can't judge a book by looking at the cover
04.17.04 @ 11:20 p.m.
Guess what? Even as a soundtrack, The Kids Are Alright! The Living End are fighting with Modern Artillery! For the low, low price of less than $5, Dorian Gray stays eternally young while his portrait ages. Also, The Joy of Cooking reckons you need to know how to cook squirrel, opossum, porcupine, muskrat, woodchuck, beaver and armadillo. MMMM.
Actually, I just got completely distracted reading the bread and coffee cake recipes in Joy of Cooking. Hurr. I'm going to end up becoming 'cooking geek' but I suppose it could be worse. I really need to learn some kitchen skills (apart from the loose basics I have) and I'd like to diversify outside "Chicken Stir-Fry" and "Lemon Pepper Chicken." Also, "Pasta with jarred sauce" is one of the few semi-work intensive meals I make. Pretty much everything else is instant or frozen.
The nonsensical paragraph at the beginning was meant to indicate that I went on a bit of a purchasing spree today. Mom and I went to the library first, which resulted in my usual 10+ free books off the paperback exchange, but also $15 worth of books off the sale shelf. I bought two Ophelia books, which are story books about this stuffed bear who is a French shopkeeper. Some time ago I was given Ophelia's English Adventure by I don't remember who, but I loved it and named a dog Ophelia. The new ones are Ophelia's World and Ophelia's Voyage to Japan. Their purchase brought up bitterness when I was reminded that a couple of fancy bears I had as a kid ended up at my alcoholic grandmother's house, likely because the one time our kennel won a Best In Show, the prize was a really expensive teddy bear in a wicker chair. I had a lady bear with a similar chair, and both of them went to Grandma's house because... I guess my dad thought it was cute. Anyway, my fucking grandmother and uncle have little respect for personal property and... well. Some of my bears ended up in the jaws of dogs. I am angry even after something like ten years. But that's probably because it's all been brought to mind and my sense of indignant outrage is easily activated.
Uh. Where was I? Oh, books. So what actually started the frenzy was a $1 copy of a Louisa May Alcott book that looked interesting. There was also a 1988 SF collection (I loves me my science fiction), and The Road to Wellville, about the inventor of Corn Flakes, peanut butter, and crazy Victorian remedies and diets. A Victorian Dr. Atkins, perhaps, but from what I remember of the movie of this book, there were a lot of shenanigans going on at Dr. Kellogg's spa. (With Matthew Broderick and John Cusak! Damn, I gotta rent that movie.)
We went to Target but didn't buy anything. I had hoped The Joy of Cooking would be there so I could use up my Target giftcard, but it wasn't. We went to Barnes & Noble instead, which is actually a delightful place. The clearance area is tempting, tempting. I thought about a little book on rock history for $3, partly because they had a shot from Quadrophenia (with Jimmy's posse on the road to Brighton) captioned as a genuine photo of mods. That amused me.
Our last stop was Wherehouse Music, and we tried to go quickly because we're still paranoid about my dog and her pregnancy. Mostly we wanted to get my dad's birthday presents so we wouldn't have to go out again. He's getting Bob Dylan's Live 1964 and a Johnny Cash CD, though I can't remember the specific title. I got the soundtrack to TKAA because I wanted the Rolling Stones Rock and Roll Circus verison of "A Quick One While He's Away" and I always see it at that Wherehouse. And the Living End's most recent CD... because I could. One of the things I love about coming home is that my parents inexplicably just throw money at me. You need cash? Oh, you want to buy this CD? This book? Okay. And here, take a $20. Empty nest guilt? Maybe. Am I exploiting it? Er, yeah. Totally. Actually, a large part of the time it's things I need. The cookbook was a necessity.
But all morning, I listened to nostalgia inducing things. I found my 1997 Japanese pop compliation and surprised myself by being able to still sing along with something that is now incomprehensible to me. ("Melty Love! Ha na sa ma-ee!" etc.) I also found the tape that I used to record myself talking at the tender age of six. Holy fuck, I was the biggest brat. About a third of the tape is me shouting at my sister, Joanne, either demanding that she talk on the tape or telling her to "SHUSHIE, JOANNIE!" Also, there are six minutes of my brother doing less than politcally correct impressions (it was early 1989, he was almost 17) telling me I am "a bootyhead" for not letting my sister use my radio. I made a WAV file of it, but it's 3 MB. I might upload it to my webspace and link it anyway. It makes me literally fall to the floor laughing, but perhaps that's just because I know my brother so well.
Okay. End blathering.
[title: possibly misremembered Bo Diddley]
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
