Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Ashes To Ashes
Whenever you tell someone you're writing a book (something I almost never do), the next question is as predictable as the Detroit Lions having a bad season: What's your book about? The pretentious douchebag side of me hates this question because I'm all like, well, you can't sum it up, really, it's about everything. Which sounds absolutely fucking stupid. And if I give the flat true answer, well, it's a cheery little tome about being raped, umm, that's a real buzz kill, a conversation-stopper. It's not just that, I always try to explain. Parts of it are really funny. At this point, people are looking at you like you've just started carving a satanic symbol on your tender flesh.
People are always in closets of some kind, and there are endless debates about the difference between privacy and the need to say, This is what I am; I'm not ashamed. I'm kind of an open book in my real life as many years in Detroit taught me to say things directly as well as made my considerable potty mouth worse. I don't like to tell people things they don't want to hear. I don't consider it my place usually, the hard apple of truth deal. But I do believe this: ask and get told. The last time a stranger asked what my book was about, I told him and he said, That's fucking fantastic. His face was made up like David Bowie's Ashes To Ashes, and he wasn't in any closet. And for once, I was glad to be rewarded for the truth, so unlike much of the bullshit that permeated the years before.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"Throw away the lights and definitions/ Say what you see of the dark." Wallace Stevens
Drinking memoir suggestion: The Night of the Gun David Carr
Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Wednesday! I've added some new pick your poison links so check the new ones out!