And I Discovered It Because People Still Find My Site by Searching for “Kate Beckinsale shopping”

Kate Beckinsale and her family visit a comic book store. Somehow, I feel like this was probably tied in with promoting Underworld or some such thing. Still, her kid is obviously enjoying herself, and so is she. I took my son to his first Free Comic Book day a few weeks ago and had the same delightful experience. Yay comics!

Also, I wonder how many heart attacks were experienced by the staff and customers when she walked in?

It’s True!

 

I just read an article about a new study that discovered that I should start prefacing my opinions with either “According to this article I read…” or “I just read about a study that states…” because most people will believe ANY sentence that starts that way. I also read about a study in the same article that proved plantains can increase your lifespan and get your kids into good schools, but only if you shove them in your ears. It’s true! It was in, uh, Salon, or Granta maybe… possibly Field and Stream. I forget.

Pretty Cute

Last night I was standing alone in the kitchen at a party, sipping a cider, trying to get over my damned social awkwardness and inability to chat easily with new people. At once, a lady walked through with wild hair and clothes and a big smile on her face. Our eyes met and I said a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hey!” she replied. And usually that would be that.

Then she walked across the kitchen to where I stood, clinked my bottle with hers, and said, happily, “Hey, cheers!” Then left. It was a nice gesture that put me more at ease.

And during the toast I saw that she still had on her name tag from the event she’d been speaking at that morning.

It was Lynda Barry.

Thanks, Marlys.

RIP, Donna Summer

“One day in Berlin … Eno came running in and said, ‘I have heard the sound of the future.’ … he puts on ‘I Feel Love’, by Donna Summer … He said, ‘This is it, look no further. This single is going to change the sound of club music for the next fifteen years.’ Which was more or less right.” —David Bowie

Once Upon a Time, Blogs Were the Devil

You know, when you get right down to it, paper is a colossal waste of time. Everywhere you go, some jerkoff is just sitting there with a stack of paper in front of him, writing notes, doing work, recording some event or emotion for himself or others. You know what, man? I don’t give a shit about what you’re writing! Nobody does! Look at you, all smug and literate, recording words with ink or pencil. Acting like anything you’ve ever done in your entire life is worth memorializing. Where the hell do you get off, man?

And it’s such an invasion of privacy, the way they write things and then shove it in your face, like, “Here, motherfucker! Read this!” I don’t have TIME for that, man! You’re just flushing away your life, writing on paper, when you could be working or playing or building ships in bottles or sitting quietly. Why do you do that to yourself? And even though I don’t actually want to have a conversation with you, you paper-writer, why do you cut yourself off from me, man? It’s sad that we’ve become a society of antisocial misfits… like me.

And that’s why it’s ultimately pointless to bitch about social media.

The Novel

I’m finishing the final chapter of my book (though I still have to write the epilogue… that’s okay, wrap-ups are fun to write). Mostly, I’m stunned at what a litany of violence it’s becoming. As if all the evil ignored by the protagonists was busting through the dam, drowning them in beatings, brutality, and blood. The next step, once I’m done with this first draft, is paring it down from Moby Dick size to In Cold Blood size.

So let it be written. So let it be done.

Feel free to cheer me on. I could use the encouragement to finish it by Saturday.