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Oct. 26th, 2006
Yesterday as I approached my house, Steely Dan's Reelin' in the Years came on the ipod and it made me feel so good. I listened to it again this morning and then started to think about making a random poll and that's what inspired me, but when I started to think about other random songs with guitar riffs I liked to add other choices, I ended up thinking about how Rebel, Rebel is probably more consistent in getting me excited so I didn't even vote for my own inspiration.
I know I harp on memoirs, but I don't hate 100% of them and I certainly don't hate creative nonfiction. I love a good essay. I love books like microhistories or other texts on specific topics that implore narrative techniques in the writing. And right now I'm completely involved with reading The Year of Magical Thinking and I'm completely absorbed and want to finish it immediately, even though it's Joan Didion who I tend to just think of as overrated.
But see, here's the thing about "overrated". It doesn't mean they aren't talented, it's just about putting it in perspective. Sometimes it's also about the talent's fans, not the talent itself. And I forget that so sometimes I get surprised because I've been lazy or short-sighted in my assessment. It's just that Didion, along with Annie Dillard, is such a freaking darling of the literary and MFA-world, and unlike Charles Baxter who won me over when I read his stuff, I am frequently nonplussed by reading theirs. Except for Joan Didion's essay "The White Album". Oh man, that isht changed me in that way that makes me feel like my brain expanded and grew with each word I absorbed and reminded me of why I want to write. But so I'm thinking, what is it about this book that I like, that doesn't feel like "memoir" to me, and I think because it's isolated and specific, in it's topic and chronology.
And I'd rather be home reading it right now, rather than at work with this cold. I'm not extremely sick, just enough that, when paired with the chilly grey rain of the day, it makes moving out in and among the world completely unappealing. Besides, I just realized in the bathroom that because of this job and it's insistence on business casual dress, I have become a person who likes to tuck their shirt in. When I was first forced to engage in it, I found it uncomfortable and though it made me look oddly proportioned and unattractive. Today when I got dressed just minutes before leaving, I decided "fck it" and walked out with my shirt untucked. But I just went to the men's room and caught my reflection in the mirror and thought I looked sloppy and....oddly proportioned. Funny how perspectives change, even though my body has stayed the same. I tucked my shirt in.
Now if I could only get my beard to grow back faster. I miss it terribly.
I know I harp on memoirs, but I don't hate 100% of them and I certainly don't hate creative nonfiction. I love a good essay. I love books like microhistories or other texts on specific topics that implore narrative techniques in the writing. And right now I'm completely involved with reading The Year of Magical Thinking and I'm completely absorbed and want to finish it immediately, even though it's Joan Didion who I tend to just think of as overrated.
But see, here's the thing about "overrated". It doesn't mean they aren't talented, it's just about putting it in perspective. Sometimes it's also about the talent's fans, not the talent itself. And I forget that so sometimes I get surprised because I've been lazy or short-sighted in my assessment. It's just that Didion, along with Annie Dillard, is such a freaking darling of the literary and MFA-world, and unlike Charles Baxter who won me over when I read his stuff, I am frequently nonplussed by reading theirs. Except for Joan Didion's essay "The White Album". Oh man, that isht changed me in that way that makes me feel like my brain expanded and grew with each word I absorbed and reminded me of why I want to write. But so I'm thinking, what is it about this book that I like, that doesn't feel like "memoir" to me, and I think because it's isolated and specific, in it's topic and chronology.
And I'd rather be home reading it right now, rather than at work with this cold. I'm not extremely sick, just enough that, when paired with the chilly grey rain of the day, it makes moving out in and among the world completely unappealing. Besides, I just realized in the bathroom that because of this job and it's insistence on business casual dress, I have become a person who likes to tuck their shirt in. When I was first forced to engage in it, I found it uncomfortable and though it made me look oddly proportioned and unattractive. Today when I got dressed just minutes before leaving, I decided "fck it" and walked out with my shirt untucked. But I just went to the men's room and caught my reflection in the mirror and thought I looked sloppy and....oddly proportioned. Funny how perspectives change, even though my body has stayed the same. I tucked my shirt in.
Now if I could only get my beard to grow back faster. I miss it terribly.