Musings

Earlier this week VH1 was showing a censored version of Showgirls. WTF? How can that sort of thing even be allowed? I mean, really, if you censor Showgirls, what do you have? An impoverished, diluted husk of a film void of any of the licentious and lascivious behavior that in fact made it such a guilty pleasure to watch. In short, you get jack-shit.

Censorship is bad people. Fight it. More boobs, less bombs on the boob tube.

Ok? Ok.

Moving on...

For a little bit I was reading A Soldier of the Great War by Mark Helprin. I say for a little bit because I left it (and my monthly train pass which was playing the part of a bookmark) on the train or on the roof of my car. Considering the trainpass runs me $185 it's a relatively expensive misplacement. I hope whoever found it enjoys the literary stylings of Mark Helprin and free travel on the MTA's Harlem Line for the rest of August.

As for why I lost it - I guess my mind was a bit preoccupied on the way home that day and the reason for that is big enough for it's own post in the near future. Suffice it to say I had bought a turkey sandwich for a homeless guy who looked a bit like Jesus and whose pet ferrets had starved to death / cooked to death in the 110 degree real-feel heat on the street that day. His name was Tim. I'll write about him again.

As for the book...it's reminiscent of Hemingway but Helprin's prose is a bit more mellifluous and Helprin's central character, Allesandro, so far, seems to be a brighter and more evocative character than Hemingway's Lt. Henry.

Instead of getting another copy for now, I wandered back down to the breakroom and picked up another book someone had dropped off. Running with Scissors is a true tale of a kid's fucked up life after his crazy ass mother dumps him off at her eccentric (and that's really a kind euphemism for "crazy fucker") pyschiatrist's house and his relationship with his mother and his new found family. Despite all that, there's enough familiar ground in there for me to be sympathetic, but enough whacked out crazy shit that makes me ever so thankful that I was not him. The day I start examining turds the way a gypsy looks at tea leaves is the day that I really really really better get some medication. If you are confused - read the book. It's a hoot - it's a good story and ultimately about how resilient we can be.

In another post I'll cover The Family 2005 reunion in Virginia Beach. I got to meet family I never met and see others that I had not seen for 30 years or so. A good time was had by all.