements, I have somewhat mixed feelings about this book. I really liked last years The Spellman Files, narrated by the saucy Izzy, who can't help telling a story that runs around the mulberry bush as police investigate the disappearance of her little sister Rae. Key to the tale was the history of her family of San Franscisco private eyes, a family for whom evasion, deception and suspicion are more of an identifying trait than any physical resemblance. Curse of the Spellmans continues Izzy's roundabout narrative tendencies as she tries to explain to her lawyer Morty how she's managed to get arrested 4 times in 2 months. She maintains that arrests 2 & 3 don't count as they were instigated by family, and 4 shouldn't because...well, it's complicated.
The main flaw levied against Lutz's first novel was that it lacked plot. Her second is chockablock full of major and minor mysteries, and she expertly spins them out. Why is Olivia Spellman sneaking out at night to vandalize a motorbike in the Noe Valley? Why is Albert Spellman hitting the gym after avoiding it for 35 years? Is David Spellman entering a downward spiral and personality change a la Uncle Ray? Why did his wife leave town? Who is recreating a series of pranks Isabel and Petra perpetrated in high school? And what is Inspector Henry Stone getting out of his friendship with the Spellmans, a relationship that leads to accidental attempted vehicular manslaughter, fake engagements, "it takes a village" parenting, and having Izzy as a roommate?
And that's not counting the cause of the arrests, the Spellmans' new neighbor John Brown, or "Suspect," as Izzy calls him. Most girls wouldn't be insanely curious about a locked bedroom, a common name, and a gardening habit. But it only takes a few dates and evaded questions before Izzy's insatiable need to ascertain the truth takes over and leads to dead end investigations, stalking, and a restraining order.
This book is as funny as the original, but there's also an undercurrent of fear and sadness--the Spellmans, for all of their eccentricities seem to be fraying and Izzy's obsessions in particular raise an eyebrow. But it's a great read, and I'm interested in seeing where Lutz goes with this (I presume) series.
If you liked this series, check out Lauren Henderson's Sam Jones and Liz Evans' Grace Smith series for more sarcastic female investigation. They're British, but much the same in tone and humor. I'm also strongly reminded of The Bagthorpe Saga in the way the Spellmans pile on the family crazy.
Dear god, the Spellmans are back!
As you may glean from those two statements, I have somewhat mixed feelings about this book. I really liked last years The Spellman Files, narrated by the saucy Izzy, who can't help telling a story that runs around the mulberry bush as police investigate the disappearance of her little sister Rae. Key to the tale was the history of her family of San Franscisco private eyes, a family for whom evasion, deception and suspicion are more of an identifying trait than any physical resemblance. Curse of the Spellmans continues Izzy's roundabout narrative tendencies as she tries to explain to her lawyer Morty how she's managed to get arrested 4 times in 2 months. She maintains that arrests 2 & 3 don't count as they were instigated by family, and 4 shouldn't because...well, it's complicated.
The main flaw levied against Lutz's first novel was that it lacked plot. Her second is chockablock full of major and minor mysteries, and she expertly spins them out. Why is Olivia Spellman sneaking out at night to vandalize a motorbike in the Noe Valley? Why is Albert Spellman hitting the gym after avoiding it for 35 years? Is David Spellman entering a downward spiral and personality change a la Uncle Ray? Why did his wife leave town? Who is recreating a series of pranks Isabel and Petra perpetrated in high school? And what is Inspector Henry Stone getting out of his friendship with the Spellmans, a relationship that leads to accidental attempted vehicular manslaughter, fake engagements, "it takes a village" parenting, and having Izzy as a roommate?
And that's not counting the cause of the arrests, the Spellmans' new neighbor John Brown, or "Suspect," as Izzy calls him. Most girls wouldn't be insanely curious about a locked bedroom, a common name, and a gardening habit. But it only takes a few dates and evaded questions before Izzy's insatiable need to ascertain the truth takes over and leads to dead end investigations, stalking, and a restraining order.
This book is as funny as the original, but there's also an undercurrent of fear and sadness--the Spellmans, for all of their eccentricities seem to be fraying and Izzy's obsessions in particular raise an eyebrow. But it's a great read, and I'm interested in seeing where Lutz goes with this (I presume) series.
If you liked this series, check out Lauren Henderson's Sam Jones and Liz Evans' Grace Smith series for more sarcastic female investigation. They're British, but much the same in tone and humor. I'm also strongly reminded of The Bagthorpe Saga in the way the Spellmans pile on the family crazy.
Dreaming My Dreams Of You
I had two good dreams last night. In one, my dad and I were on a picnic in a housing development in Arizona. We were on top of a hill, and the landscape was all red dirt and huge rocks. We packed up and left when some kids jumping on a trampoline in their yard below started to jump high enough to see us.
The other had me starting to chase after Cain when he got out. I kept chasing him through backyards, by strawberry beds, and caught him by a bungalow. I picked him up, and it wasn't Cain but Mencken.
The other had me starting to chase after Cain when he got out. I kept chasing him through backyards, by strawberry beds, and caught him by a bungalow. I picked him up, and it wasn't Cain but Mencken.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
I'm So Shanty
Note to self:
In order to keep your fridge from becoming quite so Katrina-like in the next few weeks, here are the rules:
1) Do not cook.
2) Thaw on counter!
3) Everything must be laid flat on the shelf.
4) Put fruit and veg in bags.
5) Wipe off with those bleach things weekly.
You'd never think that I had a job as a cleaner my senior year of college if you'd seen the state of my fridge...
In order to keep your fridge from becoming quite so Katrina-like in the next few weeks, here are the rules:
1) Do not cook.
2) Thaw on counter!
3) Everything must be laid flat on the shelf.
4) Put fruit and veg in bags.
5) Wipe off with those bleach things weekly.
You'd never think that I had a job as a cleaner my senior year of college if you'd seen the state of my fridge...
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Soliciting Opinions
I got some mail from my mom's house and was completely chagrined to find out that it's time for my 15 year high school reunion. I had no friends, hated high school, and I'm fat and charismatic. Should I go? And how much of a battering will my self-esteem take?
Offer opinions in the comments, please.
Offer opinions in the comments, please.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Ghost Writing
HBO and the Postal Service want you to write a letter, because John and Abigail Adams did.
I found this amusing because I write letters. At the moment, I'm mostly writing to Aunt Mary Jane, ridiculous prattle about my daily life. MFA Jane assures me that even if I found it self indulgent, the two of them enjoyed my efforts. But I'm the only person I know who writes pen & ink letters, and I don't see this promotion changing that.
Real letters, on the new stationery, pretty envelopes and stamps. Sometimes I ghostwrite notes from the cats to other animals of their acquaintance (Cain's letter to the Brooklyn cats about how Genevieve's going to have a litter of squirmies and then they'll have to share was the latest). I do it because I love getting mail. No one writes me back, but they do email or call.
I started writing letters my senior year of high school. My friend Corinne Ferraro* had gone off to college, and I had no one left to talk to. So I'd write to Corinne. I'd go down to Red Bank on Saturday and get coffee and bring my stationery and pens. I had one of those 4 color Bics that were so cool, and pretty plain paper, but I think I tried for something nicer than plain ruled school paper. I don't remember what I wrote about--probably books and movies and Peddie School gossip--but I do recall in one letter saying that I'd like to be in a band like Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground, only without the heroin and not singing. Just writing lyrics.
Yeah, that never happened.
I was lonely, and stressed out by my parents over college. I think I seemed disinterested in my life and future, but I was scared and convinced that I'd wind up at Rutgers because no other college would accept me, and that would be fine except my parents would freak out. And it would be too close to them and I'd never get away. I'd be walking down the streets of New Brunswick and my dad would stalk me.
I met Tom Moran at the University of Chicago's admitted students weekend, and we kept up a correspondence for about 2 years. Tom--I still have all your letters, and if you ever find this blog and want them back, I'll return them to you. I can't quite bear to reread them--it's too much the ghosts and confusion of who I was coming back and blurring the present. I'm sorry I stopped writing to you. I didn't have anything to say. And why would you come all the way down to NJ and go to Atlantic City with me? What was up with all that? I know now, I think, but I did not know then. Maybe you didn't either.
I came across a letter from my dad last week and I almost started to cry. His handwriting is small and spiky and looks cramped. Sometimes it would be indecipherable. My handwriting is a mixture of printing and cursive, large and legible, and sometimes slopes too far to the right. I remember my dad getting all pissed once about the way I wrote with my pencil clenched in my fist and trying to force me to cradle it between my index and middle fingers. I was only 7 or 8, Daddy. My hands were very small.
I wasn't a writer when I was young, and I'm still not now. But if blogging has had a huge influence on my willingness to communicate and writing skills, then letter writing was the first baby steps to do that. I didn't like to write anything because it was permanent, because it was evidence that could be used against you. Now I use it defensively--I trick you by revealing some things, so you don't look too close. I only reveal things that I don't mind being used against me.
*I don't usually use real names here, but I'm making an exception for the sake of old friends and Google stalking.
I found this amusing because I write letters. At the moment, I'm mostly writing to Aunt Mary Jane, ridiculous prattle about my daily life. MFA Jane assures me that even if I found it self indulgent, the two of them enjoyed my efforts. But I'm the only person I know who writes pen & ink letters, and I don't see this promotion changing that.
Real letters, on the new stationery, pretty envelopes and stamps. Sometimes I ghostwrite notes from the cats to other animals of their acquaintance (Cain's letter to the Brooklyn cats about how Genevieve's going to have a litter of squirmies and then they'll have to share was the latest). I do it because I love getting mail. No one writes me back, but they do email or call.
I started writing letters my senior year of high school. My friend Corinne Ferraro* had gone off to college, and I had no one left to talk to. So I'd write to Corinne. I'd go down to Red Bank on Saturday and get coffee and bring my stationery and pens. I had one of those 4 color Bics that were so cool, and pretty plain paper, but I think I tried for something nicer than plain ruled school paper. I don't remember what I wrote about--probably books and movies and Peddie School gossip--but I do recall in one letter saying that I'd like to be in a band like Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground, only without the heroin and not singing. Just writing lyrics.
Yeah, that never happened.
I was lonely, and stressed out by my parents over college. I think I seemed disinterested in my life and future, but I was scared and convinced that I'd wind up at Rutgers because no other college would accept me, and that would be fine except my parents would freak out. And it would be too close to them and I'd never get away. I'd be walking down the streets of New Brunswick and my dad would stalk me.
I met Tom Moran at the University of Chicago's admitted students weekend, and we kept up a correspondence for about 2 years. Tom--I still have all your letters, and if you ever find this blog and want them back, I'll return them to you. I can't quite bear to reread them--it's too much the ghosts and confusion of who I was coming back and blurring the present. I'm sorry I stopped writing to you. I didn't have anything to say. And why would you come all the way down to NJ and go to Atlantic City with me? What was up with all that? I know now, I think, but I did not know then. Maybe you didn't either.
I came across a letter from my dad last week and I almost started to cry. His handwriting is small and spiky and looks cramped. Sometimes it would be indecipherable. My handwriting is a mixture of printing and cursive, large and legible, and sometimes slopes too far to the right. I remember my dad getting all pissed once about the way I wrote with my pencil clenched in my fist and trying to force me to cradle it between my index and middle fingers. I was only 7 or 8, Daddy. My hands were very small.
I wasn't a writer when I was young, and I'm still not now. But if blogging has had a huge influence on my willingness to communicate and writing skills, then letter writing was the first baby steps to do that. I didn't like to write anything because it was permanent, because it was evidence that could be used against you. Now I use it defensively--I trick you by revealing some things, so you don't look too close. I only reveal things that I don't mind being used against me.
*I don't usually use real names here, but I'm making an exception for the sake of old friends and Google stalking.
Kerry Leaves The House
And in another exciting edition of Kerry Leaves The House, SuperC and I went to Nancy Pearl's presentation on how to jumpstart your book club on Thursday. SuperC has a dysfunctional book club that she was looking for ideas on how to step in and guide back to health, and I've never been in a book club that lasted more than 2 meetings, and that's even with me keeping my mouth shut. But hopefully I will have to lead a book club in the future. Hopefully.
Nancy Pearl is very sweet, and I really like her Book Lust guides, but the program was more of a round table discussion than the presentation I was expecting. It was good to see how book clubs thrive in some of the libraries in the area, and in high schools, synagogues, etc. Cuyahoga County Public Library, Beachwood branch is bringing Nancy back for more librarian presentations in October.
Nancy Pearl is very sweet, and I really like her Book Lust guides, but the program was more of a round table discussion than the presentation I was expecting. It was good to see how book clubs thrive in some of the libraries in the area, and in high schools, synagogues, etc. Cuyahoga County Public Library, Beachwood branch is bringing Nancy back for more librarian presentations in October.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
I Could Get Kicked Out Of The Family For This
"What for?" you may wonder. Out of wedlock pregnancy? Voting Democrat?
No.
I had to call my brother in law, Jesse X, for instructions on how to open a bottle of wine.
The Don turns in his grave.
No.
I had to call my brother in law, Jesse X, for instructions on how to open a bottle of wine.
The Don turns in his grave.
Kerry Reads The Paper!
So I broke down and read the Plain Dealer today, after I purchased it for the sole reason of laying it on the floor as protection when I painted.
According to that brain trust, housing prices in Lakewood are only down 7% from 2005.
Not believing that, but okay. I think it's more like 20-30% to ensure a sale. In their analysis, they report that East Cleveland home values are down 84%, which is just boggling, Cleveland's down 54%, Euclid 12%, and Cleveland Heights 11%.
According to that brain trust, housing prices in Lakewood are only down 7% from 2005.
Not believing that, but okay. I think it's more like 20-30% to ensure a sale. In their analysis, they report that East Cleveland home values are down 84%, which is just boggling, Cleveland's down 54%, Euclid 12%, and Cleveland Heights 11%.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Things I Get Obsessed With
Kate Nash & Billy Bragg doing a medley of "Foundations/ A New England"--Billy Bragg writes beautiful emotional lyrics and Kate Nash is working this cute but hard girl singer thing, and together it's just magical fun.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Pain Lasts Long After Traumatic Injury
No shit, Sherlock!
Sorry, but since I broke the humerus 5 years ago I have had pain issues. I'd put my pain at a 3 most of the year and then during the winter with the snow and the wet and the wind it goes up to about a 6-7. And the problem with chronic pain, you have to be ahead of it and that's hard to do. If I'm not treating the pain in a preventative way, I'll have 3-4 days in which I can't get anything done, or I feel weird or I'm distracted and then it finally hits me that ha, ha! it's been really cold and that's why I can't think. Chronic pain hovers at the back of your brain and puts a haze on everything you do. It's not fun.
Sorry, but since I broke the humerus 5 years ago I have had pain issues. I'd put my pain at a 3 most of the year and then during the winter with the snow and the wet and the wind it goes up to about a 6-7. And the problem with chronic pain, you have to be ahead of it and that's hard to do. If I'm not treating the pain in a preventative way, I'll have 3-4 days in which I can't get anything done, or I feel weird or I'm distracted and then it finally hits me that ha, ha! it's been really cold and that's why I can't think. Chronic pain hovers at the back of your brain and puts a haze on everything you do. It's not fun.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Back To Solitary, Specs!
Specs is a very, very bad girl.
Last night Cain came down for food and I saw this horrible bloody scabby thing on his tail. I mildly freaked and tried to see what was up and blot it with a paper towel. I thought he might have gotten overenthusiastic with his grooming since I had noticed he had this matted place on his tail that I kept meaning to wash off. So today we all went down to Gateway since Specs seemed to have something gross happen with her ear this weekend that I wanted to get checked out.
They pull him out of the carrier and the vet immediately goes "Whoa!" and asks me if the two fight. I reply that Specs isn't fond of Cain, but they don't seem to scrap but just growl and he avoids her.
She washes off the wound a little and shaves him and says that it looks like Specs bit him several days ago and it got abscessed and infected, and then it must have burst yesterday. I had noticed the tail bump, but blamed any stink on his poor bathroom habits.
"Oh, Cain! Baby, I was only joking about you needing a tail amputation!"
And this was not the case of 19 pounder Sugar Cain taking on little 8 pound Specs--where she bit him on the tail, it is clear that she was the aggressor. It's the cat equivalent of shooting him in the back.
He is so gentle, he didn't even fight as they squirted the antiseptic into the wound, cleaned out the gaping hole, gave him 2 shots for pain and antibiotics and put him back in the carrier.
Specs has an ear infection thing, which doesn't excuse her behavior. She's going back into her own room. Bitch.
Last night Cain came down for food and I saw this horrible bloody scabby thing on his tail. I mildly freaked and tried to see what was up and blot it with a paper towel. I thought he might have gotten overenthusiastic with his grooming since I had noticed he had this matted place on his tail that I kept meaning to wash off. So today we all went down to Gateway since Specs seemed to have something gross happen with her ear this weekend that I wanted to get checked out.
They pull him out of the carrier and the vet immediately goes "Whoa!" and asks me if the two fight. I reply that Specs isn't fond of Cain, but they don't seem to scrap but just growl and he avoids her.
She washes off the wound a little and shaves him and says that it looks like Specs bit him several days ago and it got abscessed and infected, and then it must have burst yesterday. I had noticed the tail bump, but blamed any stink on his poor bathroom habits.
"Oh, Cain! Baby, I was only joking about you needing a tail amputation!"
And this was not the case of 19 pounder Sugar Cain taking on little 8 pound Specs--where she bit him on the tail, it is clear that she was the aggressor. It's the cat equivalent of shooting him in the back.
He is so gentle, he didn't even fight as they squirted the antiseptic into the wound, cleaned out the gaping hole, gave him 2 shots for pain and antibiotics and put him back in the carrier.
Specs has an ear infection thing, which doesn't excuse her behavior. She's going back into her own room. Bitch.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Worldwide Domination, One Date At A Time
MFA Jane and I have decided to start trying online dating. We are good at being single, independent women, but like to get out of the house a bit. MFA programs, especially the poetry track? Not filled with single straight men. In my experience, neither is Northeast Ohio nor librarianship.
Our basic requirements are single straight men who occasionally read and seem to be somewhat articulate.
It is hard to find them.
As I like to research, let's take a look at some links--
Online Dating Helping Pathetic Women Get Their Hopes Dashed More Efficiently. Yes, but at least we're getting our hopes up in the first place. Small steps.
I suppose he thought that being a vampire/werewolf hybrid would just increase the sexy. Anyway, proof you should step away from the paranormal romance and fantasy section at the bookstore and talk to your kids.
Pal Or Paramour? How to tell when it might be a date versus a hanging out event.
Washington Post's Date Lab is always an interesting experiment on how people do or don't have any chemistry.
A Dater's Bill of Rights
The Art of Small Talk
A Catholic Dater Confesses...: Some advice on dating if you're practicing or not. No word on whether Catholic speed dating events are only for those who failed the convent or seminary screening and have to gear themselves up for the whole getting married thing.
10 Reasons The Recession Will Rock Your Love Life. I can hardly wait.
Our basic requirements are single straight men who occasionally read and seem to be somewhat articulate.
It is hard to find them.
As I like to research, let's take a look at some links--
Online Dating Helping Pathetic Women Get Their Hopes Dashed More Efficiently. Yes, but at least we're getting our hopes up in the first place. Small steps.
I suppose he thought that being a vampire/werewolf hybrid would just increase the sexy. Anyway, proof you should step away from the paranormal romance and fantasy section at the bookstore and talk to your kids.
Pal Or Paramour? How to tell when it might be a date versus a hanging out event.
Washington Post's Date Lab is always an interesting experiment on how people do or don't have any chemistry.
A Dater's Bill of Rights
The Art of Small Talk
A Catholic Dater Confesses...: Some advice on dating if you're practicing or not. No word on whether Catholic speed dating events are only for those who failed the convent or seminary screening and have to gear themselves up for the whole getting married thing.
10 Reasons The Recession Will Rock Your Love Life. I can hardly wait.
Oh, To Get To London!
Brilliant Women: 18th Century Bluestockings is the exhibit I'd love to see.
"Carter was known for her translation of the Stoic philosopher Epictetus, but her friend Samuel Johnson said that besides her talent for translation, she could also make a pudding, work a handkerchief and compose a poem."
A short aside, I am ridiculously in love with my pic to the right. I'm always in love with my own image, and I think it's the best picture of me as an adult ever taken. God bless Photo Booth! Ensuring that when I get kidnapped by my serial killer, there will be a recent picture to hand out to the police!
"Carter was known for her translation of the Stoic philosopher Epictetus, but her friend Samuel Johnson said that besides her talent for translation, she could also make a pudding, work a handkerchief and compose a poem."
A short aside, I am ridiculously in love with my pic to the right. I'm always in love with my own image, and I think it's the best picture of me as an adult ever taken. God bless Photo Booth! Ensuring that when I get kidnapped by my serial killer, there will be a recent picture to hand out to the police!
Things To Eat
A short list of awesome:
Social Tea Biscuits--Only available on the East Coast, these are great cookies. They're low-fat, are so plain they seem low-sugar, and so simple they go with everything. Tea, coffee, milk. Great for kids and old people. Simple doesn't mean gustatory boredom.
Pennsylvania Dutch Homestyle Egg Noodles--I've previously discussed the sad state of egg noodles out here. These are the best. Fluffy, excellent, nice flavor. Works well in cabbage & noodles and as the accompaniment to pot roast.
Lundberg Brown Rice Organic Rice Cakes--Much tastier than white rice cakes. I am on a crunchy salty kick and these really suit.
Epicurious.com's Ultimate Guide To Corned Beef and Cabbage is a great resource if you're planning a boiled dinner for tomorrow.
Generally, I don't have anyone to cook corned beef and cabbage for, so I sometimes go to the evil hated Joe's for a corned beef sandwich and coleslaw. Or a Rueben, which so nicely mashes the Irish and the Eastern European into one hot, fat-filled mess. Aces likes corned beef for St. Patrick's Day. I go for the coleslaw because I dislike boiled cabbage. My mom would save out raw cabbage for me when I was young. Now I am such a fan of raw cabbage and cabbage salad that I make my own coleslaw, which is delicious and great and messy and ultimately wasteful because I am always the only one who likes coleslaw. The Don also loved coleslaw. I didn't know that for a long time.
St. Patrick's Day is our traditional holiday when we're together. Can we make a Christmas dinner or figure out Thanksgiving or get off our asses for the New Year's buffet at the dog track? NNNOOOOO!!! But corned beef brings us together. Even without the vegetables cooked with the beef, which seems inspired but has never been done before.
Social Tea Biscuits--Only available on the East Coast, these are great cookies. They're low-fat, are so plain they seem low-sugar, and so simple they go with everything. Tea, coffee, milk. Great for kids and old people. Simple doesn't mean gustatory boredom.
Pennsylvania Dutch Homestyle Egg Noodles--I've previously discussed the sad state of egg noodles out here. These are the best. Fluffy, excellent, nice flavor. Works well in cabbage & noodles and as the accompaniment to pot roast.
Lundberg Brown Rice Organic Rice Cakes--Much tastier than white rice cakes. I am on a crunchy salty kick and these really suit.
Epicurious.com's Ultimate Guide To Corned Beef and Cabbage is a great resource if you're planning a boiled dinner for tomorrow.
Generally, I don't have anyone to cook corned beef and cabbage for, so I sometimes go to the evil hated Joe's for a corned beef sandwich and coleslaw. Or a Rueben, which so nicely mashes the Irish and the Eastern European into one hot, fat-filled mess. Aces likes corned beef for St. Patrick's Day. I go for the coleslaw because I dislike boiled cabbage. My mom would save out raw cabbage for me when I was young. Now I am such a fan of raw cabbage and cabbage salad that I make my own coleslaw, which is delicious and great and messy and ultimately wasteful because I am always the only one who likes coleslaw. The Don also loved coleslaw. I didn't know that for a long time.
St. Patrick's Day is our traditional holiday when we're together. Can we make a Christmas dinner or figure out Thanksgiving or get off our asses for the New Year's buffet at the dog track? NNNOOOOO!!! But corned beef brings us together. Even without the vegetables cooked with the beef, which seems inspired but has never been done before.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Black 47
So Black 47 and the Mickeys did a great show last night--very energetic and bouncey. Little crowd, only about 65 people. I was surprised that it was such a small crowd for a Friday show right before the Irish American holiday. And I really enjoyed the whole thing because of the smoking ban! It's a pleasure not to have to strip and wash before turning in because you can't stand the smell on yourself. Usually when I go out I have about 45 minutes before inefficiency, the dark, the noise, the crowd, and the smoke hit me and I get too angry to enjoy myself but too pissed to leave because of the money. I'm a complicated girl. But this time I was in a good mood the entire time, even when the fellow I was trying to flirt with left me (I think he didn't quite get that I was trying to be friendly) but then came back for a chat.
This was the first time I'd been back to the Beachland since my participation in the wedding from hell. Even with 2 Woodchucks in me, it was easier to navigate the restroom without wearing industrial strength underwear and a bridesmaid's dress. No wait, the Neko Case show was after that.
The Beachland's been around for 8 years--it's located in an East Side neighborhood called Collinwood. I did what I always do, which is get off at E185th by mistake and have to circle back to E. 152nd past the industrial warehouses. The place was the old Croatian social hall and bar--the Slovenian's hangout is still open down the block. There's at least 1 sausage company still open in the area, and the Variety Thrift is pretty good. They keep trying to open other business in the area, more like Tremont and Little Italy, but Little italy never had an art theft like this one. It's a great place. The social hall is pretty much Eastern European vintage with village scenery paintings set into the walls and some plaster moldings that unfortunately look like KKK hoods in the dark.
Who I have seen at the Beachland: Kate & Anna McGarrigle, Marshall Crenshaw, Los Straitjackets, Amy Rigby, Brave Combo, Neko Case, and a few others I can't recall. I don't get out much. the 25th has the Hackensaw Boys and I might go to that show.
So that's the report--leaving the house is a good thing.
This was the first time I'd been back to the Beachland since my participation in the wedding from hell. Even with 2 Woodchucks in me, it was easier to navigate the restroom without wearing industrial strength underwear and a bridesmaid's dress. No wait, the Neko Case show was after that.
The Beachland's been around for 8 years--it's located in an East Side neighborhood called Collinwood. I did what I always do, which is get off at E185th by mistake and have to circle back to E. 152nd past the industrial warehouses. The place was the old Croatian social hall and bar--the Slovenian's hangout is still open down the block. There's at least 1 sausage company still open in the area, and the Variety Thrift is pretty good. They keep trying to open other business in the area, more like Tremont and Little Italy, but Little italy never had an art theft like this one. It's a great place. The social hall is pretty much Eastern European vintage with village scenery paintings set into the walls and some plaster moldings that unfortunately look like KKK hoods in the dark.
Who I have seen at the Beachland: Kate & Anna McGarrigle, Marshall Crenshaw, Los Straitjackets, Amy Rigby, Brave Combo, Neko Case, and a few others I can't recall. I don't get out much. the 25th has the Hackensaw Boys and I might go to that show.
So that's the report--leaving the house is a good thing.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Kerry Leaves The House
That's right--on Friday night I will leave the house and do something fun! I am going to the Black 47 show at the Beachland. Aren't you surprised? I do not do these things, but I feel the need to have some sort of St. Patrick's celebration. And who can resist a rousing rendition of "I Got Laid On James Joyce's Grave?"
God, "Funky Ceili" and "Maria's Wedding" came out when I was in high school.
God, "Funky Ceili" and "Maria's Wedding" came out when I was in high school.
Monday, March 10, 2008
The First Mouse Encounter
I originally wrote this story in February 2005.
So, the cats really do love me.
As I was showering this morning, I heard the cats growling. Now, they growl pretty often at each other in play. But this was really loud. So loud that I shut off the shower to see if they were really growling or if it was in fact the furnace doing something crazy to alert me it was about to explode. When I got out they stopped growling and Mencken walked out of the bathroom.
Rinsed off, put on my glasses and a towel, went into the bedroom to dress.
Mencken is on the bed with his mousey. "Oh, Mencken," I say. "You've done a number on that mousey. It looks like he's falling apart. We should throw that one away and get you a new one from the stash."
I put out a finger to check the damage. Huh. This isn't fluff falling out. Those are REAL MOUSE CLAWS!
I shriek and shiver. I jump.
Mencken is really pleased with his mousey. He proceeds to try and beat it up a little more.
"Ack, NO!" I cry, afraid of disembowelment and blood and severed heads in the am.
I toss him in the red room and shut the door. Cain is now looking at the mousey that Mencken had been hogging and proceeds to take over where I had interrupted.
"Stop it!" I pick him up, go to the bathroom and get the largest wad of toilet paper ever. After several attempts I pick up the mouse by its tail and carry it down to the trash. I put the trash out on the back porch.
Yes, I realize that habit helped contribute to this mess.
I feed the cats, free Mencken, give him some praise.
Murder Inc. is in the house. Sugar Cain and Mouser Mencken. I feel like a gun moll. I need a cocktail ring, a martini glass, and a little necklace of their kills.
So, the cats really do love me.
As I was showering this morning, I heard the cats growling. Now, they growl pretty often at each other in play. But this was really loud. So loud that I shut off the shower to see if they were really growling or if it was in fact the furnace doing something crazy to alert me it was about to explode. When I got out they stopped growling and Mencken walked out of the bathroom.
Rinsed off, put on my glasses and a towel, went into the bedroom to dress.
Mencken is on the bed with his mousey. "Oh, Mencken," I say. "You've done a number on that mousey. It looks like he's falling apart. We should throw that one away and get you a new one from the stash."
I put out a finger to check the damage. Huh. This isn't fluff falling out. Those are REAL MOUSE CLAWS!
I shriek and shiver. I jump.
Mencken is really pleased with his mousey. He proceeds to try and beat it up a little more.
"Ack, NO!" I cry, afraid of disembowelment and blood and severed heads in the am.
I toss him in the red room and shut the door. Cain is now looking at the mousey that Mencken had been hogging and proceeds to take over where I had interrupted.
"Stop it!" I pick him up, go to the bathroom and get the largest wad of toilet paper ever. After several attempts I pick up the mouse by its tail and carry it down to the trash. I put the trash out on the back porch.
Yes, I realize that habit helped contribute to this mess.
I feed the cats, free Mencken, give him some praise.
Murder Inc. is in the house. Sugar Cain and Mouser Mencken. I feel like a gun moll. I need a cocktail ring, a martini glass, and a little necklace of their kills.
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Saturday Night Fun
About 10pm, the broom fell over in the kitchen. I was ready to yell at Cain for being on the countertop and going for the butter. He was already on the floor, growling a bit and he had something in his mouth, something with a long tail. A mouse! He finally caught a mouse!
See, Cain likes to lay facing the corner where 2 cabinets meet, in a very Blair Witch Project pose. And it's an old house, full of holes and I was sure there were mice around but as long as I didn't see them I was cool. And the benefit of having had a dozen different cats in residence over 3 1/2 years is that I am sure the mice let each other know that this is a CAT house and they should be careful. And some of you recall the previous times I saw that the cats had caught mice (if you don't I can repost the story) and what fun that was.
This is 3 years later. Cain weighs 20 pounds almost, and he's not that fat. And he gets excited and moves fast. No longer a kitten.
So he runs into the living room and I grab a paper towel to grab it by the tail. Oh dear God, it's not dead. Occasionally I have had thoughts of animal cruelty, of buying a mouse or a hamster to let it loose to let the cats stalk it, you know, for fun on their birthday or Christmas or something.
Because this clearly is fun. He is chasing the mouse, getting in front of it, wapping it with his paw, carrying it in his mouth. Cain ignores balls, feather on a stick bores him, fake mousies bore him. This is fun. Specs is all pissed, watching him, puzzled, clearly thinking "Boys! Do something tiny like catch a mouse and it's like they want you to let them boss you. Just eat it. Bite me!"
It has punctures in the side, but he hasn't broken the spine because it moves. It does its best to get away. He catches it again. Mousie gets into the kitchen and makes it down the back steps. Cain follows. I run after Cain. What the hell!
We're in the basement. Cain chases it around. I grab a bucket and a dustpan and try to corner it. I am not sure what we are going to do with it. Toss it outside to freeze to death?
Finally it runs over by the litter boxes and gets under one of the shelving units. Cain tries to convince it to come back out for another round. I scoop boxes and reflect.
And then we go to bed.
See, Cain likes to lay facing the corner where 2 cabinets meet, in a very Blair Witch Project pose. And it's an old house, full of holes and I was sure there were mice around but as long as I didn't see them I was cool. And the benefit of having had a dozen different cats in residence over 3 1/2 years is that I am sure the mice let each other know that this is a CAT house and they should be careful. And some of you recall the previous times I saw that the cats had caught mice (if you don't I can repost the story) and what fun that was.
This is 3 years later. Cain weighs 20 pounds almost, and he's not that fat. And he gets excited and moves fast. No longer a kitten.
So he runs into the living room and I grab a paper towel to grab it by the tail. Oh dear God, it's not dead. Occasionally I have had thoughts of animal cruelty, of buying a mouse or a hamster to let it loose to let the cats stalk it, you know, for fun on their birthday or Christmas or something.
Because this clearly is fun. He is chasing the mouse, getting in front of it, wapping it with his paw, carrying it in his mouth. Cain ignores balls, feather on a stick bores him, fake mousies bore him. This is fun. Specs is all pissed, watching him, puzzled, clearly thinking "Boys! Do something tiny like catch a mouse and it's like they want you to let them boss you. Just eat it. Bite me!"
It has punctures in the side, but he hasn't broken the spine because it moves. It does its best to get away. He catches it again. Mousie gets into the kitchen and makes it down the back steps. Cain follows. I run after Cain. What the hell!
We're in the basement. Cain chases it around. I grab a bucket and a dustpan and try to corner it. I am not sure what we are going to do with it. Toss it outside to freeze to death?
Finally it runs over by the litter boxes and gets under one of the shelving units. Cain tries to convince it to come back out for another round. I scoop boxes and reflect.
And then we go to bed.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
The Conversation We'd Have If You Called Me
Yes, it’s snowing.
Yup, it's a blizzard.
Like 12 inches? It was midcalf when I went out to shovel for the mailman. They say we’ll get 5 more or so today.
No, I can’t shovel until it stops snowing. It’s blowing. It’s pointless to shovel when it’s blowing. It’s uncomfortable and you don’t know where the damn drifts are. The drift between my house and the performance artists’ is about chest high. Seriously. And the snowplows come and you can barely get out of the driveway anyway because they push the snow up onto the apron and you're screwed.
It snowed this much last Easter.
Yes, I’ll think about calling THE PLOW GUY.
Yes. I am happy I bought a new winter coat, but it’s too nice to go out and shovel in. I still have the orange coat.
Well, the flooring dude is coming at 10 am on Monday, so I have to have the driveway clear for him.
I have food. And litter. Coffee. And projects. I went out yesterday for all that. I’m eating leftover birthday cake and I’m making potato leek soup. And I made meatlump yesterday.
You know, cleaning, packing, cooking, the usual.
Oh, Cain did something exciting this morning—he jumped up on this pile of boxes to get at the front window to check out THE SNOW, and his weight pushed them against the CD tower, which fell and pushed one of the chairs and he wound up with a curtain rod in his face like a gun. Startlingly reminiscent of the picture of the National Guardsman pointing the rifle with a flower stuck in the barrel at the hippie.
My birthday cake! I froze it since no one came over. It’s the last hunk.
Specs is on my lap right now. Whiny bitch.
Love you too.
Yup, it's a blizzard.
Like 12 inches? It was midcalf when I went out to shovel for the mailman. They say we’ll get 5 more or so today.
No, I can’t shovel until it stops snowing. It’s blowing. It’s pointless to shovel when it’s blowing. It’s uncomfortable and you don’t know where the damn drifts are. The drift between my house and the performance artists’ is about chest high. Seriously. And the snowplows come and you can barely get out of the driveway anyway because they push the snow up onto the apron and you're screwed.
It snowed this much last Easter.
Yes, I’ll think about calling THE PLOW GUY.
Yes. I am happy I bought a new winter coat, but it’s too nice to go out and shovel in. I still have the orange coat.
Well, the flooring dude is coming at 10 am on Monday, so I have to have the driveway clear for him.
I have food. And litter. Coffee. And projects. I went out yesterday for all that. I’m eating leftover birthday cake and I’m making potato leek soup. And I made meatlump yesterday.
You know, cleaning, packing, cooking, the usual.
Oh, Cain did something exciting this morning—he jumped up on this pile of boxes to get at the front window to check out THE SNOW, and his weight pushed them against the CD tower, which fell and pushed one of the chairs and he wound up with a curtain rod in his face like a gun. Startlingly reminiscent of the picture of the National Guardsman pointing the rifle with a flower stuck in the barrel at the hippie.
My birthday cake! I froze it since no one came over. It’s the last hunk.
Specs is on my lap right now. Whiny bitch.
Love you too.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Nightlife, Moonshine, Madhouse--Rob Thurman (Cal Leandros Novels)
I heard about these books from Jia's review of Madhouse over at Dear Author. Damn, I am thankful for the recommendation, even if these books provided too much of a distraction. How much of a distraction? Not only did I get the first two books from the library and DEVOUR them, I went out and bought the third and I am not allowed to go and buy books, especially if I am paying a full $7 for it. It was totally worth it. And fantasy is usually not my thing. Having spent too much time around the LARP crowd, I am so burnt out on the angsty, the monsters, vampires, werewolves, oh my! and retread stories about souls and demons and blah, blah, blah that 3 years later I will kick you in the shins if that sort of shit comes up.
Or maybe it's being older that you have no patience for such. It started to decline after I broke my arm, I know that. That's when everything changed.
But anyway--back to the awesome stories!
Cal Leandros and his older brother Niko are on the run. Truthfully, they've been on the run their whole lives--when your mom is a Gypsy con artist/whore, staying long in one place is not an option. However, for the past 4 years they've been on the run from creatures they call "Grendels," one of which is Cal's father. The last time they all met up, Cal vanished for 2 days and came back 2 years older, with no memory of where he'd been or what happened. Recent Grendel sightings have them looking to leave New York, despite the assurances of their psychic friend Georgina King that they should stay. Hunting for a car, they meet puck/used car salesman Robin Goodfellow, who identifies Cal as part Auphe (the basis for the elven myths, only not hot like Orlando Bloom and much more into killing things.) Nice. Rob's good sorts, which is helpful because the Auphe have a plan that they shortly put into action that leaves Cal not in control of himself. Oh dear.
Moonshine has the brothers living a semi-normal life: Cal is mostly recovered from the trauma of Nightlife, Niko's gone back to college and got a girlfriend, and the three of them have a supernatural fix-it/detective agency thing going, with Robin Goodfellow hanging around to help and amuse. Cal is also being pursued by George King, and doing his best to elude that relationship for fear of the Auphe and "You really want to find daycare for a flesh-eating baby? I think they charge extra when your kid goes cannibal during naptime." Things get rough when they agree to do a job for a werewolf, who decides to make sure he gets good results by kidnapping George to ensure compliance and sends Cal undercover. Yikes.
Madhouse has the brothers facing off against the famous "cannibal" Sawney Bean (he eats people, but he's a Red Cap, not a human. He's also the inspiration for the Reivers in Firefly.) And someone's making attempts on Goodfellow's life. Sawney Bean's got a special liking for Cal, whose mental health is strained, what with the events of the previous books, and this whole being connected to people thing is new and very stressful.
As you can see, there's a lot of fantasy cheese factor in these stories. Let me count the types:
Gypsies!
Hot brothers who spend all their spare cash on weaponry!
Hot angsty sarcastic men with ISSUES!
Vampires, werewolves and monsters, oh my!
The whoring, drinking, cheating, stealing puck with a mastery of the lewd remark!
Half human/half monster!
Sorry, I had to fan myself. Here's the deal--I know logically much of this seems over the top. But surprisingly, it really works for me. I spent some time analyzing why, and it's because Thurman does such a great job of balancing all aspects of her tale. Okay the plot of Moonshine wanders, but I didn't notice it until after. She's got tightly written fight scenes, plenty of action, and good pacing within the stories. Robin's a great source of humor, and so is Cal's sarcastic first person narration. And I appreciate that in her world the supernatural races are born and just exist, no angsty vamping or wolfing necessary.
And there's character grounding and development, which I'm always a sucker for. Niko's overachieving, supercontrolled, overprotective nature and Cal's crappy self-esteem and perpetual guilt owe as much to having a neglectful, alcoholic mom as to the events of the books. Cal is particular is an evolving character that Thurman's got on the Hero's Journey. He's very much the younger brother in the first book, but by Madhouse he's moving out of Niko's shadow and making independent choices that he knows might not be best, but what he he feels he has to do. He also feels greater connection and responsibility to the victims that he and Niko encounter, and tries to right things.
So if you like the sound of this, you might also like Bill Willingham's Fables for the novel character development and humor, Simon R. Green and Charles de Lint for urban fantasy settings. Heck, throw in Neil Gaiman too.
And you know what hit me around Madhouse? These books are a lot like Robert B. Parker's Spenser series. No, really. Lone wolf detective, deadly silent companion, idealized female love interest, sarcasm, and a little sap.
Or maybe it's being older that you have no patience for such. It started to decline after I broke my arm, I know that. That's when everything changed.
But anyway--back to the awesome stories!
Cal Leandros and his older brother Niko are on the run. Truthfully, they've been on the run their whole lives--when your mom is a Gypsy con artist/whore, staying long in one place is not an option. However, for the past 4 years they've been on the run from creatures they call "Grendels," one of which is Cal's father. The last time they all met up, Cal vanished for 2 days and came back 2 years older, with no memory of where he'd been or what happened. Recent Grendel sightings have them looking to leave New York, despite the assurances of their psychic friend Georgina King that they should stay. Hunting for a car, they meet puck/used car salesman Robin Goodfellow, who identifies Cal as part Auphe (the basis for the elven myths, only not hot like Orlando Bloom and much more into killing things.) Nice. Rob's good sorts, which is helpful because the Auphe have a plan that they shortly put into action that leaves Cal not in control of himself. Oh dear.
Moonshine has the brothers living a semi-normal life: Cal is mostly recovered from the trauma of Nightlife, Niko's gone back to college and got a girlfriend, and the three of them have a supernatural fix-it/detective agency thing going, with Robin Goodfellow hanging around to help and amuse. Cal is also being pursued by George King, and doing his best to elude that relationship for fear of the Auphe and "You really want to find daycare for a flesh-eating baby? I think they charge extra when your kid goes cannibal during naptime." Things get rough when they agree to do a job for a werewolf, who decides to make sure he gets good results by kidnapping George to ensure compliance and sends Cal undercover. Yikes.
Madhouse has the brothers facing off against the famous "cannibal" Sawney Bean (he eats people, but he's a Red Cap, not a human. He's also the inspiration for the Reivers in Firefly.) And someone's making attempts on Goodfellow's life. Sawney Bean's got a special liking for Cal, whose mental health is strained, what with the events of the previous books, and this whole being connected to people thing is new and very stressful.
As you can see, there's a lot of fantasy cheese factor in these stories. Let me count the types:
Gypsies!
Hot brothers who spend all their spare cash on weaponry!
Hot angsty sarcastic men with ISSUES!
Vampires, werewolves and monsters, oh my!
The whoring, drinking, cheating, stealing puck with a mastery of the lewd remark!
Half human/half monster!
Sorry, I had to fan myself. Here's the deal--I know logically much of this seems over the top. But surprisingly, it really works for me. I spent some time analyzing why, and it's because Thurman does such a great job of balancing all aspects of her tale. Okay the plot of Moonshine wanders, but I didn't notice it until after. She's got tightly written fight scenes, plenty of action, and good pacing within the stories. Robin's a great source of humor, and so is Cal's sarcastic first person narration. And I appreciate that in her world the supernatural races are born and just exist, no angsty vamping or wolfing necessary.
And there's character grounding and development, which I'm always a sucker for. Niko's overachieving, supercontrolled, overprotective nature and Cal's crappy self-esteem and perpetual guilt owe as much to having a neglectful, alcoholic mom as to the events of the books. Cal is particular is an evolving character that Thurman's got on the Hero's Journey. He's very much the younger brother in the first book, but by Madhouse he's moving out of Niko's shadow and making independent choices that he knows might not be best, but what he he feels he has to do. He also feels greater connection and responsibility to the victims that he and Niko encounter, and tries to right things.
So if you like the sound of this, you might also like Bill Willingham's Fables for the novel character development and humor, Simon R. Green and Charles de Lint for urban fantasy settings. Heck, throw in Neil Gaiman too.
And you know what hit me around Madhouse? These books are a lot like Robert B. Parker's Spenser series. No, really. Lone wolf detective, deadly silent companion, idealized female love interest, sarcasm, and a little sap.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Blitzkreig Book Reviews: The MINX Stinks Edition
I've written about DC Comics' Minx line before. I am mostly unimpressed by its offerings, but figured that I should take advantage of the Cleveland Public Library while I can to check out the rest of the line before I move.
If you haven't heard, Minx was a line pitched to teen girls, not a traditionally big audience for comic book readership, but one that's become major consumers of manga. Why will girls read manga and not comic books? Both capitalize on a love of serialized stories, the ability to pay attention to nuance and wait for a payoff, and the general push towards alternate media format for storytelling. But here's the rub--not everyone has a Carol & John's in their neighborhood. Manga gets sold at the big box bookstores, and YA librarians buy it. You don't have to brave the boy's club atmosphere at the comics shop, the often unreliable publishing schedules, and comics can be intimidating with their inner workings of artists, lines and who does what. Despite fertile areas of cross platform adaptation of intellectual property in using characters and stories in tv and film, comics themselves are suffering from a lack of readership and shrinking long term business prospects.* So Minx is an idea to serve as a gateway to comics and open up new readership to the industry. There's been criticism about the ghettoization of girls implicit in this approach, but I'm okay with that. Face it, men and women sometimes want different things in their reading material. Everyone wants a good read, it's just what may be satisfying to them that differs. Even keeping that in mind, I'm frustrated with Minx Books. I love the ideas, but the execution is mostly crap. And I fear that it may be too late to make improvements, since there's no information on 2008 releases or any information on any new titles available from Minx at the website or mentioned in any of the press releases I saw.
Here's a roundup of thoughts on the last three books published in 2007:
Good As Lily by Derek Kirk Kim & Jesse Hamm: This book is just a mess. The title refers to the protagonist's older sister, who died at the age of 6. However, this bit of information is imparted and the importance of which is resolved in approximately 4 pages, which leaves us with 140 pages of plot about something else entirely. Hint for writers--your title should be related to the plot of the book in some way. This plot is about Grace Kwon, who gets hit on the head by a stubborn pinata at her 18th birthday party, and later that night runs into her 5 year old, 29 year old and 70 year old self. So she hides them from her parents in her bedroom and proceeds to live her normal life, which involves her crush on the drama teacher, ignoring the friend with the hots for her and something about the school play. The plot's an incomprehensible mess, the characters are paper thin, there's no logic or motivation to the story, and as a reader I felt cheated and irritated.
Confessions of A Blabbermouth by Mike & Louise Carey, illustrated by Aaron Alexovich: Mike Carey wrote The Re-Gifters which is the one Minx product that I thought really knocked it out of the park. This book is less emotionally engaging and rather predictable, but a good effort. Teenage Tasha's a blogger extraordinaire, but her home life gets messy when her mom gets serious with her asshole boyfriend J.D. , who comes complete with an annoying daughter Chloe. Both seem to be weirdly threatened by Tasha's writing, and share a secret of their own. A tightly plotted story that is tissue thin on development, but Tasha's got a well-written narrative voice. Alexovich's illustrations are enjoyably energetic and spiky.
Kimmie66 by Aaron Alexovich: Set in the future, this story is a cautionary tale of where too much dependence on online personas and too little human interaction will lead us. I should be all over this, right? Except that the telling is a little ham handed. Anyway, Telly is a teenage girl who spends most of her life online in a Goth lair. She starts to question reality and online life when her best friend online, Kimmie66, commits suicide. This leads her to investigate Kimmie's offline life and seek connection to other people. I had problems getting into the story and connecting with the characters, but it's certainly a better written tale than some of the others and would provoke discussion about online life and behavior.
*So I'm thinking of writing a comic publishing industry analysis for my professional portfolio. Any interest in reading it?
If you haven't heard, Minx was a line pitched to teen girls, not a traditionally big audience for comic book readership, but one that's become major consumers of manga. Why will girls read manga and not comic books? Both capitalize on a love of serialized stories, the ability to pay attention to nuance and wait for a payoff, and the general push towards alternate media format for storytelling. But here's the rub--not everyone has a Carol & John's in their neighborhood. Manga gets sold at the big box bookstores, and YA librarians buy it. You don't have to brave the boy's club atmosphere at the comics shop, the often unreliable publishing schedules, and comics can be intimidating with their inner workings of artists, lines and who does what. Despite fertile areas of cross platform adaptation of intellectual property in using characters and stories in tv and film, comics themselves are suffering from a lack of readership and shrinking long term business prospects.* So Minx is an idea to serve as a gateway to comics and open up new readership to the industry. There's been criticism about the ghettoization of girls implicit in this approach, but I'm okay with that. Face it, men and women sometimes want different things in their reading material. Everyone wants a good read, it's just what may be satisfying to them that differs. Even keeping that in mind, I'm frustrated with Minx Books. I love the ideas, but the execution is mostly crap. And I fear that it may be too late to make improvements, since there's no information on 2008 releases or any information on any new titles available from Minx at the website or mentioned in any of the press releases I saw.
Here's a roundup of thoughts on the last three books published in 2007:
Good As Lily by Derek Kirk Kim & Jesse Hamm: This book is just a mess. The title refers to the protagonist's older sister, who died at the age of 6. However, this bit of information is imparted and the importance of which is resolved in approximately 4 pages, which leaves us with 140 pages of plot about something else entirely. Hint for writers--your title should be related to the plot of the book in some way. This plot is about Grace Kwon, who gets hit on the head by a stubborn pinata at her 18th birthday party, and later that night runs into her 5 year old, 29 year old and 70 year old self. So she hides them from her parents in her bedroom and proceeds to live her normal life, which involves her crush on the drama teacher, ignoring the friend with the hots for her and something about the school play. The plot's an incomprehensible mess, the characters are paper thin, there's no logic or motivation to the story, and as a reader I felt cheated and irritated.
Confessions of A Blabbermouth by Mike & Louise Carey, illustrated by Aaron Alexovich: Mike Carey wrote The Re-Gifters which is the one Minx product that I thought really knocked it out of the park. This book is less emotionally engaging and rather predictable, but a good effort. Teenage Tasha's a blogger extraordinaire, but her home life gets messy when her mom gets serious with her asshole boyfriend J.D. , who comes complete with an annoying daughter Chloe. Both seem to be weirdly threatened by Tasha's writing, and share a secret of their own. A tightly plotted story that is tissue thin on development, but Tasha's got a well-written narrative voice. Alexovich's illustrations are enjoyably energetic and spiky.
Kimmie66 by Aaron Alexovich: Set in the future, this story is a cautionary tale of where too much dependence on online personas and too little human interaction will lead us. I should be all over this, right? Except that the telling is a little ham handed. Anyway, Telly is a teenage girl who spends most of her life online in a Goth lair. She starts to question reality and online life when her best friend online, Kimmie66, commits suicide. This leads her to investigate Kimmie's offline life and seek connection to other people. I had problems getting into the story and connecting with the characters, but it's certainly a better written tale than some of the others and would provoke discussion about online life and behavior.
*So I'm thinking of writing a comic publishing industry analysis for my professional portfolio. Any interest in reading it?
Well, That Explains It
So I felt kinda weird all day today, took a nap in the late afternoon, felt maybe a little nauseated in the early evening, but chalked it up to pain from my arm since the weather is bad. But all was revealed when I hit the tub to shave my legs.
Migraine. I got the snakey aura while in the tub.
Lovely.
Migraine. I got the snakey aura while in the tub.
Lovely.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Frozen In
So I made it out yesterday and voted, plus hit the Recycling Center to drop off old computer and parts, the library, and got myself some flowers. My mom was right, you can't count Hillary out. Or freakin' Kuchinich! Then I worked on tearing up the old carpet padding in the basement. Finished! But my shoulder hurts.
However, I am now frozen in with my half inch of ice and 4 inches of snow.
Here is my girl Specs. She is cranky because she wants fresh! wet food, damn it and not the stuff I put out this afternoon. And it's 10pm, time to go to bed and sleep. She has captured the territory of The Warm Bed away from Cain. They growl and shriek at each other.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Kerry Reads The Paper!
A few thigs that caught my eye in the news this week...
Gary Gygax Dead--So what time do we meet over at Case for the candlelight vigil?
Fur Flies At A Beauty Pagent (But It's Not What You Think) is one of those awesome stories that the Washington Post does so well. I did not know that the muskrat trapping industry was at one time so big in Maryland that it spawned both a Muskrat Queen and muskrat skinner competition. Fascinating. Look, if I'm the judge and you skin a muskrat as your talent at the beauty competition, you're taking home the crown and scholarship based on your creativity and awesomeness. Blood under the fingernails be damned.
Dusie jokes that she wants a family compound, and certainly The Don would have loved that, but these people make it sound like a workable option.
In my news: The Don was right--a snow shovel is the least backbreaking and most effective way to remove a 30 year old layer of cheap carpet padding stuck to the basement floor (although if a cat with the feline physique of a Ralph Lauren model could tear it up, why should I doubt I can do it?), the Obama campaign here in Cleveland is a class act, librarians are annoying me, Amy Winehouse=Shane McGown circa 1989, all Dropkick Murphy songs sound alike, what's up with men posting like they're cute and turning out not handsome?, my shoulder hurts, and eh.
Gary Gygax Dead--So what time do we meet over at Case for the candlelight vigil?
Fur Flies At A Beauty Pagent (But It's Not What You Think) is one of those awesome stories that the Washington Post does so well. I did not know that the muskrat trapping industry was at one time so big in Maryland that it spawned both a Muskrat Queen and muskrat skinner competition. Fascinating. Look, if I'm the judge and you skin a muskrat as your talent at the beauty competition, you're taking home the crown and scholarship based on your creativity and awesomeness. Blood under the fingernails be damned.
Dusie jokes that she wants a family compound, and certainly The Don would have loved that, but these people make it sound like a workable option.
In my news: The Don was right--a snow shovel is the least backbreaking and most effective way to remove a 30 year old layer of cheap carpet padding stuck to the basement floor (although if a cat with the feline physique of a Ralph Lauren model could tear it up, why should I doubt I can do it?), the Obama campaign here in Cleveland is a class act, librarians are annoying me, Amy Winehouse=Shane McGown circa 1989, all Dropkick Murphy songs sound alike, what's up with men posting like they're cute and turning out not handsome?, my shoulder hurts, and eh.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Sorting Through The Memories
I threw out most of the last of my alcohol tonight. I gave the Romance Heroine a bottle of sloe gin and a large bottle of regular gin, but I had some cheap sherry and vermouth (which goes bad) that went down the sink. I paused at the bottle of Gordon's Citrus Vodka because I remembered the circumstances under which it was purchased. In May 2000, I drove to Baltimore to go to Dusie's graduation, and I hit the hotel at a point which no one in my family was there so I couldn't get into the room. I was rumpled and hot and cranky. And no one had a cell phone then, so I was out of luck. I wound up walking over to the nearest strip mall to get something to read and eat, and thank heavens there was a liquor store because I could tell already that I was going to start running out of patience right quick. Later that night I was in the room with Aces and had it with some awful citrus soda. More recently I have mixed the vodka with homemade lemonade, still warm. Ambrosial.
The next day I had to help Dusie cover her tattoo with fancy makeup so my Dad wouldn't see it. Strangely, that was a pretty good graduation. Aces graduated the next year in North Carolina and that was an even better trip. My mom had found a state park near Durham (I think it was Pilot Mountain State Park) that had cheap, cool cabins. However, I had no clue which cabin, and no way to reach them so my dad was waiting out by the front sign for me to show up.
Later we picked up Aces and went out to dinner, which lead to frantic phone calls between Dusie and my Dad since we were in different cars.
"What do you see, Dusie? "
"Trees, Daddy! I see trees!"
Ah, the strip malls of Winston-Salem and the joys of rural development. We took our leftovers to feed Aces' favorite ferals out by the dumpster at the donut place. The next day I suffered through the graduation, and it's the last one I will ever have to attend if I don't have kids. Thank goodness.
The next day I had to help Dusie cover her tattoo with fancy makeup so my Dad wouldn't see it. Strangely, that was a pretty good graduation. Aces graduated the next year in North Carolina and that was an even better trip. My mom had found a state park near Durham (I think it was Pilot Mountain State Park) that had cheap, cool cabins. However, I had no clue which cabin, and no way to reach them so my dad was waiting out by the front sign for me to show up.
Later we picked up Aces and went out to dinner, which lead to frantic phone calls between Dusie and my Dad since we were in different cars.
"What do you see, Dusie? "
"Trees, Daddy! I see trees!"
Ah, the strip malls of Winston-Salem and the joys of rural development. We took our leftovers to feed Aces' favorite ferals out by the dumpster at the donut place. The next day I suffered through the graduation, and it's the last one I will ever have to attend if I don't have kids. Thank goodness.
Is It Me, Or Is It Cleveland?
So I was over at the West Side Market, in line at City Roast, and the woman from Reilly's came over and got in line behind me. It was a long line, it always is, and after a minute she started fretting that she couldn't leave her stand for too long.
"Give me your money and tell me what you want" I said. "I'll get it for you and bring it back."
"Are you sure?"
"Well, yeah. Besides we have this relationship based on my weekly addiction to the empire biscuits." And I pulled my hand out of my pocket to show her one I had just bought, because nothing's better than the vanilla latte and an empire biscuit.
She laughed at me and handed me a tenner and told me what kind of coffee to get her and said thanks.
Those of you who've known me a while knows that this sort of thing happens a lot. I start conversations with strangers, I offer to help, I joke, I smile, and people mostly talk to me. The question is this: is it me or is it Cleveland? Is Cleveland a friendly town?
Because I like this aspect of my personality, and I don't want to lose it. I don't want to wind up cranky and intolerant and businesslike. And I worry that when I move I'll be in a new place and people will be unfriendly and mean and I'll be out of place again. Even if I am out of place in Cleveland, I at least know the town. Back in the NJ area, I get the feeling that this bubbly flirtiness isn't appreciated, or maybe it just wasn't appreciated coming from me.
The thing is, that I do this at all is sort of a huge 180 from my personality when I was young. I was shy, incredibly socially awkward, was bullied, teased, stalked, and taken advantage of numerous times. I was a weirdo. I have lots of anxiety and I'm introverted and talking to people, even simple things like asking the time or directions, stressed me out. The only talking I could do was in English class. Social anxiety is a bitch. Now it's only bigger talking to people that freaks me out, which is a huge improvement. Like online dating. I know, I know.
"Give me your money and tell me what you want" I said. "I'll get it for you and bring it back."
"Are you sure?"
"Well, yeah. Besides we have this relationship based on my weekly addiction to the empire biscuits." And I pulled my hand out of my pocket to show her one I had just bought, because nothing's better than the vanilla latte and an empire biscuit.
She laughed at me and handed me a tenner and told me what kind of coffee to get her and said thanks.
Those of you who've known me a while knows that this sort of thing happens a lot. I start conversations with strangers, I offer to help, I joke, I smile, and people mostly talk to me. The question is this: is it me or is it Cleveland? Is Cleveland a friendly town?
Because I like this aspect of my personality, and I don't want to lose it. I don't want to wind up cranky and intolerant and businesslike. And I worry that when I move I'll be in a new place and people will be unfriendly and mean and I'll be out of place again. Even if I am out of place in Cleveland, I at least know the town. Back in the NJ area, I get the feeling that this bubbly flirtiness isn't appreciated, or maybe it just wasn't appreciated coming from me.
The thing is, that I do this at all is sort of a huge 180 from my personality when I was young. I was shy, incredibly socially awkward, was bullied, teased, stalked, and taken advantage of numerous times. I was a weirdo. I have lots of anxiety and I'm introverted and talking to people, even simple things like asking the time or directions, stressed me out. The only talking I could do was in English class. Social anxiety is a bitch. Now it's only bigger talking to people that freaks me out, which is a huge improvement. Like online dating. I know, I know.
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