Semi-Daily Scribbles

Performance

Hey Phil,

I don't care you are a forerunner on the Fake News front. Good on ya, I say. You made a few coins, picked up a loyal batch of readers, and pulled one over on those who thought they picked up a few IQ points reading your hinterland dispatches. Though I will never know you, I do know what it's like inside a diseased mind. Truth is elusive, and can be 100% factual with a mere whiff of reality and a nice smile. Family and friends know you adhere to the loosest of rules when it comes to reporting on what's out there. My truth is: Your shittiest essays are better than what most best sellers peddle. Which brings me to the reason why I'm typing this:

The person who doesn't understand your pretty writing has lost out on having her soul shredded. Little bloody striplets of organs and bone left on the nightstand. That, pal o' mine, is a sure sign you've figured out how to use your words.

Do what you do to pay the rent. I'm good.

Tess

I Can't Explain

And like o.k.: There's this particular writer whose work I've read and enjoyed and whom I find interesting and irritating all in one big, messy mouthful of come-one-come-all (talkin' bout chyoo JD). Yeah so, brutha man goes on about fat folks in his stories and he himself is pretty thin (cute, though - I'm shallow, ok?) Curious bit that I don't quite get unless the writer's a reformed fatty. And if so ??? Ah, the tricky ickiness of body politics (which needs its own moment of contemplation ... like how I've been body-shamed, but yeah I digress.) Anyway, dude also has a fondness for riffin' on why Asian girls go with white guys. But..but..but ... JD's partner is hapa haole. Just like me! So does he believe deep down she should be living with a Chinese man or, at the very least, a half-breed like herself? What is that all about? Does JD worship or despise or just plain could not give two fucks about his lover's DNA that is white-white-whitey-white? Why not go Big, Black & Beautiful, bruh?

Simply put, we like what we like. No tryin' to deny it. Humans, each and every one of us. Being human is a tough gig to pull off no matter the narrative one espouses from atop the mountain.

Well, as I do, here I go to face the day and try to relate to Every Body best I can 'cause we are all dodging one shit storm or another. Ain't it all supposed to be about love? Tolerance, too? Minding one's own bloody business when it comes to affairs of the heart and parts farther south? Fear of a halfie planet, indeed! Bring it. Here's hoping you stay open-minded today, peoples. Best of luck to ya!

For Love & Money: The play's the thing.

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child is not a play. It's a rehearsal script. Something hardbound but not a literary work like, say...oh I don't know...The Cherry Orchard. The rehearsal script is a cash grab, but it's also the foundation for (by what I've read on the InterWebz, anyway) a fantastical stage production. Plot holes be damned! Who cares if the world-building and rules of magic (ahem -- Time-Turners -- ahem) in the seven Harry Potter books are tossed in the ash can? Rowling's wizarding world in all its iterations is great fun. Truthfully, though? The Potter story arc could have been wrapped up in four books. House-Elf history and wand lore is just so much filler that distracts and detracts from Harry's journey. HP&TCC in written form is equally unnecessary, but I'm sure the theatrical performance is a special kind of magic all its own.

Precursor

Bran? Bran trippin'.

Mysticism. Magic. Time is a wheel and we've been here/done this before. The thread that tells of the Children of the Forest and the First Men is more interesting than the stories we've been told so far. Brandon's journey speaks to me, and it's my favorite riff throughout ASoIaF. The Old Gods are close. They have never left.

Make Up

Make up whatever narrative
fits the occasion
be a leader
be a follower
be controlled by:
*fashion
*popular opinion
*the feel-goods
walk in the opposite
direction just to
piss people off
and then listen
to what they have
to say about ...
behavior
lies
in the
crack
that
separates
daydreams
and
done deeds.

Pass the Hot Sauce

Pepper.
Mixed with ink.

Throughline -
Commuter spills it.

Signs.
Used to confuse.

Day, oh!

I prefer my music rough around the edges. When it comes to books, though? Ya shit better be tight. Mind your craft, mate. Clunky prose hurts my ear nubs, don't you know? And please, please adhere to the rules you've set up for your world. I can suspend my disbelief for days; no need to cave in to the sweet easiness of deus ex machina. Oh, and not every loose end can be tied up. We all have unresolved issues. See? Got my box of tissues right here! Anyway, had to say a few readerly words. Thanks for your time.

shelved

blip says: don't feel like it's a slap in the face. it's nothing but a donut in the hole. if betsy needs to come back to earth pretend you're unaware the air is so thin up there. no one cares for know-it-alls. fading star power left a churning, swirling whirligig in its wake that ate betsy's happy place. she has no choice but to return to the world of dust and straw. we've all become belatedly jaded but we still read betsy's blog to see which one of us she kills next. each death hidden in the text. completely off the page it would seem.

Promotion

Yeah.
Love him/hate him.
Hype: The Song of Life.
Blame fame.
Shame bleeds on white sheets.

"Admittedly, I'm a coward."

Marnie avoided her best friend for the past two weeks. If she thought she heard Lettie's voice, or smelled Lettie's attar of roses while she was out running errands, Marnie ducked down dark alleys and hid in really spider-webby photinias. She began to get disgusted with herself. She should have just come out and said, "No, I won't read it." She should have told Lettie best friends don't make good literary critics. Not if the parties involved wanted to remain best friends. But Marnie accepted Lettie's single-spaced pages; their margins crammed with Lettie's handwritten notes/comments (Hell demons need a catchier name. Use silvery orb instead of moon? The deal with the baby explained in book 5.) And all the characters talked funny. Marnie didn't think Bronze Age people used that many adverbs when they confabbed around the fire.