Bless this mess

Currently... I'm lazy. And a bit spoiled. In other words, I'm at my parents' house.

Lying on an over-stuffed couch. Watching "Curb Your Enthusiasm" on HBO OnDemand via an obnoxiously large flat panel television. Reading (an embarrassing number of) pretentious record reviews on Pitchfork. And (worst yet) staring at my unopened Cracking the LSAT book --- which should be OPENED! For the love of god, it should at least be opened. It should be studied by now. It should be meticulously read through. Maybe even with scribbled notes in the margins of each page (or, you know, at least every other). Ah, moving on to less exasperating subjects...

Like how incredibly spoiled I feel while at my parents' house. It is truly fantastic. My mum and dad are two of the most generous and witty people I know. Just being in their presence puts a smile on my face. Something I need more than ever as of late. And something I will never take for granted. And that is why I feel spoiled here. I am pretty lucky in this regard.
Plus, I really dig their dogs.

Currently, my mum is sitting in the media room with me taking a break from whatever she does in her office, and fascinating over how incredible "The Wizard of Oz" looks in HD. Ha ha. I'm giggling. As well as avoiding the television as the munchkins from Oz give me nightmares.

I better work on getting my dear mother to change the channel. I am sure Larry David induces far fewer nightmares than the Lollipop Kids...

Also, the film "Misery" is on The Weather Channel. Seriously. The Weather Channel! Airing "Misery"?! This is shocking to me (as I'm sure it is to all of you [countless] readers out there). My mum and I were just discussing how disappointed my dad (a TWC fanatic) would be over this confusing non-weather related film being aired on The WEATHER Channel.

What happened to the Local on the 8's? What is the world coming to?

Oh. Just before hitting "publish post" I noticed one of our dogs sleeping on my LSAT study book. At least it is getting some use. Jesus.

The Book of Longing

Well.
I have become enamored
with Leonard Cohen's poetry.
From The Book of Longing,
a poem of the same name:






I can't make the hills
The system is shot
I'm living on pills
For which I thank G-d

I followed the course
From chaos to art
Desire the horse
Depression the cart

I sailed like a swan
I sank like a rock
But time is long gone
Past my laughing stock

My page was too white
My ink was too thin
The day wouldn't write
What the night pencilled in

My animal howls
My angel's upset
But I'm not allowed
A trace of regret

For someone will use
What I couldn't be
My heart will be hers
Impersonally

She'll step on the path
She'll see what I mean
My will cut in half
And freedom between

For less than a second
Our lives with collide
The endless suspended
The door open wide

Then she will be born
To someone like you
What no one has done
She'll continue to do

I know she is coming
I know she will look
And that is the longing
And this is the book


What to write after posting words like these? I am at a loss. The little wit and rare bouts of fleeting creativity I can formulate into words (or sometimes even whole sentences!) are beyond trivial (at least for this particular posting --- my silly words will reign clever and incredibly important once again eventually).

For now, though, I am in awe. And am planning to share more of Cohen's poetry that catches my eye in future postings. Stay tuned.

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.

In metal

A delightful (yes, delightful) morning is currently being had. By me! How lovely.

It is strange, really. How a sky filled with sunshine has the ability to physically coalesce with a small one bedroom high-rise flat adorned with large windows, and how that can drastically change the mood of its inhibitor.

Mornings like these allow me to feel lucky. Just lucky, really, and not too much else. But I'll take the simplicity of lucky.

And they must be concocted for a reason. These rare, but insanely gratifying mornings. They just have to be. The reason or reasons, of course, are subjective. I enjoy that. Subjectivity. Especially regarding things as simple as a pleasant morning.

Leaving things open for interpretation. Potentially good; potentially bad. Today, though, this particular morning I cull potentially good.
Because, well, why not?