I took a few weeks off from writing. Again. So shoot me. It finally got cold here about two weeks ago, and I've been hibernating.
I haven't been watching the news either. I don't know what the fuck is going on in the world. Don't know what Trump is up to, nor do I want to. Just tell me when it's over.
Last night we heard what my rational self assumes were large aircraft flying over our town, which is highly unusual. My husband suggested North Korean missiles. I thought aliens (but I always think aliens). Point is, if there was a missile or an alien invasion, I would be the last to know. I'm living in my own little bubble, people. Leave me the fuck alone. I'm not interested in what is happening out there. Sorry. That's just the mood I'm currently in.
And it isn't that I don't want to write. It's just that my inner voice hasn't had much to say lately. Or perhaps I'm not giving it the chance to say anything. Perhaps my life is filled to the brim with ridiculous, self-centered notions that are meaningless in the big picture, and I've failed at life because I've allowed those notions to drown my inner voice, or at least distract me from hearing what she (he?) has to say. Say true.
Okay, inner voice.
(I refuse to call it muse. My inner voice needs a name. How 'bout Airi? It's a character on a Netflix show I've been binging on. I haven't been watching the news, but I've been watching Netflix. So shoot me.)
Airi, I'm listening.
Go for it.
Shoot.
Any time now.
And ... nada. Perhaps I'll prattle on a bit, just because.
I have found I can basically pick up on my book at any time. I just need to take the time to re-immerse myself in Maiki's world. Once I do, I start wondering about this or that and off I go. It's staying on track that is difficile for me. It's MF resistance. I don't have the discipline to consistently work every day. Especially during the holidays, when there are cookies within reach, and countless other things that need doing. Mmm, cookie. I think I'll have another.
And that's why I'm an amateur.
Does menudo mix well with oatmeal chocolate peanut butter cookies? Apparently.
Perhaps I'll go wrap some MF presents.
J. L. Dodd
Tuesday, December 19, 2017
Tuesday, November 21, 2017
Review XP The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan
I've stepped through the looking glass into the (I'm told epic) world of the Wheel of Time series. After some half-hearted urging from my other half and flat-out demands from my brother, I committed myself to the mammoth 14-book work. So, rather than wait, I'll reflect on book one now.
Mild spoilers follow.
Meh. It was good. Perhaps not great. Surprisingly, the writing was just okay. I'm trying to be objective, and that's the truth. I was able to read through small errors, bland dream sequences, and many unnecessary repetitions ("I wish Perrin was here. Perrin knows how to talk to women." Give me a break.) because I was reading with my heart, so that says something.
The plot is interesting, fo sho. The potential is most definitely there. But the themes and language are too similar to LOTR, not that I've read Tolkien, only watched the movies. (Note to self: READ Tolkien, you idiot.) Also reminds me of the Kingkiller Chronicles. Lots of inns and bread and cheese and common rooms with fireplaces. Makes me hungry. Characters are just somewhat compelling. Rand seems like kind of a bastard, but I am undoubtedly intrigued by his backstory. Mat is a just a pain in the ass. Lan seems to be fashioned after cardboard (it was intentional), and the women are insufferable know-it-alls. Perrin is by far my favorite character. His development and transformation are the most interesting.
I found the creatures of the Dark One (dun dun dun) to be a great plus to the overall story, though I had a hard time keeping them straight. Why are there so many different names for the Myrddaal? It's confusing I tell you! Then there are the Darkfriends (which I kept reading as fiends) and the Draghkar, and of course, the Trollocs, who, though truly frightening and disgusting, were far too similar to the frightening and disgusting LOTR Orcs.
The resolution of this book was a bit abrupt and a little too easy. I was confused about their final leg of the journey; the Eye, the Green Man, and just who the fuck they were fighting at the end. It made sense afterward but at the time ...
Lastly, one especial annoyance. Please allow me to vent about something trivial. I don't understand why Nyneave suddenly asks Lan to wed her toward the end of the book. Don't these people court? They've barely had a conversation between them and mostly disagreements at that. Are we to assume there's been more behind the scenes? Or are they so aware of one another that courting is unnecessary? Besides that, wouldn't she have considered the position he was in? Bound to the Aes Sedai and to Moiraine as her Warder? It's not like the dude has shown any indication that he's looking to settle down. Whatever, Jordan.
Will I keep reading? Hell yes. I am assured the series will get better.
J. L. Dodd
“As the Wheel of Time turns, places wear many names. Men wear many names, many faces. Different faces, but always the same man. Yet no one knows the Great Pattern the Wheel weaves, or even the Pattern of an Age. We can only watch, and study, and hope.”
― Moiraine in The Eye of the World
“I will hate the man you choose because he is not me, and love him if he makes you smile. No woman deserves the sure knowledge of widow’s black as her brideprice, you least of all.”
― Lan in The Eye of the World
Links:
https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/2008238-the-eye-of-the-world
Mild spoilers follow.
Meh. It was good. Perhaps not great. Surprisingly, the writing was just okay. I'm trying to be objective, and that's the truth. I was able to read through small errors, bland dream sequences, and many unnecessary repetitions ("I wish Perrin was here. Perrin knows how to talk to women." Give me a break.) because I was reading with my heart, so that says something.
The plot is interesting, fo sho. The potential is most definitely there. But the themes and language are too similar to LOTR, not that I've read Tolkien, only watched the movies. (Note to self: READ Tolkien, you idiot.) Also reminds me of the Kingkiller Chronicles. Lots of inns and bread and cheese and common rooms with fireplaces. Makes me hungry. Characters are just somewhat compelling. Rand seems like kind of a bastard, but I am undoubtedly intrigued by his backstory. Mat is a just a pain in the ass. Lan seems to be fashioned after cardboard (it was intentional), and the women are insufferable know-it-alls. Perrin is by far my favorite character. His development and transformation are the most interesting.
I found the creatures of the Dark One (dun dun dun) to be a great plus to the overall story, though I had a hard time keeping them straight. Why are there so many different names for the Myrddaal? It's confusing I tell you! Then there are the Darkfriends (which I kept reading as fiends) and the Draghkar, and of course, the Trollocs, who, though truly frightening and disgusting, were far too similar to the frightening and disgusting LOTR Orcs.
The resolution of this book was a bit abrupt and a little too easy. I was confused about their final leg of the journey; the Eye, the Green Man, and just who the fuck they were fighting at the end. It made sense afterward but at the time ...
Lastly, one especial annoyance. Please allow me to vent about something trivial. I don't understand why Nyneave suddenly asks Lan to wed her toward the end of the book. Don't these people court? They've barely had a conversation between them and mostly disagreements at that. Are we to assume there's been more behind the scenes? Or are they so aware of one another that courting is unnecessary? Besides that, wouldn't she have considered the position he was in? Bound to the Aes Sedai and to Moiraine as her Warder? It's not like the dude has shown any indication that he's looking to settle down. Whatever, Jordan.
Will I keep reading? Hell yes. I am assured the series will get better.
J. L. Dodd
“As the Wheel of Time turns, places wear many names. Men wear many names, many faces. Different faces, but always the same man. Yet no one knows the Great Pattern the Wheel weaves, or even the Pattern of an Age. We can only watch, and study, and hope.”
― Moiraine in The Eye of the World
“I will hate the man you choose because he is not me, and love him if he makes you smile. No woman deserves the sure knowledge of widow’s black as her brideprice, you least of all.”
― Lan in The Eye of the World
Links:
https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/2008238-the-eye-of-the-world
Tuesday, November 14, 2017
The Joshua Tree Tour
In September I was in the same building with U2. For real? For real. A stone's throw from Bono, The Edge, Adam and Larry. If I had to sum it up in let's say, four sentences, they would be: Unreal. Fucking awesome. Oh my god, my back. I'm getting too old for this.
On the four-hour trip to Phoenix, I was delighted to read messages on the I-10 Freeway such as "Don't move in mysterious ways; use your turn signal" and "It's a beautiful day to buckle up." (Or something to that effect. My mind is a bit muddled by now.) Seriously, I want that job.
After I got over the fact that, yes, they were actually there in front of me, the band I have followed for 20+ years, it was amazing. But if I had my choice, as much as I enjoy The Joshua Tree album, it wasn't my first love as far as U2 goes. I came around soon after Achtung Baby was released. It was the first compact disc (that's what CD stands for young'uns) I ever bought.
Side note: I shudder to remember that I purchased the debut album (first and last as far as anyone on the Earth is aware) of the Spin Doctors at the same time. I was young and reckless then. And stupid.
But I loved Achtung Baby. Every second of it. Still do. "One" is obviously the best song ever composed. "Ultraviolet" always lifts my spirits, and "Love is Blindness" still gives me that familiar ache in my chest. Can I request an Achtung Baby tour?
But still. Those guys are larger than life, as was the show. It was a little too much, in fact. When it ended after two glorious hours, my back was aching, my ears were underwater and I was more than ready to go. (I had stood in the same spot through Beck, so total of 5 hours sandwiched between my family and drunk girl who likes to push. Next time I'm sitting in a chair.) We had dragged the boys along with us, and I wasn't sure how they would react, but when Jaden told me, "That was crazy," I knew he meant in a good way.
Cross that one off the bucket list. That's two in one year. The other was my trip to the Grand Canyon in May, and I'd use the same four sentences to describe that experience as well.
J. L. Dodd
Love is Blindness -
Love is blindness
I don't want to see
Won't you wrap the night
Around me?
Oh my heart
Love is blindness
In a parked car
In a crowded street
You see your love
Made complete
Thread is ripping
The knot is slipping
Love is blindness
Love is clockworks
And cold steel
Fingers too numb to feel
Squeeze the handle
Blow out the candle
Love is blindness
Love is blindness
I don't want to see
Won't you wrap the night
Around me?
Oh my love
Blindness
A little death
Without mourning
No call
And no warning
Baby, a dangerous idea
That almost makes sense
Love is drowning
In a deep well
All the secrets
And no one to tell
Take the money
Honey
Blindness
Love is blindness
I don't want to see
Won't you wrap the night
Around me?
Oh my love
Blindness
Links:
http://www.metrolyrics.com/love-is-blindness-lyrics-u2.html
On the four-hour trip to Phoenix, I was delighted to read messages on the I-10 Freeway such as "Don't move in mysterious ways; use your turn signal" and "It's a beautiful day to buckle up." (Or something to that effect. My mind is a bit muddled by now.) Seriously, I want that job.
 |
| Wow. It's really them. |
After I got over the fact that, yes, they were actually there in front of me, the band I have followed for 20+ years, it was amazing. But if I had my choice, as much as I enjoy The Joshua Tree album, it wasn't my first love as far as U2 goes. I came around soon after Achtung Baby was released. It was the first compact disc (that's what CD stands for young'uns) I ever bought.
Side note: I shudder to remember that I purchased the debut album (first and last as far as anyone on the Earth is aware) of the Spin Doctors at the same time. I was young and reckless then. And stupid.
But I loved Achtung Baby. Every second of it. Still do. "One" is obviously the best song ever composed. "Ultraviolet" always lifts my spirits, and "Love is Blindness" still gives me that familiar ache in my chest. Can I request an Achtung Baby tour?
But still. Those guys are larger than life, as was the show. It was a little too much, in fact. When it ended after two glorious hours, my back was aching, my ears were underwater and I was more than ready to go. (I had stood in the same spot through Beck, so total of 5 hours sandwiched between my family and drunk girl who likes to push. Next time I'm sitting in a chair.) We had dragged the boys along with us, and I wasn't sure how they would react, but when Jaden told me, "That was crazy," I knew he meant in a good way.
Cross that one off the bucket list. That's two in one year. The other was my trip to the Grand Canyon in May, and I'd use the same four sentences to describe that experience as well.
J. L. Dodd
Love is Blindness -
Love is blindness
I don't want to see
Won't you wrap the night
Around me?
Oh my heart
Love is blindness
In a parked car
In a crowded street
You see your love
Made complete
Thread is ripping
The knot is slipping
Love is blindness
Love is clockworks
And cold steel
Fingers too numb to feel
Squeeze the handle
Blow out the candle
Love is blindness
Love is blindness
I don't want to see
Won't you wrap the night
Around me?
Oh my love
Blindness
A little death
Without mourning
No call
And no warning
Baby, a dangerous idea
That almost makes sense
Love is drowning
In a deep well
All the secrets
And no one to tell
Take the money
Honey
Blindness
Love is blindness
I don't want to see
Won't you wrap the night
Around me?
Oh my love
Blindness
Links:
http://www.metrolyrics.com/love-is-blindness-lyrics-u2.html
Tuesday, November 7, 2017
Manga I love! Death Note / Review XP The Death Note Movie
Let me preface this by saying: this anime will fuck with you.
Now, if you haven't heard of the manga/anime Death Note, let me esplain the plot. A death god gets bored, so he drops his death note into the human world to see what will happen. The death note is a book, a journal of sorts, that has the power to kill anyone simply by the owner writing that person's name in the book while picturing their face. So, Light Yagami, a narcissistic genius high school student, finds it, tests it, and starts ridding the world of evildoers while proclaiming himself God of the new world. The police enlist the help of "L", an eccentric genius with a sugar addiction, to catch him. Sometimes Light is forced to kill innocent people to protect himself, cue all types of conflict, drama, and crises.
What would you do? What would you do in the same situation as Light? Would you use the power you'd been given for good? On the flip side, what would you do if you lived in a world with such a person? Would you be for or against his killing work? I have to admit, when I watched the anime, I took Light's side. Truthfully, I'm probably still on his side. Or maybe I just want to think that. What is right? What is wrong? Who gets to decide? Death Note ends up an extreme and entertaining commentary on capital punishment.
Netflix created their own movie version in English. All things considered, I thought it was a successful adaptation. Willem Dafoe was perfect as Ryuk. The ending was different but somewhat unexpected and wrapped things up nicely.
What I didn't like was that Light's character was so different that much of what made the anime interesting was lost. They twisted him to fill the role of a typical American anti-hero: an academic outcast virgin who is bullied and (even more annoying) falls for a pretty face (which would NEVER happen because Light only loves himself). And THEN they made poor Ryuk out to be the bad guy, whereas in the anime, he interfered very little with Light's decisions and subsequent descent into (calculated) madness, obsession and malevolence.
You should totally watch the anime. Like, today. I'll pay you in Skittles.
J. L. Dodd
“This world is rotten, and those who are making it rot deserve to die. Someone has to do it, so why not me?” - Light Yagami
“If Kira gets caught, he is evil. If Kira rules the world, he is justice.” - Light Yagami
Death Note Rules
The human whose name is written in this note shall die.
This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.
If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen.
If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack.
After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.
Links:
https://myanimelist.net/featured/620/20_Quotes_from_Death_Note_
http://deathnote.wikia.com/wiki/Rules_of_the_Death_Note
Now, if you haven't heard of the manga/anime Death Note, let me esplain the plot. A death god gets bored, so he drops his death note into the human world to see what will happen. The death note is a book, a journal of sorts, that has the power to kill anyone simply by the owner writing that person's name in the book while picturing their face. So, Light Yagami, a narcissistic genius high school student, finds it, tests it, and starts ridding the world of evildoers while proclaiming himself God of the new world. The police enlist the help of "L", an eccentric genius with a sugar addiction, to catch him. Sometimes Light is forced to kill innocent people to protect himself, cue all types of conflict, drama, and crises.
What would you do? What would you do in the same situation as Light? Would you use the power you'd been given for good? On the flip side, what would you do if you lived in a world with such a person? Would you be for or against his killing work? I have to admit, when I watched the anime, I took Light's side. Truthfully, I'm probably still on his side. Or maybe I just want to think that. What is right? What is wrong? Who gets to decide? Death Note ends up an extreme and entertaining commentary on capital punishment.
Netflix created their own movie version in English. All things considered, I thought it was a successful adaptation. Willem Dafoe was perfect as Ryuk. The ending was different but somewhat unexpected and wrapped things up nicely.
What I didn't like was that Light's character was so different that much of what made the anime interesting was lost. They twisted him to fill the role of a typical American anti-hero: an academic outcast virgin who is bullied and (even more annoying) falls for a pretty face (which would NEVER happen because Light only loves himself). And THEN they made poor Ryuk out to be the bad guy, whereas in the anime, he interfered very little with Light's decisions and subsequent descent into (calculated) madness, obsession and malevolence.
You should totally watch the anime. Like, today. I'll pay you in Skittles.
J. L. Dodd
“This world is rotten, and those who are making it rot deserve to die. Someone has to do it, so why not me?” - Light Yagami
“If Kira gets caught, he is evil. If Kira rules the world, he is justice.” - Light Yagami
Death Note Rules
The human whose name is written in this note shall die.
This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.
If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen.
If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack.
After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.
Links:
https://myanimelist.net/featured/620/20_Quotes_from_Death_Note_
http://deathnote.wikia.com/wiki/Rules_of_the_Death_Note
Friday, November 3, 2017
Really, Starbucks? Really?
 |
| Zombie Frappuccino |
And ... my worst fears are realized. Fuck it. Let's all be zombies. I'm on the zombie bandwagon. With the current administration, I think we'll all be better off. Is the fall of civilization to ravenous, brain-slurping monsters better than living with Trump as president?
This is a democracy. Decide for yourself. But I'm not eating his brain.
J. L. Dodd
Wednesday, October 4, 2017
Tell me WTF is wrong with me!
Remember a few months back when I stopped reading? It was a truly horrible thing to experience. Then over the summer I completely stopped listening to music. My life was a painful, quiet experience, and I'm still coming out of it. During the early stages of my recovery, all I could stomach was vintage TOP. LP caused a sinking feeling and even pain. Sometimes tears. Nothing else appealed to me, even that music I was recently enamored with. So what does this say about my state of mind? I'm not certain, though I'm sure it isn't good. Whatever is going on, I'm determined to work through it. Sometimes.
Just yesterday, I noticed a disturbing trend in my recent blogs and drafts: they are all reviews. I'm trying to figure out why. I guess ... nothing organic has occurred to me in some time. So what is my fucking problem? Am I just not trying hard enough? Is it because I'm focused on other things ALL THE TIME???
I think much of it has to do with the frustration that is growing inside me. I'm extremely frustrated with my book. I'm frustrated with the slow progress of my business. I'm frustrated in my personal development and study. And I'm frustrated because it seems no matter how much effort I put in or how differently I approach my obstacles, nothing changes. Nothing. Fucking. Changes. I'm Sisyphus; I'm a goddamned hamster in a wheel. I'm trying to embrace impermanence and Buddhism and have a good attitude but most days it's impossible and it's all bullshit and I want to give up and watch Netflix for the rest of my life.
Sorry, people. As much as I'd like to write something meaningful and/or cohesive and/or in the least bit worthwhile, today I just can't. I'm going to go watch Korean dramas and eat tortillas and probably go to sleep early.
Peace.
J. L. Dodd
Given Up
by Linkin Park
Wake in a sweat again
Another day's been laid to waste
In my disgrace
Stuck in my head again
Feels like I'll never leave this place
There's no escape
I'm my own worst enemy
I've given up
I'm sick of feeling
Is there nothing you can say?
Take this all away
I'm suffocating!
Tell me what the fuck is wrong with me!
I don't know what to take
Thought I was focused, but I'm scared
I'm not prepared
I hyperventilate
Looking for help somehow, somewhere
And no one cares
I'm my own worst enemy
I've given up
I'm sick of feeling
Is there nothing you can say?
Take this all away
I'm suffocating!
Tell me what the fuck is wrong with me
God!
Put me out of my misery
Put me out of my misery
Put me out of my
Put me out of my fucking misery
I've given up
I'm sick of feeling
Is there nothing you can say?
Take this all away
I'm suffocating!
Tell me what the fuck is wrong with me
Just yesterday, I noticed a disturbing trend in my recent blogs and drafts: they are all reviews. I'm trying to figure out why. I guess ... nothing organic has occurred to me in some time. So what is my fucking problem? Am I just not trying hard enough? Is it because I'm focused on other things ALL THE TIME???
I think much of it has to do with the frustration that is growing inside me. I'm extremely frustrated with my book. I'm frustrated with the slow progress of my business. I'm frustrated in my personal development and study. And I'm frustrated because it seems no matter how much effort I put in or how differently I approach my obstacles, nothing changes. Nothing. Fucking. Changes. I'm Sisyphus; I'm a goddamned hamster in a wheel. I'm trying to embrace impermanence and Buddhism and have a good attitude but most days it's impossible and it's all bullshit and I want to give up and watch Netflix for the rest of my life.
Sorry, people. As much as I'd like to write something meaningful and/or cohesive and/or in the least bit worthwhile, today I just can't. I'm going to go watch Korean dramas and eat tortillas and probably go to sleep early.
Peace.
J. L. Dodd
Given Up
by Linkin Park
Wake in a sweat again
Another day's been laid to waste
In my disgrace
Stuck in my head again
Feels like I'll never leave this place
There's no escape
I'm my own worst enemy
I've given up
I'm sick of feeling
Is there nothing you can say?
Take this all away
I'm suffocating!
Tell me what the fuck is wrong with me!
I don't know what to take
Thought I was focused, but I'm scared
I'm not prepared
I hyperventilate
Looking for help somehow, somewhere
And no one cares
I'm my own worst enemy
I've given up
I'm sick of feeling
Is there nothing you can say?
Take this all away
I'm suffocating!
Tell me what the fuck is wrong with me
God!
Put me out of my misery
Put me out of my misery
Put me out of my
Put me out of my fucking misery
I've given up
I'm sick of feeling
Is there nothing you can say?
Take this all away
I'm suffocating!
Tell me what the fuck is wrong with me
Review XP False Memory by Dean Koontz
**This review contains minor spoilers, however, they are fairly vague and altogether predictable.**
Giving in to a sense of nostalgia (as well as being unable to find anything I liked better on that particular day), I purchased a copy of False Memory by Dean Koontz at a second-hand store. When I was younger, contrary and perhaps in response (if I'm being honest) to my upbringing, I harbored an interest in horror. I couldn't bring myself to indulge in Stephen King (that would, of course, mean I was a devil-worshiper or something) and so I read every Dean Koontz book I could get my hands on, which usually meant I borrowed them from the public library. Remember when we used to do that? The book I remember enjoying the most was Watchers, which I recently reread. I also watched the unimpressive film made in the 80's (I'd wager these words go together frequently) that of course, did the book little justice.
Once I started False Memory, it took me weeks to get into this story, which may or may not have to do with the fact that I was struggling to read anything at the time, though the first half of the book is especially slow. Another reason I put off reading was that the premise around absolute mind control was truly frightening to me; something I believe could happen or is already happening already.
At first you think the antagonist is merely a psychiatrist on a power trip, but it is revealed throughout that he is a first-rate narcissist, psychopath, and serial murderer. His pastimes, or games, as he likes to think, are sanctioned by a secretive, evil institute in New Mexico (the horror!). Okay, not exactly sanctioned, but they allow his hobbies to continue, and clean up after him when necessary.
As disturbing as it was, I think what I liked best about this book was the careful development and attention to detail of the Doctor (something Ahriman himself would approve of). Backstory touches on upbringing, genetics, motivation, showcasing a complete lack of empathy and a reliable interspersing of fantasy in his reality. Of course, these types of things interest me, so it makes sense.
As disturbing as it was, I think what I liked best about this book was the careful development and attention to detail of the Doctor (something Ahriman himself would approve of). Backstory touches on upbringing, genetics, motivation, showcasing a complete lack of empathy and a reliable interspersing of fantasy in his reality. Of course, these types of things interest me, so it makes sense.
That being said, I didn’t find the other characters near as interesting, and my main motivation for continuing to read was I wanted to see Ahriman get his. This lead to a disappointing ending that came out of left field.The Doctor does meet his end, but under circumstances that were highly contrived and unsatisfactory given his multitudes of dark crimes against humanity.
And seriously, the epilogue was trite, ridiculous, and unnecessary. Koontz could have written "And they all lived happily ever after" and skipped the last 10 pages. Skeet marries Jasmine? Really? It doesn't matter though. He does what he wants. Apparently he's earned that right.
Goodreads: 3/5 Stars
For the record, I no longer think reading Stephen King is akin to being a devil-worshiper. This belief is based in my own, high opinion of myself and of Mr. King, of course.
J. L. Dodd
Thursday, September 21, 2017
Review XP The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion
I really can't call this a review. It has elements of a review, but it's more of a reflection.
I read The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion in bits and pieces over a period of five months. I lost it for a few weeks, then found it under my bed. And it truly isn't the type of book I usually have any interest in reading (though I'm working on that to include any and all and every damn book). So the fact that I finished it means something. Perhaps it was morbid curiosity that drove me to finish. Perhaps it was my current fascination with death. Fascination is too strong a word. Interest. Just an interest that seems to be coming up a lot. Or perhaps it was my Goodreads 2017 book challenge.
The narrative was compelling, in that it's non-fiction. The author's husband, with whom she'd spent all of her time with since their marriage (they were both successful authors who worked from home, so they spent nearly every day together) dropped dead at the dinner table. How does one cope with such an experience? Spoiler: one doesn't, not really. Her new reality, though not completely unexpected, was so sudden that she struggled to understand what had happened, even 12 months later.
I haven't had to deal with a close loss yet. My grandfather and my grandmother on opposite sides both passed when I was still young, self-centered and therefore immune to the implications of death, and even now I can only imagine what true grief feels like. Which is probably why this quote spoke to me both as an author and a human being:
"Nor can we know ahead of the fact (and here lies the heart of the difference between grief as we imagine it and grief as it is) the unending absence that follows, the void, the very opposite of meaning, the relentless succession of moments during which we will confront the experience of meaninglessness itself." - Pg. 189
I think we all reach an age where we begin to ask questions. Questions like, "What the fuck is the point of everything?" which can be answered a million different ways. I think at 39, I'm a bit behind in the search for my own truth. Right now I have a million questions and no clear answers. But I think that's a good place to start.
Goodreads: 2/5 Stars
J. L. Dodd
I read The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion in bits and pieces over a period of five months. I lost it for a few weeks, then found it under my bed. And it truly isn't the type of book I usually have any interest in reading (though I'm working on that to include any and all and every damn book). So the fact that I finished it means something. Perhaps it was morbid curiosity that drove me to finish. Perhaps it was my current fascination with death. Fascination is too strong a word. Interest. Just an interest that seems to be coming up a lot. Or perhaps it was my Goodreads 2017 book challenge.
The narrative was compelling, in that it's non-fiction. The author's husband, with whom she'd spent all of her time with since their marriage (they were both successful authors who worked from home, so they spent nearly every day together) dropped dead at the dinner table. How does one cope with such an experience? Spoiler: one doesn't, not really. Her new reality, though not completely unexpected, was so sudden that she struggled to understand what had happened, even 12 months later.
I haven't had to deal with a close loss yet. My grandfather and my grandmother on opposite sides both passed when I was still young, self-centered and therefore immune to the implications of death, and even now I can only imagine what true grief feels like. Which is probably why this quote spoke to me both as an author and a human being:
"Nor can we know ahead of the fact (and here lies the heart of the difference between grief as we imagine it and grief as it is) the unending absence that follows, the void, the very opposite of meaning, the relentless succession of moments during which we will confront the experience of meaninglessness itself." - Pg. 189
I think we all reach an age where we begin to ask questions. Questions like, "What the fuck is the point of everything?" which can be answered a million different ways. I think at 39, I'm a bit behind in the search for my own truth. Right now I have a million questions and no clear answers. But I think that's a good place to start.
Goodreads: 2/5 Stars
J. L. Dodd
Thursday, September 14, 2017
Review XP The Dark Tower Movie
People! For the love of all things good and pure in this world, if you read The Dark Tower books, do not watch this movie. It will cultivate spiraling anger and aggression in your soul that can only be relieved by violence. Some kind of extreme deviance. Alcohol. Sugar. Maybe caffeine. Or sleep.
I can see it now: enraged moviegoer goes on a nap rampage. Given the state of this country, let's stick with that. There's a lot of fucked-up shit going on in this country, so it's no longer funny to joke about out-of-control people doing messed up crap and blaming any random scapegoat.
That said, the movie was terrible. And yes, obviously I am biased. I think part of my problem was unrealistic expectations. I was expecting this movie to cover the first and possibly the second books of the series. I mean, how do you condense seven epic books into a single movie? It's impossible, and yet, they still tried, resulting in a horrid mess of plot lines and seriously underdeveloped characters and ideas.
How do you make this movie without including Susannah or Eddie or Oy?
And what really ticked me off was the differences in Roland's character and motivations. I feel like I don't know this movie Roland. This Roland is some half-assed, watered-down version of my Roland. In fact, I'm not even going to call him Roland any more. I'm going to call him Lenny. He seems like a Lenny. That's how bad it was.
First, and most annoying, there is no way in fucking hell that Roland would deny or make light of being a gunslinger. Roland was a lot of things, and he had plenty of issues, but he was forthright and honest about who and what he was.
Also, Lenny's motivations were different. Lenny only cared about revenge, which made finding and killing Walter his only goal. He didn't care about the tower or the end of all creation, which made him a douche of a hero.
For Roland, reaching the tower is all that he lived for for hundreds, possibly thousands of years, and he'll sacrifice anything and everyone in order to get there. And if that means preserving the beams and saving the world, he'll do it.
Lenny's "love" for Jake doesn't make any sense; it seems to come out of nowhere. Yes, Jake can help Lenny find Walter, but that's it. There is no progression or even reason that Lenny should feel more. I scoffed, yes scoffed, in the movie when Walter tells Jake, "He doesn't love you," or something to that effect. No, he shouldn't love you. If he does, that's just dumb.
Roland, on the other hand, allowed Jake to die in exchange for a palaver with Walter. This weakness torments him for some time, but when he gets Jake back, his affection for the boy grows in increments until he considers him his son.
Why do they have to say "shine" in the movie instead of "touch"? That one little thing really bothered me. Perhaps because I was already bothered.
I could go on and on, but suffice to say, it was very fucking disappointing. I may honestly consider screenplay writing after watching this movie. I think I could have done a better job.
J. L. Dodd
I can see it now: enraged moviegoer goes on a nap rampage. Given the state of this country, let's stick with that. There's a lot of fucked-up shit going on in this country, so it's no longer funny to joke about out-of-control people doing messed up crap and blaming any random scapegoat.
That said, the movie was terrible. And yes, obviously I am biased. I think part of my problem was unrealistic expectations. I was expecting this movie to cover the first and possibly the second books of the series. I mean, how do you condense seven epic books into a single movie? It's impossible, and yet, they still tried, resulting in a horrid mess of plot lines and seriously underdeveloped characters and ideas.
How do you make this movie without including Susannah or Eddie or Oy?
And what really ticked me off was the differences in Roland's character and motivations. I feel like I don't know this movie Roland. This Roland is some half-assed, watered-down version of my Roland. In fact, I'm not even going to call him Roland any more. I'm going to call him Lenny. He seems like a Lenny. That's how bad it was.
First, and most annoying, there is no way in fucking hell that Roland would deny or make light of being a gunslinger. Roland was a lot of things, and he had plenty of issues, but he was forthright and honest about who and what he was.
Also, Lenny's motivations were different. Lenny only cared about revenge, which made finding and killing Walter his only goal. He didn't care about the tower or the end of all creation, which made him a douche of a hero.
For Roland, reaching the tower is all that he lived for for hundreds, possibly thousands of years, and he'll sacrifice anything and everyone in order to get there. And if that means preserving the beams and saving the world, he'll do it.
Lenny's "love" for Jake doesn't make any sense; it seems to come out of nowhere. Yes, Jake can help Lenny find Walter, but that's it. There is no progression or even reason that Lenny should feel more. I scoffed, yes scoffed, in the movie when Walter tells Jake, "He doesn't love you," or something to that effect. No, he shouldn't love you. If he does, that's just dumb.
Roland, on the other hand, allowed Jake to die in exchange for a palaver with Walter. This weakness torments him for some time, but when he gets Jake back, his affection for the boy grows in increments until he considers him his son.
Why do they have to say "shine" in the movie instead of "touch"? That one little thing really bothered me. Perhaps because I was already bothered.
I could go on and on, but suffice to say, it was very fucking disappointing. I may honestly consider screenplay writing after watching this movie. I think I could have done a better job.
J. L. Dodd
Sunday, August 13, 2017
RIP Chester Bennington continued
Reality slowly sinks in. As a grieving fan, I know I am at the far end of the spectrum of what I am allowed to feel. Like most fans I never knew Chester personally, however, on another, deeper level, I felt as if I did.
As an artist, one of my ultimate goals is for my readers to experience what Stephen King describes as "perfect recognition." It's simple, straightforward, and fucking powerful. It's something that unites us as human beings, and reminds us that despite our differences, we are all connected. Between melody and meaningful lyrics, music serves as an extremely powerful agent of perfect recognition. Anger. Injustice. Disillusion. Resentment. Anguish. LP's music resonates with me on so many levels, just as it does with thousands of others all over the world.
From Linkinpark.com:
I'm not angry any more. Impermanence, right? Keep telling yourself that. But the more I listen to this newest album, the more I think I can understand and ultimately forgive him for what he did.
As an artist, one of my ultimate goals is for my readers to experience what Stephen King describes as "perfect recognition." It's simple, straightforward, and fucking powerful. It's something that unites us as human beings, and reminds us that despite our differences, we are all connected. Between melody and meaningful lyrics, music serves as an extremely powerful agent of perfect recognition. Anger. Injustice. Disillusion. Resentment. Anguish. LP's music resonates with me on so many levels, just as it does with thousands of others all over the world.
From Linkinpark.com:
I'm not angry any more. Impermanence, right? Keep telling yourself that. But the more I listen to this newest album, the more I think I can understand and ultimately forgive him for what he did.
BTW I was wrong before. As long as we have the music, he is invincible.
J. L. Dodd
Links:
http://musicforrelief.org/
Sources:
https://linkinpark.com/news/news/448101/dear-chester
Thursday, July 20, 2017
RIP Chester Bennington
Shock, then inexplicable anger. Shame ... I've no right to be angry. I should be lamenting a life lost.
I'm appalled by my own feelings, but moreso with his actions.
Why do this? What kind of a role model are you? But you were just a normal person, with real problems, despite what you may represent (invincible) in the minds of your fans.
This blog has devolved into a level of randomness that may or may not make sense to you. Forgive me for not caring. Perhaps I'll make explanations later.
RIP Chester Bennington
J. L. Dodd
I'm appalled by my own feelings, but moreso with his actions.
Why do this? What kind of a role model are you? But you were just a normal person, with real problems, despite what you may represent (invincible) in the minds of your fans.
This blog has devolved into a level of randomness that may or may not make sense to you. Forgive me for not caring. Perhaps I'll make explanations later.
RIP Chester Bennington
J. L. Dodd
Tuesday, July 18, 2017
Review XP One More Light Album - Linkin Park
I'm struggling to get everything on my mind out: into a blog, into my writing, whatever. To that end, and I don't think I've ever used this word before, but I had what can only be described as a visceral reaction to the new Linkin Park album (and I'm not talking about anatomy). The only review I read before listening said it was "unrecognizable" and that reviewer was not shitting us, people.
I had heard "Heavy" on the radio but didn't realize it was from the new album. I thought it was just a collaboration with a pop artist, and so, whatever. But no. The whole album sounds like that. And I hated it. Listened once through and couldn't stomach the thought of doing it again (maybe this IS about anatomy). Even my brother said it was, and I quote, "terrible."
But that's the thing. I'll still listen. And listen, and listen. Why? R-E-S-P-E-C-T. I have respect for this band. They created something (which is hella hard, as we all know) and I will listen. I listened through A Thousand Suns and came to love it, though it garnered harsh criticism when it was released. Living Things was different, but I appreciated it, and it may be my favorite Linkin Park album. Same with The Hunting Party. I'll withhold judgement (visceral reactions aside) until I've heard One More Light at least, oh, 19 times. Nineteen is a good, round number. Or 99. Or 1999.
We do the same thing for our friends and family because we love them, and with that, comes respect (or at least, it should). At work, we listen because we respect our colleagues and we respect that we are getting paid.
If only Linkin Park would pay me to listen. I'd be set for life.
J. L. Dodd
I had heard "Heavy" on the radio but didn't realize it was from the new album. I thought it was just a collaboration with a pop artist, and so, whatever. But no. The whole album sounds like that. And I hated it. Listened once through and couldn't stomach the thought of doing it again (maybe this IS about anatomy). Even my brother said it was, and I quote, "terrible."
But that's the thing. I'll still listen. And listen, and listen. Why? R-E-S-P-E-C-T. I have respect for this band. They created something (which is hella hard, as we all know) and I will listen. I listened through A Thousand Suns and came to love it, though it garnered harsh criticism when it was released. Living Things was different, but I appreciated it, and it may be my favorite Linkin Park album. Same with The Hunting Party. I'll withhold judgement (visceral reactions aside) until I've heard One More Light at least, oh, 19 times. Nineteen is a good, round number. Or 99. Or 1999.
We do the same thing for our friends and family because we love them, and with that, comes respect (or at least, it should). At work, we listen because we respect our colleagues and we respect that we are getting paid.
If only Linkin Park would pay me to listen. I'd be set for life.
J. L. Dodd
Wednesday, June 28, 2017
OBSESSION ... Disappear Here - Bad Suns
I stumbled upon an album I just love. "Disappear Here" is the title track for Bad Suns on their 2016 release. I had only heard one song by them prior, "Cardiac Arrest," that yes, I purchased. Bad Suns are considered alt rock/indie rock. I must say they walk that line quite well. Their music is inspired by bands like The Cure, Elvis Costello, and The Clash, some of my favorites.
The entire album is good. In fact, I've been listening to it so much, that even when I'm not, snippets of different lyrics and melodies carouse ceaselessly through my head. (Side note: I kid you not, I will go to bed listening to Metallica [Side note to that: Can I get a hell yeah, an amen, or a God-bomb! "One" is the most badass Metallica song ever.] and wake up singing a random song from this album.) That said, the lyrics are not especially mind-bending. Relationships, good and bad. Nothing new there. "Patience" struck me as a little bit more meaningful. I can relate. But still. This is exactly what I want to listen to on the weekends when I'm feeling ... meh. And during the week when I'm feeling meh. Just meh all the way around.
The single "Daft Pretty Boys" is the most catchy, and most popular on Spotify.
And this one speaks to me, maybe because it touches on the idea of soul mates, which I explore in Luminesce.
"Maybe We're Meant To Be Alone"
I've got a picture perfect plan
But I can't go in alone
Are we whole or just two halves
Reaching out to the unknown?
No, I can't help my ways
It don't make such sense to me
All these cold and rainy days
Maybe we're meant to be alone
I've got a voice inside my head
And a feeling in my gut
I don't know just who to believe
When you're torn in two, who can you trust?
No I can't help my ways
It don't make much sense to me
All these cold and rainy days
Maybe we're meant to be alone
Maybe we're meant to be alone
Maybe we're meant to be alone
Maybe we're meant to be alone
...
I haven't yet gone back to hear the entire debut work, Language & Perspective, but I'm sure I will in time. (Okay, I'm doing it now. Track one is "Matthew James.") These types of musical obsessions don't fizzle out quickly for me, no matter how much I listen. I seem to have a super high tolerance for music I really like. I can't tell you how many times I listened to Meteora between 2003 and 2006. It's probably in the thousands. I listened to Twenty One Pilots (and some of Tyler Joseph's solo work on YouTube) and nothing but TOP for at least 6 months every day. Even so, I still don't know all the words to "Fake You Out." And the more I listen, the more I like. But maybe this is true for everyone. It just doesn't happen to me all that often.
Which is why I get excited when I find new artists I like.
J. L. Dodd
Links:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bad_Suns
http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/badsuns/maybeweremeanttobealone.html
The entire album is good. In fact, I've been listening to it so much, that even when I'm not, snippets of different lyrics and melodies carouse ceaselessly through my head. (Side note: I kid you not, I will go to bed listening to Metallica [Side note to that: Can I get a hell yeah, an amen, or a God-bomb! "One" is the most badass Metallica song ever.] and wake up singing a random song from this album.) That said, the lyrics are not especially mind-bending. Relationships, good and bad. Nothing new there. "Patience" struck me as a little bit more meaningful. I can relate. But still. This is exactly what I want to listen to on the weekends when I'm feeling ... meh. And during the week when I'm feeling meh. Just meh all the way around.
The single "Daft Pretty Boys" is the most catchy, and most popular on Spotify.
And this one speaks to me, maybe because it touches on the idea of soul mates, which I explore in Luminesce.
"Maybe We're Meant To Be Alone"
I've got a picture perfect plan
But I can't go in alone
Are we whole or just two halves
Reaching out to the unknown?
No, I can't help my ways
It don't make such sense to me
All these cold and rainy days
Maybe we're meant to be alone
I've got a voice inside my head
And a feeling in my gut
I don't know just who to believe
When you're torn in two, who can you trust?
No I can't help my ways
It don't make much sense to me
All these cold and rainy days
Maybe we're meant to be alone
Maybe we're meant to be alone
Maybe we're meant to be alone
Maybe we're meant to be alone
...
I haven't yet gone back to hear the entire debut work, Language & Perspective, but I'm sure I will in time. (Okay, I'm doing it now. Track one is "Matthew James.") These types of musical obsessions don't fizzle out quickly for me, no matter how much I listen. I seem to have a super high tolerance for music I really like. I can't tell you how many times I listened to Meteora between 2003 and 2006. It's probably in the thousands. I listened to Twenty One Pilots (and some of Tyler Joseph's solo work on YouTube) and nothing but TOP for at least 6 months every day. Even so, I still don't know all the words to "Fake You Out." And the more I listen, the more I like. But maybe this is true for everyone. It just doesn't happen to me all that often.
Which is why I get excited when I find new artists I like.
J. L. Dodd
Links:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bad_Suns
http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/badsuns/maybeweremeanttobealone.html
Sunday, June 18, 2017
Conclusion of The Dark Tower ... or not
BE WARNED! SPOILERS TO FOLLOW!
I did something so unlike me last weekend. I took a break from The Dark Tower's final installment, and I haven't gone back to it. Worse, I started reading something else.
Okay, so it's not entirely weird. Unless you consider that I am literally 50 pages from the end of Mr. King's self-proclaimed magnum opus, and that Roland (with Patrick's help) has just vanquished the Crimson King. There is now nothing stopping him from entering the crux of all of existence and climbing to the room at the top with Maerlyn's rainbow windows. This is the moment Roland has dedicated his very long life to. This is the moment I've been waiting for when I started this series two years ago. So why stop now?
I think it's a combination of things. Separation anxiety for a book or series you've enjoyed is well-documented, by book nerds, at least. I'm also a bit concerned about being disappointed. More, I'm concerned about Roland being disappointed. He has lost everything and everyone at this point. His ka-tet was broken, which I expected but still didn't enjoy. Seriously, Mr. King. You didn't have to kill Jake AGAIN. Don't even give me that bullshit. You did not. And I will not forgive you for killing Oy. Although if you are going to kill Ake, you might as well, you bastard.
I'm not sure when I'll be able to bring myself to finish the book. I keep looking at it, sitting abandoned and alone on my dresser, after being toted around day in and out in my purse for the last month. The worn edges around the cover will attest to the traveling it's done, not unlike Roland's battered body. I keep reminding myself that when I finish, I can still look forward to the movie being released on August 4th, just a few weeks away. And It will be next, on September 8th.
For now, I'm reading non-fiction and Netflix binging on especially trite TV series, say true and thankya.
J. L. Dodd
I did something so unlike me last weekend. I took a break from The Dark Tower's final installment, and I haven't gone back to it. Worse, I started reading something else.
Okay, so it's not entirely weird. Unless you consider that I am literally 50 pages from the end of Mr. King's self-proclaimed magnum opus, and that Roland (with Patrick's help) has just vanquished the Crimson King. There is now nothing stopping him from entering the crux of all of existence and climbing to the room at the top with Maerlyn's rainbow windows. This is the moment Roland has dedicated his very long life to. This is the moment I've been waiting for when I started this series two years ago. So why stop now?
I think it's a combination of things. Separation anxiety for a book or series you've enjoyed is well-documented, by book nerds, at least. I'm also a bit concerned about being disappointed. More, I'm concerned about Roland being disappointed. He has lost everything and everyone at this point. His ka-tet was broken, which I expected but still didn't enjoy. Seriously, Mr. King. You didn't have to kill Jake AGAIN. Don't even give me that bullshit. You did not. And I will not forgive you for killing Oy. Although if you are going to kill Ake, you might as well, you bastard.
I'm not sure when I'll be able to bring myself to finish the book. I keep looking at it, sitting abandoned and alone on my dresser, after being toted around day in and out in my purse for the last month. The worn edges around the cover will attest to the traveling it's done, not unlike Roland's battered body. I keep reminding myself that when I finish, I can still look forward to the movie being released on August 4th, just a few weeks away. And It will be next, on September 8th.
For now, I'm reading non-fiction and Netflix binging on especially trite TV series, say true and thankya.
J. L. Dodd
Saturday, May 6, 2017
Be careful what you wish for
I feel I must warn you, this blog may turn into a rant. Likely a profanity-laced rant.
But I need to rant, damn it.
This week I've had several discussions regarding the difference between being an asshole and just being ignorant. It's a fine line, to be sure. Can you forgive someone for being ignorant? Should you? And at what point does it become straight up assholiness? And how can you identify and categorize those people? Finally, do assholes feign ignorance to get away with it?
After some reflection, I've decided I'm not going to forgive anyone for being ignorant. You're all assholes in my book. Sorry not sorry. So before I move on:
LISTEN UP MOTHERFUCKERS!! THERE IS NOTHING FUNNY ABOUT AN ARMED ROBBERY!! SO TAKE YOUR STUPID JOKES AND YOUR STUPID LAUGHTER AND SHOVE IT UP YOU STUPID ASSES!!
I feel much better. Jesus. Why? Why?
This last week I've been witness to two very distinct cases of "be careful what you wish for." And although I can't go into details in either situation (one involves a pending criminal case, the other someone else's romance) I can conclude that Fate (substitute God, Satan, the Universe, Trump, what-have-you) will fuck you. And that in all reality, shit is as random as can be.
I suppose I'm sounding rather despondent today. I don't feel bad. A bit angry, I'll concede that much, but not bad. I've been worse. I actually took a two-week break from reading in April. That is when you know I'm fucked up. But I'm better now. In fact, I'm racing through Song of Susannah, book six of The Dark Tower series by Stephen King. Seriously, some weird-ass, mind-fucking shit is happening. I'm not yet sure how I feel about it, but I'm committed to seeing it through.
I'm 3,872 pages into this series, so hell yes, I'm committed. I'll hold myself to giving a full review when I'm done.
Enjoy the weekend people. It's got to get better. Or not.
J. L. Dodd
“Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe.”
― Albert Einstein
“You are not entitled to your opinion. You are entitled to your informed opinion. No one is entitled to be ignorant.”
― Harlan Ellison
Links:
http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/stupidity
But I need to rant, damn it.
This week I've had several discussions regarding the difference between being an asshole and just being ignorant. It's a fine line, to be sure. Can you forgive someone for being ignorant? Should you? And at what point does it become straight up assholiness? And how can you identify and categorize those people? Finally, do assholes feign ignorance to get away with it?
After some reflection, I've decided I'm not going to forgive anyone for being ignorant. You're all assholes in my book. Sorry not sorry. So before I move on:
LISTEN UP MOTHERFUCKERS!! THERE IS NOTHING FUNNY ABOUT AN ARMED ROBBERY!! SO TAKE YOUR STUPID JOKES AND YOUR STUPID LAUGHTER AND SHOVE IT UP YOU STUPID ASSES!!
I feel much better. Jesus. Why? Why?
This last week I've been witness to two very distinct cases of "be careful what you wish for." And although I can't go into details in either situation (one involves a pending criminal case, the other someone else's romance) I can conclude that Fate (substitute God, Satan, the Universe, Trump, what-have-you) will fuck you. And that in all reality, shit is as random as can be.
I suppose I'm sounding rather despondent today. I don't feel bad. A bit angry, I'll concede that much, but not bad. I've been worse. I actually took a two-week break from reading in April. That is when you know I'm fucked up. But I'm better now. In fact, I'm racing through Song of Susannah, book six of The Dark Tower series by Stephen King. Seriously, some weird-ass, mind-fucking shit is happening. I'm not yet sure how I feel about it, but I'm committed to seeing it through.
I'm 3,872 pages into this series, so hell yes, I'm committed. I'll hold myself to giving a full review when I'm done.
Enjoy the weekend people. It's got to get better. Or not.
J. L. Dodd
“Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe.”
― Albert Einstein
“You are not entitled to your opinion. You are entitled to your informed opinion. No one is entitled to be ignorant.”
― Harlan Ellison
Links:
http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/stupidity
Tuesday, April 11, 2017
Review XP The Road by Cormac McCarthy
A word of advice.
If you are ever feeling a bit dodgey, don't read The Road. Like, do anything but that. Because it is as depressing as shit.
And I knew this. I watched the movie, sort of, between my fingers 'cause it was scary. And it inspired my prepper/SHTF obsession wherein I shored up my pantry and put together several bug-out bags (which are still in the trunk of my car, full of MREs and nylon rope) TYVM.
I find it difficult of late to really get lost in a story. I'm drawn to examine and acknowledge writing style, word choice, typos, if any, and appreciate or depreciate plot lines. And on that note, Cormac McCarthy seems to have something against full sentences and punctuation, which the editor in me would argue are necessary for clarity, but in effect, really aren't. I actually like that he breaks so many rules. Cormac you rebel, you.
Anywho, what I was working toward is DO NOT read this if you are already feeling down. This book is as immersive and mood altering as alcohol, and just as compelling. Excuse the spoiler, but her suicide really shocked me. It did in the film as well. As a mother, you think, "How could she?" But upon further reflection, as a mother, you think, "How could she not?" McCarthy didn't go into depth on this subject but for a few paragraphs from the man's POV, but it was enough to spark my internal dialogue. Is life really worth living when you are suffering so much? I always thought suicide was a selfish act, but not in this case. What would you do in the same situation? Would you keep living for your childrens' sake? Would you want them to keep living or would you be able to pull the trigger when mercy predicated existence?
Of course, I'm not yet finished with the book, but I know the ending or at least think I do.
I was feeling a deep sense of isolation after reading for a few hours last night, even in my own home, surrounded by my own family. It was quiet, and I wondered if there really was anyone outside. Or was the town empty? The Earth? It was that quiet.
I did eventually snap out of it (I think). Ice cream helps.
More later. I'm struggling.
J. L. Dodd
If you are ever feeling a bit dodgey, don't read The Road. Like, do anything but that. Because it is as depressing as shit.
And I knew this. I watched the movie, sort of, between my fingers 'cause it was scary. And it inspired my prepper/SHTF obsession wherein I shored up my pantry and put together several bug-out bags (which are still in the trunk of my car, full of MREs and nylon rope) TYVM.
I find it difficult of late to really get lost in a story. I'm drawn to examine and acknowledge writing style, word choice, typos, if any, and appreciate or depreciate plot lines. And on that note, Cormac McCarthy seems to have something against full sentences and punctuation, which the editor in me would argue are necessary for clarity, but in effect, really aren't. I actually like that he breaks so many rules. Cormac you rebel, you.
Anywho, what I was working toward is DO NOT read this if you are already feeling down. This book is as immersive and mood altering as alcohol, and just as compelling. Excuse the spoiler, but her suicide really shocked me. It did in the film as well. As a mother, you think, "How could she?" But upon further reflection, as a mother, you think, "How could she not?" McCarthy didn't go into depth on this subject but for a few paragraphs from the man's POV, but it was enough to spark my internal dialogue. Is life really worth living when you are suffering so much? I always thought suicide was a selfish act, but not in this case. What would you do in the same situation? Would you keep living for your childrens' sake? Would you want them to keep living or would you be able to pull the trigger when mercy predicated existence?
Of course, I'm not yet finished with the book, but I know the ending or at least think I do.
I was feeling a deep sense of isolation after reading for a few hours last night, even in my own home, surrounded by my own family. It was quiet, and I wondered if there really was anyone outside. Or was the town empty? The Earth? It was that quiet.
I did eventually snap out of it (I think). Ice cream helps.
More later. I'm struggling.
J. L. Dodd
Friday, March 17, 2017
Emotional ... The concert and more
I've been feeling unhappy. Okay, not just unhappy, fucking fucked up. An unfortunate series of events has left me questioning everything I'd decided I wanted to do with my life. How can I start my own business and publish my own book when I can barely get through the day sometimes? And when will I have time to process the six cubic tons of laundry I do each week? And what should be the priority? And how do I balance it all? And does any of it even matter? And what if I get run over by a bus tomorrow or have a heart attack or spontaneously combust? And why are my kids so fucking messy all the time?
I realize I'm being melodramatic, but these are merely a sampling of the questions that run through my head one hundred times a day.
A friend of mine recently put things in perspective though. I hadn't seen her in months, and when she came to see me at my work, she said, "I was thinking about you on the way here. I hope you are doing good, but I know you are doing better than me." A few weeks earlier, she had tripped in a parking lot, landed on her elbows, breaking both. One required surgery, and the other they could do nothing for but let it heal. She was unable to work, and had accumulated $19,000 in medical bills so far. Which is horrible. And fuck yes, I am doing better than her. And each time another unfortunate event hits me, I think, at least I don't have two broken elbows. Or, as my co-worker crassly pointed out, at least I can still wipe my own ass.
See, your life isn't so bad, is it?
So fuck you resistance. (Yeah, yeah, I'm always saying that but fucking do something, for the love of God!) Who cares if I accidentally deleted the most recent Word files of my book because I'm an idiot and someone at Microsoft thought it would be great if the files on my computer would sync to my OneDrive even when deleting? Seriously? I'll accept my responsibility in that I was ignorant of how the syncing worked in both directions, but isn't the point of having an online drive that if something happens to your computer or your phone or you are a complete fucking idiot and delete a bunch of shit from your computer, that you still have the files backed up online?
It's fucking amazing how much better I feel after expelling a few profane words. Be warned: I'm going to continue with this in an effort to lift myself up and improve my mood.
There was something good. A few things actually, but one stands out. I went to a Twenty One Pilots concert in Tucson, and it was F-U-C-K-I-N-G A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. So worth the money and the time spent driving and waiting in lines. I could write an entire 50-page dissertation on my experience, but I'm lazy, and it was a month ago now, so instead I'll share my only complaint: I wanted them to sing "Forest" and "Ruby." I learned something I didn't know up until this point (because I didn't figure it out for myself, and it probably didn't say it in the first paragraph of Wikipedia). TOP is considered (by many) to be a Christian group. Wow. I had no fucking idea. But I'll go into that another time.
BTW, Happy St. Patrick's Day!
J. L. Dodd
"Here's to a long life and a merry one. A quick death and an easy one. A pretty girl and an honest one. A cold pint and another one!" - Irish saying
Links:
http://www.askmen.com/entertainment/better_look/top-50-irish-sayings-proverbs.html
 |
| I totally do this. |
I realize I'm being melodramatic, but these are merely a sampling of the questions that run through my head one hundred times a day.
A friend of mine recently put things in perspective though. I hadn't seen her in months, and when she came to see me at my work, she said, "I was thinking about you on the way here. I hope you are doing good, but I know you are doing better than me." A few weeks earlier, she had tripped in a parking lot, landed on her elbows, breaking both. One required surgery, and the other they could do nothing for but let it heal. She was unable to work, and had accumulated $19,000 in medical bills so far. Which is horrible. And fuck yes, I am doing better than her. And each time another unfortunate event hits me, I think, at least I don't have two broken elbows. Or, as my co-worker crassly pointed out, at least I can still wipe my own ass.
See, your life isn't so bad, is it?
So fuck you resistance. (Yeah, yeah, I'm always saying that but fucking do something, for the love of God!) Who cares if I accidentally deleted the most recent Word files of my book because I'm an idiot and someone at Microsoft thought it would be great if the files on my computer would sync to my OneDrive even when deleting? Seriously? I'll accept my responsibility in that I was ignorant of how the syncing worked in both directions, but isn't the point of having an online drive that if something happens to your computer or your phone or you are a complete fucking idiot and delete a bunch of shit from your computer, that you still have the files backed up online?
It's fucking amazing how much better I feel after expelling a few profane words. Be warned: I'm going to continue with this in an effort to lift myself up and improve my mood.
There was something good. A few things actually, but one stands out. I went to a Twenty One Pilots concert in Tucson, and it was F-U-C-K-I-N-G A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. So worth the money and the time spent driving and waiting in lines. I could write an entire 50-page dissertation on my experience, but I'm lazy, and it was a month ago now, so instead I'll share my only complaint: I wanted them to sing "Forest" and "Ruby." I learned something I didn't know up until this point (because I didn't figure it out for myself, and it probably didn't say it in the first paragraph of Wikipedia). TOP is considered (by many) to be a Christian group. Wow. I had no fucking idea. But I'll go into that another time.
 |
| This is my pic, gearing up for the finale. FA! |
BTW, Happy St. Patrick's Day!
J. L. Dodd
"Here's to a long life and a merry one. A quick death and an easy one. A pretty girl and an honest one. A cold pint and another one!" - Irish saying
Links:
http://www.askmen.com/entertainment/better_look/top-50-irish-sayings-proverbs.html
Tuesday, February 21, 2017
I can't come to work today because ... werewolves
I usually love the full moon. I always make a point to stare at it and try to communicate: "Hello Moon. Goodbye Moon." Riveting stuff, to be sure. At the very least, I try to be inspired by it's white, full face and the moon-kissed landscape it paints.
But this last full moon, the February "snow moon"? Nope.
I woke up multiple times because of bad dreams. I was sick. I saw ... something, large and dark, cross the road in front of me in the early morning darkness. Even though my lights were on it, I couldn't make it out. So naturally, given the timing, it was definitely a werewolf. The Moon seems to have it out for me this month. FA-Q Moon.
I'm also having a rough time due to self-inflicted frustration. Damn you, resistance. I can't seem to find the time to do anything I want to, not that this is anything new. But my want for what I want to do is greater, thus the dissonance greater, thus the frustration even greater. Due to my schedule and my family, I'm putting myself last, and that's just how it has to be. And Trump? Don't even get me started. Ain't nobody got time to complain about Trump. Well, I don't. Apparently there's plenty of people out there who do have time, which is good, because someone needs to.
Back to werewolves. I think I've seen it all, through books, movies, TV shows, etc. I particularly favor the werewolves in the Underworld series. Their history and demeanor (scary as shit) are convincing. But let's do an internet search and see what happens.
One of the earliest stories comes from Ancient Greece. Metamorphoses, written by Ovid in 1 A.D., tells the story of King Lycaon, who offended Zeus by serving him human flesh. As punishment, he was turned into a werewolf so he could continue his cannibalism.
Later, in the 16th century, there were werewolf hunts and trials, similar to the witch hunts we are all familiar with. Several high profile cases were recorded, interestingly, many of those were found to be serial killers, some with the nasty habit of cannibalism. The first of these was Peter Stubbe in Germany, whose crimes included rape, murder and mutilation. He drank blood and ate human flesh. His punishment was torture and decapitation.
Wait ... Little Red Riding Hood was about a werewolf? It makes so much more sense now!
Gosh. I feel like I learned something today. This is so much more interesting than politics!
J. L. Dodd
Links:
http://www.historicmysteries.com/history-of-the-werewolf-legend/
http://mythicalrealm.com/mythical-creatures/werewolf/
http://alam25.tripod.com/first.htm
But this last full moon, the February "snow moon"? Nope.
I woke up multiple times because of bad dreams. I was sick. I saw ... something, large and dark, cross the road in front of me in the early morning darkness. Even though my lights were on it, I couldn't make it out. So naturally, given the timing, it was definitely a werewolf. The Moon seems to have it out for me this month. FA-Q Moon.
I'm also having a rough time due to self-inflicted frustration. Damn you, resistance. I can't seem to find the time to do anything I want to, not that this is anything new. But my want for what I want to do is greater, thus the dissonance greater, thus the frustration even greater. Due to my schedule and my family, I'm putting myself last, and that's just how it has to be. And Trump? Don't even get me started. Ain't nobody got time to complain about Trump. Well, I don't. Apparently there's plenty of people out there who do have time, which is good, because someone needs to.
Back to werewolves. I think I've seen it all, through books, movies, TV shows, etc. I particularly favor the werewolves in the Underworld series. Their history and demeanor (scary as shit) are convincing. But let's do an internet search and see what happens.
One of the earliest stories comes from Ancient Greece. Metamorphoses, written by Ovid in 1 A.D., tells the story of King Lycaon, who offended Zeus by serving him human flesh. As punishment, he was turned into a werewolf so he could continue his cannibalism.
Later, in the 16th century, there were werewolf hunts and trials, similar to the witch hunts we are all familiar with. Several high profile cases were recorded, interestingly, many of those were found to be serial killers, some with the nasty habit of cannibalism. The first of these was Peter Stubbe in Germany, whose crimes included rape, murder and mutilation. He drank blood and ate human flesh. His punishment was torture and decapitation.
Wait ... Little Red Riding Hood was about a werewolf? It makes so much more sense now!
Gosh. I feel like I learned something today. This is so much more interesting than politics!
J. L. Dodd
Links:
http://www.historicmysteries.com/history-of-the-werewolf-legend/
http://mythicalrealm.com/mythical-creatures/werewolf/
http://alam25.tripod.com/first.htm
Friday, January 27, 2017
YA Fairy Tales
I would never go so far as to say "divine intervention." I wouldn't even say the "Universe" is being extra helpful. Let's just say, for the sake of argument, because I'm on a Jung kick and I fancy myself a writer, that the collective unconscious and my inner voice are on the same page.
I've been thinking about fiction. My need to escape into it. The relief it gives me and every other reader as we transcend worlds. I also thought about what most YA books have in common: an ordinary protagonist who isn't ordinary after all, tossed with elements of myth, the supernatural, the fantastic, and don't forget a mysterious love interest (preferably with electric blue or green eyes). It's a repetitive, cliche, and well-proven formula that appeals to women of all ages. If you follow the formula, it's pretty hard to fuck up (or fok up), whether it's vampires, ghosts, gods and goddesses, demons and/or Jinn. Oh, I forgot witches. There's usually witches.
Then it occurred to me: these engrossing yet ridiculous stories are the fairy tales of this age. And even for all their shortcomings, they offer sweet relief from kids and work and stress and adulting and, worst of all in 2017, politics. And it's not entirely a cop-out on my part. Good writers are constantly reading (or so I've read). And I might have writer's block, but there's no such thing as reader's block, at least not for me. I'll be eternally busy from now until I reach the clearing at the end of the road.
Per my current norm, I delved into a new book (although I have eight others I'm already reading). I picked up The Hero with a Thousand Faces, by Joseph Campbell at a used bookstore because the subject of heroes and myth and their relation to religion piqued my interest.
What I found in the introduction was unexpected and uncanny. As disjointed and confused as my thoughts have been in the last few months, I seem to be on the right track.
"Freud, Jung and their followers have demonstrated irrefutably that the logic, the heroes, and the deeds of myth survive into modern times."
"In the absence of an effective general mythology, each of us has his [or her] private, unrecognized, rudimentary, yet secretly potent, pantheon of dream."
Finally, I can explain why I'm driven to expel this drivel, and why my drivel tends toward the fantastic. Why the supernatural enraptures and the mysterious makes my heart sing. My writing is my own pantheon of dream. And tapping into it, Campbell goes on to explain, can open the door to "the whole realm of the destined and feared adventure of the discovery of self" (pg. 8). No wonder I'm so mad. And by mad, I mean crazy.
But you knew that already.
J. L. Dodd
Works Cited:
Campbell, Joseph. The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Bollingen Foundation, 1949.
I've been thinking about fiction. My need to escape into it. The relief it gives me and every other reader as we transcend worlds. I also thought about what most YA books have in common: an ordinary protagonist who isn't ordinary after all, tossed with elements of myth, the supernatural, the fantastic, and don't forget a mysterious love interest (preferably with electric blue or green eyes). It's a repetitive, cliche, and well-proven formula that appeals to women of all ages. If you follow the formula, it's pretty hard to fuck up (or fok up), whether it's vampires, ghosts, gods and goddesses, demons and/or Jinn. Oh, I forgot witches. There's usually witches.
Then it occurred to me: these engrossing yet ridiculous stories are the fairy tales of this age. And even for all their shortcomings, they offer sweet relief from kids and work and stress and adulting and, worst of all in 2017, politics. And it's not entirely a cop-out on my part. Good writers are constantly reading (or so I've read). And I might have writer's block, but there's no such thing as reader's block, at least not for me. I'll be eternally busy from now until I reach the clearing at the end of the road.
Per my current norm, I delved into a new book (although I have eight others I'm already reading). I picked up The Hero with a Thousand Faces, by Joseph Campbell at a used bookstore because the subject of heroes and myth and their relation to religion piqued my interest.
What I found in the introduction was unexpected and uncanny. As disjointed and confused as my thoughts have been in the last few months, I seem to be on the right track.
"Freud, Jung and their followers have demonstrated irrefutably that the logic, the heroes, and the deeds of myth survive into modern times."
"In the absence of an effective general mythology, each of us has his [or her] private, unrecognized, rudimentary, yet secretly potent, pantheon of dream."
Finally, I can explain why I'm driven to expel this drivel, and why my drivel tends toward the fantastic. Why the supernatural enraptures and the mysterious makes my heart sing. My writing is my own pantheon of dream. And tapping into it, Campbell goes on to explain, can open the door to "the whole realm of the destined and feared adventure of the discovery of self" (pg. 8). No wonder I'm so mad. And by mad, I mean crazy.
But you knew that already.
J. L. Dodd
Works Cited:
Campbell, Joseph. The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Bollingen Foundation, 1949.
Tuesday, January 10, 2017
Tumbleweeds be tumbling
Happy 2017!
I'm trying to be happy. Trying to have a positive outlook on the coming year. I mean, there's no reason not to, right?
I'm struggling. But I'm certain I'm not alone in my struggle.
I have hope, of course. I've discovered through a series of silly and unrelated events that I have cultivated a fondness for tumbleweeds. I'm not even sure when it started; I've been around them most of my life and not given them a second thought. However, recently I was driving back from Tucson on a windy day, and they were crossing I-10 like cattle. And, for whatever reason (I don't need a reason, bitches. I accept my weirdness.) it made me stupid happy to witness that iconic western scene.
Since then, I've made it my mission to rescue and release wild tumbleweeds. I kid, but I did pick up a particularly large one that found it's way into town, brought it home, and put Christmas ornaments on it. I've yet to release it into the wild, though I plan to.
Long explanation short, I'm considering it an excellent omen that on New Year's Day I was sitting in my car at the grocery store when two out of control tumbleweeds crossed that massive asphalt clearing and nearly hit my car before continuing on their journey. For an instant, I considered jumping out and following them. Where would I be now, had I done so? But they don't have the slightest clue where the wind is taking them. Just like I don't have the slightest idea what 2017 will hold for me. I have resolutions of course. Mostly exercise. And writing. I'm not discouraged that I've been writing for 6 years now and haven't finished anything. Drops in the bucket, as my friend would say. The important thing is that I'm still writing and still reading. These two small things have the potential to save me and are essential to my happiness. And, damn it, I want to do what makes me happy, and not do what makes me unhappy. Is that too fucking much to ask? Probably.
I guess I'm not the only one afflicted with this love (or perhaps jealousy) for tumbleweeds and their carefree life (death) style.
Can a dead Russian plant be considered someone's spirit animal? I think anything is possible.
Happy New Year, people.
J. L. Dodd
Tumbling Tumbleweeds
See them tumbling down,
Pledging their love to the ground!
Lonely, but free, I'll be found,
Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds
Cares of the past are behind,
Nowhere to go, but I'll find,
Just where the trail will wind,
Drifting along with the tumblin' tumbleweeds
I know when night is gone,
That a new world's born at dawn!
I'll keep rolling along,
Deep in my heart as a song,
Here on the range I belong,
Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds
Tumbleweeds, tumbleweeds!
See them tumbling down,
Pledging their love to the ground!
Lonely, but free, I'll be found,
Drifting along with the tumblin' tumbleweeds
Links:
http://www.metrolyrics.com/tumbling-tumbleweeds-lyrics-sons-of-the-pioneers.html
I'm trying to be happy. Trying to have a positive outlook on the coming year. I mean, there's no reason not to, right?
I'm struggling. But I'm certain I'm not alone in my struggle.
I have hope, of course. I've discovered through a series of silly and unrelated events that I have cultivated a fondness for tumbleweeds. I'm not even sure when it started; I've been around them most of my life and not given them a second thought. However, recently I was driving back from Tucson on a windy day, and they were crossing I-10 like cattle. And, for whatever reason (I don't need a reason, bitches. I accept my weirdness.) it made me stupid happy to witness that iconic western scene.
Since then, I've made it my mission to rescue and release wild tumbleweeds. I kid, but I did pick up a particularly large one that found it's way into town, brought it home, and put Christmas ornaments on it. I've yet to release it into the wild, though I plan to.
Long explanation short, I'm considering it an excellent omen that on New Year's Day I was sitting in my car at the grocery store when two out of control tumbleweeds crossed that massive asphalt clearing and nearly hit my car before continuing on their journey. For an instant, I considered jumping out and following them. Where would I be now, had I done so? But they don't have the slightest clue where the wind is taking them. Just like I don't have the slightest idea what 2017 will hold for me. I have resolutions of course. Mostly exercise. And writing. I'm not discouraged that I've been writing for 6 years now and haven't finished anything. Drops in the bucket, as my friend would say. The important thing is that I'm still writing and still reading. These two small things have the potential to save me and are essential to my happiness. And, damn it, I want to do what makes me happy, and not do what makes me unhappy. Is that too fucking much to ask? Probably.
I guess I'm not the only one afflicted with this love (or perhaps jealousy) for tumbleweeds and their carefree life (death) style.
Can a dead Russian plant be considered someone's spirit animal? I think anything is possible.
Happy New Year, people.
J. L. Dodd
Tumbling Tumbleweeds
See them tumbling down,
Pledging their love to the ground!
Lonely, but free, I'll be found,
Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds
Cares of the past are behind,
Nowhere to go, but I'll find,
Just where the trail will wind,
Drifting along with the tumblin' tumbleweeds
I know when night is gone,
That a new world's born at dawn!
I'll keep rolling along,
Deep in my heart as a song,
Here on the range I belong,
Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds
Tumbleweeds, tumbleweeds!
See them tumbling down,
Pledging their love to the ground!
Lonely, but free, I'll be found,
Drifting along with the tumblin' tumbleweeds
Links:
http://www.metrolyrics.com/tumbling-tumbleweeds-lyrics-sons-of-the-pioneers.html
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