First of all: Representative Weiner. He is so very unfortunate, and that is all I have to say.
That's a lie. The other thing I have to say is a hypothesis that the reason the Weiner thing has become such a big deal is because the newscasters are tickled that they get to say "Weiner" so frequently on national TV. If he had a boring name like "Smith" or one that was hard to pronounce, like "Blagojevich," it would not be so incessantly, eternally talked-about. (Of course, it would not be half so funny, either.)
I am learning how to deal with it being summer and me having nothing to do but contemplate my mortality. My attitudes toward this question are threefold, and best represented in song.
1) Violent apathy. This is a difficult emotion to achieve. It consists of not caring so fiercely that you want to claw people's eyes out. You will get the idea by listening to "Nowhere Fast" by The Smiths. Ah, Morrissey.
2) Detached benevolence. Yes, sure, the world is full of misery and woe, but we'll all be dead soon enough, right? So let's just chill and have margaritas. See "Not Gonna Let It Bother Me Tonight" from the inimicable and grossly underrated Atlanta Rhythm Section.
3) Courageous acceptance. This one is slightly more difficult, as I am new to being brave. I'm really not sure how to do it yet, but the fact that the possibility is now there is something to celebrate. IN SONG! "Let's Dance to Joy Division" by my dear Wombats.
Summer reading: I am trying to slowly gather materials for my thesis. All the books and "Best of" lists and everything recommended the Thomas Covenant Series. Perhaps I was a bit too hasty, but within the first 100 pages I was filled with a violent antipathy. I did not finish it. Lack of moral fibre (see last post)? Perhaps. But anyway, I have since moved on to the monumental Malazan Book of the Fallen, by Steven Erikson. (First volume in the series is Gardens of the Moon; get it in hardcover because the paperback has obscenely tiny print.) Now, one does not read these books to understand the story. It's too big. If I had infinite amounts of time I would read these books (each 600+ pages of, as I've said, teeny tiny print) a few times, and maybe I'd finally get the plot down. As it is, I just sort of let them wash over me, trying to read one or two a year. Each one has a moment that makes me curl up and wail with grief over the injustice of character X suffering whatever grisly fate Erikson has chosen for him. I do this very rarely for books. Also rare is my willingness to tolerate taunting for such abominable cover art (the joker who dreamt up the cover for Memories of Ice has earned my eternal wrath and The Snarling Id's very first Bad Fantasy Art Award. Yes, that man has tiger stripes. Yes, that's Canon for the series. And yes, it looks unnecessarily ridiculous).
Also trying to work up the courage to reread Game of Thrones, since apparently there's a miniseries now. (Eeee!) But more importantly: mysteries. I have been procrastinating on all my 'scholarly' reading by using frippery and Rex Stout novels. Rex Stout wrote a metric tonne of books about Nero Wolfe. I rather wish I were on Nero Wolfe's staff, because his tantrums are hysterical.
Writer's block softened, but now I am in a pickle, in which I have no idea how tightly various plot threads will be tied and how to get them to touch each other. That's all right, though... I keep telling myself it's all right, anyway.....
No new band names, but a New Blog Feature: the Obscure Large Dog Breed of the Indefinite Period of Time! The pick for this Indefinite Period of Time is the Cane Corso, an Italian mastiff-style thing that will happily tear your throat out.
It's also SO ADORABLE I'M GOING TO DIE.
Oh boy, puppy overload.
Well, this turned out longer than I thought it would, and yet I feel as though I haven't really said anything. Keep your eyes open for the next post, which will be all about Personality Tests and Other Nifty Elements.
And remember, the world hasn't ended yet!
Keep on trucking, ladies and gentlemen.
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