Snap your fingers in front of my eyeballs. I'm not here.
I got a jack-shit's* worth of sleep last night. I'm in a puppy-kicking mood. About to pass out. Or I might, possibly, forget to close the stall-door in the ladies room where I go to sit on the toilet to power nap. If I pull my scarf forward, taut, it's a face-pillow. But I have to hold it -- hmm -- really, it's a simple matter of tying it to something without hanging myself if I do fall asleep. Strike that. Bad idea.
This woke me up a little. Nellie McKay, the rare jazz-rap chanteuse. I swear the girl doesn't breathe once during this song.
For those keeping score of my cat-sitting escapades, I will be in charge of Nomar Rasputin Kittycat Mofo Garciaparra this holiday weekend.
If yes, would you consider it a low point in your life or "just something that happened after, like, five white Russians and whatever I had after that."
O, Sweden! You have a place in the cockles of my heart. Cockles furnished with Ikea furniture and an endless snowy carpet, blood-spattered, not vibrant red but gooey red-black; some days, bleak winter days -- ah cripes, it's only November -- the whole world feels like a post-war, pre-fab, modernistic wasteland suburb of Stockholm. Let The Right One In is kinda-sorta a young love story between a boy with a terrible haircut and 12 year old (more or less) girl (more or less) vampire (spot on). The boy is bullied. The girl is hungry. Both are lonely. I'm no vampire connoiseur. I know the basic lore, whatever. Never questioned why a vampire can't enter a home uninvited. This movie at least answers what happens if they do. It's kinda gross (see above). Anyway, if you see one Swedish vampire movie in your lifetime, this is probably the one to see.
Thank you for your novel recommendations! I went to the Wilmette Library on Monday and struck out in my search for a few of the recommended titles ("Material Checked Out" D'oh!). I'll give the Chicago libraries a try soon. I had been up in Wilmette for a dentist appointment, the dentist I've been seeing since junior high. My mom received a phone call from his office saying my dental records were about to be banished to the dungeon because I hadn't been back in awhile. My mom being my mom spared my dental records and made an appointment for me to get my teeth cleaned. Oh Fine! The first few minutes of getting plaque scraped off my gum line is a little hair-raising, but then I start tasting blood and my mind wanders. Look, I keep a clean mouth! Brush, floss, Listerine! That plaque is the stuff of life and it's been scraped away. I walked away from the chair with no decay, no cavities. I got new X-rays taken, so I have to refrain from biting anyone because those pics can be used as evidence in court.
Wait, I was talking about books.
I like bookstores that tack hand-written employee recommendation cards to the bookshelves. So here are Chainsaw Calligraphy reader recommendations. I can't vouch for anybody's personal taste, but if you're looking for something to read, here's a list to chew on. I'll chew on it with my clean teeth.
Tony recommends: Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón
Betsy recommends: Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley The Secret History by Donna Tartt
David recommends: A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole Geek Love by Katherine Dunn The Secret History by Donna Tartt (Geek Love is one of my favorites too)
Scott recommends: Time and Again by Jack Finney Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy Portnoy's Complaint by Philip Roth (I did read your copy of Time and Again. When we moved out of our apartment, I considered "accidentally" mixing it up with my books so I could take it with me)
Paul R recommends: Hangover Square by Patrick Hamilton Martin Eden by Jack London
Joe J recommends: World War Z by Max Brooks American Gods by Neil Gaiman
Anonymous recommends: Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace
Eric Pf recommends: Like a Hole in the Head by Jen Banbury Towelhead by Alicia Erian King Dork by Frank Portman Salterton Trilogy by Robertson Davies The Short Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz
Alexis D recommends: Stoner by John Williams
Sarah K recommends: Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides The Secret History by Donna Tartt
Eric Z recommends: The Human Stain by Philip Roth
Losi recommends: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon A Spot of Bother by Mark Haddon
I was walking around the library last week looking for something to read. All I could think was: oh, goddammit. All these books.
Last few novels I've read have been okay, but can't say I completely enjoyed them. I was more satisfied with finishing the book than I was with the story, or the writing, but mostly the story.
Got a novel you're always trying to push 'cause it's a great story and you didn't want it to end because it grabbed your brain and your heart and smashed 'em together like a little kid smashing two Tonka trucks together in a sandbox? Been awhile since I read something like that. Yeah.
I'm looking for a novel to read. If you have a recommendation, drop a comment.
I don't dayjob [verb] on Friday, so I'm not usually downtown on Friday. But I am a bonehead and forgot to sign and deliver a contract in a timely manner, so I had to go downtown to drop it off. I have a habit of putting important papers on my desk and then piling less important stuff on top of it and then thinking the important thing has been taken care of (the unimportant stuff is frequently half-completed Red Eye sudoku puzzles because my Metra ride is not long enough to complete a puzzle, or at least that's what I tell myself so I don't feel so stupid when I'm owned by a one-star sudoku). My disappearing stuff-on-my-desk problem is kin to the way I respond to e-mails in my head, and then somebody follows up with "I never heard back from you about such and such." And I'm all, "I responded to you in my head."
On my Friday downtown, I ran into an old friend from high school at the corner of Dearborn & Randolph.
I bought a tall mocha at Starbucks.
And took some pictures.
Pigeons in Daley Plaza take a break from pecking at garbage to pay their respects to dead soldiers. I can't look at an Eternal Flame without bustin' out a chorus of The Bangles "Eternal Flame"
Starbucks unleashed their red Xmas cups after Halloween and now this.
New banners around City Hall. Mayor Daley is very excited (earmarks!!! "overhead projector" for the planetarium!!! olympics 2016!!!)
A lot of people ask me, "Hey Marisa, where can I buy a pair of earrings made with metal so cheap it will irritate my earlobes until they drip with pus?" I send them to Claire's in the Ogilvie Transportation Center. I don't understand why there is a Claire's in the Metra station as I don't figure too many 13 year old girls are commuting downtown for their 9 to 5. My photo doesn't do justice to the pink-ness of this store. It is very pink. My retinas fizzed and now I am blind.
Of all the important issues in this election, remember that you are voting for the next man to be turned into an audio-animatronic figure and bolted to the floor of The Hall of Presidents at Disney World.
And they can take down this banner...
"I think people passing a law against people wearing sagging pants is a waste of time. We should be focused on creating jobs, improving our schools, health care, dealing with the war in Iraq, and anybody, any public official, that is worrying about sagging pants probably needs to spend some time focusing on real problems out there. Having said that, brothers should pull up their pants."-Barack Obama on MTV
I know I said I wasn't going to make a habit of posting bad reviews, but I seem to enjoy posting dickhead bad reviews; if you read the last section of the review in the right light, it sounds like he'd rather see a play written by chimpanzees than by women. Those who have been following the hot topic female playwrights discussion on the interwebs will get a kick out of it: http://www.broadstreetreview.com/article.php?idc=3&ida=1135
For the record: I do not need to be medicated for A.D.D. There are plenty other mental illnesses that may have been more accurate, like, I don't know, maybe I'm a weepy drunk prone to violent outbursts, or I'm OCD about making sure the stove is turned off even if I haven't cooked in a week; also, the pilot light makes me nervous as hell.
I am Marisa Wegrzyn. This is my internet. I live in Chicago, Illiois. I get by on dead-end temp jobs, Texas Hold 'Em, and Scratch-N-Win Lotto Tickets. I also write plays.