Thursday, January 24, 2008
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Clarissa by Samuel Richardson
This weekend I finally made it to the 200th page of Clarissa, the book is good (as in it holds my interest) but I find Clarissa absolutely annoying, her best friend Miss Howe grating, and her entire family dumber than dumb. In fact, I am having serious issues with myself because I find Lovelace -- Clarissa's seducer and future rapist -- the most intelligent and sensible of characters. Thus in the novel Clarissa has been told that she is to marry the vile Mr. Solmes. As a result Clarissa cries and pleads and her family acts like total douchebags. And this goes on and on and on. I'm looking forward to Clarissa's future death because she will shut the hell up and after all, this is one chic that totally digs dying for that purity.
The Persistence of Objects by Richard Garcia
Richard Garcia kicks ass. I really don't know what else to say. When he came to my University to read, he discussed how lucid dreams are where he writes most of his poetry. He says that you can train your mind to stay in a lucid dream state longer and not wake up and then viola, better poetry. He attributes this to eating ice cream before bed; perhaps I should give that a go? Anyhoo, his poems are quite lyrical and dreaming, yet he doesn't fall prey to that writer faux-pas of employing "fancy words" and "cleverness." He is still very much an imagist and leaves me feeling like I'm in a state of poetic zen.
The Best New Poets 2006 edited by Eric Pankey and Jeb Livingood
Geez...talk about making me feel like a poop on the bottom of a sneaker. This anthology of the best new poets of 2006 are just that ...damn... good. Check out their site here.
Sir Francis Drake: the Queen's Pirate by Harry Kelsey
Any of my friends will tell you that since childhood I have had a fascination with Sir Francis Drake. In fact, he was my first crush. I remember being about 10-years-old and reading a Drake biography for children. I thought him dashing and that bad boy vibe was appealing to me even at that young age. Now, I'm reading a grown-up biography of Drake. Although I think that I would totally be trying to hook-up with the privateer if I was a wench back in the day, I now realize that Drake was really kind of a scary dude. He is randomly beheading people, manipulating folks, abandoning knocked up slaves on islands, and lying his ass off to his crew, but still, there is something hot about that general bad boy-ness and the fact that he gets away with it.
* yes, I know it is technically Monday, but not even a half-hour into Monday!
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Friday, January 11, 2008
Thursday, January 10, 2008
- The Guardian lets us drool over 50 writer's rooms.
- Writers on strike are creating children's books to feed the creativity bug.
- Fight Club the musical?!
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Well, this will be my first Sunday Salon. Actually, I didn't know about this until earlier today when I was perusing The Books of My Numberless Dreams. Most Sundays I work from 1 p.m. to 10 p.m., but I am going to read tonight -- we closed early -- and I will wake up on Sunday mornings to participate. Expect an update in a bit. I'm grabbing The Bell Jar, Clarissa, and some poetry.
My Transformers toothbrush that I believe is intended for eight-year-old boys and not 27 year-old women. It makes cool transformer noises and plays the song and has Optimus Prime sayings. Nicky says it looks like I am blowing an autobot when I am brushing my teeth.
My mummy bookmark from the Michael C. Carlos museum at Emory University. Right now he is chillin' in The Bell Jar.
Here is the Harry Potter Hogwarts castle lego set I put together at Christmas.
My bird journal. I bought it last summer at Barnes and Noble, but it was designed at the Savannah College of Art and Design.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
The Blog Jar is back from the dead. Yay!
So why did I mysteriously disappear from the interweb in November?
Well I could make something up that sounds like a good reason (like a stint working for the CIA or an alien abduction or a foray into a Luddite cult) but it isn’t nearly as humorously stupid as the real reason.
The REASON: Vodka + Amanda = Retardation.
There was this night back in November when I had several vodka cranberry juice drinks and then a rum and coke (and yes, I have no tolerance for alcohol). I was really, really, really drunk. I started out as a silly drunk and then progressed to a surly drunk. Around 2 a.m. I stomped off to bed in a horrific mood.
The next morning – it was a Sunday – I woke up at 6:30 and decided that I was going to leave Georgia. As in hop on a bus that day with the Kid and scoot to Portland, Oregon. The grand idea was to change my name and become a slam poet/bookstore owner/cabaret singer.
For some reason, I thought it would be logical to delete my Georgia existence. I started with the web and deleted my Facebook account, MySpace profile, and my blog – The Blog Jar. My blog I had had for nearly 3 years and had grossed over 20,000 hits.
No more Amanda.
After my friends freaked out because I was incommunicado, I reluctantly resurrected my Facebook and created a new MySpace account; but what to do about my blog? The holidays were approaching and financial worries and social anxiety had me nuttier than the gifted fruitcakes I was chucking in the garbage.
I decided to wait until 2008 and then bring The Blog Jar back.
So I’m back and reading and not any more neurotic than is to be expected of a bookish girl. I promise not to blip into nonexistence again. I swear on my pretty new copy of the Pevear – Volokhonsky translation of War and Peace.
Expect updates soon about what I’m reading and an interesting conversation I had with a UPS delivery dude about Clarissa.