Tokyo-Montana-Galway

The Tokyo-Montana Express by Richard Brautigan sits in the toilet to be read, not in one sitting, but in snatches, a few pages here and there, little pearls of fragmented, solipsistic wisdom plucked from that great, deceased mind. And brought back to life, not in Tokyo or Montana, but in Galway which, as the crow flies, is more than 14,000 miles away from both those places. How long are the snatches? How big the pearls. Well that depends. Any more than 15 minutes could be regarded as sinister. In his story The Closest I Have Been To The Sea Since Evolution Brautigan writes:

One morning I took a shit and it smelled just like the sea. There was no difference between the smell of my shit and walking along a beach on a wharf, staring at ships and the sun going down behind them into billions of years of water.

So I don't think he'd mind a few of his pearls residing here in this little toilet under the stairs.

Gay Search

The author of The Impatient Gardener is Gay Search. If that's your thing, you need look no further.

Buy 2 Pay More

Buy one get one half price. Was there ever a bigger scam that we, poor saps that we are, unblinkingly, gratefully even buy into.

But I only want one book.
Fine then, that'll be eleven fifty.
But look, the RRP is seven ninety-nine.
Fuck off then - this is how we do things now.

So you walk around WH Smiths with the rest of the flobbing morons carrying one book you want to buy in search of another book you might at a push take as per the new book buying directive that is now written into LAW.

Perhaps the only reasonable way to make any profit from this is to simply buy two copies of the new Ben Elton and give them to people you really, really hate.

Turning Thirty

Inexplicably, the other week, I found myself in charge of the book stand at the school fair. There was a game coming on soon and I was keen to quit that place. The book stand just happened to be nearest the exit and that's why I was standing there.
"This any good", a man asked, holding this book.
It's called Turning Thirty and it's by Mike Gayle who is also, it would appear, the bestselling author of My Legendary Girlfriend and Mr Commitment.

"Let me see", I said, taking the book from him.
[Turning Thirty, Legendary Girlfriend, Mr Commitment, Fresh and Witty, CD in the toaster]
"Almost certainly not", I replied. "Looks like the biggest pile of self-indulgent, clichéd old vomit since the last what's his name's..."
"How much is it?" he said.
"Tony Parsons".
"How much is it?" he said.
"A euro?"
"I'll take it" he said.
Nobody can say I don't do my bit for the school.

Bingo Little's Tie

I watched a documentary about life in modern day England. It followed this rich guy Bertie Wooster who, in common with most people in the Home Counties, has a butler. A chap called Jeeves who is considerably more sagacious and urbane than his master.

There was this scene in it where Bertie's pal Bingo arrives wearing a tie given to him by a waitress he's smitten with. When Jeeves sees it he visibly recoils and leaves the room to recover. The camera follows Bertie into the kitchen where he asks Jeeves what's wrong.

"Mr Little's tie. It had little horseshoes on it"

Then, in what could well be the guiding motto For The Way We Live Today, he adds:

"It's sometimes difficult to shrug these things off, Sir".

A Fruity Cummerbund

Sitting in the garden with the eldest. It's hot and windy.

Me: How you getting on with "The Inimitable Jeeves"?
Her: Good.
Me: It's good, not too old for you?
Her: No, it's funny.

Ten minutes later.

Her: Dad, what's a cummerbund?
Me: Er, it's a kind of thing that men put round their waists. In the olden times.
Her: Oh. What's fruity then?
Me: Fruity ... it's like bold, cheeky.
Her: Oh. A cheeky thing you wear round your waist, then?
Me: Yes, exactly. Very cheeky.

The Anniversary Man

Nurse picked up my book this morning.

"Looks interesting, what's it about?".
"It's about a serial killer".
"Oh", she said, putting the book down quickly.
"A copy cat one", I said. Adding "They haven't caught him yet".

I always say shit stuff to medical professionals.

Curious George For Piano

In terms of complexity this is on a par with Rachmaninov's third piano concerto.

The Last Rainbow Fairy

The very last page of the very last Rainbow Fairy book I'll ever read. Helena the Horse Fairy. The youngest Darling Daughter is five today and is therefore too old for such infantile nonsense. Last night it ended thus:

"That was exciting", Rachel said, as she mounted Shadow, noticing how much easier it was this time, Kirsty nodded. "Yes" she said, "Now we just have to find the other six Magic Sporty Objects in time for the Fairyland Olympics.". She grinned. "I think this is going to be a fairy busy week!".

I grinned back at Kirsty. And in a silvery voice, reminiscent perhaps of Jack Frost himself, I cackled "Not for me it isn't, not for me ... HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA...".

Rachel, Kirsty and Jack Frost

I've been reading these "Rainbow Magic" books every day. We have any number of them in the house. I read one every day (whether I need to or not) which is roughly double the time it takes to write them.

They are very extraordinary. They all feature Rachel Walker and Kirsty Tate and their adventures in Fairyland with the evil Jack Frost and his pesky goblins.

I struck me last night, while reading Marjorie the Carbon Neutral Fairy, that I'm actually reading these books with precisely zero comprehension. A very useful skill that they don't teach you at school.

The Road

I couldn't find any legal pictures of The Road on my internet. So I had to take this one myself at the pictures last night.


For the avoidance of doubt, what's happening just now in Haiti is depressing. The Road isn't. It's a beautifully made, thought provoking love story. It should make you glad to be alive and realign your values about what's important. If you find this adaptation of Cormac Mccarthy's awesome book depressing you're probably already dead.

End of lecture.

Leviathan or, The Whale

I'm reading Philip Hoare's towering "Leviathan or, The Whale".

One of the points he makes is that the 20th century was bookended by a monumental shift in attitude towards those endlessly fascinating and beautiful cetaceans. In short we went from killing whales for meat and fuel to watching them for enjoyment and study.

This shift in attitude appears to have been all too subtle for my parents who, on their visits to Boston at the beginning of this century, always insisted on their "whaling" expeditions. They went out "whaling" on a couple of occasions and enjoyed the trip immensely but always came back with nothing more than a few pamphlets. I can only assume that the spoilsport tourist boats made them leave their harpoon guns at the jetty.

Anne of Green Gables

According to Wikipedia,

"Anne of Green Gables is a bestselling novel by Canadian author Lucy Maud Montgomery published in 1908. "

This edition here has a foreword by Lauren Child who wrote Charlie and Lola. That's why they've put a Charlie and Lola style drawing on the front. It's supposed to make us, the parent, buy the book 'cos we think it's Charlie and Lola by Lauren Child even tho it's patently Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery.

Sub Liminal.

The Dead Zone

I'm reading Stephen King's "The Dead Zone". Amazingly enough it's the first King book I've ever read.

(Except The Stand, The Fog, Pet Cemetery and Carrie)

It's a very exciting read indeed.It's about a young teacher who comes out of a four year coma with extra-sensory powers which enable him to look into the future or past of anyone he touches. Sometimes the signal gets weak though and his brain goes into the "The Dead Zone". A place or time in which nothing happens.

We have "The Dead Zone" every Saturday night in our house between the hours of six and eight. Or whenever fucking "Strictly" and "X-Factor" are polluting the airwaves. We replace the "The Dead Zone" with, what we like to call, "The Cocktail Hour".

The Water Giver

The Water Giver. Hmmm, what's this book all about?

Well it's ...

The story of a Mother,
a Son, and
Their Second Chance

The Way Home

RE: The Way Home?
From: musters
Sent: 17 October 2009 03:33:07
To: george.pelecanos@orion.co.uk

Dear Mr Pelecanos,

I am in Boston tonight and am thoroughly enjoying "The Way Home". It reads like a modern day fable and is a very fine match indeed to chicken wings and Sam Adams.

I have one small question if you'll indulge me, Sir.

On page 215, of the Orion edition, you say (in relation to the young boys who find Ben's mutilated, rat-infested cadaver):

"What they saw would trouble them into adulthood and haunt the youngest for the rest of his life."

Poetic and haunting words, if I may say, but they beg one important question. Since the book is set in modern day Washington DC, how do you know?

Best Regards,

Musters

Change is Possible

Sam Adams. George Pelecanos. The Celtics on tv.

Change is Possible.

Book Shelf Fiasco

I'm listening to the beautiful, mellifluous tones of An Brun. But even this can't block out the horrors of the above picture.

I don't mind a mess.
I do.
I'm patient with the kids. Allow them to be expressive even if it means using the sofa and bedclothes to build a tent.
Well...

Tonight I was out on the green with them until 8 o'clock playing footy and the usual shove-piggy-shove even though I'd had a busy day and was fucking starving. But I didn't really mind.
I did really.

But then to come in to this. It's just too much. It's not that the books are utterly un-alphabetised and un-categorised. That would be asking too much. Even the odd size mixture is something I've had to learn to accept.

But spines, spines must be to the front. Otherwise ... otherwise, children ... what do we ... yes?
What do we have to believe in?
That's right. Now get to bed!

Luggage Charges

This threw me a loop somewhat.

My flight to Paris was not at all like this [1]. It was disagreeable but quite unexciting. The ticket seemed very cheap until they weighed my luggage and got me to understand how much there was to pay. Then I wished I was going by train.

Evelyn Waugh, 1930.

As the good people at Ryan Air might say, should they stumble across this quote, Plus ce change plus ce la meme chose.

[1] this being 'if the Protestant God had asserted supremacy in a fine Old Testament manner'. Don't ask.

Best Tasting Vodka

Here's tonight. I was back in the Butcher's Grill, this time, chomping 'pon some Impala.

There's some points to be made about this picture. I'm not sure how many but, later, I'll click on the numbered list button and then we'll know for sure .

1. I have five (6) waiters waiting on me.
2. They're sharing a joke.
3. The guy, forefront, is holding up his fingers, presumably, to indicate a tiny Caucasian penis.
4. There's a advertisement for Grey Goose Vodka.
5. The quality of the picture is very bad indeed.
6. Grey Goose Vodka claim to be the 'Best Tasting Vodka'
7. This is very important. More so, perhaps, in a drink.
8. I was laughing too. Equally heartily. Waugh had wrote...

Everybody else, how-ever, was there except little Lord Tangent, whose foot was being amputated at a local nursing-home.

Eight!