On Friday, I had an idea for Meridith that I wish I had thought of much earlier. She's wanted to read Abandon by Meg Cabot for so long, Cabot being the only author she reads regularly. She has nearly all her books.
I didn't reveal this, because you never know who's sneaking about online, and it's not paranoia that fuels this, but rather the need to keep my library card as it was. But since the last day to check out books from the Valencia branch is June 4, ahead of the transfer of control of this valley's three libraries from the County of Los Angeles to the City of Santa Clarita, and since all items have to be returned by June 10, I can put this forth now since nothing I can put on hold now would get there in time for me to have time to read it, and I lessened the number of books I put on hold so I wouldn't be bombarded by the end. On June 1, the County of Los Angeles is opening the Stevenson Ranch Express Library, which is a much smaller library with shorter hours, a more limited selection, but they allow holds. I could make my home library that one in order to keep my County of Los Angeles library card, but after Tuesday, after Dad's job interview in Henderson, it might not matter anymore, and instead, I would be learning about the policies of the Henderson library branches, and of the Clark County Library system.
On March 14, the County of Los Angeles cut off Santa Clarita residents from the other libraries in the system. Patrons could only put items on hold that were at the Valencia, Newhall or Canyon Country libraries. It became true on my sister's card, when she couldn't put books on hold because those books weren't at either of those three libraries.
Maybe it was because of my reputation of always putting a lot of books on hold at once, and especially the great number of books about the presidents for my research. The librarians at the Valencia library knew me well. And maybe someone working within that computer system sensed the avid reader I was, and left my card alone because of the high volume. After all, I've done this for the past seven years. Always a large number of books, always reaching the 50-item limit, though for the first two years, it was mostly movies, because I was still very much into movies. Actually, thinking about it further, the first policy was that you couldn't check out more items if you had reached a $500 limit. They assessed the value of the items, as all libraries do, and the system added it up, so there were times when I had to take the prices from the inner flap of the books and add it all up to see if I had reached $500. I was relieved when the policy changed to 50 items. It became a lot easier to manage.
My library card never changed. Any book I put on hold always came from other branches, such as West Hollywood, Agoura Hills, Hawthorne, San Dimas. I never had the trouble that Meridith had.
So on Friday, I asked Meridith if she could read Abandon by June 10th, if it came in before June 4. Whenever she gets a Meg Cabot book, she zips right through it, finishing it either the day she got it or the day after. She could do the same with this one. So I put Abandon on hold, counting on it to come in before Saturday. When it does, we'll make a rare during-the-week stop at the Valencia library to pick it up. I don't remember the first book I ever put on hold on my card all those years ago, but it's appropriate that the last book I put on hold should be for Meridith. I'd rather the last time be to help out, instead of the continual benefit for myself, which ended yesterday with six books I picked up that were on hold:
The American Presidency: An Intellectual History by Forrest McDonald - It's about the evolution of the presidency throughout history, what it has become, the power that has emerged, relations with Congress, thinking about where it is and what it is at that moment in time (1994).
American Original: The Life and Constitution of Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia by Joan Biskupic - I decided to keep the Sandra Day O'Connor biography by Biskupic. I have plenty of time this week, what with Mom and Dad's trip to Las Vegas, and surely that'll be good for part of a morning and most of an afternoon. Scalia has interested me because of his love of opera and his dramatic, egotistical flair, and taste for life.
The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz - On Friday, graduating 8th grade students from Dad's school went on the yearly Disneyland trip for the day. On the trip before this one, I brought along The Signal newspaper and an issue of The New Yorker. In that issue, which absorbed me on the entire bus ride to Disneyland (The Signal takes a mere two minutes since there's that little readable content in it), there was a short story by Junot Diaz that made me only partially aware that we were in the parking garage at Disneyland, waiting to get past the guard booth to the bus parking lot. The language of that short story was so real, so raw, so deeply felt. Not long after, I checked out his short story collection, Drown. I decided it was finally time to read his first novel.
Lyndon B. Johnson by Charles Peters - This is one title in the American Presidents series, published by Henry Holt and Company. Yes, the exact series I said I was tired of, but I'm psyched to read Robert Caro's massive three-volume biography of Lyndon Johnson, and I'd like to have an overview of his life and presidency. However, reading the first few sentences of the first chapter, I'm iffy. I don't like the writing. I'll see if I can get through it by the few pages after that first page.
How Stella Got Her Groove Back by Terry McMillan - I've always been curious about Terry McMillan's works. Now's the time.
Alphabetter Juice or, The Joy of Text by Roy Blount, Jr. - I also have Alphabet Juice by Blount from the library, so I might make a double reading out of both.
I had picked up seven books, but I returned 15 books. And thinking about Mom and Dad's impending trip to Las Vegas, I decided that I could use a crash course to refamilarize myself with what had become faded as we waited and waited for word in Nevada about a job for Dad. I went to the shelves against the wall at the back left side of the library, to where the few Nevada books are kept, and I grabbed all of them, except for The Last Honest Place in America by Marc Cooper, about Las Vegas, which I read and it didn't impress me.
Among the books I picked up was The Sagebrush State: Nevada's History, Government, and Politics: Third Edition by Michael W. Bowers. It's from 2006, but I'll take it. I want to finally learn everything about the history of a state, about its government and its constitution. I lived in and loved Florida, but I never paid a lot of attention to the state legislature. And all I know about California government, beyond there being the governor, a senate, and an assembly, is that they're so good at pushing all these propositions for voters. I want Nevada to be my next and final home. And I want to be deeply connected to it.
I've also got Nevada: A History by Robert Laxalt, from 1977; Las Vegas Babylon: True Tales of Glitter, Glamour, and Greed by Jeff Burbank; and the hardcover edition of The Money and the Power: The Making of Las Vegas and Its Hold on America 1947-2000 by Sally Denton and Roger Morris. I've eyed this book so many times, checked it out so many times, but still haven't read it. I was even thinking of buying the paperback edition from abebooks.com, but I'm going to take the chance now.
I also decided to check out one Charles Bukowski book I've read often from the Valencia library: Ham on Rye. I'm intimately familiar with this particular copy, one of the only Bukowski books I've not bought yet, even though I have many books of his poetry, as well as Post Office and the screenplay for Barfly. I know that the City of Santa Clarita is buying all the books in the Valencia, Canyon Country and Newhall libraries from the County of Los Angeles, and I hope this copy of Ham on Rye is treated well by whoever reads it next. I hope that that person is 20 years old, the age I was when I discovered Bukowski. I hope he or she is grabbed by the throat and pulled violently into these words, like I was.
I also decided to check out Supreme Courtship by Christopher Buckley, since I was thinking of buying it to read. Yeah, yeah, I know that's what libraries are for, and certainly when I reach Henderson, I'll check out a lot more books than I buy, because I want to explore every aspect of those libraries in Henderson and definitely the ones that make up the Clark County system (Henderson is not connected to the Clark County system. It's like Santa Clarita disconnecting from the County of Los Angeles system. But at least, unlike here, there's always other places to go.)
I appreciate what the Valencia library has done for me for these seven years, but I will not miss it. I need my libraries stable, not beholden to the whims of a wayward City Council so gung-ho on cutting the valley off from the rest of the world, since Los Angeles is pretty much the rest of the world in this region of California. We're already isolated by distance. We didn't need to be isolated any further.
When we visited the Boulder City library, I found librarians so pleasant, so willing to help, pointing out everything the library had for us for-now tourists from Southern California after learning of our intent to live in Nevada. I'm excited for more of that when we become permanently installed there.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
An Accurate Portrayal of Las Vegas
Las Vegas differs for all kinds of people, so I can only speak based on my own experiences.
I watched "Lucky You" this morning, or rather fast-forwarded through most of it. I loathed the screenplay, but Curtis Hanson got it as a filmmaker: Las Vegas isn't a rushed edit as other movies show it. It is meant to be taken in slowly, a sensual experience that builds, evident in the pan-down shot from the Eiffel Tower replica at Paris, to the synchronized waterfalls at the Bellagio.
I watched "Lucky You" this morning, or rather fast-forwarded through most of it. I loathed the screenplay, but Curtis Hanson got it as a filmmaker: Las Vegas isn't a rushed edit as other movies show it. It is meant to be taken in slowly, a sensual experience that builds, evident in the pan-down shot from the Eiffel Tower replica at Paris, to the synchronized waterfalls at the Bellagio.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
The Trader Joe's Fridge
Eggplant hummus
Edamame hummus
Blue cheese and roasted pecan dip
Frozen tortellini bowl
Baby spinach
Small peeled carrots
Meatless corn dogs (They're better for me than regular corn dogs and I like them more)
Pomegranate yogurt with granola
Organic blueberry yogurt
Organic peach yogurt
Blueberry Greek yogurt
Three packages of roasted seaweed
More bananas to add to those I already have, to stretch to Wednesday, since Mom and Dad sure as hell aren't shopping after they get home from Vegas.
A couscous-centered salad that I had for dinner tonight.
All this, along with the frozen dinners I got from Pavilions, the bananas, spinach and carrots from there, the carton of Silk, the drink boxes of Silk Very Vanilla, the Simply Orange full-of-pulp juice, the Yoplait Greek blueberry yogurt, the Sabra pine nut hummus, the ready-made guacamole, and Meridith and I are set for when Mom and Dad are in Vegas. All of this helps when considering that they'll be deep in what we consider food heaven.
Edamame hummus
Blue cheese and roasted pecan dip
Frozen tortellini bowl
Baby spinach
Small peeled carrots
Meatless corn dogs (They're better for me than regular corn dogs and I like them more)
Pomegranate yogurt with granola
Organic blueberry yogurt
Organic peach yogurt
Blueberry Greek yogurt
Three packages of roasted seaweed
More bananas to add to those I already have, to stretch to Wednesday, since Mom and Dad sure as hell aren't shopping after they get home from Vegas.
A couscous-centered salad that I had for dinner tonight.
All this, along with the frozen dinners I got from Pavilions, the bananas, spinach and carrots from there, the carton of Silk, the drink boxes of Silk Very Vanilla, the Simply Orange full-of-pulp juice, the Yoplait Greek blueberry yogurt, the Sabra pine nut hummus, the ready-made guacamole, and Meridith and I are set for when Mom and Dad are in Vegas. All of this helps when considering that they'll be deep in what we consider food heaven.
A New Las Vegas for Me
Before Dad, Meridith and I went to Pavilions, Dad spent most of the afternoon researching hotels off the Strip and away from the Strip in Henderson. There are some interesting choices, ones that we've only ever driven by, and that reminded me that I would like to see what The Orleans is like. I love the New Orleans theming on the front of the place, so there's bound to be a lot more to attract me. For example, Lily Tomlin's performing at the Orleans Showroom on June 18 and 19. I have to keep that in mind in case we're there, looking for apartments, if we haven't found one already.
When it comes time for Meridith and I to join Mom and Dad in this vast search, I will return to Las Vegas a lot lighter than when I was last there. Last May, the schedule I kept because of the book, the nocturnal living, the bad diet, the sometimes-little sleep all came to a head at a mall in Henderson when that anxiety hit me. Plus, Vegas always has the temptation to eat whatever you want and not care what you're eating. I care now. I know that breakfast, if it's quick and we go to 7-11 for it, will be that plastic container of Cheerios, soy milk (If they have Silk in a convenience store-sized container there), and a banana. We have a lot more choices than here in Santa Clarita for where to eat, but I think I'll be subsisting on bananas a lot during the day, especially with crisscrossing that entire valley. No more donuts for me, no chips, a lot less fried things. This is going to be my new, and hopefully final, home. I need to treat it like I'm already there.
Chiquita's Got Something
Dad, Meridith and I spent late yesterday afternoon at Pavilions getting a good number of necessaries, not only to restock the fridge, but also in anticipation of Tuesday, when he and Mom will be driving out to Las Vegas and Meridith and I will be home.
Mom insists on making sure we have enough, which is fine, but I don't need every snack in the world. My diet's been solid ever since the middle of November, when I felt comfortable with what I was eating, knew there were plenty of nutritional benefits, and that my calorie count wouldn't be vast. But I did want eggs again, for Meridith's incredible deviled eggs, which is the only thing I require on Tuesday, and especially if Mom and Dad end up staying in Vegas a little longer.
I needed yogurt, but $1.29 for the Yoplait Greek Yogurt is far too pricey, so I only got one blueberry and saved the rest of my yogurt search for Ralphs, which didn't yield much else.
In the produce section, in one of the refrigerated cases, I found something intriguing. You know how some fruit juices, like Odwalla and Naked, are pureed to drinkability? Chiquita came out with something they call a "crushed fruit snack", combining a few different fruits. Initially, I saw strawberry and banana, but put that back when I spotted blueberry and banana, and got two. There's three containers of blueberries in the fruit bin in the fridge, and when I run out of bananas, it's only for half a day to a day, but I was curious about how this one compares to all the others out there.
Well, this is a more thoughtful fruit juice. Because these fruits have been crushed, there's a thicker consistency. You can taste the fruit and not just a combination of all the fruits. My fruit juices of choice come from Boltwood Farms, when they're low enough in price. I imagine that the price of the Chiquita crushed fruit snack won't last for long, as it seems like an introductory price, but I'd get this wherever I could find it, especially in our Vegas travels, which certainly do eat up a lot of energy. At least for now, it's the most time I spend in a car in a day.
(This isn't a review. Chiquita provided no samples. These are just appreciative observations.)
Friday, May 27, 2011
A New Las Vegas for Us
Las Vegas continually redefines itself. Historical casinos change (Tropicana). Historical casinos close (Sahara). New casinos open (Palazzo), and the landscape itself changes, such as with the proposed ferris wheel that is soon to be built, that will be taller than the one in London and change Vegas's skyline. You have to expect that kind of change and adapt to it if you're either a repeat visitor or a resident. But when that change first happens, it's a shock. Not so much that you hoped it wouldn't happen (And believe me, I wish it hadn't happened), but that first time, you just can't believe that it's happening.
Dad called the America's Best Value Inn on Tropicana Avenue, the one we always stay at. We've known the manager there ever since we first came to Las Vegas because our dog Tigger was allowed there. There were pet-friendly rooms, not so much pet-friendly landscape for Tigger to do his business easily (He hated walking those rocks to find a spot to piss on), but just that we could do that was a relief because there was no one in Santa Clarita, no place that was reliable enough that we could feel good about boarding Tigger there.
The manager provided us with a decent, manageable rate every time we were there, well aware that we intended to become residents soon enough, as soon as the Clark County School District loosened up enough for Dad so he could find a teaching position there. Not only that, but he was such a nice guy, and was our introduction to the good people of Las Vegas, and we've found many others since, such as the two guys I met who run that movie poster business at the Fantastic Indoor Swapmeet on Decatur Boulevard.
When we last saw him, he had gone to the doctor about growths that he had and had the physical evidence of it with bandages. Unfortunately, it's gotten worse. Dad learned that he's completely cancer-ridden, couldn't continue on in the job, and was replaced. The new manager told us that she couldn't accomodate the rate the former manager had given us.
So Vegas changes around us. And we change with it. Dad's at the dining room table right now, thumbing through a AAA travel guide that he picked up at the AAA office across from the Valencia library on the way home, figuring out not only where we should stay (possibly nearest to or in Henderson, since we've got to look for apartments there and see what Boulder City has, too), but what hotel would provide the best rate for us. I don't mind not going to Hooters Casino Hotel as often as we did because of its proximity to America's Best Value Inn, but it really sucks that that great good man has to contend with cancer. He always made the time to chat with us whenever we saw his door open, and that made all the difference to us. It helped make us even more comfortable with the area, and certainly when I had my doubts when we got out of our rented SUV on that first night, and I looked around and thought that Vegas was even more desolate than I had imagined. It took a walk through the Mirage, and dinner at the Carnegie Deli to make me less uncertain, and that manager completely eliminated the rest of my doubts just in listening to our story about where we had come from, what we had intended to do, and recommending to us areas to look at to live and some restaurants, too. I truly won't forget that or him. The cancer news doesn't sound good, and I hope he's at least comfortable enough and can do whatever he has his heart set on in this forced retirement. He deserves that.
Dad called the America's Best Value Inn on Tropicana Avenue, the one we always stay at. We've known the manager there ever since we first came to Las Vegas because our dog Tigger was allowed there. There were pet-friendly rooms, not so much pet-friendly landscape for Tigger to do his business easily (He hated walking those rocks to find a spot to piss on), but just that we could do that was a relief because there was no one in Santa Clarita, no place that was reliable enough that we could feel good about boarding Tigger there.
The manager provided us with a decent, manageable rate every time we were there, well aware that we intended to become residents soon enough, as soon as the Clark County School District loosened up enough for Dad so he could find a teaching position there. Not only that, but he was such a nice guy, and was our introduction to the good people of Las Vegas, and we've found many others since, such as the two guys I met who run that movie poster business at the Fantastic Indoor Swapmeet on Decatur Boulevard.
When we last saw him, he had gone to the doctor about growths that he had and had the physical evidence of it with bandages. Unfortunately, it's gotten worse. Dad learned that he's completely cancer-ridden, couldn't continue on in the job, and was replaced. The new manager told us that she couldn't accomodate the rate the former manager had given us.
So Vegas changes around us. And we change with it. Dad's at the dining room table right now, thumbing through a AAA travel guide that he picked up at the AAA office across from the Valencia library on the way home, figuring out not only where we should stay (possibly nearest to or in Henderson, since we've got to look for apartments there and see what Boulder City has, too), but what hotel would provide the best rate for us. I don't mind not going to Hooters Casino Hotel as often as we did because of its proximity to America's Best Value Inn, but it really sucks that that great good man has to contend with cancer. He always made the time to chat with us whenever we saw his door open, and that made all the difference to us. It helped make us even more comfortable with the area, and certainly when I had my doubts when we got out of our rented SUV on that first night, and I looked around and thought that Vegas was even more desolate than I had imagined. It took a walk through the Mirage, and dinner at the Carnegie Deli to make me less uncertain, and that manager completely eliminated the rest of my doubts just in listening to our story about where we had come from, what we had intended to do, and recommending to us areas to look at to live and some restaurants, too. I truly won't forget that or him. The cancer news doesn't sound good, and I hope he's at least comfortable enough and can do whatever he has his heart set on in this forced retirement. He deserves that.
A Man Can't Dance Like That
For the past three days, I've been reading White House Diary by Jimmy Carter.
That's all.
It's a big book at 538 pages, especially with sometimes-multiple diary entries per page. It has been a huge help, especially for two of my books, being that Carter is an interesting president in what he read while in office, and why he read those books, once for political gain, other times themed to what he was doing, such as the steamboat cruise aboard the Delta Queen, where he spent a lot of time in the pilothouse, and also read Life on the Mississippi by Mark Twain.
But it's been a huge mistake to read only that for three days. I realize that now. Here I am, still futilely thinking that I can get through a majority of the presidential books I checked out before the Valencia library closes for the transition from County of Los Angeles to City of Santa Clarita control, and I'm going about this entirely wrong. Again.
When I was doing research for What If They Lived? and had an even tighter deadline than my published-again-by-30 one, not only did I check out a massive amount of books, and not only did I read them all, but that book was all I worked on. Every single day. Not much of a break for anything else beyond eating and sleeping.
I don't have quite the same mindset as before, especially owing to having lost a significant amount of weight since October of last year. But I don't want to feel that same pressure of having to read these books in order to get another book written. Then, I just did it. I had that deadline, had to do it, and I enjoyed some of it, especially the Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle, Paul Lynde, Brad Renfro, Aaliyah, and Heath Ledger essays (The first because of all the detail involved in his life as an intricate part of the silent film industry, Lynde because of all the clips I got to watch over and over on YouTube and I even Netflixed his Halloween special; Renfro, Aaliyah and Heath Ledger because there are no books about them and therefore my research was exclusively online and I had to put it all together like a big jigsaw puzzle, which was a lot of fun), but this wasn't really my subject. I do have favorite actors, but I've always been fascinated more by directors.
I love the history of the presidency and of the men who were our presidents. My favorite decades for presidential history are the 1930s on. I am just as comfortable reading about Truman as I am Carter. I am perhaps more fascinated by Nixon and Reagan because I've been to the Nixon library once, and the Reagan library numerous times, though I liked the Nixon library more.
But I don't want to grow tired of this. I can't feel again like I have to rush through these books in order to produce something. Every time this happens, I end up having to reorder my immediate reading list, like I will today. Besides White House Diary, I've also been reading an essay anthology called Bookmark Now: Writing in Unreaderly Times, a biography called Sandra Day O'Connor: How the First Woman on the Supreme Court Became Its Most Influential Justice by Joan Biskupic (I'm also fascinated by the personalities and inner workings of the Supreme Court, past and present), and Unstrung Heroes by Franz Lidz (I saw the movie starring John Turturro, Andie Macdowell, Michael Richards and Maury Chaykin and loved it, wanted to read the book, and I ordered the DVD for my collection, which I received yesterday). Further back on my reading list, what has remained there without being read much further yet, is Ask the Pilot by Patrick Smith (owing to my interest in aviation; a series of columns in which Smith answers questions asked about aviation in all its facets, mostly commercial travel), Malled: My Unintentional Career in Retail by Caitlin Kelly, and The Company We Keep: A Husband-and-Wife True-Life Spy Story by Robert Baer and Dayna Baer, about meeting while working in the CIA.
It's not the amount of books that causes the trouble. It's always the instance being too gung-ho about my research. Reading should always be a pleasure, no matter what you're reading for whatever purpose.
There's no question that I'm not going to finish reading White House Diary today. I need a break. Tomorrow, I intend to return the rest of the books in the American Presidents series from the Times Books arm of Henry Holt and Company. That's what I think began this trouble because it's all that I've been reading up until now for my research, and even though it's useful to me to get an overview of each president, I've become tired of the format and still I tried to force myself through them. Big mistake.
Do I want to continue the Sandra Day O'Connor biography? I'm only 13 pages into 432 pages, so it's no problem if I let it go for now. I'm further into Unstrung Heroes, 39 pages of 194. Plus, the story's an inspiration to me with all that eccentricity.
The bottom of my reading list will remain. I'll get to those books. I'm never worried about that. But I need to add a new book. I need something that lets me luxuriate in words, kind of like a spa massage to relieve the tension. Bookmark Now could do that to some degree, but I need something even more vast. Maybe Best of the Oxford American: Ten Years from the Southern Magazine of Good Writing. Florida is still the South, no matter the technicalities. Driving from a point in South Florida to Naples, it takes an hour to cross the state from east to west, and you drive through Alligator Alley, where alligators can be seen at the side of the road. That's southern. Don't tell me otherwise. I am proud of that. Southern writing is genuine. There's no attempts at posturing. No assumptions on anything. What you read is what was lived, proudly, tragically, never with a broken spirit.
Or maybe the first of the Cornbread Nation anthologies, subtitled The Best of Southern Food Writing. Intense passion for the South is right here. I learned about these when I read the 2005 food issue of The Oxford American. It's all food writing. There are some themes. Volume 2 is The United States of Barbecue. Volume 3 is Foods of the Mountain South. I have all the volumes, though I intend to go in order. So the first volume might do me some good today. I need words that don't have a personal purpose.
Mr. Carter's Plains, Georgia is as interesting to me as my old stomping grounds in my beloved state, but not today. Relief needs to come. And so does a better organizational plan so this doesn't keep happening.
That's all.
It's a big book at 538 pages, especially with sometimes-multiple diary entries per page. It has been a huge help, especially for two of my books, being that Carter is an interesting president in what he read while in office, and why he read those books, once for political gain, other times themed to what he was doing, such as the steamboat cruise aboard the Delta Queen, where he spent a lot of time in the pilothouse, and also read Life on the Mississippi by Mark Twain.
But it's been a huge mistake to read only that for three days. I realize that now. Here I am, still futilely thinking that I can get through a majority of the presidential books I checked out before the Valencia library closes for the transition from County of Los Angeles to City of Santa Clarita control, and I'm going about this entirely wrong. Again.
When I was doing research for What If They Lived? and had an even tighter deadline than my published-again-by-30 one, not only did I check out a massive amount of books, and not only did I read them all, but that book was all I worked on. Every single day. Not much of a break for anything else beyond eating and sleeping.
I don't have quite the same mindset as before, especially owing to having lost a significant amount of weight since October of last year. But I don't want to feel that same pressure of having to read these books in order to get another book written. Then, I just did it. I had that deadline, had to do it, and I enjoyed some of it, especially the Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle, Paul Lynde, Brad Renfro, Aaliyah, and Heath Ledger essays (The first because of all the detail involved in his life as an intricate part of the silent film industry, Lynde because of all the clips I got to watch over and over on YouTube and I even Netflixed his Halloween special; Renfro, Aaliyah and Heath Ledger because there are no books about them and therefore my research was exclusively online and I had to put it all together like a big jigsaw puzzle, which was a lot of fun), but this wasn't really my subject. I do have favorite actors, but I've always been fascinated more by directors.
I love the history of the presidency and of the men who were our presidents. My favorite decades for presidential history are the 1930s on. I am just as comfortable reading about Truman as I am Carter. I am perhaps more fascinated by Nixon and Reagan because I've been to the Nixon library once, and the Reagan library numerous times, though I liked the Nixon library more.
But I don't want to grow tired of this. I can't feel again like I have to rush through these books in order to produce something. Every time this happens, I end up having to reorder my immediate reading list, like I will today. Besides White House Diary, I've also been reading an essay anthology called Bookmark Now: Writing in Unreaderly Times, a biography called Sandra Day O'Connor: How the First Woman on the Supreme Court Became Its Most Influential Justice by Joan Biskupic (I'm also fascinated by the personalities and inner workings of the Supreme Court, past and present), and Unstrung Heroes by Franz Lidz (I saw the movie starring John Turturro, Andie Macdowell, Michael Richards and Maury Chaykin and loved it, wanted to read the book, and I ordered the DVD for my collection, which I received yesterday). Further back on my reading list, what has remained there without being read much further yet, is Ask the Pilot by Patrick Smith (owing to my interest in aviation; a series of columns in which Smith answers questions asked about aviation in all its facets, mostly commercial travel), Malled: My Unintentional Career in Retail by Caitlin Kelly, and The Company We Keep: A Husband-and-Wife True-Life Spy Story by Robert Baer and Dayna Baer, about meeting while working in the CIA.
It's not the amount of books that causes the trouble. It's always the instance being too gung-ho about my research. Reading should always be a pleasure, no matter what you're reading for whatever purpose.
There's no question that I'm not going to finish reading White House Diary today. I need a break. Tomorrow, I intend to return the rest of the books in the American Presidents series from the Times Books arm of Henry Holt and Company. That's what I think began this trouble because it's all that I've been reading up until now for my research, and even though it's useful to me to get an overview of each president, I've become tired of the format and still I tried to force myself through them. Big mistake.
Do I want to continue the Sandra Day O'Connor biography? I'm only 13 pages into 432 pages, so it's no problem if I let it go for now. I'm further into Unstrung Heroes, 39 pages of 194. Plus, the story's an inspiration to me with all that eccentricity.
The bottom of my reading list will remain. I'll get to those books. I'm never worried about that. But I need to add a new book. I need something that lets me luxuriate in words, kind of like a spa massage to relieve the tension. Bookmark Now could do that to some degree, but I need something even more vast. Maybe Best of the Oxford American: Ten Years from the Southern Magazine of Good Writing. Florida is still the South, no matter the technicalities. Driving from a point in South Florida to Naples, it takes an hour to cross the state from east to west, and you drive through Alligator Alley, where alligators can be seen at the side of the road. That's southern. Don't tell me otherwise. I am proud of that. Southern writing is genuine. There's no attempts at posturing. No assumptions on anything. What you read is what was lived, proudly, tragically, never with a broken spirit.
Or maybe the first of the Cornbread Nation anthologies, subtitled The Best of Southern Food Writing. Intense passion for the South is right here. I learned about these when I read the 2005 food issue of The Oxford American. It's all food writing. There are some themes. Volume 2 is The United States of Barbecue. Volume 3 is Foods of the Mountain South. I have all the volumes, though I intend to go in order. So the first volume might do me some good today. I need words that don't have a personal purpose.
Mr. Carter's Plains, Georgia is as interesting to me as my old stomping grounds in my beloved state, but not today. Relief needs to come. And so does a better organizational plan so this doesn't keep happening.
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