Nobody hearts Henry James

I don't care what you think about how you feel, if you say you heart Henry James you're a liar. You are, perhaps (not to say probably), lying to yourself, but you are in any case a liar. I don't mind. It's not my problem, but it's something you might want to know about yourself.

If you claim to heart William James, on the other hand, I believe you, because you're Tariq, and Tariq is a lot of things, but he's not a liar. Quite the contrary. Tariq vomits truth like a drunken frat boy regurgitating Big Macs and Heinekin. Usually gratuitously, often inappropriately, but not exactly always either. Besides which, William James thinks I'm a prophet, so he's obviously got a line on something good.

All that being said, it's hard for me to fathom that anyone - liars and truth tellers alike - could possibly be so enamored of either esteemed author as to generate fan fiction in their honor. But there it is, in spite of my failed imagination. A woman named Paula Marantz Cohen has written a novel about the James brothers and their invalid sister, Alice, imagining the three as investigators of the ever-captivating case of Jack the Ripper. I can't speak for the rest of the book, but the first paragraph has Henry fully blitzed, dining insensibly with Oscar Wilde and sundry society hangers-on. It's funny, this first paragraph, but I stopped there because I've been so damaged by Henry James' contribution to the literary canon that I'm unable to read anything at all with his name printed in, on or near it without developing a mild headache and a sudden compulsion to watch reality television.

Does anyone know what time Dancing with the Stars comes on?

Two notes

1. There is a Chinese restaurant here called "Ka-Ching".

2. They've paved the road to ghetto rich just a little smoother down here. I passed an SUV today advertising "Rent2Own Wheels & Tires". What do you suppose happens if they come to repossess your car before they come to repossess your wheels? Do the two creditors have to duke it out, or what? Maybe they leave the wheels when they take the car, so instead of having your car on blocks, you've got blocks on your wheels.

Word of the day

Today's word of the day, per Dictionary.com, is so bizarrely useless that I think you need to know it.

prosopography[pros-uh-POG-ruh-fee]

Definition: a description of a person's appearance, career, personality, etc.
-noun
0. A description of a person's appearance, career, personality, etc.
-noun
0. A study of a collection of persons or characters, esp. their appearances, careers, personalities, etc., within a historical, literary, or social context.

That's all.

Except for this:

If you know me at all, you know that I am eagerly, if quietly, awaiting "The Apocolypse". (Any apocalypse will do, but whichever one finally arrives, I'm sure it will be granted proper noun status and so I grant it here in respectful anticipation of such.) So, as I look forward to the event of our doom with an excitement normally reserved for seven-year-olds at Christmas time, I enjoy watching movies dedicated to the subject. And I'm not fussy. If it has to do with the destruction of humanity, I'll watch it. I don't care if it sucks. I just spend 90 minutes imagining myself running around, dodging fissures breaking open across freeways and shopping malls; looting gun shops and pharmacies and barricading myself into bunkers and shit. Really, almost any movie will satisfy me. So last night at the Redbox machine, when I saw a movie with a cover sporting a crumbling city skyline (including what I would have sworn was the George Washington Bridge, except that the movie took place in... I don't know, somewhere in the UK), broken roads littered with crushed, burning cars and the like, I figured I was in for a treat. Not so much. It was the worst fucking apocalypse movie ever. There were no broken buildings. The roads were fine. There were no burning cars. It was a super-virus/zombie movie, and the zombies didn't even eat brains! What the fuck?! None of the characters tried to kill the zombies - or even injure them. All they did was fucking avoid them, which wasn't especially difficult because they could barely move (which was the only realistic part of the whole movie). Ugh. It blew apocolyptic chunks. The fucking Kevin Costner movie would have been better. The last line of the movie was "But then again...". I don't know why that matters, but it does.

A tale of two shitties

I'm reading A Tale of Two Cities. I don't know why, so don't ask. What matters is that this reading inspires in me one question and one comment.

My question is: Why isn't "cities" spelled "citties", or pronounced "site-eez"?

My comment is: I lied. I have no comment. What I have is a quote from the aforementioned work. I find it rather apt, insomuch as it seems to perfectly describe my most fundamental flaw, and it is for this reason that I share it here, with you. Perhaps you can relate. I hope not.

Sadly, sadly, the sun rose; it rose upon no sadder sight than the man of good abilities and good emotions, incapable of their directed exercise, incapable of his own happiness, sensible of the blight upon him, and resigning himself to let it eat him away."

Maybe that's why I'm reading Dickens. I can't think of any other reason.

I'm not the worst!

That's right. I just found out: I am not the worst person in the world. I know because Keith Olbermann told me. Or anyway he implied as much. Some, many or most of you may know who Keith Olbermann is. I didn't. And don't. But I've spent the last forty-five minutes watching YouTube clips of a segment of his show known as "Worst Persons in the World". Or something like that. It's cheering me up a little. He's a smug little fucker, but I agree with him (it's not difficult), so I like him. I happened on these videos by accident, looking for a video that Megan posted on Facebook. I never found it, but that's sort of beside the point, I think. Look for the 9/30/10 clip for a cute little creepy-perv judge piece and maybe search for the Glenn Beck clip for an awesome drunk 911 call. There was a great one about some politician asshole deliberately blocking the allocation of almost a billion dollars in aid to Haiti, because one million of it was set aside for an office to oversee the distribution of said funds. So, literally, 900-some million dollars that had already been voted on and approved by both houses of Congress was just sitting there for almost a YEAR after the earthquake while millions of people were still homeless in Haiti. Prick.

See? This is why I don't want to know anything. Ever. Anyway, I couldn't find that one again to tell you how to find it. Of course I could post the links myself, except that I can't post the links myself. Don't ask.

Also, even though I'm literally in Dade County, I'm constantly surprised by the sight of people wearing Miami Dolphins gear. Every time, I think, "Who the hell likes the Dolphins?" And then I remember. People who live in Miami like the Dolphins. It's certainly no worse than people in Buffalo favoring the Bills, so I really shouldn't be surprised, but still... Actually, now that I think about it, I'm just as shocked by the sight of people in Bills gear. I've always prided myself on being an equal opportunity snob.

I'm going outside to smoke. It's the only joy I have left in life.

Why...

...am I so unhappy?

I guess that's a stupid question. Because I'm me. I mean, I'm unhappy because I'm me, not that's a stupid question because I'm me. Which is probably also true.

AAARRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

Why? Just... why?

I'm in Savannah. Georgia, that is. I've always wanted to see this city - it struck me as being terribly antebellum or something. In fact, it reminds me a really lot of Boston. Granted, I'm in what they call the "historic district" and haven't been anywhere else. Boston is pretty much all historic. In any case, Savannah sports the same sort of long avenues with park-like medians and cobblestone sidewalks running past nineteenth century townhouses with tiny gardens. Two or three of the avenues are retail-heavy, and the cross streets are populated with little bistro-style restaurants within a block or two of the shopping areas, and then they change over to more townhouses and churches and the like. Of course, Boston doesn't have palm trees, but we won the war so who gives a shit? Savannah also makes better use of their waterfront (fiscally speaking), with more shops and restaurants as well as an outdoor market (I didn't get a very close look, but from what I could tell, the market was of the crafty variety, not the produce type. (In which case I would have to acknowledge the connection to Haymarket in Boston.) But either way, they've developed theirs - in my opinion - much more successfully (again, fiscally-speaking). In the way of comparison, they also share a prevalence of carriage rides, old cemeteries and walking tours. Oh, and trolley tours.

I got here last night - around 6:00 I guess - and immediately set out with the dogs on our own walking tour. I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, but as it happened, they were having their annual "Holiday" Parade (this a revised answer offered me by the pedicab guy who first called it a "Christmas" Parade). I hate parades. Reuben hates parades (I now know), and Idgy also hates parades. Reuben was an emotional wreck. Too many people, too much chaos - and the parade hadn't even started. The dumb mutt just couldn't keep it together, so I walked him back and left him with Bubba. I kept Idgy with me and by the time we got back the parade had begun. She dealt pretty well with the screaming fire truck and it's blasting horn - she didn't like it, but she didn't fuss - but the marching band was more than she could take. She's Idgy, so of course she was good about it, but neither of my dogs (this is more Idgy than Reuben, though) like people in uniform. It freaks them out, and who could blame them? Also, strange hats. Football players, Halloween costumes, military personnel... you get the idea. Also, apparently, bandlings. So this big band (so to speak) walks by with their huge bass drums and shrieking brass, and she starts to get that confused, frightened dog look on her little face. When the firecrackers started, I looked down and she was sitting quietly next to me, shaking like a proverbial leaf. I mean, she was shaking. So we left. I hate parades. What is supposed to be fun about them? People you don't know driving at a snail's pace in boring cars; pee-wee football players walking like they've reached the final mile of a month-long death march; and fucking noise. Just more and more and louder and louder noise. It's horrible. But, on the other hand, I got a chance to observe the natives in their natural habitat.

I'll share my notes on that subject another time. For now, I have just one more thing to say - something you may already know, or at least suspect:

I am a fucking idiot. I seriously think I must be the dumbest person in the entire world. Or at least the dumbest smart person in the entire world. Somewhere between here and South Carolina - at a rest area, I believe, on Rt. 95 - I lost the front wheel of my bicycle. Yup. Misplaced a fucking wheel. A wheel big enough that looking for it would be ridiculous - as though it might have... what? Fallen between the seats or something? This great big wheel, i just... left somewhere. I haven't even ridden the fucking thing! I am constantly and consistently astonished by my own stupidity.

Also, there is the cutest little lesbian in here with her very lucky girlfriend.

I hate myself.

I need to know

So, if I grow my hair back out, will I look less angry, or less lesbian? Or both? Do all lesbians with short hair look angry, or is it particular to me? Does short hair on straight girls make them look like angry breeders, or passive lesbians? Or angry lesbians? This is a complicated business, and I need answers.

Oh. And...

I can't decide whether or not to cut my hair. Should I grow it out? Now that it's going to look like shit most of the time anyway, and almost universally be kept under a hat? Or should I cut it so it'll be easier to manage? I've been thinking about this a lot, and I'm still torn.

Thoughts?

Lucky Number Slevin

I was in Blockbuster last night, looking (predictably) for a movie to watch, when I came across Night at the Museum. This is a movie in which I've never had much interest. I'm not offended by Ben Stiller's existence - I loves me some Zoolander and all that good shit - but I'm never particularly compelled to see a movie strictly because he's in it. Night at the Museum looked dumb when it came out, and it still looks dumb, sitting on the shelf in the middle of the store. But Damala loves it. He quotes from NATM almost as often as he does, say, The Muse or that cinematic classic A Knight's Tale. He's so consistently entertained (and occasionally entertaining) by that movie, that when I saw it last night, I picked it up and considered it for a moment before retiring it to the shelf and banishing it from my mind. I just couldn't do it. But then I came across Lucky Number Slevin, another of his favorites. People have recommended this to me in the past, but I've never been all that interested. Still, the cast is pretty great (except... Josh Hartnett? Really?) and so I rented it. The beginning was good, but still I stopped about a quarter of the way in and put on something else. I wasn't done with it, I just wasn't into it. I finished it this morning, and so I am now in a position to say that Lucky Number Slevin is an outstanding movie. Truly. It could be that most of you already know this - and I hope so, because that would mean that you've seen it, and you should. I loved it. It was better than Cats. Even with Josh Hartnett.

I'm watching it again tonight. Why not?

And, as if it weren't enough to be an awesome movie, the closing credits roll to a song called "The Kansas City Shuffle" by J. Ralph, which is also pretty great (a disco-y version of a twenties folk-y piece by someone whose name escapes me). And when I plugged it into Pandora I got an endless stream of also very excellent songs. (Strangely, none that were particularly reminiscent of that first though.)

So I guess what I'm trying to say is, watch the movie if you haven't seen it; listen to the song if you haven't heard it; and thanks to Mae-Mae for the tip.

I'll be in NC for a few more days, then I'm moving south.

That's all for now.