Haf bin Sl'pn
7 September 1998
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Haf bin Sl'pn
7 September 1998
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Now here's some practical advice:
WHAT YOU SHOULD SAY IF YOU MEET JESUSMay I complain? You might have a beef about the way things are goin in your life, and you may hold God to blame. But before you shoot off your mouth, remind yourself that Judgement Day is due to arrive soon after the Second Coming, and you want to stay on His good side.
Despite the confusion of a three-day weekend, I have reached its conclusion in classic style. To put it another way, I haven't done fuck-all today. So, I'll be brief, most likely.
What got today started was the end of yesterday. I went out briefly, maybe an hour and a half, and when I got back home around 2 AM I came down with a case of The Formless Fear. I don't know why, but then, that's the nature of it, isn't it? I plonked around the apartment for a little bit, sinking, and decided there was only one thing for it: the Big Book Cure.
So I went down to Safeway, thanking the LandLord of Urban Heaven for 24-hour supermarkets, to get some bad food and acceptable print. No fried chicken again, picked up some "teriyaki chicken wings" instead. Still no idea what they're actually like, though, because, duh I walked out of the store leaving half my groceries behind. The guy only pushed one bag at me, I suppose I thought it had everything in it. And there was this girl in line ahead of me, see...
But at least I made it home with the ginger ale and the book, which was No Safe Place by Richard North Patterson. Nice Low Church name that, eh? But snarkiness aside for the moment: it's a good book. No, it is. My expectations were minimal - medicinal - and I was surprised. I suppose I'm a sucker for the kind of story: the Presidential candidate who keeps getting in trouble for being honest and complicated. Even the dig at Jerry Brown at one point showed that the author at least knew the usual real-world fate of a character like that. (One of the reporters in the story says, 'I can't tell if I'm talking to a politician or a character in a novel.' Ha. Just so.) But I thought Kerry Kilcannon, the fictional candidate, was well done. The plot worked, it wasn't too dependent on "Gasp! You mean - !" twists though it veered close now and then. The secondary characters weren't as well drawn, but they had some nice touches.
Plus it was large and complex and it kept me occupied for hours, and that was all I was asking for anyway. Even so, it proved to only provide temporary relief from symptoms. Because when I woke up at whatever vague time this afternoon, nothing seemed worth doing so much as going back to sleep. It's a deep and tedious rut, this.
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
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All names are fake, most places are real, the
author is definitely
unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
© 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne. | ||||
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