Ennui Reviews

I have returned to Blogger, but not completely. Ennui Prayer posts will still be made here and so will the Sex Wednesday blogs (until I can find a new home). Ennui Reviews has been set up with as an Amazon Affiliate and because WordPress is pinche with the HTML/CSS/Java, I decided I’d return to Blogger for the reviews.

The first review there will sound a little familiar, but as things get going, I’ll post more stuff and you’ll get to see what my taste in books, movies, and music is, hopefully. Subscribe to the RSS/Atom feed to keep updated on my posting. Not all things I’ll review (and I use this term really loosely) will be new and hip to you all, but they are important movies that no one should forget. Note: I’ll only be reviewing movies, not DVD special features, nor will I compliment the cover art of a new CD (unless I feel it’s completely necessary).

Atonement

Last year I read Little Children by Tom Perrotta and then watched the movie based on the book. I did the same with Trainspotting - this, however, proved that not all books can successfully be adapted into a movie, though the movie was good.

[Note:] I liked the book by Perrotta, something a lot of people in the critic circle didn’t care too much about - Esquire, I believe, said the best way to read a Tom Perrotta novel was to watch the movie. I disagree. I like his writing. However, if you read the book, try not to say how much you like it in public. I was the victim of a lot of looks when I announced to my friend, rather loudly, that “I love Little Children!” Some book titles are best left unspoken.

This year, however, I’m going to read Atonement before moving onto the film. Jyg bought the book (movie tie in) for my birthday. Sadly, Hastings didn’t have the original cover anywhere in the store. It doesn’t matter, movie tie ins only make it look like the only reason you have the book is because you saw the movie. In any case, I wanted to read the book way before the movie existed.

Here’s what the back of the book says:

“On a summer day in 1935, thirteen-year-old Briony Tallis witnesses a moment’s flirtation between her older sister, Cecilia, and Robbie Turner, the son of a servant. But Briony’s incomplete grasp of adult motives and her precocious imagination bring about a crime that will change all their lives, a crime whose repercussions Atonement follows through the chaos and carnage of World War II and into the close of the twentieth century.”

I already got the movie, but I haven’t watched because I want to read the book first, as I had always intended to do. I started last night and I’ll try to finish it within a week, hopefully. I realize that I don’t read as quickly as I once did. I’m not sure why.

Reading

I’ve never read anything by O. Henry before. Right now I want to read something by him. While I’m still reading and loving Ten Little Indians, I have this sudden urge to reading something by the guy. Anyone have any suggestions?

Off the topic

Help me. Now that I’ve finished Wonder Boys, I have no idea what I’m going to read, even though I started A Home at the End of the World. Oh well, I suppose I’ll see what happens.

[Edit:]

I actually just received a copy of Ten Little Indians by Sherman Alexie from Jenndiggity. Think I’m going to read that instead.

Reading and Writing

I actually own three copies of Lolita, the shoes cover, the 50th anniversary cover and an early annotated edition which I salvaged from the library’s free book shelf. My guess, the latter was actually a copy owned by the late Dr. Lee Davinroy as many of her books made it on the shelves that year.

I keep a book in each room of the house where you’d find me the most - minus the bathroom for you crazies who are already heading in that direction. There’s a copy in my study usually, though all copies at this moment are in my bedroom because I can’t decide what should go where - a copy in my bedroom and a copy in the living room. I do this because Nabokov is possibly the most poetic writer on my shelf and his style is influential to me; however, I in no way try to mimic it.

This brings me to the question I’m trying to ask to the writers who stumble upon my blog. While I tend to read Nabokov’s Lolita while writing, I don’t let his style intrude in my work. However, there’s always the caveat that most writers warn others.

So when writing, do you read while doing so? If so, do you read the genre you’re writing, or do you travel into another one? And if not, then why?

With me, it all depends on the mood I’m in. So I do it, but most of the time, I’ll read something that isn’t in my genre solely because I tend to gravitate towards researching something I’d like to make reference to - not the style, but usually a person’s life.

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Now playing: JayMay - Sycamore Down
via FoxyTunes

Mi Vida en Libros

I’m almost at the end of Wonder Boys, which is taking a lot longer than I originally thought I’d take. Sadly, I’m not the best of readers that I used to be, because I took a less time reading it the first time than I am now.

The next book I’m looking at is House of Leaves, by Mark Z. Danielewski.  However, the first time I read that book, it took me a month to get through it, losing myself inside it and becoming a part of its world. Not sure if that has ever happened to you, but it happens to me with only a few number of books.

It’s either that book, or I’m picking put Lolita or Innocents next. Or even Memoirs of a Geisha, though I’ve been hearing a lot of pretty bad reviews of that book from the inner circle - well, the outer circle, considering my inner circle’s made up a few small people. I suppose, we’ll see, right?

Do, you readers, have any suggestions?  However, if you mention any religious books, be prepared for a public mocking by me and the Philosopher. Just a warning.

More on the Sex Writing, fish baking, Wonder Boys, and a list of books

I think what got me into sex writing and the love of erotica, not just my early escapade with pornography, but also  Susie Bright. While I find most of her essays trite and boring, the books she compiles are awesome. The first book I ever read where she was the editor was, of course, one in The Best American Erotica series. It was the 2002 edition and I quickly fell in love with stories by Maggie Estep, Simon Sheppard, Stacey Richter, Gary Rosen, and Tsaurah Litzky.

I think what caught my attention with Maggie Estep’s story was this paragraph:

“Joe wondered why it was that tumors were always compared to fruit. He wondered if the nurse liked to have sex with fruit. Susan did.”

The beginning of the story had already hinted to the more than odd sexual preferences of Susan. But it was that line that, for some odd reason, that caught the attention of my 19-year-old mind.

The fact that “In Deep” was the first gay erotic short story I ever read that left me feeling all giddy inside helped Simon Sheppard. This book was the pathway I needed, like the porn when I was a kid, to a more mature level of sexuality.

Stacey Ritcher’s “When to Use” brought back the memories of sex. It’s short and reads like an instructional guide for the obvious womanly hygienic product.

It even inspired my at-the-time girlfriend to read. In the lines of something like, “If more books were written like this, about sex, I would read more often,” she confessed to me and a few of her male teachers who constantly asked her to read the texts. The girl wasn’t a moron, she was brilliant, though she did some silly things once in a while, but who can blame her? We all do them.

Anyway, I got off subject there. The difference between pornographic writing such as most of the stories found in the collection entitled Aroused and those found in The Best American Writing - though I can’t really say that for all the stories is that BAE stories have a more poetic charm to them and Aroused has more of a fuck me hard and fuck long sorta tone.

I don’t know, sex is sex and some of it’s great and some of it bad. The writings reflect that. I just love sex, what can I say?

Anyway, earlier, all that sex writing started to get me hungry. I started preparing fish earlier to bake, but I was tired of the same ol’ same ol’ fish. So I decided to use an old recipe I had for chicken, changed it around for fish and made that. It was a garlic fish marinate that I prepared. I was supposed to leave it for longer but “hunger gets what hunger wants,” right? I toasted two slices of bread threw them in the food processor with just enough black and cayenne pepper and enough seasoning to give the breading flavor. After that, I added just enough corn flakes to fill up the bowl (I have a small processor) and broke that up and dumped it in the bowl with the bread crumbs. I mixed it all up and then took out the fish and rolled it around, placed on it on the cookie sheet, covered that with foil because I was doing this in a toaster oven and not the actual oven, and baked for 30 mins at 350. I liked it and so did Jyg who got the last slice not too long ago for her lunch.

And now that I made that transition, the more I read Wonder Boys the more I realize that I’m more and more in Grady Tripp’s situation, minus the dead dog, the creative writing student, the being sorta Jewish and the pregnant mistress. Okay, I’m nothing like Grady Tripp, but what I meant is that one day he just woke up and his wife was gone. I guess that’s the reason why Michael Chabon’s stories capture my attention - they’re so three dimensional that you find yourself relating with them through out their adventures.

So I was reading the book today and I came across when Grady returns to his in-laws’ home for the Seder:

“I walked out to the driveway and started down toward Kinship Road, looking up at the mesh of branches overhead for signs of a blighted elm tree against which it would be kosher for me to piss. The air smelled cool and slippery like we bark, and although my wife’s refusal to let me share her nakedness, however reasonable, had hurt me - even though it mad my heart ache to think that I might never get to see my Emily naked again - I was feeling very glad to be out of the house, alone, carrying the happy clenched fist of my bladder inside me.”

It struck a cord with me. I almost wanted to cry, even though it was stupid to, because I feel that I will never hold Jyg or touch her in the way lovers do. With every fiber of my being, I’m attached to her. I don’t know if it’s because it has been five years, but it feels like something else. Of all the people in the world, I though I’d be the last to want to get married, and in many ways, I am. However, with Jyg, that’s all I wanted to do for a very long time. And I blew it by not going with my instinct. I only looked at rings. I only talked about plans. I never took action and I really just want things back.

Damnit.

Anyway, I’ll leave you with a list of books I’ve read and enjoyed by authors I’ve met in person. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.

• Flight and Other Stories by Jose Skinner
• The Magic of Blood by Dagoberto Gilb
• I Ask the Impossible by Ana Castillo
• El Paso del Norte by Richard Yanez

I actually got to speak to the first two and that last one. I only briefly met with Ana Castillo at a book signing, speaking to her as quickly as possible. However, I was a little disappointment that she didn’t know how to spell my name. Sadly.

Worried

Again, I experienced a tightness in my left shoulder, armpit. It’s not like a heart attack–I’ve read the descriptions–but more like a stroke. A small stroke. I didn’t feel weird other than the tightening around the area and the scared feeling I get–the sudden rush of heat throughout my body when I begin to panic. After more research, it can also be caused by stress and anxiety. Cholesterol comes to mind, but last year, when I got my blood work done, I came out way below the average level. Doctor told me that I might be able to get it up, but I should at least try–apparently not only does high cholesterol cause–ahem–”man problems,” but so does low cholesterol. I guess I must suck up pride and call my father to see if he can spot me money for a doctor’s appointment. I need to check my blood and see if I’m dying.

After December’s Micturition syncope episode I’ve been a litte worried. It only happened once, but upon telling Abby and Jenn about it, they told me it can be linked to seizures (Abby, whose sister experienced it–I think) or a stroke (which Jenn linked me to a Mayo Clinic post). This just brings back those bad memories of thinking something was seriously wrong with me.

Back in October, or November, when Monica, Jyg and I went to Books ‘n’ Things, I got a tight feeling in my left arm after eating some bad soup. Last year was filled with papers, organizational duties (I was president of Sigma Tau Delta, Alpha Lambda Psi chapter) and I ignored it. I felt sick for a while, but books cure all for me. I’ve even been known to wander the bookstore with a fever.

But I didn’t experienced anything until I fainted. I walked over to the bathroom after being scared by Jyg, who managed to enter my room without sound and jumping on the bed. After our lovers’ conversation, I went to the bathroom to piss. While standing there, a sudden heat filled my body. I’ve felt it before when my body becomes shocked at my getting up too fast, so I passed it off as that. But then I started feeling really light, and my head moved back (actually, I think I did that on my own) feeling the warmth mix around my body. Next thing I know, I hear a crash and I wake up to see the piss-filled bowl before my eyes. The crash I heard was me falling onto the trash can. I wasn’t sure if I had dreamed it, but upon looking, I realized that it wasn’t at all.

I felt weak in the legs. I called out Jyg’s name and she didn’t bothered coming, or didn’t hear me. I shouted once more after managing to get up, my voice panicked and strained. She opened the bedroom door and saw me clutching the wall. I told her I had fainted. Before the incident, I had never once fainted in my life.

After that incident, in January, while walking in Kohls, I sudden felt this weird feeling. A heat wave rolling over my body and then a cold one. I recognized the changing sensation, coupled with my sudden realization of the my whereabouts, as feelings of a panic attack. Jyg and I quickly left the store and got in the car. The whole day, I had been feeling that something was awfully wrong. I couldn’t tell what.

And now today, the worse of what I felt all week, has hit me. Jyg felt bad, but I didn’t feel right telling her because I didn’t want her to worry about more things. I just need to go see a doctor’s. And while I’m not all that great with the money (as I have no job and no one seems to think I can do their work, or am over qualified for it), I also don’t have any insurance. I’m fucked, as far as I can tell.

Father came through to me when I was in the hospital after the car accident, and then for Jyg’s car part, so perhaps contacting him for money for a nice little trip to Dr. Let-met-tell-you-how-stupid-you-are. Man, I hate that fucker.

In other news, I’m reading Wonder Boys again.  It’s the first book I read by Michael Chabon–the second, and last, being The Mysteries of Pittsburgh–after I watched the movie and found out it was a book. And while I don’t like Michael Douglas, I think he did a great job as Grady Tripp.  I also own The Final Solution, but it didn’t do anything for me as those first two did.

After this book, I’m jumping into Lolita again.  I haven’t read that book in a while. I’ve got to keep my old brain ticking away before it loses all memory. I’m also dabbing into my ideas for the program I want to set up. With El Senor away, I’m afraid that it’ll be awhile before the wheels start turning.

For the moment, I’m learning how to write grants (the right way!) and getting some ideas for my next article so I can get some sort of monetary issues done with.

If any of you know of a gig I can write for, please sent it my way. We have to stick together, you know.