list

my favorite things I read this year:

Overlook: Exploring the Internal Fringes of America edited by Matthew Coolidge and Sarah Simons
I've already rambled on about this book

The Goldbug Variationsby Richard Powers
Likewise about the already rambling on

The Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder
I might reread this book every year. It's beautifully sparse.

The Complete Stories by John Cheever
I sort of want to make a glib comment about how the stories induced me to become an alcoholic country clubber. But that's the cartoon take on Cheever. On of my favorite writers ever, hidden behind a veil of martinis

Marie Antoinette by Antonia Fraser
I'm a Coppola-worshiper, so I first saw the movie. And then had to know the details. The book is a real page-turner. Which is something considering how well-known the ending is.

The Intuitionist by Colson Whitehead.
I love Colson Whitehead

Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson
A life-changing (seriously) book read on a plane

The Aspern Papers by Henry James
OK, this is actually the second time I've read this. But it is such a perfect look at art and life. Set in Venice!

Music for Chameleons by Truman Capote
If only for "Hand Carved Coffins" alone.

And, I'm still reading two books that I should finish before 2007 ends. So - list may be subject to change.

thanksgiving destruction

The bullmastiff continues to wage his war on pillows:

Bad dog.

I think he felt a little remorse:

Maybe.

wish I could've been there

I've been rereading parts of one of my most inspiring books The Design of Modern Design which is all about one of my favorite people George Nelson.



Anyway, I've also been reading some stuff by Buckminster Fuller and the two came together in this awesome story:

George Nelson recalls the iconic design of the Ball Clock as being a result of a night of drinking with friends and associates, Isamu Noguchi, Bucky Fuller, and Irving Harper.

“And there was one night when the ball clock got developed, which was one of the really funny evenings. Noguchi came by, and Bucky Fuller came by. I’d been seeing a lot of Bucky those days, and here was Irving and here was I, and Noguchi, who can’t keep his hands off anything, you know- it is a marvelous, itchy thing he’s got- he saw we were working on clocks and he started making doodles. Then Bucky sort of brushed Isamu aside. He said, “This is a good way to do a clock,” and he made some utterly absurd thing. Everybody was taking a crack at this,…pushing each other aside and making scribbles.

At some point we left- we were suddenly all tired, and we’d had a little bit too much to drink- and the next morning I came back, and here was this roll (of drafting paper), and Irving and I looked at it, and somewhere in this roll there was a ball clock. I don’t know to this day who cooked it up. I know it wasn’t me. It might have been Irving, but he didn’t think so…(we) both guessed that Isamu had probably done it because (he) has a genius for doing two stupid things and making something extraordinary…out of the combination….(or) it could have been an additive thing, but, anyway, we never knew.”

George Nelson: The Design of Modern Design; p.111

I love the idea of George, Bucky, Irving, and Isamu all drinking and smoking and creating.

maybe turning into a book blog

So the only things I really feel like writing about now are the books I'm reading. Nothing wrong with that. Besides, I'm reading some amazing books. The one I just finished is Overlook:Exploring the Internal Fringes of America.

I picked it up at random and was immediately captivated by its oddness. Let's see... Ohio, scale models of cities, lots of talk about nuclear testing grounds, and (one of my little obsessions) towns that were intentionally flooded for water basin purposes. Oh, and there's even a mention of one of my other minor obessions - the Amargosa Opera House. Which will lead me to mention this documentary about Amargosa's Marta Beckett:

See, not just a book blog.

highly recommended

I just finished reading The Gold Bug Variations by Richard Powers and I immediately want to reread it. I probably won't because I have too many other things to read, but I'll definitely be thinking about this one for a while. It's the perfect combination of smart and soulful. I strained my brain and shed some tears. Beautiful book.

ny new home

One day soon there will come a day when I don't get lost. Or need a map. Until then my life is a maze.

yay/damn

Yay because it appears to have been wonderful. Damn that I was no where near. This song is so beautiful. I think I would stare in awe of a still life posed. As....

shuffle ball change

Damn. Why did I ever give up tap dance lessons?

read on labor day

After reading this I can safely say that I don't like reading fiction about real historic figures. Harry Houdini shows up a lot in this novel, as well as J.P. Morgan and a ton of other early 20th century people. And it bugged me. Guess it's a readerly flaw of mine.

ridiculous

Do I really need 10 pairs of pink pants?

a vandalizing statement

my imaginary socially distorted boyfriend

Goodness, I have loved Mike Ness for years.

another victim

Maybe I should change the name of this blog to Things My Dog Destroyed.

read

I just finished reading this:

It's a spy novel set in Europe (with a few New Mexico scenes thrown in) during World War II and 1970's England. I think it is the first spy novel I've ever read. The novel is a lot more than just cloak and dagger spy games.

People becoming other people. Never really being sure of who anyone really is. It took me right back to "The Lady With the Dog". This is the second novel that I've read by William Boyd. He writes great women characters. Ruth, in Restless is so interesting. I'd love to know what happens to her.

The spy stuff was fascinating. This was fiction, but some of the plot was based on things that really happened. The spies in the novel used journalism as their cover. Planting stories. Manipulating the news. Some things never change.

i love ray davies

I just discovered something that millions of people have known for years - that The Kinks are a motherfucking awesome rock 'n roll band. Of course I had heard OF them, and I knew a couple of their songs (Lola, You Really Got Me). I just never seriously listened to them before. I've been listening to this

all day and it is brilliant. The songs rock, and they're all smart and funny and sad and sweet.

And I just now went to youtube and found a video of Ray Davies and Damon Albarn singing "Waterloo Sunset". Be still my beating heart. I might have to make Ray my imaginary boyfriend.

six cool things

OK, so this is cool. The editor is writer Bard Cole, who kept me sane during the Alabama years. He wrote the late great Alabama Diaries (can't seem to find them online anymore).

This is perfect.

my favorite russian*

Anton Chekhov.
I read "The Lady With the Dog" again today. I've read it four or five times before. Every time it's a sobering reminder (to me) of how no one can really truly know anyone else. Not simply because of duplicity or deceit, just because humans are so varied and so contained at the same time.

Reading the story today, I had a slightly different reaction. Yeah, Anton, the only thing you can really know is yourself. Why not make the most of it? I mean, I'm not not going to be letting myself down any time soon.

* Subject to change. I like a lot of Russians.

my imaginary tennis boyfriend

Mr. Carlos Moya:


I'm just trying to cheer myself up because my boy Rafa Nadal lost the Wimbledon final today. Sports suck when your player loses. But Carlos is pretty.

a crazy idea

Since I'm pinching pennies so tight now that my house constantly smells of copper, and I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing, I think I need a little certainty in my life. I know I would feel much better if I knew exactly what I was doing on September 29, 2007 at 7:00 pm. Especially if it was this .

Seriously, that's a plan, right? I would have plans.

someone had a very destructive birthday

The evidence:



Let's take a closer look:

Bad dog!

christmas in june

I had a saved-up gift card from christmas so I decided to buy myself a present. These:


I really wanted this too:


But did not have the dollars. Here's hoping that a girl who likes green, lives on the Georgia coast, and is a size six buys one and then changes her mind. She then will donate it to the local thrifty thrift where I will happen upon it and make it mine. For $3.99!

happy birthday to the best dog on earth

Eight years old today.
My sweet old man.

wimbledon

I am about as uncoordinated as an ostrich on roller skates. And, if I were to ever get on roller skates again (which I will never do) I'm sure I'd resemble the head-n-sand bird as well. Which is a long way of saying that I cannot play tennis. AT ALL. I have tried and tried and sweaty sweated tried. Nope. No hand-eye coordination to be found here.

But oh my goodness tennis is a beautiful game. My Daddy taught me that. Some of my sweestest memories are of watching tennis with my dad. And, sometimes, with my grandpa, Papa Joe. Papa Joe loved Martina Navratilova. My daddy was Steffi Graf all the way. Oh, and one of the few times daddy ever raised his voice was when we (me + sisters) were making too much noise during one of the Borg/McEnroe matches.

We were totally not a tennis family. No country club, no tennis courts in our life. I never knew anyone in real life who played tennis. Except for my dad, who did so very very intermittently. He would let me use his racket in those tennis outbursts that I would get after watching Wimbledon all day. Me and my dad's giant racket bouncing worn out old tennis balls against the freezer door in the carport.

I was sure (in my 10 year old brain) that I would go to Wimbledon and eat strawberries and cream.That will never happen. But I'm watching Wimbledon this week and I hope my Daddy gets to watch it too.

bourbon floats!

This:



plus this:


equals yum. And fun.

PS: It has to be butter pecan! There must be some chemical reaction between bourbon and nuts.

the ipod does not lie

I just looked at my ipod and it appears that I do have some Nine Inch Nails songs. So I guess I lied in my previous post.

an outlaw love song? maybe...

There are bands that I've outgrown. And some that I haven't. Yet. Here's a list of my high school playlist updated. Well, it kind of boils over into early college.

First off and foremost let's just get the whole heavy metal hair band thing out of the way. Yeah, for whatever reason I used to listen to a lot of Motley Crue. And I wasn't even the target audience! I was a bookworm; a poetry reading sensitive little girl. Yet there it was. Currently, however --- NO.

Dinosaur Jr. --- Yes! J Mascis will always have a piece of my heart. Evidence -- I still have the completely scratched up cd of You're Living All Over Me that I snagged from the record-store dude in 1990 (Alexandria, Louisiana).

Social Distoration -- Yes! Ok, so their songs kind of all sound the same. But I'll still throw "Story of My Life" into the mix. Forever!

ALL -- Yes!
Descendants -- No!
So they're kinda the same band.... but not really. ALL still does it for me. D's seem very teenage boy-ish.

Pearl Jam -- No! Maybe they outgrew me... I just find them boring now. (maybe it's me)

Red Hot Chili Peppers -- Yes! Fight like a brave.... And I listened to Stadium Arcadium for days on end...

Cocteau Twins -- Yes, I will love them forever.

Sisters of Mercy -- Yes...laugh all you want; Andrew Eldrich = my dark prince (ha?)

Nine Inch Nails -- Hmmmm... NO!

This will have to Be Continued...

Oh, but Outlaw Lovesong is Social D!

Memories....

i've got a red japanese teapot

Thanks to my brilliant sister for making me download this:

plant lust

I've been searching high and low for this plant:



None of my local green houses have any. I completely fell in love with it when I saw it in my mom's garden. Plus, I kind of have an obsession with the purple-leaved plants. Not green! Purple! Anyway.

So I've been lacking my pretty little tradescantia. But now I'm seeing it everywhere. Everywhere except legal places to buy plants!!! Neighbor has it. Next-door-down-neighbor has it. Window-boxes downtown have it.

I'm thinking about a nice-to-meet-ya-neighbor-let's-swap-plants thing.

my imaginary musician-from-Texas boyfriend

straight out of a truman capote story

Today in my hallowed place of employment I encountered some characters (like I do every day... every single day). Now they were the kind that make you go "only in the south". In a good way, of course ( I am southern born and bred). Big slow grandmaw (maybe great aunt) with big giant vinyl black bag and ten year old grandson (great-nephew?).

Let's see, so... they (yes, both of them) are doing a little genealogy. Grandmaw doesn't move well; grandson does her bidding. We get into the United Daughters of the Confederacy, a little bit of the Daughters of the American Revolution. The grandboy/nephew has spectacles and high-waisted shorts. Grandmaw constantly complains about everything.

And then there is the weather interference. Thunderstorm. Grandboy has to get the umbrella; grandboy gets soaking wet; grandboy has to go to the hotel to get "proper" dry clothes. Finally grandboy ushers grandmaw out under a great black funeral umbrella.

In my hands this goes nowhere, but, seriously, Truman could have totally done something with it.

score at the junk store

Some nice red heels and a weird glass thing.
Four bucks.

my imaginary golf boyfriend

so maybe no more thomas hardy

I read my first Thomas Hardy words about ten years ago. Return of the Native. I fell in love (seriously, I changed all of my passwords to Eustacia1... they have since been changed...just in case) and swore to ration his words out so I would never be all Hardy'ed out. At that time in my life I thought that meant a novel a year (I guess I was counting on the poems to get me through old age...and middle age... well, there are a lot of poems). God, I loved Eustacia Vye so much.

So I kept reading...Jude, Tess, the Mayor, the Madding Crowd, and then Two on a Tower. Two on a Tower was the one that did it. Swithin. Lady Constantine. God, couldn't they just be happy? But of course that's not why you read Mr. Hardy. And I used to love it, knowing that bad ends were coming...because the words were so perfect. Maybe I'm just getting too something. I'm still holding out hope for the poems.