Monday, October 12, 2009
Okay, I might be the only person my age who is not at all excited about the movie version of Where The Wild Things Are. Don't leave me now when I confess that I never even read the book as a child. My mother had a strict read what's here policy which included a copy of Anthony Quinn's autobiography, several copies of Aviation Now!, and a gift copy of The Road Less Travelled. I somehow knew I didn't want to read that given that I didn't like that Robert Frost poem, preferring his more obscure, darker selections. Want to wow them at the next party? Learn and recite "After Apple Picking." Seriously, you will have people in awe. You know why? They expect Sylvia Plath. While I definitely go for the romance of the whole head in the oven, you're a fascist brute daddy, but I love you so vibe, I can't say that the poems ever stuck in my brain, feeble equipment that it is.
I think we love what we love and there's no explaining it, not pat explanations to why. I, for one, hate rags to riches stories. I don't know why, but they bore me. Except when I am getting the riches. Feel free to tell that story. I tend toward more morose material. Right now, my steady readers are going, You're shitting me, right? But I also find some incredibly hopeful moments in all of it. I love going somewhere kind of crappy and finding it beautiful. So I'll be posting bits of my new book from time to time and thanking you in advance for the feedback. It's all about haunted houses because I have never lived anywhere that hasn't been.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"The possession of knowledge does not kill the sense of wonder and mystery. There is always more mystery." Anais Nin
Benedictions and Maledictions