Slovenly Hovel

There may end up being another video from spring break (the dallas half) but, i wouldn't count on it. However, the video-ish blog lives on, never fear. I'm not going to start another blog, write in it for a week, and then abandon it again, like almost every other one outside of the infamous xanga.

However, i do kinda want to keep up doing videos about my mundane everyday life, for several reasons.
- i want more than just one real person (thanks, greg) to subscribe to my videos on youtube.
- making videos will help me improve my speech patterns so i sound less like a valley girl and more like a refined intellectual
- i want to love all sense of privacy in favor of regaining internet popularity
- i want to develop a speaking voice that suits my writing voice, the sort of thing David Sedaris or Ira Glass has mastered. I want to be able to speak in an eloquent, writerly way (even if that does mean scripting)

So, first video of the non-travel diary era - about break aftermath.

Book Reviews

Okay, i'm going to lay off the videos for a while. I tried to do a few today in Dallas except that all i've done is sit in bed in two different sets of pajamas reading and eating waffles. Plus, i'm much more comfortable writing, mostly because i sound less like an airhead and more like someone amusing and worth knowing. And most of all, i really don't feel as though i can top "I've been transported straight to Copenhagen."

Since i've done so much reading lately (re: i've managed to finish two books that i've been reading since January), i thought i'd review what i've finished and put it out on the internet for the good of all mankind.

Haunted by Chuck Palaniuk

So many people have raved about good ol' Chuck to me that when i found a signed copy of his latest novel lying around Borders last summer i picked it up, thinking that i'd found something of immense value.  However, upon finishing the book, i'm of the opinion that Haunted isn't even worth the paper it's printed on, with or without author's signature.  I was a little bit wary of the idea to begin with, a writing a collection of short stories authored by a collection of fictional writers, because it presents the pretty daunting task of not only developing 20 or so characters but developing corresponding writing styles for each of them.  Not only does Palaniuk completely disregard the latter issue, but he doesn't even manage to create memorable characters.  Part of this may be because i read the novel over two months, but by the end of the book not only did i have no connection to any of the survivors of the writers retreat gone awry,i didn't even remember most of them, and was just hoping that Palaniuk would finish meaninglessly killing off his underdeveloped characters and get the book over with.  To add to this mess, Palaniuk includes formulaic and just flat out awful poems about each of his characters, proving that he has no hidden writing talent in other genres.  Once the catastrophe of a novel is over, good ol' Chuck leaves you with an afterward that should be called "Chuck Palaniuk on the best horror novelist ever, Chuck Palaniuk."  I loved the movie Fight Club, but i almost feel dirty and disgusted now that i know that its success helps Palaniuk masturbate his ego.

Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit by Charles Bukowski

I know just about as much about Bukowski as i know about poetry in general - basically nothing - but, from what i've read (this book) he sound's like a pretty cool guy to hang out with, although i've heard he's an asshole (thanks, Modest Mouse).  I kind of like assholes though.  But I digress.  I know nothing about poetry, except for a few casual run ins with things that were a. Shel Silverstein, b. way over my head, or c. just really boring, so i'm not exactly in a place to review it.  Bukowski has made me feel immensely better about poetry, though.  His poetry sounds like something a real person might write, not some ethereal being.  I really enjoyed reading this, a few pages every few hours or days.

Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris

And to think i called myself an essay-enthusiast without ever reading any Sedaris.  I liked Me Talk Pretty One Day, but there's something about the way the stories are written that makes them feel like spoken word transcribed, and to be honest, i rather hear David Sedaris read them than read them silently myself.  I had heard "Picka Pocketoni" on This American Life a while ago, and i think that's part of what made the story one of my favorites from the volume - something about Sedaris' voice, the way he pauses for effect, the intonation of his voice just adds to his writing so much that it seems weaker on the page once you've heard him.  Luckily, Sedaris is going to be in Kansas City this summer, and if i can do anything about it, i'm going to be there.