Sunday Morning Playlist

So, I’ve got some work to do. I’ve been ignoring my blog. I can’t even say why, really, except that writing this is different than working on a book. It comes from a different place, a place that is sometimes hard to tap in to. That inner voice that doesn’t always want to speak. 


That said, let’s make this easy for me, no? My first blog entry of 2019 will be about music.

I’ve moved away from rock some, since Chester died. And I OD’d on Twenty-One Pilots. I still love them to death but literally that’s all I’ve listened to since last October when “Trench” was released. So here I am, on a quiet Sunday morning, and this is my playlist.

Greek Tragedy – The Wombats
Cigarette Daydream – Cage the Elephant
Silver Tongue – Young the Giant
Talk Too Much – Coin
Pieces – Andrew Belle
Sun – Two Door Cinema Club
Chocolate – The 1975
Avalanche – Walk the Moon
Off She Goes – Bad Suns
Different Colors – Walk the Moon
Dreaming – Smallpools
Electric Love – BØRNS
Happy Hour – Weezer
Flashed Junk Mind – Milky Chance
Run – Coin
What You Know – Two Door Cinema Club
Sit Next to Me – Foster the People
Dancing on Quicksand – Bad Suns
Breezeblocks – Alt J
Oceans – Coasts
Fun – Sir Sly
I Would Do Anything for You – Foster the People

And finally,

Superposition – Young the Giant

J. L. Dodd



I love these lyrics ya’ll. 

“Superposition”

I don't believe in fate

No psychic vision
But when things fall into place, superposition
In any universe you are my dark star

I want you to want me

Why don't we rely on chemistry?
Why don't we collide the spaces that divide us?
I want you to want me
Superstition aims with imprecision
But when things can't be explained, superposition, oh
In any universe you are my dark star
I want you to want me
Why don't we rely on chemistry?
Why don't we collide the spaces that divide us?
I want you to want me
I want you to want me
No matter what we do
I'll be there with you!
I want you to want me
Why don't we rely on chemistry?
Why don't we collide the spaces that divide us?
I want you to want me

RANDOM AF! Profanity

I can't say why, but when I write, I have a tendency to use more profanity that usual. But really, isn't profanity mostly about emphasis? I think so. I use it in place of "very", not because I'm a sailor or a delinquent but because I want to get your attention. "Clean up your shitty-ass shit!" or "Use the mother fucking turning lane stupid ass!"

I also think it's funny. As opposed to using profanity in anger, when you use it for emphasis, it's hilarious. Even SpongeBob has a potty mouth. There's that episode where him and Patrick keep cussing and its bleeped out with dolphin noises. Plus he's always saying "barnacles!" Which is the literary equivalent of "fucking a!" My kids think it's funny too, although I'm sure I won't be laughing when they do it.

That being said, there's a time and a place people. I'm always amazed that my automatic filter kicks in when I'm around my mom, even though I'm much too old to worry about it. But yeah.

It's really hard to give my characters, especially Maiki, a filter. She's an extension of me to some degree, and then again she isn't. Would she say this or that? Does she think profanity is hilarious? Would her friend Marcus get mad at her? These are all questions I've asked myself. At this point, I'm don't have all the answers. I haven't taken any profanity out of my book while editing although it's certainly not YA appropriate as is. But I don't really give a fuck. Haha.

J. L. Dodd

“If you go home with somebody, and they don't have books, don't fuck 'em!”
― John Waters

Fruitcakes and Twilight

It’s December again, and my fruitcakeryness is in full swing. I realized this on Monday morning when I took my son to the bus stop hunched over, looking like an eighty-year-old street person. But then I realized it isn’t my fault. In fact, that my wardrobe choices are a bit misguided when it’s cold outside is simply because I live in such a temperate climate. Instead of putting on sensible, warm clothes, which I may or may not own, and if I may I don’t know where the fuck they are, I grab whatever layers are close by and run with it.

And let’s be clear: I don’t like to be cold. And in the mornings the only people I see outside of my immediate family are the bus driver and possibly my neighbor, Robert. And they can think what they want. So the fruitcakery continues, and will continue forevermore, even at this very moment in pink and blue dachshund pajamas, a grey hoodie, plaid poncho, black scarf and red, white and blue slides. 

I had to. It makes me smile.

On a different note, in my hibernation over the last few weeks, and in a weak effort to escape my melancholy, I did something that I’ve never done before: I watched all five Twilight movies in close succession. I couldn’t bribe or trick my daughters into watching them all with me, but, to their credit, they indulged me one or two, despite Kristen Stewart’s acting. All in all, though, it wasn’t that bad. I mean, parts of it were bad, but I didn’t turn it off. In fact, New Moon and Eclipse brought back painful feelings from the book that made me pretty uncomfortable. I was 100% team Jacob back in the day, and I was feeling that again. I got over it, although it was totally bothering me that post-Twilight, Kristen Stewart in effect ended her relationship with Robert Pattinson by cheating on him. That wasn’t very Bella Swan of her. Dafuq. Who does that? And in front of the Paparazzi no less. I hate to be a hater but I hate her for that.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but November marked the ten-year anniversary of “Twilight,” which is probably why all five movies were recommended on Amazon. It’s only been ten years? It seems like longer. It seems like a fucking lifetime to me.

I’ve almost shaken it. Almost. You may hear from me again soon.

J. L. Dodd 

Hopeless

I feel hopeless, ya'll.

Usually when I feel like this, there's a specific set of measures I can take to snap out of it.

Music helps. Coffee helps. Eating doesn't help but I overindulge anyway. Today it was Bag of Bones Cheetos. Seriously, I understand how people weigh three and four hundred pounds. If I didn't have genetics on my side, I might be the same way. I'm not hungry AT ALL. But I keep eating.

Going outside. Walking or even just sitting in the sun helps. But if I can't bring myself to do any of those things then I am doomed to hibernate in my house and wallow in self-pity. And one day of that isn't the end of the world, right?

Two days ago I was in Wal-Mart by myself, buying some water bottles and I had a moment. A moment when my surroundings seemed to suffocate me. I questioned the meaning of life when I realized that although I was immersed in the throng of people, I was completely alone. I wanted to drop to my knees right then and there. I didn't. That's not what adults do, no matter how shitty and overwhelmed and HOPELESS they feel.

Today, I know I'm in trouble because all I want to do is curl up in a ball and watch movies and sleep. And even Twenty-One Pilots doesn't fix me. I'm fucked. But tomorrow is a new day. I'll do my best to reset.

J. L. Dodd

Review XP Trench

So let me preface this by saying I might be completely and totally fucking biased at this point.

THIS ALBUM IS THE BEST I'VE EVER HEARD THROUGHOUT THE HISTORY OF ME.

And I don't say that lightly. I mean it. It's so epic in every way imaginable. As forever, the music is doesn't fit into any single genre other than alt. Some bands change as they age, for better or worse. Twenty-one Pilots evolves into an unstoppable force, inspiring, grounding, and unifying millions.

It's hard to choose favorites. But if I have to choose favorites:

Levitate
Morph
Pet Cheetah
Chlorine
The Hype
Cut My Lip
My Blood
Jumpsuit
Nico and the Niners
Bandito
Smithereens
Leave the City
Legend

And the heart wrenching, soulful social commentary that is "Neon Gravestones." I was so moved that I actually went to YouTube and commented alongside clique members about Tyler's intention with this song.

R.I.P. Chester all over again. 😭

(Did I really just use a crying emoji to convey my sorrow at the loss of one of my idols? I did. Someone slap me.)

I'm still on the bandwagon, people. No, fuck that. I am the Queen of this bandwagon. Listen, but don't just listen, to this album. Listen to them all. Go to a show. You can thank me later.

J. L. Dodd

Excerpt from "Pet Cheetah"

I've got a pet cheetah down in my basement

I've raised him, and bathed him, and named him Jason

Statham, I've trained him to make me these beats

Now my pet cheetah's quicker in the studio than on his feet

Imma get mine and get going

I'm showing my faces in just enough places

I'm done with tip-toeing, I'll stay in my room

My house is the one where the vultures are perched on the roof

Get behind me, I bet this nepotistic mindset

Will help us get ours as we're growing

This clique means so much to this dude

It could make him afraid of his music

And be scared to death he could lose it

Review XP The Earthsea Quartet

It took me several months to get through this book. Granted, therein lie four stories, and I think I took a break between each one. I went into this knowing nothing, a Le Guin virgin.

Overall, I should say: there's just something special about Ged. I think, as others have said, it is his flaws that make him compelling. Although he was born with great, innate power, he comes from very humble beginnings, is not omnipotent, and is generally someone we can relate to.

Le Guin gets praise for her world-building, and it is well deserved. I can't tell you how much time I spent studying the world map provided, tracing Ged's travels.

A Wizard of Earthsea is our introduction to Ged and the early story of his life. Because Ged makes mistakes early on, I was unable to predict what would happen. There was no guarantee that everything was going to be alright. Things might go horribly wrong, and it might be Ged's fault. Which is fantastic.

The Tombs of Atuan was my kind of story. A girl, chosen to be the embodiment of evil spirits and roam an underground labyrinth? And we even get a map? Yes! Sign me up.

The Farthest Shore was fantastic in every sense of the word. The journey. The dragons. The Dry Land. So, so good.

I also enjoyed Tehanu, although I accidently spoiled the ending by watching Miazaki's "Tales from Earthsea."

One note. Le Guin makes very clear the double standards by which the sexes of Earthsea are held. Men with power are sent to Roke Island to learn to be wizards, are revered and sought after. Women are called witches and are never taught to use their gifts. It's entirely shitty. I understand I'll have to keep reading the two additions to the series to feel any relief from this particular thorn in my side. And I intend to.


Goodreads: 5/5 stars

J. L. Dodd

P.S. LOL the goats. They ruin everything.

"'What is evil?' asked the younger man. The round web, with its black center, seemed to watch them both. 'A web we men weave.' Ged answered."
— The Farthest Shore

"The sun itself was hidden, but there was a glitter on the horizon, almost like the dazzle of the crystal walls of the Undertomb, a kind of joyous shimmering off on the edge of the world. 'What is that?' the girl said, and he: 'The sea.'" — The Tombs of Atuan

No you don't, Peter Straub

I was excited when I found a collection of short horror stories by Peter Straub called Houses Without Doors. This was the perfect way to take a reading break from The Earthsea Quartet, which, while beautiful, was growing tiresome. Or maybe I'm lacking the ability to focus right … wha? What was I talking about?

"Blue Rose" was riveting, and horrifying. I already said this, people: Don't let someone hypnotize you. Especially not your sick fuck of an older brother who delights in hurting you. Seems obvious, right?

"The Juniper Tree" is a different story. I had a sinking feeling as I guessed the trajectory of the plot, although I truly wasn't expecting things to go on as they did with "Jimmy." I thought, "He's going to murder him," or "Bet something supernatural will intervene." I know, I know, this is HORROR. Fine. It doesn't have to be something supernatural and good. I so would have taken Satan as an unlikely anti-hero. Damn it, Satan! Can you please claim this creep-o? Drag him to the pits of Hell? But no.

This is a very realistic, very detailed story about pedophilia, exploring the confusion and horror felt by the victim, and then, cooperation, if not acceptance. Followed by the lasting affects into adulthood. There's no rescuer. There's no retribution. No salvation. No … nothing. I feel dirty just thinking about it.

Sorry, Straub. As disgusting and revolting as this is, I do not consider this horror. This is filth. I realize this was written a number of years ago, in a different social climate, but as an adult and a parent and a human fucking being, no thank you. I'm done.

Maybe I'm overreacting. I've read a number of reviews of this book on Amazon and Goodreads, and no one seems as put off as myself. I don't care, though. I wouldn't recommend this book, at least that story, to anyone.

Goodreads: DNF

J. L. Dodd