Monday, November 09, 2009

Fugitives and refugees

Today is the day.

The day my extensive order from Amazon has arrived. Well, actually Friday was the day. But I was out of town. Therefore, the two boxes of unopened stories were being held hostage by my building manager. But only until she returned to the office. Which was this morning.

So, basically. Today is the day.

I have purchased a wide array of novels, poetry and memoirs that I cannot wait to become completely consumed by.

Leonard Cohen's poetry, Book of Longing, is probably what I am most excited to begin reading. A true poet that man. I am a fan. As some may have noticed from the title of this blog. Anyway.

In addition to Cohen, I will probably start a couple others. I am one of those annoying people who is always in the middle of two or three books. I don't get story lines or characters confused, it just takes me awhile to finally finish them is all.

I'm thinking Josh Bazell's Beat the Reaper and Bret Easton Ellis' Glamorama will be the pair I begin with. I haven't been able to stop reading Ellis since finishing American Psycho. Jesus. What a novel. What a writer! I literally could not put it down. American Pyscho was one of those books you travel with. You know what I mean. It was constantly in my bag. If I had a free second before my food arrived at a restaurant or if I arrived a few minutes early for class, American Psycho was open in front of me and the chaos which surrounded me was instantly silenced and deemed unimportant... at least until class commenced or a waiter placed a plate of food in front of me. But what cemented American Psycho as an incredible novel in my mind was the fact that when I re-watched the film after finishing the novel...

I found myself completely calm, collected, hardly disturbed.

When Bale buttoning up his raincoat in preparation to hack Leto to death with an ax doesn't even make you wince... Christ. That was the moment I realized how terrifyingly incredible Ellis' writing really is.

Or maybe I'll start Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential. A book I've been wanting to read for quite some time. I have a shameless crush on ol' Anthony. His wit, his sarcasm, his cynicism --- I'm not sure what I enjoy most about Bourdain. But it's something. Maybe it's his earring... (ha). Either way, he's a talented writer with quite the story to tell. And I dig that.

Oh. Well, I guess I already sort of started one. Palahniuk's Fugitives and Refugees. He writes about the ins & outs of Portland, OR. A great city I fell in love with nearly a year ago.

My trip to the Pacific Northwest has proven itself bittersweet. Ugh, but I am far too spent to delve into that story. It will have to be saved for another day. A different posting. One I write while feeling ambitious and maybe a little masochistic...

For now, though, I am fortunate enough to have a stack of entertaining literature to keep my mind off of my emotional destitution.

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