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Sep. 22nd, 2012 09:49 pm1. So the huge Brooklyn Book Festival is tomorrow. ( Read more... )
NYC overwhelms me at times with all of its activities, so often I don't find myself doing any of them. And just hanging out at home. After this past work week - took me two hours to get home yesterday, and the commute to work involved a lot of breathless running and sweating, I need the break. I had to walk 40 blocks home yesterday, because the trains were having mechanical issues. Today, wandered a little, but not much. Also had to dig a rusty nail out of the bottom of my sandal. Thank god for thick soles. This in a nutshell is why flip-flops are dangerous in NYC.
2. In case you missed it (and if you did, can I live under that rock too?) American politics this week:
Mitt Romney (commenting on polling results): 47% of the US population according to the IRS are freeloaders because they don't pay income tax. I don't care if I get their vote.
Tax Lawyers/Journalists and Fact-Checkers: Actually 47% of the US population does pay taxes. Just because it's not recorded as income tax doesn't mean they don't pay income tax.
Some are making way below the minimum wage, so are exempt, some can claim a credit for property taxes, it depends.
Obama: Mitt clearly needs to get out more.
( Read more... )
3. Been debating starting a personal blog with my own real name attached, separate from this. Where I'd only do book/movie/tv reviews, and personal essays, as well as short stories. No fandom stuff, no memes, none of the stuff I do here. It seems to be all the rage at the moment. But I've no time. And I'm trying to get myself back into writing creatively. Not sure what to do. It's weird...I want to tell people that I have a blog. I've actually been blogging for ten years, fairly consistently. And a lot of people read it. Some I've met, a lot that I haven't. And it's not under my real name. But then they'd want to see it...and that, stops me cold.
Some things I don't mind people seeing. Others...
It's weird. It's not like people don't see these entries, they do. But..
I worry about my writing. It feels uneven lately. Forced.
The problem with writing...is people, at least this is true for me, are constantly telling you what you should be writing. My mother wants me to write short stories about my life.
Things I know. As if these things are remotely interesting. Or that I want to remember them. But she may have a point - perhaps if I did write these things, I'd be read and published. I don't want to write this stuff though. It feels uninteresting. And I feel exposed. Embarrassed by it. I'd rather hide behind the prose of made up characters and the metaphors of made up worlds. Which may be the problem. In writing, it's better when we don't hide. I don't hide here. I do, behind the psuedonyme, but not behind the words.
Maybe that's what I should do? Write my story, but change the names, the places, and write under a made up name? Use the name as camouflage instead of camouflaging the tail..which rings false if it is untrue? Don't rightly know.
4. Just watched the film Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close and yes, the ending is insanely manipulative and maudlin, but it moved me. I loved this movie. It gave me hope.
And the relationship between the little boy and the mute old man is moving. Max Von Syndow is an amazing actor. I fell a little in love with him. And it's a well-shot film. The cinematography is actually good in places. A bit of a love story to NYC. It could be better, but it was a whole lot better than I was expecting. People either hate or love this film. So I'm guessing mood plays a major factor.
5. There's a thunderstorm in Brooklyn tonight. The sweet smell of water is in the air. A clean scent. Like a rippling brook. So I opened my windows. To breath it in. And wash my apartment in the smell of rainshowers.
My Granny has been visiting me in my dreams lately. I don't know what she's trying to tell me. She doesn't talk. She's just there. My mother is there too. And I can't remember what they've said. Just that she was there. My Gran. And I miss her. And I want to know what she was saying. Perhaps this is why, the flick Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close got to me - it is about a boy trying to connect to his dead father. Searching for him. It is about grief. And how we are all weirdly connected through it, whether we want to be connected or not.
NYC overwhelms me at times with all of its activities, so often I don't find myself doing any of them. And just hanging out at home. After this past work week - took me two hours to get home yesterday, and the commute to work involved a lot of breathless running and sweating, I need the break. I had to walk 40 blocks home yesterday, because the trains were having mechanical issues. Today, wandered a little, but not much. Also had to dig a rusty nail out of the bottom of my sandal. Thank god for thick soles. This in a nutshell is why flip-flops are dangerous in NYC.
2. In case you missed it (and if you did, can I live under that rock too?) American politics this week:
Mitt Romney (commenting on polling results): 47% of the US population according to the IRS are freeloaders because they don't pay income tax. I don't care if I get their vote.
Tax Lawyers/Journalists and Fact-Checkers: Actually 47% of the US population does pay taxes. Just because it's not recorded as income tax doesn't mean they don't pay income tax.
Some are making way below the minimum wage, so are exempt, some can claim a credit for property taxes, it depends.
Obama: Mitt clearly needs to get out more.
( Read more... )
3. Been debating starting a personal blog with my own real name attached, separate from this. Where I'd only do book/movie/tv reviews, and personal essays, as well as short stories. No fandom stuff, no memes, none of the stuff I do here. It seems to be all the rage at the moment. But I've no time. And I'm trying to get myself back into writing creatively. Not sure what to do. It's weird...I want to tell people that I have a blog. I've actually been blogging for ten years, fairly consistently. And a lot of people read it. Some I've met, a lot that I haven't. And it's not under my real name. But then they'd want to see it...and that, stops me cold.
Some things I don't mind people seeing. Others...
It's weird. It's not like people don't see these entries, they do. But..
I worry about my writing. It feels uneven lately. Forced.
The problem with writing...is people, at least this is true for me, are constantly telling you what you should be writing. My mother wants me to write short stories about my life.
Things I know. As if these things are remotely interesting. Or that I want to remember them. But she may have a point - perhaps if I did write these things, I'd be read and published. I don't want to write this stuff though. It feels uninteresting. And I feel exposed. Embarrassed by it. I'd rather hide behind the prose of made up characters and the metaphors of made up worlds. Which may be the problem. In writing, it's better when we don't hide. I don't hide here. I do, behind the psuedonyme, but not behind the words.
Maybe that's what I should do? Write my story, but change the names, the places, and write under a made up name? Use the name as camouflage instead of camouflaging the tail..which rings false if it is untrue? Don't rightly know.
4. Just watched the film Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close and yes, the ending is insanely manipulative and maudlin, but it moved me. I loved this movie. It gave me hope.
And the relationship between the little boy and the mute old man is moving. Max Von Syndow is an amazing actor. I fell a little in love with him. And it's a well-shot film. The cinematography is actually good in places. A bit of a love story to NYC. It could be better, but it was a whole lot better than I was expecting. People either hate or love this film. So I'm guessing mood plays a major factor.
5. There's a thunderstorm in Brooklyn tonight. The sweet smell of water is in the air. A clean scent. Like a rippling brook. So I opened my windows. To breath it in. And wash my apartment in the smell of rainshowers.
My Granny has been visiting me in my dreams lately. I don't know what she's trying to tell me. She doesn't talk. She's just there. My mother is there too. And I can't remember what they've said. Just that she was there. My Gran. And I miss her. And I want to know what she was saying. Perhaps this is why, the flick Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close got to me - it is about a boy trying to connect to his dead father. Searching for him. It is about grief. And how we are all weirdly connected through it, whether we want to be connected or not.