In the absence of an actual idea

Hello, my little army of none. I have been away, both literally and generally, and doing that thing I often do of not writing anything because the thing I have in my mind to write is so amazing and comprehensive that to write something less, or to embark on the writing of it with anything less than a wide prairie of time to devote to its full discovery, would be tantamount to treason*. Next thing you know, you look up and it's goddamn August, and you haven't said a word about the great play you saw in NYC (on Broadway, no less: The Pillowman! Super great, even if it was ultimately a minor work. If all theater was so engaging, so smart, so well acted, so inventively designed, I would have no problem spending $100 per ticket; it's the mediocre $10 shows that kill you. And by "you" I mean, of course, the entire medium.), the stultifying boredom of a week in Hawaii (72 hours is all you need), the incredible surge of relief and pride that accompanies receipt of the final artwork copies of the new Harvey Danger record (five years of anxiety lifted from one's shoulders in one gloriously designed and printed artifact), or, indeed, the advent of a new, completely alien job (this one's going to have to be its own blog, i'm afraid; i actually am afraid...). No, indeed. You've even started referring to yourself in the second person. Can third person be far behind? I'll ask him.

(*apologies to Michael Nesmith)

No, instead, I offer this meager survey, in the hopes that time's winged chariot will let me ride bitch in the near future.


1) Total number of books I've owned: Easily into the thousands. Has to be. I bet there are at least 1,000 in the apartment now, with boxes more in storage. I think I always assume I'm going to one day live the fantasy of limitless unbroken time to devote to reading, or that I'll one day have a big house with a proper library, ripe for bequeathing. I think we both know that's never going to happen. I'm going to die with a candy bar in my mouth watching the west wing. still...


2) The last book I bought:
The Brothers Karamazov (seventh time's a charm)
Fever Pitch by Nick Hornby
Craven House by Patrick Hamilton

3) The last book I read:
Re-read "Sabbath's Theater" during my recent travels. It's every bit as powerful and dark as I remembered. Might very well be Roth's finest hour. Now I'm in the middle of "What A Carve Up!" by Jonathan Coe, which is really good, but smacks hard of Amis, which I don't mind too much, actually, but still...

4) Five books that mean a lot to me (in no particular order)
Lolita; Sabbath's Theater; Slouching Towards Bethlehem; Raise High The Roofbeam, Carpenters/ Seymour, An Introduction; Tallien, A Brief Romance.

Total volume of music files on my computer: approximately 13,500 (or 57 gigs) on iPod (shh... don't tell the boss!), 1,288 songs (or 6.34 gigs) on personal laptop.

Last CD I bought: Stranded, Roxy Music.

Album playing right now: Nothing right now (who can type and listen at the same time?), but Let's Go Sailing is on in the car.

Five songs/albums I listen to a lot these days:
Court & Spark by Joni Mitchell, for the book I can't finish. (and b/c it RULES.)
Let's Go Sailing (s/t), an unreleased gem that will be adored, esp. "Better Off."
Slender Means, I don't know the title, but the album rules.
Four For Foer by "Awesome," you wish you had a copy.
Little By Little... by Harvey Danger, I must confess. I play it almost every day. Sad, really.

Exactly

"One thing can be said and that is that I am no longer sure of anything. I think I’m pretty safe there. Though it may be that I am perfectly certain on all matters. It’s difficult. But to make some sort of sensible beginning, I’ll speak of a definite time in my youth. As a boy I spent five years making a nine inch by four inch by two inch wooden box. Whilst others worked on their canoes, wardrobes, and garden sheds, I laboured on my box. And it was a proud day that I held the finished article up before my eyes. I took it to show the master and he said it was the most miserable piece of woodwork he had ever seen and destroyed it with a mallet. So it was that I turned away from all creative pursuits, until now, when I begin to fashion something for myself something of my own. Though this time I shan’t be taking so long about it. I intend to get it over with very quickly. And this is it. My first attempt since the box. I’ve told you the worst. If you want to turn away now, it’s up to you. It’s a gamble. There’s always the possibility I might drag on for years as with the box. But I don’t think so, for I’m getting fed up already. But to continue: This time when I’m finished, I’ll just leave it lying around for anybody to see. I won’t take it like a fool to show anybody. Oh no, I’ve become wary of mallets…"-Bill Fay, from the liner notes to his first LP, 1970