Friday, September 25, 2009
To Read List...
1 The Famished Road by Ben Okri
2 Collected Poems by Elizabeth Bishop
3 Staying Power: The History of Black People in Britain by Peter Fryer
4. Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry by Mildred D Taylor
5 The Stories of Raymond Carver by Raymond Carver
6 The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolaño
7. One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez
8 North by Seamus Heaney
9 A House for Mr Biswas by VS Naipaul
10 Birthday Letters by Ted Hughes
11 Palace of the Peacock by Wilson Harris
12 River of Fire by Quarratulain Hyder
13 Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
14 Philosophical Investigations by Ludwig Wittgenstein
15 Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie
16 Disgrace by JM Coetzee
17 Dreams from My Father by Barack Obama
18 The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje
19 Collected Poems by Allen Ginsberg
20 Anil's Ghost by Michael Ondaatje
21 One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez
22 Sula by Toni Morrison
23 The Private Life of Chairman Mao by Dr Li Zhisui
25 The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Why I Hate Cell Phones
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Jane Eyre: The Final Reading
Let me tell you my story and relationship with Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte.
I’ve always been a book addict, even at a young age so it’s no wonder I was ecstatic when my mom announced she was volunteering at my rural Catholic school to be the librarian. Of course this meant I had access to "the" library and better yet unshelved books not yet touched by human hands. That was a delicious thought for me.
I flung Jane Eyre back to its spot in the uniseat and only later did I take it inside and throw in the pile of books in the living room. Farewell friend. Maybe I’ll see you again.
Jane Eyre grew up unwanted and unloved, so it makes perfect sense that she would fall hopelessly in love the minute she was around a kind male figure. He was the only male figure she was around . . . other than her dopey cousin and the towering Mr. Brocklehurst.
Monday, February 9, 2009
I'm a Loser, Baby, So Why Don't You Kill Me
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Wanted: Dry Cleaning Attendants with No Sense of Humor
Here is the scene: Me rolling up an oversized queen-sized comfortable into a small enough roll so that it can fit into a garbage bag. After about ten minutes of meticulous rolling and stuffing, I finally crammed the cloth penis into an enormous, but flimsy condom. I couldn't help but look at the thing and laugh. It was obscene. I felt like I should be clothed at all times around that short, stout monster standing at attention in my dining room.
When I finally had a enough guts to take the thing out in public, I threw it in the trunk and drove merrily away, glad to be rid of such an eyesore.
But my troubles were not over.
As I rolled up to the dry cleaners I had a bad feeling about this comforter. I mean I had vacuumed the cat hair off it the week before--it wasn't too bad. The cat puked on it earlier this week--I cleaned it up--no problem. I flopped the unsightly beast onto the counter and said that I needed it dry cleaned.
--What size is it?
--It's a queen.
--I'm going to rip the bag [huffing] I'm not sure if I can get it off.
--It's okay if you rip the bag; I'm going to throw it away.
--Is there anything on it that needs to come off?
[processing, no, I just bring things in randomly just for the hell of it; as a matter of fact, I went down the street to your competitor and had it dry cleaned PRIOR to my coming here so that there would be nothing on it. I can see how swamped you are with business.]
--Well, yes, there's cat hair on it--
--[interrupting] Cat hair? Well, let me look at that cat hair because we I can't send it over with cat hair.
[processing . . . umm why the hell not--this IS a cleaning business, no? And does that not entail cleaning the crap that happens to get stuck on pieces of material?]
--Well, I cleaned off most of the cat hair, but there still is some cat hair on it.
--I have to check this to see how much cat hair is on there [huffing]. [After the inspection] Well, I don't normally send things over there with >>this much cat hair.<<
--Okay, well just do what you need to do [cracking up here].
--There is just TOO much cat hair.
--Umm well that's why I brought it here . . . to get some help getting the cat hair off the comforter.
--Is there anything else on it?
--[having fun here] Well, actually the cat puked on it as well.
--Cat puke? We don't clean up cat puke.
--I cleaned up the cat puke, but there may be a slight spot that needs to be cleaned.
--[She gives me simmering stare] Well, when do you want this?
--When can I have it done?
--How about next Thursday?
--Umm . . . wouldn't you like my name and phone number?
--Oh yeah, [like it's an afterthought] well, what it is it?
[Okay, by this point I'm ready to die laughing. Customer service rating on a scale from 1-10--about a 2. The joy of pissing off an anal retentive buster on a scale of 1-10---10.]
I can only imagine what I'm going to hear from this woman when I come and pick it up.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Eats, Shoots & Leaves
Currently I'm reading Lynne Truss's Eats, Shoots & Leaves, a book-length rant about shoddy punctuation practices both in the US and UK. I, too, am a reluctant stickler. I have muted my stickler voice over the years simply because no one likes to be corrected, no one likes a know-it-all, and not many people truly understand what the hell you are talking about anyway! Here is an example of a flyer I found wedged in between the door frame and screen door of my front house. It appears as though it was typed on a computer. Yeah for him!! But unfortunately the poor chap failed to recognize those little wavy red lines and green lines clearly shouting out to the typist using MS Word that there is something amiss!
PLUM ST. SNOW REMOVAL
(Okay so far.)
ONE MAN ONE BLOWER
(Catchy--that's why I called to get more info.)
RESDINTAL SIDEWALKS AND DRIVEWAYS
(This is when my eyes started to cross.)
Mr. Winter is here and your saying to yourself man I
(Yes, this is a saying I often say.)
(I don't call myself, man, since I'm a woman.)
don't want to shovel that snow today.
What do I do?
I got it,I got it. I'll call Chris. He's right around the coner
(Ahh the comma-period! A newly invented form of punctuation!)
(Is it that an orange coner; the pylon thingy?)
and up the street. Highly afford in these hard times. So I
(Forded a stream? River? Affordable?)
say stay warm and let me work for you. One rate and
the price will never change.
For more info Call
(Capitals always make something look more important.)
xxx-xxx-xxxx ask for Chris
Quality work for a low price___
(Technically the writer has not taken a breath here . . .
he could be turning blue or dead as we speak.)
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Wars at Work: When in Doubt, Be Switzerland
Sunday, November 23, 2008
"No Dentist Left Behind"
"The parody was originally titled 'Absolutely the Best Dentists.' It was written and sent to every newspaper and legislator in South Carolina a number of years ago in an attempt to point out the absurdities inherent in South Carolina's then new accountability act which was focused on 'absolute' performance and threatened retention for every child who couldn't meet very challenging grade level standards. (Not to mention severe penalties for 'poorly performing' schools, teachers ands administrators.) Since then it has traveled widely to the point that I have not been able to keep up with the uses; but I know it has appeared in teacher association publications in at least three Canadian Provinces and in Australia, as well as dozens in the USA. The No Child Left Behind Act (NCLB) seems to have given the story a new life."
Thus: No Dentist Left Behind.
http://www.trelease-on-reading.com/no-dentist.html
Monday, November 17, 2008
Going for Baroque and Loving It
Heinrich Ignaz Franze von Biber (composer), Romanesca (performer), Nigel North (performer), Andrew Manze (performer)
Harmonia Mundi, 2002
Giovanni Mealli (composer), Richard Egarr (performer), Andrew Manze (performer) Harmonia Mundi, 1999
Friday, November 7, 2008
"Spich EEmpadumeeent"
IB= Idiot Boss
M = MeIB: Well . . . perhaps he is imitating how you are saying Bill
M: [Hunh?] I don’t say Bill like Beeeel. I say Bill.
IB: But maybe he thinks that is what YOU are saying.
M: [processing . . . processing . . . so you’re telling me that >>I<< have a speech impediment and that that this particular nine year old student who I’ve worked with for 2 months now, for one, half hour a day, five days/week, has through some miracle, picked up on how I MAY be mispronouncing a word????]
[And given that the name "Bill" comes up so infrequently in our conversations about books and reading, it must further be some kind of complex ability—a regular marvel to modern science—that he can remember and imitate a word that I "could" have mispronounced a few times to him. Hmmmm . . . this is a very profound conversation. It needs to stop now.]
But he is using the name "Bill" to decode other word with the same rime . . . like pill, will, mill . .
IB:
But I heard a story once of a teacher who worked in Alabama who would pronounce the word "it’s" and the kids would pronounce it (to her) like "eats". Therefore the kids heard her pronounce the word like "eats".M:
[No, IB, that would mean they have what we call an "accent" and the kids are pronouncing the word according to how they were taught at home from the area of the country they live in not because they are misinterpreting her pronunciation of "it’s".][I shake my head inwardly as if I have just stepped into a very large icky cobweb.]
He is not hearing ME mispronounce the word. He already pronounces the word incorrectly and uses it to decode all words that end in ill as EEL . . . [You, freaking IB] IB: M: . . . . . And Yes, IB, he is mispronouncing other words as well. IB: Ohhh . . . . M: