Love and Rockets

Don't worry - we'll have a final edition of our music list at the end of the month. For now, I'm enjoying the process.

It has been a somewhat challenging time for me personally. Massive upheaval at work. Stupid apartment related crap that won't go away (Hello, $200 gas bills). Watching my friends wither and crumble under failed relationship stress. The sad part, in all of this, is that I'm letting it affect my relationship with Lil, which is, ostensibly, the one thing that has been working for me. So I'm taking stock here. By putting this out there, I'm attempting a reconciliation with the real issues, so that I don't create more problems for myself. And I'm going to look for a counsellor, so that I can actually have a trained professional help me cope with my stress.

I've also been reading a couple of somewhat depressing books, which I would give up, were it not for the fact that one of them is genius and the other one is crack in paper form.

Jimmy Corrigan: The Smartest Kid on Earth is an absolutely stunning graphic novel, chronicling a dysfunctional middle aged man, finding his place in the world. It will someday be recognized as a literary masterpiece for the ages. The illustrations are both simultaneously dense and minimal. One gets the sense that each panel comes with layers and layers of metaphor and meaning. I've honestly been content to stare at a single frame for close to an hour. Not to mention, the truly excellent writing. Like the illustrations, sentences are crafted carefully and meticulously. This is a labor of love, imagination and detail. Full of pain and pathos, it shines through as the "the first formal masterpiece of the medium" (New Yorker - 10.17.2005).

And then there is Platform by Michel Houellebecq. Dirty, sexy, vulgar ... pornographic even, while flirting with moments of wit and depth. And thoroughly dark and chilling at the same time. I want to hate it and yet I cannot stop reading it. The protagonist is almost completely nihilistic, and could be vaguely interesting, but isn't, mostly because his main interests seem to revolve around Thai prostitutes. The first half of novel plays out like a creepy forty year male's sex fantasy. And yet, I am compelled to read on, because there is an intelligence behind the writing that I cannot ignore. And I've been promised that it takes a really crazy and dramatic turn towards the end, that has the potential of addressing meaning of life (or lack thereof) level questions. Kinda like Ghost Dog, and how he turned out to be gay in the end. Ghost Dog? Gay? WTF????!!! Poor Veej.

Hey, this was fun. Maybe I'll continue a doing a book review column, a la Nick Hornby's Polyphonic Spree. Except it will be about books that I haven't finished reading yet, so that you don't have to worry about spoilers. And I don't have to worry about actually finishing the book.