COLD MAD MORNING

Oh my god... I just woke up from a dream that I can't entirely remember but I know it contained:

1) scenes of driving horribly, flipping over an SUV and so forth (clearly prompted by anxiety about doing a lot of driving in the near future);
2) the appearance of a woman I used to be obsessed with (clearly prompted by a recent conversation with ASB about this woman);
3) a scene of urinating copious quantities of blood (prompted by ????)

It's 24 degrees outside in New York right now. The wind chill is 7. I'm really glad I'm not going to work today.

Last night I finished writing a book review for this book. I liked it. First time I've written a book review in some time, I believe. They're harder to write than movie reviews (because, well, you have to read the book, which takes longer than seeing a movie, and because it seems like more care needs to go into it, somehow, and you as a reviewer are vulnerable in a different way since you're working in the same medium--prose--that was used to create the piece of art you're critiquing), but in some ways also easier (because you have the work right in front of you and you can quote from it--and should, extensively--to bolster your points and give the reader a sense of the book).

Lying beside me in bed right now is Teatro Grottesco. I hope to read some of it today, although I've got some other stuff to do (like writing). I read the Polanski article (link is abstract only) in the New Yorker last night... fascinating reading. The part about his autobiography describing how he recovered from the Tate murders by having sex with lots of European schoolgirls is pretty bizarre.

CHEAP JACKET

This morning I got a leather jacket at Beacon's Closet in Brooklyn. It's right next to ASB's place so I go there every week or so. It was $27 but I paid $12 because of an old voucher I had. It's obviously worth a lot more than that. What a pleasant place. Because they have only a small section for men's clothes, almost no men shop there, so it's easy to find good stuff (presumably women have it a bit harder since (a) the place is always filled with fashionable hipster girls who, I assume, can be trusted to grab the most interesting stuff right away and (b) the place is staffed by fashionable hipster girls, so the very best stuff for women probably never even makes it out for sale). I saw a winter coat there for $30 that probably cost $500 originally. It was too big for me. Then I came home. I posted on HTMLGiant about writing on the subway more recently. It was disgusting outside this morning. My anticipation for a warmer climate is almost a physical ache.

I finished reading a book today and now I have to write a review for it. I liked the book. I feel listless. I got hypnotized on Monday and it was really interesting. I'll write about it soon.

Also, I wasted most of the day.

WINTRY MIX

Okay, I will definitely take the Tolstoy and the Ligotti to the DR. Still deciding about the others.

That was some nasty stuff coming out of the sky yesterday. Today was prettier. But this whole weekend was a madness. I'm finally in bed with my laptop. The weekend was a strong fail on my part since I didn't do a lot of stuff I intended to do.

I'm considering taking a road trip after January. What better time, right? I don't have a day job, I've never seen a lot of the country, and it just got fucking cold as fuck and probably won't get better until March. Also, I need to learn how to drive.

Saw Up in the Air. Kind of a stoner movie, really. Like Jackie Brown in the sense that you just hang out with the characters for a while rather than follow the plot. Aside from an execrable, disgustingly patronizing/dishonest scene involving J.K. Simmons, and a couple bad moments with the always-unpleasant Danny McBride, the movie is really good. It's funny, Clooney does his usual thing, Farmiga is good, Anna Kendrick has a few surprises... yeah, it's good. The audience really liked it. I thought the ending was perfect--just right.

WHAT SHOULD I READ ON VACATION

I'm going to the Dominican Republic again soon. I have a stack of books beside my bed that I haven't read yet but want to read ASAP. I am trying to decide which ones to bring.

In addition to the ones I noted recently (The Other, Under the Dome, The Knife of Never Letting Go, Far North), there are:

Teatro Grottesco
Anna Karenina
Shadow Country
The Unconsoled
Wanderer

I won't be there for long enough to read all of them, especially if I intend to get writing done. So I must choose carefully.

*****

In the meantime, there is a lot of stuff to be done. The last 48 hours galloped away somehow. I went swimming.

WRONGFRED WINS CONTEST, GETS SHORT IN TIMES SQUARE

Wrongfred, who made the trailer for Midnight Picnic, won a contest for a short commercial that's now being played on a massive building in Times Square. Here's a New York Times post about it. Wrongfred is the same fellow I went to Nicaragua with a while back. Congratulations, my friend.

PORN BLOGS; LONG KNIVES FOR INSURANCE EXECS; DREAMS; PHOTOS; more

• I've been busy lately but accomplished very little. Half the day I just read blogs. This famous model killed herself and all the coverage (NYMag, Gawker, Daily Beast, etc) mentioned her blog and how witty and intelligent it was. I tried to read it (it's blocked now) but it seemed totally incoherent, like it was written by a kindergartner on acid. On the other hand, another blog directed me toward the blog of the former Penny Flame, an exceptionally talented porn star who went to "sex rehab" and now writes about it, and it's surprisingly cogent and well-written.
  
  
• Speaking of which, I don't think I ever mentioned this here, but I believe a story I had published on Nerve a while back is anthologized in Smut: Volume 2, their book. So if that's your thing, go to it.
  

• Cigna and Ceridian have informed me that my monthly rate for health insurance will go to ~$600 in April. Okay, then! I'll have to figure something else out. So it goes. Cigna and Ceridian executives, if I ran the world, this is you:
  
  
  
  
• I finished reading Todd Grimson's Stainless, a strange & surreal vampire novel that reminded me in a lot of ways of Midnight Picnic. It's eerie, lasting, and not like any other vampire novel I've read. Features a silent film actor who becomes a vampire and, many decades later, still lurks around L.A. cutting off heads and making them talk to each other. Brand New Cherry Flavor is still my favorite Grimson, though. I now need to read his first novel.
  
  
• I did a photo shoot yesterday with a charming author photographer whose apartment was remarkable. It reminded me of Grace Paley's apartment, which I was in once (well after her death--a friend was living there--but it was essentially preserved)... one of these ancient NY apartments, incredibly packed with books from floor to ceiling (a tinderbox, really), and halls so narrow they reminded me of nightmares I've had where I'm trapped in very close spaces. I have those nightmares all the time, about corridors and doorways and staircases that are much too small. The photo shoot was interesting/fun. I liked the pictures of me. Nothing's more flattering than a picture that makes you look better than you really look. (Although the photographer did say I have "duckling hair," which is kind of true... ever since I shaved my head, it's grown back much more thin & wispy. Since none of my genetic predecessors have this condition, I worry that it's related to Adderall use in the first 7 or 8 months of this year...)
  
  
• Years ago, a friend of my ex-girlfriend was in London at a photo exhibit and was startled to see a photo of her in one of the exhibits (this photo). The friend took a picture of the picture, which we later saw; D. had no idea that the photo had ever been taken (although it was clearly her, in the place where she'd grown up) and the friend couldn't remember the name of the photographer or any other details. Then later I came across the same photo at random looking through online photographs. I emailed the photographer--who was thrilled to find out who his subject was (and that, years later, she was a Yale student and not a prisoner or martyr or something), since he'd been receiving questions about the photo whenever it was displayed. It all comes back to mind now, because he just emailed her to say that he still constantly gets queries about it.
  
  
• My style of dreams was inherited from my mother, I think. I can remember breakfasts at home when I was a little kid... my mother sitting down and saying things to the effect of "I had this dream last night: I was in a huge mansion, but the center was all open space, so you could see up to the upper floors. And there were panthers up there! Big, dangerous panthers, covered in jewels. And they were talking in angry voices, but they didn't see me..." or "I was swimming in the ocean, this really beautiful blue ocean, where the water was crystal clear... and there were sharks everywhere! Huge sharks, thousands of them, so many they were bumping into me and each other..." [I actually had that exact same dream, much later.] Other people sometimes tell me they have boring dreams. I'm glad I have dreams like my mom.
  
  
• I'm going to Maryland for a few days, to eat Thanksgiving leftovers and relax. ASB is going to meet my parents. I told her don't worry about anything, just be aware that my parents are slightly old-fashioned and they don't like women who wear pants.