They are making _The Help_ into a movie. The trailer makes it seem like some happy go lucky Fried Green Miss Daisy thing, but if it is anything remotely like the book I read…well. Let’s just say there are gonna be some disappointed folks who get a lot of grimness served up with a slice of stereotype. The book made me uncomfortable and I struggled to finish it. I doubt I’ll want to spend another two hours with that world, even if the trailer is right and the tone has shifted markedly.
I cant pick a world that I DO want to soend two hours in, though, and that’s becoming a problem. I’m almost done rewatcjing the Wire and so Im growing tired of Baltimore. I’m still reading the Washington bio at a snail’s pace; it really does deserve the Pulitzer, but at the same time I’m trying to make it last. It was an expensive book.
I just started waching _Sons of Anarchy_, figuring it could sub in for the Wire. I blame Francis Ford Coppola for my affinity to sprawling Family of Gangsters epics. Sadly, _SOA_ is maybe the Godfather 3 of gangster epics so far. Granted, I’ve only seen the one hour.
A week ago i met a writer named Patrick Todoroff on another blog. He was soliciting reviewers for his first novel and sent me a free copy. It’s sort of a cyberpunk thing and Im loving it so far. Really and truly. But i asked him for a PDF and the words are as tiny as my aspirations of being an Olympic Pole Vaulter. Which bugs, cause Im really into the story but cant read as much as I want withoutngetting a headache.
I get nervous when Im restless in my fiction consumption because it always seems to bode ill. Literally, i guess. This unsettledness seems to precede kidney stones or major flares, as though my body and brain crank up for awhile and then blow a fuse.
The only reason I can think of for recording this nonsense for posterity is that I’m trying to renew my vows to my blog. That means writing something every weekday. I’m done with politics, though, because its no good for me. And after this last month I think I may be taking a break from writing about religion, too. I was so irritated by yesterday morning that i wrote the crankiest rant. It’s gone now, because I decided to reclassify it as private. But the thoughts are the same.
So that means we have this strange entry. But hey. At least I showed up. For me these days that’s something. I feel like I might fade into the woodwork any day now. All this room is missing is some yellow wallpaper.