I've been thinking recently about how much faster I used to read compared with how fast I read now. I've been telling myself that I do it on purpose so that I can better appreciate the words and what they mean and what they might mean and this or that string of words is something to be savored slowly. Better, thought I, to walk through the lovely garden to better see and examine all the flowers individually than to run through so I could see the next garden because it too is lovely and perhaps the one after that is more lovely still. This is what I've been telling myself.
This morning I started wondering if it was actually true.
Did you know that if you tell yourself something over and over again eventually you can convince yourself that it's true and you will believe it even if it isn't? I read a study a couple of years back that found that every person in the world has memories of things that never happened owing to this type of thing. All of us. So I wondered about this in relation to my reading (thinking about it in relation to every memory I have will do nothing but drive me further down the road to crazy town) and decided to put it to the test.
I snatched a book off the top of a stack this morning and dove in with the intent to read it fast. Fast fast. Like old times fast with the pedal to the floor like the devil was on my tail.
Oy.
A couple of hours later I was done and realized I hadn't enjoyed it much. Not nearly as much as was warranted. I felt kind of bleh and my eyes hurt. It's late at night now and they STILL hurt. Bad idea all the way around. What the hell was I thinking? It seems so idiotic now. I can't ever read the book again for the first time and my eyes hurt all the live long day. Nitwit.
Anyway, I told you that to tell you this:
Walk, don't run.
Stop and look around sometimes.
Sit down and think on it for a good long while.
There's no need to race especially if you're the only one on the road.
Enjoy your journeys even when it means you're going to have fewer of them.
Good night.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Monday, July 16, 2007
Five Things IV: The Revenge
It occurs to me that I like things. A lot of things. Sometimes when I'm filled with the desire to punish myself I'll try to talk to people about some of the things I like. Turns out that even when people like things that are awesome (everything I like is automatically awesome based on the fact that I like it) they are still morons. Is it enough that they like awesome things? No, no it is not. I give you:
Five things I like that I hate the other fans of
1. Tool. We've talked about Tool before and you know that of all the bands actively making music today they are my favorite. Their other fans are mostly annoying idiots. To say nothing of the usual shit you have to hear after the release of each new album, IE, that they've started to suck (this is not, of course, unique to Tool as it happens to every band ever) which is annoying but not as annoying as those that continue being fans.
They completely miss the point which is impressive because there tend to be several points and they tend to be pretty fucking big. I don't even know that much about musical theory but I know that Tool does and that they push boundaries on virtually every song. Each member is highly skilled, particularly the drummer who is on a whole other level and the singer wields his voice like an instrument. A lot of singers claim to do this but very few actually do. Their disregard for conventional songwriting and the ridiculous amount of layers to the songs and hot damn is this shit amazing.
Then you hear someone talk about them and it's idiotic nitwittery at its finest. No appreciation for any of the subtle work involved, no understanding of the lyrics. Nothing. At the other end of the spectrum are the freaks that will tell you that they astral project and meet Adam Jones in the astral plane where they make sweet monkey love for days at a time.
I'm sorry, what? OK you twits, do less drugs. Ugh, I fucking hate them all.
2. Neil Gaiman. I've been a Gaiman fan since way back when he took over Miracleman from Alan Moore (this series is easily one of the best ever, bar none) and I've been hooked ever since. Black Orchid, Sandman, Books of Magic, the short stories and the novels and oh my is this guy the best story teller of this generation? He just might be.
I've run into other fans from time to time but when he came to a local convention and did some panels and signings I got to see lots of his fans right up close. It's not pretty. They tend to be one of two types, either a drooling Sandman fan or a drooling American Gods fan. Emphasis on the drool. The Sandman fan can also be a Death fan complete with an outfit to match and bad hair dye and eye makeup and both types will go on and on about their chosen obsession and after listening to them for several minutes you realize they haven't actually said anything.
It's like they try to make the rest of us look bad.
There he was sitting on the stage and being charmingly British and they asked a bunch of insipid questions and the rest of the crowd was hanging onto each word because it was the same question they were going to ask. Refer back to people missing the point by a country mile. If you get into a discussion about the influences of different Sandman story lines or his obviously large knowledge of myth and folklore that displays itself in his prose writing you get blank looks from these people. I don't want to hate, they MAKE me hate.
3. Fight Club. Now I enjoyed both the book and the film but unfortunately so did a bunch of other people. Mostly middle class white kids that didn't understand either book or movie and then thought that being fans of one or the other made them transform into tough guys. Sorry suburban white kid, you're still a fucking douche that couldn't win a real fight if the other guy was tied down.
For years I was subjected to hearing these idiots quoting Tyler Durden and puffing out their chests and if you ever actually ask one of them if they realize that the story isn't really about Tyler Durden at all you'll get nothing but blank or confused looks. I wanted to punch every one of them that I came in contact with so bad that thinking about it made my pant covered area tingle.
No offense white folks but most of you are seriously, SERIOUSLY fucking irritating.
4. Literature. When I say literature I mean the kind of books you have to read in school. You know the stuff, gets its own section in most book stores so it doesn't have to rub elbows with regular or, God forbid, genre fiction. The other people that like this tend to fall into one of several categories and all of them are annoying on a level that makes me itch for violence.
There are the people that read it but don't understand it yet act as though they do and are vastly more superior than other people. These are easy to spot because they can't actually have a conversation about literature but they'll still attempt to look down their noses at you after you've discovered that they are brain dead.
Then you have the type that will only read literature and would never dare stoop to reading anything else. These are the bulk of them from what I've seen and if one of them accidentally reads something else and it turns out to be good then they all adopt the writer as one of their own but will still be snooty about the way that they "slum" in the wretched ghetto of genre fiction. Ray Bradbury is one example of this.
The thing about both of these groups is that a lot of them will only read the most famous stuff and disregard the rest. For example they will read Orwell's 1984 and Animal Farm but not The Clergyman's Daughter or his essays or they will read Heller's Catch-22 but none of his other books. This makes zero sense to me and I can never get a good explanation out of any of them. If you say that Writer A is great and that their Book A is great then why wouldn't you actively seek out their other work? How far up your own ass is your head buried? Can you actually taste your own esophagus yet? It doesn't make any damn sense!
5. Oxygen. Everywhere I go I see herds of useless people sucking up all the oxygen. Do they appreciate it on the level that I do? No. But there they go, using it all up and continuing on with their lives.
Fuckers.
Five things I like that I hate the other fans of
1. Tool. We've talked about Tool before and you know that of all the bands actively making music today they are my favorite. Their other fans are mostly annoying idiots. To say nothing of the usual shit you have to hear after the release of each new album, IE, that they've started to suck (this is not, of course, unique to Tool as it happens to every band ever) which is annoying but not as annoying as those that continue being fans.
They completely miss the point which is impressive because there tend to be several points and they tend to be pretty fucking big. I don't even know that much about musical theory but I know that Tool does and that they push boundaries on virtually every song. Each member is highly skilled, particularly the drummer who is on a whole other level and the singer wields his voice like an instrument. A lot of singers claim to do this but very few actually do. Their disregard for conventional songwriting and the ridiculous amount of layers to the songs and hot damn is this shit amazing.
Then you hear someone talk about them and it's idiotic nitwittery at its finest. No appreciation for any of the subtle work involved, no understanding of the lyrics. Nothing. At the other end of the spectrum are the freaks that will tell you that they astral project and meet Adam Jones in the astral plane where they make sweet monkey love for days at a time.
I'm sorry, what? OK you twits, do less drugs. Ugh, I fucking hate them all.
2. Neil Gaiman. I've been a Gaiman fan since way back when he took over Miracleman from Alan Moore (this series is easily one of the best ever, bar none) and I've been hooked ever since. Black Orchid, Sandman, Books of Magic, the short stories and the novels and oh my is this guy the best story teller of this generation? He just might be.
I've run into other fans from time to time but when he came to a local convention and did some panels and signings I got to see lots of his fans right up close. It's not pretty. They tend to be one of two types, either a drooling Sandman fan or a drooling American Gods fan. Emphasis on the drool. The Sandman fan can also be a Death fan complete with an outfit to match and bad hair dye and eye makeup and both types will go on and on about their chosen obsession and after listening to them for several minutes you realize they haven't actually said anything.
It's like they try to make the rest of us look bad.
There he was sitting on the stage and being charmingly British and they asked a bunch of insipid questions and the rest of the crowd was hanging onto each word because it was the same question they were going to ask. Refer back to people missing the point by a country mile. If you get into a discussion about the influences of different Sandman story lines or his obviously large knowledge of myth and folklore that displays itself in his prose writing you get blank looks from these people. I don't want to hate, they MAKE me hate.
3. Fight Club. Now I enjoyed both the book and the film but unfortunately so did a bunch of other people. Mostly middle class white kids that didn't understand either book or movie and then thought that being fans of one or the other made them transform into tough guys. Sorry suburban white kid, you're still a fucking douche that couldn't win a real fight if the other guy was tied down.
For years I was subjected to hearing these idiots quoting Tyler Durden and puffing out their chests and if you ever actually ask one of them if they realize that the story isn't really about Tyler Durden at all you'll get nothing but blank or confused looks. I wanted to punch every one of them that I came in contact with so bad that thinking about it made my pant covered area tingle.
No offense white folks but most of you are seriously, SERIOUSLY fucking irritating.
4. Literature. When I say literature I mean the kind of books you have to read in school. You know the stuff, gets its own section in most book stores so it doesn't have to rub elbows with regular or, God forbid, genre fiction. The other people that like this tend to fall into one of several categories and all of them are annoying on a level that makes me itch for violence.
There are the people that read it but don't understand it yet act as though they do and are vastly more superior than other people. These are easy to spot because they can't actually have a conversation about literature but they'll still attempt to look down their noses at you after you've discovered that they are brain dead.
Then you have the type that will only read literature and would never dare stoop to reading anything else. These are the bulk of them from what I've seen and if one of them accidentally reads something else and it turns out to be good then they all adopt the writer as one of their own but will still be snooty about the way that they "slum" in the wretched ghetto of genre fiction. Ray Bradbury is one example of this.
The thing about both of these groups is that a lot of them will only read the most famous stuff and disregard the rest. For example they will read Orwell's 1984 and Animal Farm but not The Clergyman's Daughter or his essays or they will read Heller's Catch-22 but none of his other books. This makes zero sense to me and I can never get a good explanation out of any of them. If you say that Writer A is great and that their Book A is great then why wouldn't you actively seek out their other work? How far up your own ass is your head buried? Can you actually taste your own esophagus yet? It doesn't make any damn sense!
5. Oxygen. Everywhere I go I see herds of useless people sucking up all the oxygen. Do they appreciate it on the level that I do? No. But there they go, using it all up and continuing on with their lives.
Fuckers.
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