I finally feel like writing tonight, but I’m not sure where to start and what to write about. Strange, the way I work; all of these ideas—really, countless and wonderful ideas, so visually clear, sometimes even scene for scene, but when it comes to putting them down, no matter how well I know them, or how well I know the freeing, euphoric feeling of being “in it,” that is, writing a blitz, I have the hardest time actually DOING it. Probably because of my fear of failure. I’m sure that is what it all must come down to. My dad is the same way. My dad who had his little birthday yesterday. He is one year away from sixty. That will make him very old. One of the ladies I work with at night is nearly seventy-five. She is very old. But Dad seems older.
Tonight I finished reading The Talented Mr. Ripley. I like the film very much, it’s a complex, dark piece, and once I discovered that Highsmith was the same author of the similiarly themed Strangers on a Train, I definitely wanted to give at least one of her books a go. This book is terrific. She writes very bravely and with great certainty, which is impressive given the time in which she wrote and her subjects of murder amongst the upper class. Her ability to create sympathy for a sociopath is interesting. Her ability to make you an anxious wreck as you turn the page, fearing for Tom but also for his victims is such a skill. I think writers must take an awful risk when they write from a killer’s perspective, especially one as strange and sensitive as Tom Ripley.
According to Goodreads I am not quite on my book-schedule. A few behind, it would seem. Well. That’s something to be conquered this month. I started reading the first few pages of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo this evening, not wanting to stop my reading roll. I didn’t really have much interest in touching the thing, except that several people here have recommended it to me and my good friend in Texas is reading the series before she sees the upcoming movie (which, if the trailer is any indication, will be impressive), and it’s always nice to be able to discuss what I’ve recently read. It doesn’t happen often, though that may be because I don’t read many contemporary books, exception of Jonathan Safran Foer and a sampling of Eggers and Hornby, although, I just noticed, each of those authors writes with a decidedly nonfiction/confessional bent. Interesting! ANYWAY. I’m in the midst of two biographies (Lewis Carroll, JD Salinger), one autobiography, a how-to screenwriter’s advice etc book, a book about Chaucer, a book about multiple personalities, and a fictional account of a zombie war. That’s how I do. Once those are done-ish I’m going to venture into philosophy land (that is, dip my toes) with Nietzsche’s Birth of Tragedy, and then back over to popular contemporary stuff with The Hunger Games. Haven’t read many classics this year, which is weird ‘cause that seems to be what I usually read. I think the only other big classic I’m going to conquer this time around will be The Cancer Ward, because you can’t have a year without a Russian classic. Plus, with all the ND snow that I’m preparing for, Russian literature will put me in the mood. Add a little Plato, a little C.S. Lewis, a dash of Hemingway and one more F. Scott Fitzgerald… THERE ARE TOO MANY BOOKS IN THE WORLD OH MY GOSH.
Tomorrow, in spite of the fact that I do not have a working Ringo, I am going to begin my for-real gym regime. I’ve been going lately, but the whole no-car thing has thrown a wrench into it all. But rain or shine, it’s gonna happen, kids. And good eats, too. Today was officially my last day of eating badly. No more fast food, unless it’s something crafty like a grilled something or a salad something. I have a wedding to go to in November and I plan on not looking like a giant whale.
So far as my new year’s resolutions went, I kinda suck. I’m gonna get back to the guitar stuff though.