The smaller double-decker cart filled with what we needed, Dad, Meridith and I went to the emptiest checkout lane at the usual Sprouts in Valencia. Only one person ahead of us, and the last of their items were being scanned. Dad took up his post at the check-writing counter, watching the prices, Meridith stood next to him, and I wheeled the cart next to the bagging area, next to a bagger named Alex. I found that out from her nametag.
The employees at Sprouts range from indifferent (stockers) to friendly but guarded (those behind the vast meat counter) to they'd-move-in-with-you-if-you'd-let-them (checkers and baggers). It's not a disturbing friendliness, like they've been watching you for all the months you've been shopping there and know exactly what you're getting, just the kind of friendliness you know from those you're friends with.
After I stopped the cart, Alex asked "Paper or plastic?", and I immediately answered "Paper," before Dad started in on his well-worn question to Meridith and me: "Kill a tree or choke a pelican?" I usually don't have a reason to decide what the groceries should be bagged in since we have enough plastic bags for the garbage pails around the house, and enough paper bags to collect the full bags from those pails every Friday. But I knew we were getting low on the paper bags, so I got there before Dad.
What happened next, I'm not entirely sure. She first held up Dad's bag of pretzel nuggets, saying, "These look good," directed at me. I could only smile the smile of a guy who doesn't know what the hell is happening. Then she saw the book in my hand ("The Loop" by Joe Coomer, which I'm loving enough to cart around with me in places I don't usually carry books, including Sprouts. I brought it in on the off chance I'd have a minute to read a few lines), asked what it was and I showed it to her. She asked if it I liked it, and I said I did. Then she said she loves to read, and I should have chimed in, should have asked what she liked to read, who her favorite authors are, what her favorite novels are. Not really as an "in," since we're moving, but just to find out what kind of reader she is.
I didn't ask any of that, though. All I could manage was "I'm a speed reading nut," and I don't think she even heard that. I felt awkward. Her comment about the pretzel nuggets, looking at my book, the question about what I was reading and if I liked it, were not at all part of the usual bagger service. Other female baggers at that store just bag and move on. Was she flirting with me? Did I miss my chance by not following up immediately by asking her what her favorite books are?
I mulled this over after we left and went to Pavilions, and spent an hour there, then when we went home and all throughout this evening. I may have been flirted with, but I'm not sure, since my only experience has been in 11th grade when I know for sure that Stefanie Markham flirted with me while we were at the South Florida Sun-Sentinel's school newspaper awards at an auditorium in the Fort Lauderdale Museum of Art. She had the best pair of legs I'd ever seen, and put them against my pant legs. I was just joking around with her, didn't think that I was flirting, but I was wondering then what the heck was going on.
I still can't tell if Alex was flirting with me. But I do know that I don't know how to flirt back. Does it just happen? Is there a rhythm to it to be established from the start? I figure that if you happen upon a person that attracts you, then it comes easily. But I've had minute experience with that, and that's not really the focal point for me anyway.
If she was flirting, and even if she wasn't, Alex indirectly reminded me to always be open to everything. In Santa Clarita, you become set in your ways as a matter of survival. You have to go to work, you have to go food shopping, you have a set of chores to do on this particular day, and you only go to this movie theater in the afternoon because it's less crowded than the other one, and more pleasant. It's the only way to combat the ennui before it overwhelms you.
Alex showed me that in being able to reinvent myself when I move to Las Vegas, I need to open wide my heart and mind. There are books to read, those that will come from my new home library, books to write, states to travel to, experiences to have in my home city. What has always worked here in Santa Clarita as a matter of survival won't work there, and I'm ecstatic about that. I can become the person I was never able to be here. I need to go wider, be fully open to anything and everything that will happen in my life. I have my plans, but those plans should also be flexible. What I'm so sure of now, I might not be so sure of later depending on what happens there. Just go with it. I thank her for that because I needed that reminder. It's going to happen soon, we're going to move, and I need to be ready right at the start of what I've wanted again ever since we left Casselberry in 1992, when I was 7.
Besides all that, Alex was strikingly beautiful, sporting dirty blonde hair. If she was flirting with me, I was really lucky.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Another Batch of DVD Reviews
Looking at the list of my DVD reviews for Movie Gazette Online, I noticed that I lean heavily on documentaries and TV shows. I want more foreign films and stand-up comedy, but they don't come my way often. Not that anyone else snaps them up like I do, but that various labels release them too slowly. There's one in this new batch of DVD reviews, and I received a Dutch movie on DVD called Miss Minoes. I'm not sure yet about how much longer I'll be writing DVD reviews, what with a new job coming and research for the books and novels and plays I want to write, but for the time being, I keep hoping for more foreign films and stand-up comedy. I don't think my current leanings will change a great deal right now since I'm watching That '70s Show: Season Four for review, and Designing Women: The Final Season is coming in the mail for me to review. I really don't mind it since it's fun to jump around various episodes, not watching all of them, but enough to get a good feel for a series.
So here's the latest:
Zero Bridge
Law & Order: Criminal Intent - The Seventh Year
Love is On the Air
Trial & Retribution: Set 5
That '70s Show: Season Three
So here's the latest:
Zero Bridge
Law & Order: Criminal Intent - The Seventh Year
Love is On the Air
Trial & Retribution: Set 5
That '70s Show: Season Three
Monday, June 11, 2012
What I Want
First and foremost in Las Vegas, I want a home. I know I'll have it, but I'm still amazed that I can finally have it. I can settle into Las Vegas and know that I belong, know that the roads, the landscapes, the buildings will not shift into the forms found in another state. I can firmly plant myself and not move ever again, except for travel, which is always temporary movement anyway.
I want real bookshelves. I've used former moving boxes as bookshelves because it's what we had. Sure I could have bought some bookshelves for my smallish room, but it wouldn't have felt like home because it didn't feel like my room. It was just where I lived part of my day. I didn't feel close to it. Now that I know I'll be home, I can find bookshelves I know will be an important part of my life, and mean a great deal to me, not just for the books on it, but the bookshelves themselves because I'll have bought them in my home city.
I want a library card, and I know I'll have that, but I also want to find a library that I can go back to over and over because I love it, like I did the Pembroke Pines branch of the Broward County libraries, and also the Southwest Regional library of the same system, in the same city. I loved getting lost in those stacks, finding my way to books I didn't even know I wanted to read until I found them. I remember walking through the Boulder City library on our trip in May 2010 and it felt cozy. Everyone was welcome to seek the knowledge they wanted, and many books were old, but well-cared for. I want to find a library like that in Las Vegas and feel that it's mine.
I want to try to grow basil. I love the smell of it, a kind of saltiness. Windowsill basil. Basil that I can get right up to and examine the leaves. No small garden.
I've heard about disc golf, and want to try it. You throw a flying disc to a target. I don't think I'd ever strive to be professional at it. Just have fun. There's a few disc golf courses in Henderson. I'd like that.
Most of all, I want peace. I want to enjoy every day, knowing that I love where I am. I can't wait to have that again. I haven't had it since I was a little kid in Casselberry, Florida, in a house that had a tangerine tree on the right side of the house, a basketball hoop next to the driveway, and a huge tree in the front yard. There were space shuttle launches, with the space shuttle lifting off so close that you could see the American flag and "USA" on the wings, and glass-shaking sonic booms when it returned to the atmosphere. And there was Old Town in Kissimmee, Walt Disney World, of course, the Bubble Room restaurant, and Stirling Park Elementary, my elementary school in my neighborhood with the rotunda in the middle, and entrances to grade levels circling around, with tall bookshelves next to each entrance, serving as the library for the school, with the check-out desk on the circle in the middle after you walked down three carpeted steps that wrapped around that check-out desk.
That's all. I welcome anything else with the widest open arms, eager to take in everything, even the summer heat. I'll adjust, and remain just as happy as on any other days.
I want real bookshelves. I've used former moving boxes as bookshelves because it's what we had. Sure I could have bought some bookshelves for my smallish room, but it wouldn't have felt like home because it didn't feel like my room. It was just where I lived part of my day. I didn't feel close to it. Now that I know I'll be home, I can find bookshelves I know will be an important part of my life, and mean a great deal to me, not just for the books on it, but the bookshelves themselves because I'll have bought them in my home city.
I want a library card, and I know I'll have that, but I also want to find a library that I can go back to over and over because I love it, like I did the Pembroke Pines branch of the Broward County libraries, and also the Southwest Regional library of the same system, in the same city. I loved getting lost in those stacks, finding my way to books I didn't even know I wanted to read until I found them. I remember walking through the Boulder City library on our trip in May 2010 and it felt cozy. Everyone was welcome to seek the knowledge they wanted, and many books were old, but well-cared for. I want to find a library like that in Las Vegas and feel that it's mine.
I want to try to grow basil. I love the smell of it, a kind of saltiness. Windowsill basil. Basil that I can get right up to and examine the leaves. No small garden.
I've heard about disc golf, and want to try it. You throw a flying disc to a target. I don't think I'd ever strive to be professional at it. Just have fun. There's a few disc golf courses in Henderson. I'd like that.
Most of all, I want peace. I want to enjoy every day, knowing that I love where I am. I can't wait to have that again. I haven't had it since I was a little kid in Casselberry, Florida, in a house that had a tangerine tree on the right side of the house, a basketball hoop next to the driveway, and a huge tree in the front yard. There were space shuttle launches, with the space shuttle lifting off so close that you could see the American flag and "USA" on the wings, and glass-shaking sonic booms when it returned to the atmosphere. And there was Old Town in Kissimmee, Walt Disney World, of course, the Bubble Room restaurant, and Stirling Park Elementary, my elementary school in my neighborhood with the rotunda in the middle, and entrances to grade levels circling around, with tall bookshelves next to each entrance, serving as the library for the school, with the check-out desk on the circle in the middle after you walked down three carpeted steps that wrapped around that check-out desk.
That's all. I welcome anything else with the widest open arms, eager to take in everything, even the summer heat. I'll adjust, and remain just as happy as on any other days.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Anchored, But Adrift
I haven't written as often here because I'm starving, and I'm hungry. Starving because of the limitless emptiness of the Santa Clarita Valley, unsuitable for anyone whose health is bolstered by happiness and imagination. With Las Vegas coming soon, I can ignore it well enough, but what had only been just part of daily life in the years before this upcoming move becomes more vivid when thinking about what lies ahead in Las Vegas. Hungry for my new home, which is coming soon, and so I fill myself with bananas and other healthful foods for my physical being, and books and the occasional movie for my mental and spiritual being, currently reading Star Trek and other sci-fi books, and the rest of my Las Vegas book stack.
I could write about memories made during our most recent trip back in January, being stunned by the discovery of healthy-looking people at the Galleria at Sunset mall in Henderson, compared to the emasculated, miserable-looking masses here. And that private screening of Beauty & the Beast 3D at 9:30 at night with my sister, just downstairs from our room at Fiesta Henderson. Just take the elevator, walk a few hundred feet upon reaching the ground floor, and there you are in front of Regal Fiesta Henderson 12. I will get used to movie theaters being inside hotel-casinos, but my fascination with that will never fade. I want to write more about the latter and in fact have written part of that entry, and will write it in full soon.
I should write more, though, about Brooklyn Bagel, about Popcorn Girl (their nacho cheese popcorn is dead-on. Are you in a popcorn shop or a madly wonderful laboratory?), about Smith's supermarket in that same Henderson shopping center where I got my toy flour truck (brown with model bags of flour stacked in the back) in 2007, and my toy fast food truck most recently. I haven't felt a sense of community in a supermarket in years, and there it was, part of a neighborhood, part of meaningful lives.
I've written at length about what I plan to do after I become a resident of Las Vegas, and compared Santa Clarita and Las Vegas enough. I feel like there's not a great deal of energy while waiting for that momentous day of finally going home. I've never been more excited about anything in my life, truly, so maybe not writing as much is a way of building up my creative energies to burst when I finally arrive, constantly replenished by the unreal-yet-so-very real sights, sounds, smells, and tastes I experience, and then experience again and again in a city in which I hope to spend the rest of my life.
Even with my hesitancy to believe that I have more in me to write about on here when there sure would be based on that recent trip alone, and of writing projects I'm pursuing, something slips in like our visit to the Goodwill store yesterday, where I saw enough VHS Emmy consideration screeners to make me even more happy that I'm leaving this valley. I've been too close to Hollywood in this valley and I don't like it. It's funny to think, though, that parts of King of California were filmed here while I was living here and I didn't even know about it, because I still didn't have an inkling of what this valley was all about, until finding out that it was about nothing, that anyone could come through here, turn this valley into anything they please, and it would fit because it has no personality of its own. But I've said that before, I know. At least I found one useful screener in that collection, of Don Quixote, starring John Lithgow. I want to write a modern-day adaptation of it, and it serves as some of the research I have to do for it.
Creative energy should not only come from place, but it's damned hard to be inspired where you don't like to be. Nevertheless, I'm always thinking about Las Vegas, of all the streets I've yet to see, all the casinos I've yet to walk around in, the buffets, the restaurants, the arcades, and going back to the Pinball Hall of Fame on East Tropicana Avenue, of course.
Yesterday, I thought about a novel I really want to write, about a famous Las Vegas historical figure's encounter with a famous visiting historical figure. The famous visiting historical figure actually did visit Las Vegas, but his encounter with that famous Las Vegas historical figure is an urban legend, hence my desire to turn it into a novel. I received a book in the mail about that famous Las Vegas historical figure that I originally thought was a biography. I found out that it's a novel, but I'm encouraged by this, because its author had to have done some research on the figure before writing this novel. I can read it and get a feel for this figure in this historical fiction and go from there. And perhaps this author even wrote about that encounter, however briefly. I can't write any part of that novel right now because I need the newspaper archives at a few key Clark County libraries, in addition to ransacking the Nevada history sections for my own knowledge, as well as research not only for this novel, which will take place in either late '40s or early '50s Las Vegas, but also for another book I want to write about a certain aspect of Las Vegas history. Nothing shady, although some of the figures around it were shady, but that's not the overall emphasis.
Still, inspiration doesn't come easily while waiting, though I should ignore all that because really, I can write anything I want here. I'll try to do better, even when the errands are the same ones we always do. I won't have to deal with this for much longer. It's why my mom bought a snowglobe with the Luxor pyramid inside, and "Luxor Las Vegas" on the side. It's her beacon of hope. It's mine too. We'll soon be there, and I'll be writing more than I ever have. Best maybe to just do it leisurely for now, much like that 2:30 a.m. walk through the casino floor at Fiesta Henderson on our first night there, totally empty, Sara Bareilles' "Vegas" playing on the overhead sound system, and me not reacting to it in any way because I knew I was home. Yet when I got back to our room, I went to Amazon on Dad's laptop and downloaded the song to my cloud drive on there, to be downloaded and put on my MP3 player when we got back here. The endless energy will come.
I could write about memories made during our most recent trip back in January, being stunned by the discovery of healthy-looking people at the Galleria at Sunset mall in Henderson, compared to the emasculated, miserable-looking masses here. And that private screening of Beauty & the Beast 3D at 9:30 at night with my sister, just downstairs from our room at Fiesta Henderson. Just take the elevator, walk a few hundred feet upon reaching the ground floor, and there you are in front of Regal Fiesta Henderson 12. I will get used to movie theaters being inside hotel-casinos, but my fascination with that will never fade. I want to write more about the latter and in fact have written part of that entry, and will write it in full soon.
I should write more, though, about Brooklyn Bagel, about Popcorn Girl (their nacho cheese popcorn is dead-on. Are you in a popcorn shop or a madly wonderful laboratory?), about Smith's supermarket in that same Henderson shopping center where I got my toy flour truck (brown with model bags of flour stacked in the back) in 2007, and my toy fast food truck most recently. I haven't felt a sense of community in a supermarket in years, and there it was, part of a neighborhood, part of meaningful lives.
I've written at length about what I plan to do after I become a resident of Las Vegas, and compared Santa Clarita and Las Vegas enough. I feel like there's not a great deal of energy while waiting for that momentous day of finally going home. I've never been more excited about anything in my life, truly, so maybe not writing as much is a way of building up my creative energies to burst when I finally arrive, constantly replenished by the unreal-yet-so-very real sights, sounds, smells, and tastes I experience, and then experience again and again in a city in which I hope to spend the rest of my life.
Even with my hesitancy to believe that I have more in me to write about on here when there sure would be based on that recent trip alone, and of writing projects I'm pursuing, something slips in like our visit to the Goodwill store yesterday, where I saw enough VHS Emmy consideration screeners to make me even more happy that I'm leaving this valley. I've been too close to Hollywood in this valley and I don't like it. It's funny to think, though, that parts of King of California were filmed here while I was living here and I didn't even know about it, because I still didn't have an inkling of what this valley was all about, until finding out that it was about nothing, that anyone could come through here, turn this valley into anything they please, and it would fit because it has no personality of its own. But I've said that before, I know. At least I found one useful screener in that collection, of Don Quixote, starring John Lithgow. I want to write a modern-day adaptation of it, and it serves as some of the research I have to do for it.
Creative energy should not only come from place, but it's damned hard to be inspired where you don't like to be. Nevertheless, I'm always thinking about Las Vegas, of all the streets I've yet to see, all the casinos I've yet to walk around in, the buffets, the restaurants, the arcades, and going back to the Pinball Hall of Fame on East Tropicana Avenue, of course.
Yesterday, I thought about a novel I really want to write, about a famous Las Vegas historical figure's encounter with a famous visiting historical figure. The famous visiting historical figure actually did visit Las Vegas, but his encounter with that famous Las Vegas historical figure is an urban legend, hence my desire to turn it into a novel. I received a book in the mail about that famous Las Vegas historical figure that I originally thought was a biography. I found out that it's a novel, but I'm encouraged by this, because its author had to have done some research on the figure before writing this novel. I can read it and get a feel for this figure in this historical fiction and go from there. And perhaps this author even wrote about that encounter, however briefly. I can't write any part of that novel right now because I need the newspaper archives at a few key Clark County libraries, in addition to ransacking the Nevada history sections for my own knowledge, as well as research not only for this novel, which will take place in either late '40s or early '50s Las Vegas, but also for another book I want to write about a certain aspect of Las Vegas history. Nothing shady, although some of the figures around it were shady, but that's not the overall emphasis.
Still, inspiration doesn't come easily while waiting, though I should ignore all that because really, I can write anything I want here. I'll try to do better, even when the errands are the same ones we always do. I won't have to deal with this for much longer. It's why my mom bought a snowglobe with the Luxor pyramid inside, and "Luxor Las Vegas" on the side. It's her beacon of hope. It's mine too. We'll soon be there, and I'll be writing more than I ever have. Best maybe to just do it leisurely for now, much like that 2:30 a.m. walk through the casino floor at Fiesta Henderson on our first night there, totally empty, Sara Bareilles' "Vegas" playing on the overhead sound system, and me not reacting to it in any way because I knew I was home. Yet when I got back to our room, I went to Amazon on Dad's laptop and downloaded the song to my cloud drive on there, to be downloaded and put on my MP3 player when we got back here. The endless energy will come.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
The Great Book Dump
By August, we'll be residents of Las Vegas. No question. So it had to be done anyway. I thought it'd be done later. A Salvation Army truck would come, or some recycling truck by appointment to take it all away, except what I really needed. Frustration won out. Frustration over not being able to find Strawberry Shortcake Murder by Joanne Fluke in my room. Before, it had always been on top of one of two of my DVD binders, either the left one or the right one depending on what else I had stacked on top of each, but always there. But nothing this time. Did I move it to another stack? Did I tuck it into one of the former moving boxes that I've been using as bookshelves for the past nearly eight years? I wanted to read this second of the Hannah Swensen Mysteries to see if I wanted to continue the series, since I liked the first one, Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder. Slight, but fun to read.
I went to my room to look for it. I checked the right side of my room, the stacks next to my bed. I checked the left side of my room, stacks encroaching upon my bed. Books began to fall from the bookshelf box on the far right side of my room. I tried pushing them back in, but they kept falling out. I had them stacked in such a way that gravity could not have fun at my expense. Knowing that the stacks were no longer protected, down they went, again and again. I got so frustrated that I shoved books away that were next to me on my right, and two floor stacks fell. I couldn't take it anymore. I love books, but I reached my limit, and my favorite books were now buried in this pile. My first thought was hoping that I hadn't bent them by accident. My second thought was that all this had to go. Right now. The garbage and recycling bins were at the curb to be picked up in the morning and there was still room in each of them. I deeply apologize to fellow bibliophiles who might be incensed by what I'm about to say, but I had to do it. I was drowning in books and it didn't matter to me if they went into the recycling bin or the garbage bin. I was going to use the space that was left, and as I found out, there was plenty in each. In fact, one more bag can go into the recycling bin, and I'm going to do that once I order Strawberry Shortcake Murder again and shut down this computer.
It's 1:12 a.m. and I've been at it since 11:30 last night. I couldn't handle the monster that it had become, the monster that I willingly created because I love books so much. I had books that I ordered on the recommendation of friends, that I had read and enjoyed. But they didn't feel like me. Some of the time, I wasn't reading what I wanted to read. Until the past month, my Las Vegas book stack remained tall. I began shrinking the stack not only because we'll be moving there soon, but also because that's where I want to be. That's where I'll thrive. I want to know absolutely everything about it. And then there's a neglected book about the making of Blade Runner and an equally neglected book about the history of the banana. I love Blade Runner, and I love bananas. Why haven't I read these books yet? I ditched two biographies about Supreme Court justices William Brennan and Felix Frankfurter. I'm not intimidated by large books, but I can't read these right now because I don't have the time. I'll seek them out again once I have my Clark County library card. Oh, a library! What a dream! I'll have a library again! After control of the Santa Clarita libraries passed from the County of Los Angeles to the City of Santa Clarita, I didn't get a new library card because I hated how the City Council effectively cut off the city from the rest of Los Angeles. Santa Clarita is already isolated enough by mountains and freeways. Why make it worse?
The worst thing about all these stacks in my room was that I couldn't get to my favorite books. They're in a box on the floor and they were covered up by two stacks of books in front of it. When I wanted one of my favorite books, I had to perform a most precarious ballet, moving those stacks out every so slightly to where I could reach into that box, find the book I wanted, and pull it out without upsetting those stacks. I couldn't take it anymore. I need those books at all times and they should always be easy to get.
With the exception of the books that fell out of that far-right box, I'm not dumping any other books from any of the other bookshelf boxes. Those can wait until later, or the next day. My biggest concern was getting my floor space back. Right now, having dumped what must have been at least 200 books, I have carpets again. On my bed is an explosion of books that I'm going to keep for now and choose from whenever I need another book. These are higher-priority books, including Super Mario: How Nintendo Conquered America by Jeff Ryan, and Starting from Happy by Patricia Marx, one of my favorite New Yorker writers. I want to read these and others. They won't be buried like they were before. And if I don't get to them before we move (my permanent collection is my most important priority), I'll just write down the titles and look for them in my local libraries.
Despite all this, I've ordered more books. That would seem to defeat the purpose of the Great Book Dump, but 90% of them are Star Trek novels, which I will read as soon as they arrive. For example, Star Trek Vanguard: Summon the Thunder by Dayton Ward and Kevin Dilmore, arrived in yesterday's mail and I started it last night. If I had ordered only the books I wanted to read over time, I don't think I would have had such massive stacks in my room. I wanted to read all those books when I ordered them, but my interest in most of them faded, as I discovered during this.
I know those books could have gone to Goodwill, or the Salvation Army, or organizations in the Santa Clarita Valley that distribute books to poor people. I've donated a slew of books to Goodwill, and the only location we go to is the truck in Golden Valley, behind the Target shopping center, and we don't go there all the time. I couldn't take these stacks anymore and I had to do this. It'll be less for me to think about when we begin preparing to move, and I get clear insight into what I'm truly interested in reading. I'm devouring these Star Trek novels, and want more science fiction, and I've found a few science fiction novels in my room to read alongside my lifetime goal. I want to reread some favorites in my permanent collection. I want to read that book about the making of Blade Runner. I want to take pleasure in reading, not just from a really good book, but also in feeling close to books by having fewer stacks, not to be frustrated by their largess. This needed to be done, I did it, and I'm much happier. I'm not going to let this happen again. Books are my life, and as long as there's a steady stream, I'm satisfied with my life. I'm comfortable with them again, and I'm not going to lose sight of that. No more haphazard collecting; only what I truly want for my permanent collection, and what I want to read, and will read, right then and there. I feel much better.
I went to my room to look for it. I checked the right side of my room, the stacks next to my bed. I checked the left side of my room, stacks encroaching upon my bed. Books began to fall from the bookshelf box on the far right side of my room. I tried pushing them back in, but they kept falling out. I had them stacked in such a way that gravity could not have fun at my expense. Knowing that the stacks were no longer protected, down they went, again and again. I got so frustrated that I shoved books away that were next to me on my right, and two floor stacks fell. I couldn't take it anymore. I love books, but I reached my limit, and my favorite books were now buried in this pile. My first thought was hoping that I hadn't bent them by accident. My second thought was that all this had to go. Right now. The garbage and recycling bins were at the curb to be picked up in the morning and there was still room in each of them. I deeply apologize to fellow bibliophiles who might be incensed by what I'm about to say, but I had to do it. I was drowning in books and it didn't matter to me if they went into the recycling bin or the garbage bin. I was going to use the space that was left, and as I found out, there was plenty in each. In fact, one more bag can go into the recycling bin, and I'm going to do that once I order Strawberry Shortcake Murder again and shut down this computer.
It's 1:12 a.m. and I've been at it since 11:30 last night. I couldn't handle the monster that it had become, the monster that I willingly created because I love books so much. I had books that I ordered on the recommendation of friends, that I had read and enjoyed. But they didn't feel like me. Some of the time, I wasn't reading what I wanted to read. Until the past month, my Las Vegas book stack remained tall. I began shrinking the stack not only because we'll be moving there soon, but also because that's where I want to be. That's where I'll thrive. I want to know absolutely everything about it. And then there's a neglected book about the making of Blade Runner and an equally neglected book about the history of the banana. I love Blade Runner, and I love bananas. Why haven't I read these books yet? I ditched two biographies about Supreme Court justices William Brennan and Felix Frankfurter. I'm not intimidated by large books, but I can't read these right now because I don't have the time. I'll seek them out again once I have my Clark County library card. Oh, a library! What a dream! I'll have a library again! After control of the Santa Clarita libraries passed from the County of Los Angeles to the City of Santa Clarita, I didn't get a new library card because I hated how the City Council effectively cut off the city from the rest of Los Angeles. Santa Clarita is already isolated enough by mountains and freeways. Why make it worse?
The worst thing about all these stacks in my room was that I couldn't get to my favorite books. They're in a box on the floor and they were covered up by two stacks of books in front of it. When I wanted one of my favorite books, I had to perform a most precarious ballet, moving those stacks out every so slightly to where I could reach into that box, find the book I wanted, and pull it out without upsetting those stacks. I couldn't take it anymore. I need those books at all times and they should always be easy to get.
With the exception of the books that fell out of that far-right box, I'm not dumping any other books from any of the other bookshelf boxes. Those can wait until later, or the next day. My biggest concern was getting my floor space back. Right now, having dumped what must have been at least 200 books, I have carpets again. On my bed is an explosion of books that I'm going to keep for now and choose from whenever I need another book. These are higher-priority books, including Super Mario: How Nintendo Conquered America by Jeff Ryan, and Starting from Happy by Patricia Marx, one of my favorite New Yorker writers. I want to read these and others. They won't be buried like they were before. And if I don't get to them before we move (my permanent collection is my most important priority), I'll just write down the titles and look for them in my local libraries.
Despite all this, I've ordered more books. That would seem to defeat the purpose of the Great Book Dump, but 90% of them are Star Trek novels, which I will read as soon as they arrive. For example, Star Trek Vanguard: Summon the Thunder by Dayton Ward and Kevin Dilmore, arrived in yesterday's mail and I started it last night. If I had ordered only the books I wanted to read over time, I don't think I would have had such massive stacks in my room. I wanted to read all those books when I ordered them, but my interest in most of them faded, as I discovered during this.
I know those books could have gone to Goodwill, or the Salvation Army, or organizations in the Santa Clarita Valley that distribute books to poor people. I've donated a slew of books to Goodwill, and the only location we go to is the truck in Golden Valley, behind the Target shopping center, and we don't go there all the time. I couldn't take these stacks anymore and I had to do this. It'll be less for me to think about when we begin preparing to move, and I get clear insight into what I'm truly interested in reading. I'm devouring these Star Trek novels, and want more science fiction, and I've found a few science fiction novels in my room to read alongside my lifetime goal. I want to reread some favorites in my permanent collection. I want to read that book about the making of Blade Runner. I want to take pleasure in reading, not just from a really good book, but also in feeling close to books by having fewer stacks, not to be frustrated by their largess. This needed to be done, I did it, and I'm much happier. I'm not going to let this happen again. Books are my life, and as long as there's a steady stream, I'm satisfied with my life. I'm comfortable with them again, and I'm not going to lose sight of that. No more haphazard collecting; only what I truly want for my permanent collection, and what I want to read, and will read, right then and there. I feel much better.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
I'm Free!
Before I get to the main event, here are my latest DVD reviews. I'm saving the most important one for last:
The Woodmans
Treasure Houses of Britain
Diana Ross: Live in Central Park
Designing Women: 20 Timeless Episodes
Dirty Old Town
After I posted the Star Trek-related entry last night, I wrote the title for my next one, which was going to be "You Can't Feel the Ghosts Until Night Comes." I was going to explain how even though Santa Clarita has no desire for history, there's the feeling of ghosts at dusk and especially when it's completely dark, past figures that seem to want their history to be told, but don't come out during the day because no one busy enough then cares to know. I don't know who these past figures are, but before today, I sensed them. Maybe they only emerge at night because they know that the rare good writers and artists in Santa Clarita, though I haven't met any, are paying attention at night, are thinking and writing and painting, and maybe take inspiration from sensing the ghosts.
I was going to go into more detail than that, but I don't need to now, or ever. Early this morning, I finished watching the first season of Episodes, starring Matt LeBlanc, on DVD for a review, and it gave me my freedom from this region! I've gone from being continually frustrated here to being fully in transition to my new home in Las Vegas. Tonight, walking around inside the Walmart Supercenter on Carl Boyer Drive, I felt like a tourist for the first time since we first came to Southern California in April 2003. I feel nothing, just like most of the residents in Santa Clarita, I'm sure. When it's time to move (coming very soon), I'll carry nothing with me from here, save for King of California on DVD, since it's a good movie. As the Genie exclaims in Aladdin, I'm free-eeeeee!!!:
Thank you, Episodes!
The Woodmans
Treasure Houses of Britain
Diana Ross: Live in Central Park
Designing Women: 20 Timeless Episodes
Dirty Old Town
After I posted the Star Trek-related entry last night, I wrote the title for my next one, which was going to be "You Can't Feel the Ghosts Until Night Comes." I was going to explain how even though Santa Clarita has no desire for history, there's the feeling of ghosts at dusk and especially when it's completely dark, past figures that seem to want their history to be told, but don't come out during the day because no one busy enough then cares to know. I don't know who these past figures are, but before today, I sensed them. Maybe they only emerge at night because they know that the rare good writers and artists in Santa Clarita, though I haven't met any, are paying attention at night, are thinking and writing and painting, and maybe take inspiration from sensing the ghosts.
I was going to go into more detail than that, but I don't need to now, or ever. Early this morning, I finished watching the first season of Episodes, starring Matt LeBlanc, on DVD for a review, and it gave me my freedom from this region! I've gone from being continually frustrated here to being fully in transition to my new home in Las Vegas. Tonight, walking around inside the Walmart Supercenter on Carl Boyer Drive, I felt like a tourist for the first time since we first came to Southern California in April 2003. I feel nothing, just like most of the residents in Santa Clarita, I'm sure. When it's time to move (coming very soon), I'll carry nothing with me from here, save for King of California on DVD, since it's a good movie. As the Genie exclaims in Aladdin, I'm free-eeeeee!!!:
Thank you, Episodes!
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Space Mountain Leads to the Universe
I know that my passion in movies began in 1992 when I was 7 years old, and copied by hand onto a sheet of white posterboard a review of the animated movie Bebe's Kids. I saw my first movies when I was 5: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Jetsons: The Movie, which must have also had a part in it. When we had Jetsons: The Movie on VHS, I watched it over and over again, rewinding just before the main title sequence to hear those suddenly-orchestral notes of the theme song, and rewatching that artsy sequence while Judy Jetson (voice of Tiffany) sang. My then-interest exploded into a passion in middle school, when I spent summers watching as many movies as I could check out from the library, going back every week for more, and reading every movie history book I could find. Though my passion is muted now, and I'm much more choosy about what I watch, I still love movies.
I know that my passion for aviation stems from my parents taking me to Orlando International when I was toddler, to watch the planes take off and land. The passion remains, though no longer with a career trajectory.
I don't know where my passion for the presidents comes from, nor my passion for the Supreme Court, though I think the latter partially stems from my maternal great-grandfather, a good lawyer. It must have been somewhere in the genetic structure, though I will never go as far as him. I merely have an interest in legal proceedings, especially those of the Supreme Court and lower courts. That's all. I willingly read opinions of the Court, learning what I can from them and trying not to get fouled up by some of the terminology and legal references. It's more for me to learn, which I always like.
Over the past five days, my lifetime goal to read all the Star Trek novels ever published has gone ahead full force. I've read Star Trek 2 by James Blish, an adaptation of a selection of Original Series episodes; Star Trek Vanguard: Harbinger by David Mack (which has, according to Mack himself who answered my e-mail, an oblique tribute to Gilmore Girls by way of the residential area of the Vanguard space station being named Stars Landing (the town in Gilmore Girls being Stars Hollow). This after I e-mailed him, wondering if the names of the security guards of the landing party on Ravanar IV, Luke Patterson and Scott Danes, were a playful reversal of the names of Scott Patterson and his character Luke Danes. Mack told me that at the time he wrote Harbinger, he and his wife were watching old episodes on DVD, and new episodes on TV, and it remains one of his favorite series); and Star Trek Titan: Taking Wing by Michael A. Martin and Andy Mangels, which I excitedly ordered as soon as I read about it because in this series, First Officer William T. Riker of the U.S.S. Enterprise is now Captain Riker of the U.S.S. Titan. I haven't seen all the episodes of "The Next Generation" yet, but Riker is quite possibly my favorite character of the series. So this suited me perfectly.
And then Meridith recently brought home from the school library Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Emissary by J.M. Dillard, which she found on one of the "Discard" shelves in a cabinet under the magazine display. She asked if I was going to read this particular series and I told her, "I'm going to read everything."
In those same five days, I ordered from abebooks.com Best Destiny by Diane Carey (about a soon-to-retire James T. Kirk thrust back into his past when he goes to a distant world called Faramond); Star Trek Starzgazer: Gauntlet by Michael Jan Friedman (28-year-old Jean-Luc Picard as captain of the Federation starship Stargazer, before he took command of the Enterprise); Star Trek 3 by James Blish (more episode adaptations); Star Trek Vanguard: Summon the Thunder by Dayton Ward and Kevin Dilmore (the second of that series); Star Trek: Vulcan's Soul: Exodus by Joseph Sherman and Susan Shwartz (Romulan Star Empire attacked by a new enemy called the Watraii, bringing together the Federation, Romulans, Klingons to try to fight it); Encounter at Farpoint by David Gerrold (adaptation of the pilot episode of "The Next Generation," and I should start reading that series of novels already); Star Trek Titan: The Red King by Michael A. Martin and Andy Mangels (the second of that series); and Articles of the Federation by Keith R.A. DeCandido (inside the Federation government).
Besides all this, I also want to watch every episode of every Star Trek series. I could do that now, what with "The Next Generation" regularly on BBC America and one or two other channels, and I'm sure I could find the Original Series somewhere on TV, but for now, it's one or the other, since I'm also shrinking my Las Vegas book stack ahead of getting a library card in the Clark County Library system. I'd rather get deep into many of these book series right now.
The cause of all this is Space Mountain at Walt Disney World, those star maps seen upon entering that building, the space music compositions heard while walking quickly through part of the empty line (I have all three as mp3s and listen to them often), looking up at the ceiling of Space Mountain and seeing those projections of asteroids and space rocks and shooting stars, and the ride itself, in seeing Mission Control on the way up, and seeing the model of that rocket ship when riding the Tomorrowland Transit Authority, which passes under the rising part of that track. I was entranced by all this and have never forgotten it. I know that this is what led to my curiosity about Star Trek and my desire to read all the novels. The outer space of Space Mountain can only go so far. Star Trek in all its variations goes much farther. And while I drive throughout Las Vegas and explore absolutely all that the Las Vegas Valley offers, I want to explore the entire Star Trek universe.
It's appropriate that my deep love of Space Mountain led to seeking out adventures in the Star Trek universe, being that my undying love for Walt Disney World made me who I am today, open-minded, always in pursuit of fun, taking pleasure in so many things each day, and led to my love of Las Vegas, which embodies all three.
One of these days I'll figure out why I'm passionate about the presidents. There has to be answer, but I'll think about it as I read more of those books, and write my presidential history books, and visit those presidential libraries. The answer might spring from any of that.
I know that my passion for aviation stems from my parents taking me to Orlando International when I was toddler, to watch the planes take off and land. The passion remains, though no longer with a career trajectory.
I don't know where my passion for the presidents comes from, nor my passion for the Supreme Court, though I think the latter partially stems from my maternal great-grandfather, a good lawyer. It must have been somewhere in the genetic structure, though I will never go as far as him. I merely have an interest in legal proceedings, especially those of the Supreme Court and lower courts. That's all. I willingly read opinions of the Court, learning what I can from them and trying not to get fouled up by some of the terminology and legal references. It's more for me to learn, which I always like.
Over the past five days, my lifetime goal to read all the Star Trek novels ever published has gone ahead full force. I've read Star Trek 2 by James Blish, an adaptation of a selection of Original Series episodes; Star Trek Vanguard: Harbinger by David Mack (which has, according to Mack himself who answered my e-mail, an oblique tribute to Gilmore Girls by way of the residential area of the Vanguard space station being named Stars Landing (the town in Gilmore Girls being Stars Hollow). This after I e-mailed him, wondering if the names of the security guards of the landing party on Ravanar IV, Luke Patterson and Scott Danes, were a playful reversal of the names of Scott Patterson and his character Luke Danes. Mack told me that at the time he wrote Harbinger, he and his wife were watching old episodes on DVD, and new episodes on TV, and it remains one of his favorite series); and Star Trek Titan: Taking Wing by Michael A. Martin and Andy Mangels, which I excitedly ordered as soon as I read about it because in this series, First Officer William T. Riker of the U.S.S. Enterprise is now Captain Riker of the U.S.S. Titan. I haven't seen all the episodes of "The Next Generation" yet, but Riker is quite possibly my favorite character of the series. So this suited me perfectly.
And then Meridith recently brought home from the school library Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Emissary by J.M. Dillard, which she found on one of the "Discard" shelves in a cabinet under the magazine display. She asked if I was going to read this particular series and I told her, "I'm going to read everything."
In those same five days, I ordered from abebooks.com Best Destiny by Diane Carey (about a soon-to-retire James T. Kirk thrust back into his past when he goes to a distant world called Faramond); Star Trek Starzgazer: Gauntlet by Michael Jan Friedman (28-year-old Jean-Luc Picard as captain of the Federation starship Stargazer, before he took command of the Enterprise); Star Trek 3 by James Blish (more episode adaptations); Star Trek Vanguard: Summon the Thunder by Dayton Ward and Kevin Dilmore (the second of that series); Star Trek: Vulcan's Soul: Exodus by Joseph Sherman and Susan Shwartz (Romulan Star Empire attacked by a new enemy called the Watraii, bringing together the Federation, Romulans, Klingons to try to fight it); Encounter at Farpoint by David Gerrold (adaptation of the pilot episode of "The Next Generation," and I should start reading that series of novels already); Star Trek Titan: The Red King by Michael A. Martin and Andy Mangels (the second of that series); and Articles of the Federation by Keith R.A. DeCandido (inside the Federation government).
Besides all this, I also want to watch every episode of every Star Trek series. I could do that now, what with "The Next Generation" regularly on BBC America and one or two other channels, and I'm sure I could find the Original Series somewhere on TV, but for now, it's one or the other, since I'm also shrinking my Las Vegas book stack ahead of getting a library card in the Clark County Library system. I'd rather get deep into many of these book series right now.
The cause of all this is Space Mountain at Walt Disney World, those star maps seen upon entering that building, the space music compositions heard while walking quickly through part of the empty line (I have all three as mp3s and listen to them often), looking up at the ceiling of Space Mountain and seeing those projections of asteroids and space rocks and shooting stars, and the ride itself, in seeing Mission Control on the way up, and seeing the model of that rocket ship when riding the Tomorrowland Transit Authority, which passes under the rising part of that track. I was entranced by all this and have never forgotten it. I know that this is what led to my curiosity about Star Trek and my desire to read all the novels. The outer space of Space Mountain can only go so far. Star Trek in all its variations goes much farther. And while I drive throughout Las Vegas and explore absolutely all that the Las Vegas Valley offers, I want to explore the entire Star Trek universe.
It's appropriate that my deep love of Space Mountain led to seeking out adventures in the Star Trek universe, being that my undying love for Walt Disney World made me who I am today, open-minded, always in pursuit of fun, taking pleasure in so many things each day, and led to my love of Las Vegas, which embodies all three.
One of these days I'll figure out why I'm passionate about the presidents. There has to be answer, but I'll think about it as I read more of those books, and write my presidential history books, and visit those presidential libraries. The answer might spring from any of that.
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