Seems like a lot of furor has been raised about some cartoons. Now, I wonder, can I call a holy war on California, because it houses the animation studios that foisted a stereotype of Texas, an egregious misnomer of epic proportions, can I get a “hell yeah” for a war on the unbelievers in Southern California because what they say about us? Blame the skewed lens of Hollywood?
A short op-ed piece called, “we are all Danes now” sparked my interest.
We may have our kooks and nut-jobs, but at least, even our kooks and nut-jobs are usually willing to laugh at themselves. And that applies to California and Texas.
On writing:
I’ve ben wrestling a horoscope to the page, so to speak, for the better part of a week. I had one scope, just about 200 words, to finish. Something that’ll be lightly tossed off in the near future as so much filler, but I’ve been working hard on it for the past few days, off and on. The self-discipline to sit down and write, examine the charts, plot the stars (planets & moon, mostly), extract meaning, and get a coherent theme? Tough job. I enjoy it mostly, but the one scope just wasn’t getting finished.
Woke up early, fed my princess, poured coffee, and looked at the empty scope. Read something online. Read more stuff. Worked with the charts, watered the plants. Answered the phone. Returned a call. Tried the cell company and the phone number thing again. Made out a check to pay a bill. Got to remember to buy stamps.
I had a reading due at 5, and I didn’t get around to finishing the scope until a few minutes before. When I reflected on this, stuck in tiny domicile, all day, one of my own choosing, I guessed this is what it must be like to be in a cubicle. Only more commute time.
(click to visit)
Just a comic note:
Or notes from the comics, but about covers my ideas of road food.
On reading:
Almanac of the Dead by Leslie Marmon Silko. Partially, I’m rereading this because I was looking for something to help anchor my imagination for the coming months. All I could remember about the text – I’ve got an original hardback 1st edition – was magical realism and magical prose.
My introduction to Silko’s cannon of work, of course, started with Ceremony, which I’ve tried to reread several times, but it just doesn’t work. I can’t recall all the details, but two or three of the authors from that time, they all run together in my memories.
Sunday evening, I read all of about 50 pages in a little over an hour. I’m sure I had other distractions, too, like the cat sleeping on me, or the computer burping about messages, but I was enthralled and engrossed.
Like a really good cigar, the prose to Almanac of the Dead has to be rolled around in my mouth. I can’t just go ripping through it. Characters, conversations between characters, shifting points-of-view, gender misidentification in the middle of a stream-of consciousness thought, and a sprawling narrative that covers the West.
Years later, I read that the Silko took ten years to write the book. Can’t find that link now. But it fits. I saw her speak at a poetry reading a year or two before the book was released. Can’t give many details other than she was dressed in all black, and she had long, black hair, and deep brown eyes. Rumors connected her – romantically – to Larry McMurtry. Again, other than the dedication, “To Larry,” in the front of the book, I can’t validate that either way.
So far, and I’m not long into the book, there’s a cast of many, bikers, smugglers, border rouges of every sort. It’s very good reading, but not something I’ll accomplish in a night, or a week, or maybe even in a month. There’s no hurry, just reduces the number of books I’ll read since this one is long.
What I do recall, as I’m rereading it, was there was something formative about the text.
“War had been declared the first day the Spaniards set foot on Native American soil, and the same war had been going on ever since: the war was for the continents called the Americas.” (page 133)
