Buggin'

I wrote something in my post yesterday that has been bugging me ever since. I said I don't relate to people who express hard-line, one-sided opinions. The reason this bugs me is that sometimes I am one of those people. I mean, I have one-sided opinions as often as most people. I am as lazy about researching issues as the people I criticize for being lazy about researching issues. Ouch. So what exactly do I mean when I say I don't relate to people on the extremes?

I guess I really mean I like playing devil's advocate, and as soon as someone says words like "they always," or "they never," I'm primed to disagree. I may not have facts on my side, but I rarely care (anyone who follows the frogg files regularly already knows this).

All this thinking has led me into a quagmire of self-realization today, which I try to avoid when I can, because usually I can't. To get out of it today, I'm going to talk about the spider in my shower.

There is a spider in my shower. He is a small spider, thankfully. He has built a very attractive little web in the corner just above the showerhead. This indicates a couple of things, namely:

1) I need to clean my shower more often; and,

2) Um, maybe that's it, actually.

But I couldn't bring myself to destroy the web and wash the spider away. He really has worked quite hard, probably harder than I work on any given day. I feel bad anyway when I kill bugs. They are so much smaller, and it seems terrible because of the fact that they probably don't have a clue as to what's coming. Especially ants. I hate ants, but I still feel guilty when I kill them. I mean, what if I were an ant, and I was just going about my business of being annoying on picnics, or kitchen counters, and I didn't know I was being annoying because all I was doing was my job of trying to find food for the hive. (Oh wait, that's bees...what do you call where ants live? Is it a nest? Yeah, that sounds right.) ANYWAY, all of a sudden a shadow looms, blocking the light of the sun, or the lamp or whatever, and then SMOOSH. Total oblivion, unless you believe animals go to heaven, in which case perhaps ants go there too, but I think people assume only cute fuzzy animals and maybe horses actually go to animal heaven. I don't think anyone really believes that bugs are good. I think most people hope all bugs go to hell. Except perhaps butterflies, because they are pretty.

Wow.

After reading what I just wrote, I think I need to do something a lot more productive with my time. Maybe I'll go clean the shower.

On Hearing Anne Lamott

I went to the LA Times Festival of Books today, at UCLA. I went mostly because I wanted to hear Anne Lamott speak. A few years back, a friend gave me a copy of Lamott's book, Bird by Bird, which I absolutely loved, and I thought it would be interesting to see the author in person and hear her read from her work.

She was the last main speaker of the day, following Walter Mosley, whose work I haven't read, but I think I just might have to, after attending his reading. I liked him too, I mean as a person. Not that I met him, but I liked his presence on the stage, the things he had to say. I also liked his sense of humor. And I was oddly struck by what he had to say about truth: that everyone should strive to tell the truth--the real, gut-level truth--about something important to them at least once every day.

So I think I might check out his book The Man in the Basement, because he described his characters like this: one is evil but not bad, and the other is innocent but not good. I'm a sucker for paradoxes, what can I say.

But about Anne Lamott. When she finally came on the stage at 4pm, I was surprised to see that she was older than I'd thought, from her book jacket pictures. This always happens when I see authors in person. (Except maybe for Michael Chabon, who looked almost exactly like his picture when I saw him at a reading at Cody's Books in Berkeley years ago.)

One of the first things that Anne did when she got to the podium was get tangled up in her microphone wire and her Festival of Books badge. I liked this about her, that she started off in a bit of a mess; it's the sort of thing that would probably happen to me if I was a famous author and was about to read from my latest best-seller in front of a huge crowd. (Maybe someday it will happen.)

But then she began to talk, and the first part of her talk wasn't about writing, or faith, or even about the book she had just had published (which is called Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith), it was about politics and how horrible Bush is, and all his cronies. Not that I didn't agree with her on some level, but then again, I don't ever think that the political situation is as black and white as "we're bad, they're good." no matter which side of the political fence you stand on. It's just not that simple, and I find it hard to relate to people who express a one-sided hard-line point of view, even if I happen to agree with them.

So I thought about getting up and leaving, because I didn't drive all the way to Westwood to get diatribed. I came because I wanted to hear about writing, to be reminded why I do it, and maybe to find out if I really am a writer at all, because I'll tell you what, some days I don't feel much like it. Well, in spite of my misgivings, I stayed, and I was glad I did, because eventually she did actually read from her latest book, and she told the story of how she was feeling angry and helpless about all the crap going on in the world, and she asked her priest friend what on earth she could do about it. He said there were needy people all around us, and that you didn't necessarily have to go to Iraq to find them. So she asked God to make her more giving, or loving, or something. Then she went to the supermarket, and won a ham. She didn't like ham, so she was a little perturbed at God, but then she figured that if God gives you a gift, even if it's a ham, you better take it. On her way out to the car, in the parking lot, she accidentally ran her shopping cart into a rusty old wreck of a car, and then she saw that inside was a friend of hers who had been in rehab with her, and Anne said, "Hi! It's my birthday!" The friend said, "Happy birthday," then started crying because she needed gas, and she needed food and she had no money.

Guess who got the ham.

Isn't that a great story? I think so, and it reminded me of why I decided to like Anne Lamott, way back when I first read Bird by Bird. And it's why I think in some way we are fundamentally alike, even though we would probably disagree on a great many things, and maybe even annoy each other a lot, if we knew each other personally. But I like her because she talks about life from personal experience, not dressing it up in fancy literary terms and metaphors, but just describing it as it is, filled with messes and sadness, but also a lot of grace and humor, and I think I do want to be a writer after all, if I can write just a little bit like that.

So thanks, Anne, for being yourself, for giving a good read, and for being a better writer than you seem to think you are. I like your work. Keep it up.

(PS: You know, I really liked the ham story a lot. I liked it because it showed the way God works. We tend to get angry at him for not "doing his job," when all the time he is trying to help us do ours.)

Yardley

Hey SF Bay Area peeps, check out my friend's band, Yardley, at Epic Arts Studio next Saturday (April 30). I'm sure they rock. I don't actually know, because I am a lame friend who has yet to make it to one of their shows, but I really have had the best intentions, it's just been stupid things cropping up at the last minute and all that. Bad excuses, all of them (sorry LB!). But I am going to try and make it to this one!!

Oh, which reminds me...I'll be in the Bay Area next weekend! Just fyi. So if you are one of my bay area buddies, gimme a call or drop me a line, and maybe we can get together. Unfortunately, my time will be quite limited, but if I can, I'd love to see you, and if not this time around, I am sure there will be other times. I can't seem to stay away!

Anyway, about Yardley. They've played some cool venues down here in LA recently (Genghis Cohen, House of Blues, The Viper Room, Knitting Factory), and I think Saturday's show will be great.

Hope to see ya there!

cdbaby.com
yardley

U2, Brute?

Ok, so actually "brute" is supposed to be pronounced "brutay". like the guy in Julius Caesar who helps to betray and kill Julius, only I don't know how to format the "e" with the little accent thingy over it which would indicate correct pronunciation, so...oh never mind. It was a stupid joke anyway.

The POINT is, I want to see U2 in concert this year, but tickets are all gone, so if anyone has an extra ticket and is looking for someone to go with them, TAKE ME!! Please!!

Thanks.

What a Gas

So I was chatting with good buddy S4P online today, when I got one of those little pop-ups from MSN Messenger that lets me know I've received a new Hotmail message. In this case, Messenger informed me that I had received a new Hotmail message from...Gas Relief.

Now, I'm pretty sure that none of my friends are named Gas Relief, so I, with lightning-quick analytical reflexes, quickly deduced that the message was probably some sort of marketing spam. But...Gas Relief?? Are you serious?

I flipped over to my mail application and there it was in my inbox...with the subject line (and I am not kidding about this), "You're getting free GAS for 1 year!"

Wow. Do I get free Rolaids for a year too, or just the gas? I'm so relieved! (Gas Relief...relieved...get it? Haha!)

So the (heart)burning question in my mind first of all is: who was the marketing genius who came up with this one? And then: who was the marketing idiot who approved it for release? (Release...get it? Haha!)

Because I have to say, I was quite disappointed when I actually opened up the email and realized that I was not, in fact, getting free gas for a year. I was being offered the chance for free gasOLINE. BIG difference, folks. A little bit of misleading advertising there, I'd say.

Well, in the end it all sounds very tempting, but I think I'll have to pass (hehe!).

Ok, I'll stop now.

Overthinking

So I was informed by a friend today of something that many other friends have informed me. Are you ready for this?

I think too much.

Are you shocked? I thought not. People who know me, even if they've only just met me, pick up on this one pretty quick. Sometimes I wish I was a little less thoughtful--well, no, that's not what I mean. Less obsessive, yeah that's it, But there are some things about me that will probably never change, and I'm pretty resigned, after nearly 30 years, to that being one of the "unchangeables."

On the other hand, if my inability to cook changed, that would be good.

So yeah, I'm not perfect (gasp!). Don't tell anyone.

Beautiful

It's a gorgeous day today. I spent the night at a friend's house last night, and in the morning I went out into the backyard to see her roses. One of the rosebushes was taller than me. I love seeing drops of water on the petals of a rose in the morning. That's beauty.

I don't take the time to look around often enough. But when I do, I'm always glad.