"The pyramids were built as pedestals that the souls of the truly alive and the truly in love could stand upon and bark at the moon. And I believe that our souls, yours and mine, will stand together atop the pyramids forever." -Tom Robbins, Still Life with Woodpecker
I just finished the book from which the above quote was taken. What an amazing...thing? Story? Jaunt? Experience? It wasn't just the story, but the indescribably witty and perfect prose. I'd never read Tom Robbins before, and wasn't sure what type of guy he was......and as I was reading it, I felt layers of Vonnegut seeping in, and Burroughs maybe, Hemingway definitely; Pynchon, perhaps John Berger who I've never read? Anyway, other writers are beside the point. The point is, I started feeling like it was a certain "type" of novel but by the end, I didn't feel that way at all. It's not just a witty philosophical poo-smudge metaphor for life, but a genuine love story in the only bearable way imaginable. It lazed its way into a fantasyland of pyramids and UFOs and solitary confinement, yet became the most real and identifiable love story I've read in a long while, if ever. You start to think it's going off the deep end and then realize that every part of that world is within Leigh-Cheri's or Bernard Mickey Wrangle's mind; you start to realize that it's hidden deep within your own mind, too. Have I ever really looked at the package of Camel cigarettes? Why didn't I notice there were pyramids? Haven't I always felt there's a way to escape the present world and fall head-first into the imagined world of an object that envelops me? If we can animate inanimate objects with our own brains, then perhaps those objects aren't so inanimate after all. And at the heart of it all, you of course have the impossible love story, impossible in the sense that probably neither lover would have survived the dynamite explosion in the heart of a pyramid. Or would have run into each other in the way that they did, more than once. But I didn't feel like I was suspending disbelief, either....more that I just entered a world where certain things happened and you accept it. Like creating a whole new consciousness out of a Camel pack. During the scenes of Leigh-Cheri's self-imposed confinement, I would alternately wonder to myself whether she was crazy and self-destructive or smart and enviable. At times I wanted to experience that same raw unflattering but organic selfness that she discovered in the attic; other times I couldn't bear the idea of leaving my loved ones like that, of disappointing those who have faith in me, of throwing away the potential of the moment. Everything about those two characters is so extreme, yet in the end so commonplace too. How is it that we're satisfied with such an ending, in which the two impossible lovers just melt back into the blackberry house, live happily ever after, and such? I think perhaps it's because there's something more than just the love story going on. There's the philosophical exploration of the MYSTERY that is so enthralling about real love. What Tom Robbins says at the very end, in longhand because he's fed up with his fancy typewriter, is that (1) Everything is part of that mystery; and (2) It's never too late to have a happy childhood. I liked how the plot wasn't all that was going on, and the prose wasn't all that was going on. The plot and prose danced together to create this enthralling painting of the world as it is perceived by the perceptive.
(I won't let drunk college kids ruin it, either. Even though they're stupidly belting off-key notes at the tops of their lungs next door, SOMEDAY they'll see the light and wise up. If they don't, it's their loss for missing out on the more nuanced joys of life.)
Celebrity apprentice? Donald Trump is still around? I don't even know what that means. Go away, TV.
"Life is too short for us to be deprived of any one of its joys by the sad, sick androids who control laws and economics." (page 260)
I would like to spend time in the deep core of a pyramid, in all its perfection and cosmic energy. It's funny because doing that would be the ultimate solitary confinement from human society, yet it would take place in a structure that could only be built by humans, that derives its energy from our collective souls.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Why the B.O., buddy?
I think I realized that every time I sit down to write anything here, I also happen to be in quite a good mood/state of mind. Don't get me wrong, I'm in a great mood much more often than I post here.
I don't usually know how to express my thoughts about this "economic recession" or "global financial crisis" or what have you. Many people I talk to have been affected, but I personally have not. My bookstore is booming, so ours is a vibrant untarnished atmosphere of raises, new hires, bonuses, etc. Plus, let's face it, I have nothing to lose anyway. But when I mention this observation to most others, I feel like they don't appreciate it because their situations are much more dire. So, that's how the economic crisis has affected me. Woo! Well, not so. I suppose my 401K has suffered mildly. Well shoot, guess I'll have to wait awhile to retire.
Maybe job security's all I can ask for these days, but for some reason I'm not impressed with myself about it. Working at this bookstore? I'm kind of over it. Not in the sense that I'm miserable or hate everything about it or feel I'm compromising my values or anything like that. It's just...I can see the possible trajectories for that job, and it bores me. Some people have the disposition to do the same thing every day and try to care about ways to make the place better, but any dent I make in that endeavor is instantly nailed back in place by the lame corporate-ness of the company. What a joke. A chain used bookstore? Come on now. If you're going to be a chain used bookstore, at least allow for adaptation and quit being so outdated and sloppy all the time, so that you can truly grow!
So, if that can't happen, I'll just have to grow myself. That's why next week I'll start training to work at my chiropractor's office two and a half mornings a week - perfect! While everyone else is losing their job, I'll have two. Extra dollars, experience, nice vibe, refreshing change, step in the right direction, networking possibilities, free adjustments! So there's that, plus I'm finishing up psychology and statistics; more plans ensue but that's not the point. I've got my next little while figured out, in a way that's interesting and still pretty unknown in some ways, which is how I like it.
Also just finished Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, which makes me want to be a "locavore" and have a 5-acre personal garden. Maybe someday. I do my best by going to farmers' markets, keeping the biggest garden I can muster, always buying local produce and not eating processed foods (except gummy worms, mmm!). One of the better "nonfiction" books I've read in a long time - many have been disappointing, just trail off into boring repetition.
By the way, I don't have anything to say related to my post's title. So just deal with it.
"My" cat Fiona. She's snoring softly in the reclining chair next to me, half watching the TV screen. OK, she's not technically my cat. She has a collar with a phone number on it and she just appeared in our window one day long ago, and we like her company a lot. We leave the window open so she can come in, go to her other home, play in the yard, munch on food, etc. She likes to follow us around the house and sprawl out on the bed during the day. I so, so wish she was MY cat, forever. She's fat and squishy and loves to stretch and play with hairbands and howl at my landlord's cat and crouch really low in the yard as though the grass is hiding her existence. (It's not.)
I don't usually know how to express my thoughts about this "economic recession" or "global financial crisis" or what have you. Many people I talk to have been affected, but I personally have not. My bookstore is booming, so ours is a vibrant untarnished atmosphere of raises, new hires, bonuses, etc. Plus, let's face it, I have nothing to lose anyway. But when I mention this observation to most others, I feel like they don't appreciate it because their situations are much more dire. So, that's how the economic crisis has affected me. Woo! Well, not so. I suppose my 401K has suffered mildly. Well shoot, guess I'll have to wait awhile to retire.
Maybe job security's all I can ask for these days, but for some reason I'm not impressed with myself about it. Working at this bookstore? I'm kind of over it. Not in the sense that I'm miserable or hate everything about it or feel I'm compromising my values or anything like that. It's just...I can see the possible trajectories for that job, and it bores me. Some people have the disposition to do the same thing every day and try to care about ways to make the place better, but any dent I make in that endeavor is instantly nailed back in place by the lame corporate-ness of the company. What a joke. A chain used bookstore? Come on now. If you're going to be a chain used bookstore, at least allow for adaptation and quit being so outdated and sloppy all the time, so that you can truly grow!
So, if that can't happen, I'll just have to grow myself. That's why next week I'll start training to work at my chiropractor's office two and a half mornings a week - perfect! While everyone else is losing their job, I'll have two. Extra dollars, experience, nice vibe, refreshing change, step in the right direction, networking possibilities, free adjustments! So there's that, plus I'm finishing up psychology and statistics; more plans ensue but that's not the point. I've got my next little while figured out, in a way that's interesting and still pretty unknown in some ways, which is how I like it.
Also just finished Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, which makes me want to be a "locavore" and have a 5-acre personal garden. Maybe someday. I do my best by going to farmers' markets, keeping the biggest garden I can muster, always buying local produce and not eating processed foods (except gummy worms, mmm!). One of the better "nonfiction" books I've read in a long time - many have been disappointing, just trail off into boring repetition.
By the way, I don't have anything to say related to my post's title. So just deal with it.
"My" cat Fiona. She's snoring softly in the reclining chair next to me, half watching the TV screen. OK, she's not technically my cat. She has a collar with a phone number on it and she just appeared in our window one day long ago, and we like her company a lot. We leave the window open so she can come in, go to her other home, play in the yard, munch on food, etc. She likes to follow us around the house and sprawl out on the bed during the day. I so, so wish she was MY cat, forever. She's fat and squishy and loves to stretch and play with hairbands and howl at my landlord's cat and crouch really low in the yard as though the grass is hiding her existence. (It's not.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)