Category Archives: Books

Enthusiastic Endorsement, Complete With Muppet Nods

Some of my regular readers might not click randomly on links, so I want to draw your attention to t!, a man I’ve known for thirteen years. Long ago, we bonded over Shakespeare, Star Wars, pasta, and the Muppets.

[…] The real magic was on The Muppet Show.

It wasn’t aimed at kids. At least one third of it was musical numbers. It was vaudeville, on the medium that killed vaudeville. For those who could still appreciate vaudeville. Adults. But their children knew the Muppets, so we watched Kermit in his night job, when he wasn’t reporting for Muppet News.

And we got show tunes. Stand up comedy. And awful, awful puns. Plus just about every other entertainment staple you can think of: Stuntmen, jugglers, science fiction, hospital drama, sportscasting, westerns, educational science films (?!), Grand Guignol, a piano man, a full orchestra, a modern rock band, even heckling for crying out loud, and all of it aimed over our heads like a boomerang fish.

So what happened? We raised our heads.

He’s perfected the art of debating, pushing his limits and yours to force growth, and he also happens to be one of the most intelligent people I know. And, like the Muppets, his writing refuses to make it easier; you have to raise your head. What are you waiting for? Go read Baker’s 12.

Yes, Yes, You Love Me, Thank You

Oh, honestly, people – I’m frustrated, not on my deathbed.

But thanks go out to everyone who left comments, e-mailed, or called as soon as they got off-line and tied up my phone for two and a half hours. Heartfelt thanks. Ceri even called long-distance from her writing retreat in Lower Prospect.

I’d be even happier if it would rain, damn it – really rain, indicating a low pressure front coming through, to break this dreadful humidity. Maybe I’ll head over to the secondhand bookstore around the corner this afternoon to look for the Dorothy Sayers books Ginger recommended for me – that ought to incite the heavens to hurl water at me, especially if I wear a white shirt.

Keeping things in perspective, I recently began to read Frida: A Biography of Frida Kahlo. And I thought I had problems with my back, and with mild chronic pain! Now I just occasionally feel guilty while I read it, knowing that in comparison, my health is far superior to what hers was.

I spent seven hours yesterday writing a 36 page take-home final exam (those who know will know), and to my stunned and utter incomprehension, I am still not done. It’s maybe only 80% complete, but after yesterday, I need a day away from it.

Been There

How to Screen Dates With Books by Jessa Crispin.

Featuring the following all-too-recognisable warning:

Also, reading comic books in public is a good way to attract boys. However, you may also have to put up with sexist geek boys saying things like, “You’re a girl! And you’re reading a comic!” Luckily their heads will probably explode after a minute or so, leaving the area clear for a real catch.

If only that were true. Alas.

Have I mentioned recently that I worked four years in this city’s only F/SF book and comic shop?

Flurry Of Creative Movement

On Saturday night, a little bird spoke to me for a moment about a proposed collaboration first suggested to me last September. In true creative fashion, I have since been overwhelmed by a slew of ideas and visions regarding this proposed collaboration, but I have nothing to hang them on, not even a definite go-ahead on the project. I’ve just been scribbling them down in note form so far. Most will likely end up unused, but they can always find an alternate life in a story somewhere I suppose, said by other characters in other situations.

I use the phrase “in true creative fashion” because in my experience, when an idea is proposed or is conceived, I find the first few days staggeringly obsessive. I dream about the topic; I find myself looking at the world as if I were one or several of the characters; I research on-line and in books and wrap my head around as much information as I can, whether I knew something originally or not. Many of the artists I know operate in a similar fashion. We become enraptured with a new idea and explore it as deeply and as broadly as we can, sometimes to the exclusion of other projects. No, it’s not healthy; we know that. It’s just so hard to fight that first-love burst of energy that fills us and keeps us going, partial nourishment and a partial drug, too.

On a completely different note, I found black sandals to go with my new black concert dress.

BookMailLove!

Woo! Just got mail!

I absolutely adore getting mail – real mail, tangible mail, the stuff you have to open your real live mailbox to take out in your actual hands.

Unfortunately, I also love books.

Yes, these two passions mean that BookFinder is one of my guilty indulgences. I’ve been terribly, terribly good for the past half-year, being on a very tight budget, but recently I remembered that I was supposed to prepare a Religion, Science & Magic lecture for mid-December, and the book someone had lent me, well, belonged to someone else, which meant that I couldn’t mark it up as I wanted to. So, off to BookFinder I went, and ordered an ancient second-hand library-discard copy. It just arrived! Hurrah! However, in the meantime, various reschedulings mean that I will no longer in fact be teaching that class. Ah, the irony.

I still have a new book, though.

Good Deed Done

When we got back from Angrignon Park last night (mosquito-bitten but content) we discovered a note on our door. The couple who owned the kitten got her back safe and sound. She had spent most of the day curled up on a pair of my husband’s jeans, napping and purring. The man who came to pick her up said that there was something pretty special about her, and I have to agree.

So: a good deed. And I got to cuddle a tiny kitten again.

I finished HPOTP last night. Harry’s not a kid any more; no sir. If/when they make this film, it will be phenomenal to watch. I’ll have to read it again, but not for a week or so. To give myself a complete change of pace, I read Mort by Terry Pratchett. Next? Not sure; likely more academic stuff on Norse history and society.

Kitten Love

I spent the day outside yesterday, from sunrise to welcome the Summer Solstice, to teaching my class outside, to a farewell picnic with good friends. It was glorious. I also received an early birthday present from Ceri, who’s heading off to Halifax for two months: a lovely lap desk with a tilting top, pencil trays, and a basket for books and such on each side. It’s the absolutely perfect height to rest my laptop on. I was so touched.

I woke up this morning around four AM, thinking I heard a cat in heat outside. I drowsed on and off for a couple of hours, hearing the cat, then fell asleep until a knock on our door just past eight woke me up. My husband answered it, and found our concierge with a tiny beige and grey mackerel kitten in his hands.

“This yours?” he asked. “It’s been out in the hall for hours, crying.”

When we told him no, he knocked on other doors to try to find where it belonged, but no one answered. He came back to ask for a bit of kitten food; he was going to put it in an empty room downstairs and lock it until he came back tonight, but I said, “Well, it’s so young; why don’t we keep it in the bedroom if you’re not going to be home? We have an extra litter box, and bowls, and I’ll be home all day so if someone sees your sign they can come knock right then. I’m sure they’re frantic.”

Well, after a stern warning that under no circumstances was I to fall in love with this kitten, my husband allowed her in. It’s now been five hours, and no one’s come to claim her. She’s adorable. She must have slipped out when someone came home late, or left really early. She’s fearless, and not upset at all. Mind you, if I’d been alone in a hallway for hours, crying, I’d be in love with whoever gave me water and pats too.

And I’m just over halfway through Order of the Phoenix. I can’t help reading it; it’s so smoothly written, and things lead from one to another… but I so want to make it last.