Vigorously Lazy

I’m reading 120 books in 2010. The first was The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon. Some random thoughts:

I’ve tried and failed to read Pynchon many times. Around the time I figured that I wanted to be a “wri-tor™” I’d been reading a lot of Big Brother skate mag. Dave Carnie in particular. He was always going on about Pynchon and Beckett so I tried to give them a shot. I was about 19 or 20 at the time and the most challenging novels I’d read was Vonnegut’s back catalogue. I wasn’t nearly prepared for the verbal acrobatics in Gravity’s Rainbow or Molloy. I was used to identifying immediately with the voices in a novel, so much so that it was like dropping into a jetstream. No effort needed, the author was there to do al the heavy lifting and hold your hand throughout the whole thing. I wasn’t prepared for a novel being a problem to solve or a puzzle to unravel. So I got lazy and quit. Both Gravitiy’s Rainbow and Molloy. Shelved them until my focus was a little bit more attuned and I could read something for more than three hours besides celebrity gossip blogs. Last week I decided I’d try and climb the Pynchon ladder once more. Start small, with his most petite work.

As soon as I started reading I immediately noticed how many writers attempt to copy his style. And how flawlessly they fail at this. It’s a common misconception among start-up writers that big words, twisting and bending language, can make one’s writing appear intelligent or complex. Often it just makes you sound like an asshole with a thesaurus. The reason it works with Pynchon is because he’s got something backing up the words: a tightly knit story to tell. I fell into that trap too when I was starting out. Playing with the cake frosting of goofy and meticulous language. I quickly learned that if you don’t have any passion or drive to move the story along those words are going to sabotage your story and your audience won’t care enough to continue.

A problem I have with the conflict: Why does Oedipa even care about unearthing the Tristero? I understand that she gets sucked into the intrigue eventually, like if a friend stops just short of revealing a juicy piece of gossip. There is no way you can continue life without knowing what your friend was going to say. Oedipa becomes obsessed, each clue pulling her further down the rabbit hole. I get that. What I don’t get is why she cared in the first place? Was she just bored? Her life with Mucho was boring as shit. She didn’t really have anything else going on, so why not solve a mystery, why not have a fling with your dead ex-boyfriend’s lawyer. I dunno, maybe I just missed it in the begining. I do that a lot when reading language-heavy books. My eyes keep following the words, but my mind is off wondering what my friends are doing or trying to decide what to make for dinner. When I come to I realize I’ve missed important parts of the story. Then I have to go back to the parts I skipped. And that’s why I read slower than a tree sloth that’s eaten a whole plate of weed brownies.

Symbolism can sometimes be a dangerous thing. Find a little bit of it somewhere and you start looking for it everywhere. You start to see things that aren’t really there. And it can drive you insane.

One down, 119 to go…

Stumbled upon UK illustrator and book cover design virtuoso  Adam Simpson and found his cover for last year’s Up a Tree in the Park at Night with a Hedgehog by Aussie writer P. Robert Smith. It’s rare you find yourself looking at a book cover for more than three to five seconds. This one won’t let you take your eyes off it until you’ve figured out what’s going on with every tiny Where’s Waldo-esque character. You are amazing, Adam!

A goal of mine this year is to read 120 books. Novels, short stories, nonfiction, chapbooks, journals, and the odd graphic novel (those count, btw). That’s more than two books a week. I’m not entirely positive I can reach this goal as I read slower than a stoned, constipated turtle riding a glacier to harvest molasses in the Arctic circle. But the way I see it, even if I don’t reach the final 120, at least I read shit ton of books. I figured it would go much better if I kept an ongoing list. This is it so far:

1. Await Your Reply – Dan Choan

2 Fugue State – Brain Evenson

3. Baby Leg – Brian Evenson

4. The Ask – Sam Lypsite

5. Slumberland – Paul Beatty

6. Temporary People – Steven Gillis

7. Zeitoun – Dave Eggers

8. How Some People Like Their Eggs – Sean Lovelace

9. One Hour of Television – Kristina Born

10. Everything Here is the Best Thing Ever – Justin Taylor

11. Midnight Picnic – Nick Antosca

12. We did Porn – Zak Smith

13. The Lazarus Project – Aleksandar Hemon

14. The Satanic Verses – Salman Rushie

15. Texaco – Patrick Chamoiseau

That’s all I got lined up so far. Mostly it’s a bunch of books I meant to read last year but have been putting off for one reason or another. What’s on your list this year?

(I’m on GoodReads, btw. I just got on so I haven’t done anything to my account. But go ahead and friend me or add me or whatever it is you’re supposed to do on this site.)

Now that the turbines of the new year are slowly howling to life, it’s time to remind you that the Holiday in Cambodia project is still happening. And the deadline is a mere 10 days away!

No doubt things have quieted down for you somewhat. The kids are plunked down in front of their new dopamine-releasing game console. Customers at work have stopped acting like outright assholes, now just disoriented, as if the Christmas monster truck had come up behind them, roared over top of them, the giant rear axle missing their skulls by inches. The world is generally asking less of you and there is nothing to do with this misplaced rage and overall unhappiness toward the holiday madness that we put ourselves through every year. But wait! There is something you can do! And it’s for a good cause!

Send us your story of the crazy holiday bullshit you had to deal with this year. Send us the story of your cousin calling his sister the c-word in front of everyone right before you all sat down to Christmas dinner. Send us your story of getting delayed seven hours in the airport when  you had nothing to do but flirt with the middle aged man with a cloud of black hair and a George Clooney chin, only to have his trench coated wife walk up on the both of you while you were giving him an amateur palm reading. Send us the story of walking in on your Pastor smoking weed in the bathroom.

These things happen. You need to express them. That’s what we’re here for. And we’re donating all the proceeds to helping young Cambodian women make zines!

Send your submissions to holiday [at] annalemma [dot] net. There is a submissions fee on a sliding scale. Login to paypal and click the ‘send money’ tab to the email address above, any amount you feel is fair. Try to keep it under 3000 words, please. True stories only. The only Santa Claus that should appear in your story is the one at Macy’s that smells of Christian Brothers. Bring it!

Hope the holiday break was as reinvigorating for everyone else as it was for us. My computer took a shit and I had to get it fixed, hence the crickets and tumbleweeds over in this little corner of the internet for the past week or so. It was nice to step away for a bit, but I did get the feeling like the world was jogging away from me while I sat in a lawn chair and sipped hot chocolate and peppermint schnapps. Time to get off my ass! Time to get off your ass! Time to catch up with the world! Time to jog up to it and goose it as you run by it, then run backwards to face it and give it the two-fingers-to-the-eyes-I’m-watching-you move and then turn on the afterburners!

So what happened while we were away?

Someone came up with the best idea I’ve seen in a long time: Oprah, Read This [via]

Some people unleashed a final avalanche of year end lists and this guy made the definitive one. [via]

Some stuff got expensive.

Some big guns came to the aid of a Chinese writer.

Or wait, was this the definitive year-end list?

What else…um, some asshole set himself on fire on a plane, that blue cat alien movie made a shit-ton more money, and Rush Limbaugh didn’t die.

Some randomness from my week without cyber drugs:

Oh hey, Lexy. Who are you gchatting with?

Oh hey, Steve. Why’d you just close that gchat window?

Walking home from the store we found a park. I said it would be a perfect place to throw a ball or a ‘bee around. Magically, these were on the bench, waiting for us.

I lit off fireworks and danced on New Years Eve.

I drank but did not get drunk. While the ladies were inside dancing, the men leaned against a strangers car and talked about relationships. The first New Years where I felt old. I did not feel good or bad about being old. Just okay with it.

We bought fish. Not for keeping…

But for releasing.

To start the year off with some good karma.

In hindsight I realize this could potentially be environmentally irresponsible, releasing a goldfish into an ecosystem that isn’t used to it. I imagine I’d have a tsunami of bad karma coming my way if I destroyed an entire habitat.

Shit. Need to think these things through more.

Oh well. Here’s to hoping they don’t tip the balance too much.

I know I said we were gonna take off for the break but it just felt wrong to leave you hanging out there in the wind like that. We need to stick together in this world, so we’re going to be keeping it chill here over the break instead of ceasing all communications.

Anyway:

I got my issues with The Rumpus. Sometimes they can be a little too NY and SF focused and can kinda forget that anything of artistic and literary merit is happening anywhere else in the country. And also, after some pretty admirable efforts on my part to do what little promotion I can with the small amount of credibility I have to promote Stephen Elliott’s book, I have yet to get that attention reciprocated onto me and my project. Wouldn’t kill them to link to some of the cool shit that happens here. Not that that’s why I dedicated all that time and money to pumping up Adderall Diaries. It’s a damn fine book by a damn fine writer, and I believe in both. Wouldn’t kill him to show a little appreciation over there is all. I’m just saying.

Whatever. The Rumpus is cool. I’m just airing some sour grapes. It’s kind of petty to be ripping on one of the few places on the internet for things of substance. And I’m starting to sound like the nerd who wasn’t invited to the party.

My favorite thing they got goin on nowadys is Pornographic Barn Owl. Simple, subtle, sublime. Often laugh-out-loud funny, sometimes sweetly sad, always hilariously honest. Imagine if Raymond Pettibon was way funnier and drew a weekly strip. I’m waiting for the collected works of Ian Huebert to come out. I will buy that shit.

Geez, I thought I was supposed to be keeping it chill…

Before we bust out for the break, we’ve decided to leave you with a feature that I’m really excited about. Read Dawn Sperber’s If the River Men Take You. It’s a bit longer than some of the stuff we’ve been posting lately but it’s worth it. A fine story to ease you into the holiday.

Not sure what you have planned but we’re going to be spending as much time as possible in a warm bed chipping away at the book pile, eating very fatty foods with friends, sipping hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps, and pretending that we have the metabolism of a humming bird and that a walk around the neighborhood counts as enough exercise to burn off the excess calories.

We hope you’ve enjoyed the direction we’ve taken things this year and we hope to take the magazine in new and exciting directions in 2010. If you’ve been coming back here week after week and reading the stories we’ve been posting and feel that they’ve resonated with you somehow then we’d like to hear about it! Post something in the comments, it’s always nice to hear from the readers. And a big thanks to those of you that have commented on the stories. We hope the year is coming to a peaceful close for you and we all get the rest we deserve before we settle into the oncoming frozen months.

See you in 2010!

Thanks to anuragyagnik for the image.

Things over at the Holiday in Cambodia project are going along swimmingly. So far we’ve had contributions and submissions from lovely people like Todd Dills, Doug Bond, Liz Grover, and Roxane Gay.

All this participation brings our donation total up to $100, and now that I’ve decided to match all the donations this brings our grand total up to $200! That’s $200 going to teach young Cambodian women how to make zines. Which is the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever heard of.

The mother of all American holidays is coming up! All your crazy family members are going to be in one place driving each other nuts! You know that one Aunt or Uncle that ends up drinking way too much and saying something offensive/cringe-inducing/lie-exposing/overtly-racist to your girlfriend or boyfriend who is meeting your family for the first time? Well, now you can turn that uncomfortable moment into something positive by writing it down and sending it to us to publish in a zine, the proceeds of which will go to an amazing cause. Notepads and pens at the ready…and…GO!

Hey! So I really wanted to do a “best of” list, just cause everyone else was doing them and everyone else seems to be getting lots of hits on their site and I want lots of hits on my site so people will be psyched on my shit and ultimately love me because that’s why anyone does any creative work. Should be noted that making lists of things should never ever be considered “creative work” and the blog culture of “this is some shit I think is cool” really pisses me off because people get popular by expressing themselves through other peoples work and the people who actually create stuff are never get nearly as much recognition as the people who pump their shit up. Which is unfair and makes me grit my teeth. Lists!

Best YouTube vid: Shorewood Lip Dub.

One of the commenters on the YouYube page said it best: “I wish my highschool was this cool.” Imagining a high school banding together for a project like this is nothing short of inspiring. I think about my high school experience with the cliques and the rivalry and the anxiety and the balls-out primal hatred that oozed off the walls and the fact that every type of kid from the rockers to the step group kids to the cheerleaders to the class president to the administrative staff simply blows my mind.

Best Band Name: Truman Peyote

Sometimes joke band names are groaners. They’re charming in how truly terrible they are. But sometimes two words can tell you everything you need to know about band and the music that they make.

Best Nonfiction: Lost City of Z

I don’t know about you but the tidal wave of optimism we were riding at the end of ’08 and into the beginning of ’09 crested for me around February or march and I got really down on the world. I didn’t really feel like reading anymore nonfiction wake-up calls. I already look at everything from grocery store produce to unfiltered tap water with a general suspicion, I just didn’t feel like turning another rock over to see the nastiness that thrived underneath. Why not read about one of the last of the Victorian explorers trying to find El Dorado and the New York Times writer that became obsessed with him?

Best Fiction: Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned

I’m a story type of guy. Tell your story well and I’m yours. Have a good ending and I’ll love you for life. Wells Tower’s endings are like receiving a glittering award statuette just for being your awesome self. Not always happy. Not always sad, but always leaving you with the perfect balance of closure and the desire to hear more.

Best Movie: Where The Wild Things Are

I fucking love this movie and I don’t care who knows it.

Best Album: Cass McCombs – Catacombs

Listen to You Saved My Life and tell me you don’t get chills in the chorus and you start to feel a bittersweet pang in your stomach.

Best Blog: HTMLGIANT

This is the pulse. Have your finger on it or be an ancient relic. Looking forward to see where Blake Butler and company take things in 2010.

Best Tumblr: Yimmy’s Yayo

Maybe I like this Tumblr just cause I’m a guy and I like sexy photos, but I can’t scroll down any given page of Yimmy’s without saying “Jesus God!” out loud in raw admiration fo the images I see there. This man has impeccable taste. And maybe I’m a little biased cause he posted my brother’s music video.

Best Music Video: Feel it All Around

Yeah, I’m biased. But this video is still the fucking raddest thing I’ve ever seen.

Yesterday I gave a listen to contributor Roxane Gay‘s podcast over at The Collagist (it’s an amazing story,btw. Takes about half an hour but it’s more than worth it. Flip it on while folding laundry or doing dishes) and it got me thinking about all the cool shit that happens over at PANK. I’ve never actually read a print version. That’s gonna change. I ordered their Jan. 2010 issue as well as Aaron Burch’s upcoming chapbook as a Christmas gift to myself. I suggest you do the same for the lit nerd in your life.

Best of 2009 list coming Monday!