Sickly

So this weekend I spent most of my time wheezing and moving from one couch to another. I did things like watch She's All That. Freddy Prinze Jr. is in that movie. And I'd already seen it.

Suffice it to say, I did the things you do when you have a cold.

I also finished a book I've been reading, and I'm going to take a page from Ruth and write a wee review here.

Love is a Mix Tape by Rob Sheffield isn't the kind of book I would normally read. For one thing, it's nonfiction. I tend to say away from that. But Guy brought it home and was all excited, and I couldn't have that. (You see, he has an assignment--a very important book that he really does have to read, and that he swore he would. And proceeded to scoff and say he could read it in a weekend. I took Love is a Mix Tape away from him for a week, have now finished it, and he STILL hasn't finished his assignment. I'm just saying.)

I started reading it on the subway, and started crying. It's the story of a music geek who fell in love, got married young, and then one day his wife got up to eat a sandwich and died. It's a surprisingly funny and unsurprisingly sad rhapsody on this woman Renee, and on music.

It's well-written, but most of all it's very honest. Renee comes across as one well-loved woman, but also as one well-known woman. He loves, but doesn't romanticize her. And he certainly doesn't romanticize his own grief.

He does romanticize music, but in a very charming way. So much so that he made me want to give Hanson another try (that impusle has faded--and I should clarify--he has some questionable tastes).

So give it a read. When it comes out, which is in, um, January. I'll remind you.

Oh, and I talked to my folks in Hawaii. Everybody's fine. Word is (and they may be lying to me to make me feel better) that it was a really slow news day, and the networks are making it out to be worse than it is.

Words I Learned From Reading Romance Novels

A favorite story my mom loves to tell about me at family gatherings is entitled "The Time Cordelia Went Crazy With Harlequin."

Random people you see every day--doormen, the old guys who sit outside on their stoops all day, crossing guards--these people love me, and this was true even when I was a child. I was quite friendly with the crossing guard at my elementary school, and she always laughed at me because oftentimes I would walk down the street while reading (hey, she was there to make sure cars didn't hit me while I crossed the street, and I only occasionally walked into telephone poles). She herself wasn't much of a reader, but she said her daughter was, and she offered me her daughter's old books. I gladly accepted, as a book's a book and who the hell cares what kind of book it is.

You all see where this is going, don't you. Yep, the next day, I came home with a paper bag full of Harlequin Romances.

I was ten. And after reading a few pages, I was smart enough to forget to tell my parents about my gift.*

Harlequin romances are some fun reads, let me tell you. And they are very good for your vocabulary. The most frequently used words are not, as you might think, orgasm or g-spot or penis. Oh no, these books are classier than that.

Inscrutable
enigmatic
nonchalant
manhood--which led me to the word euphemism
arrogant
liberties
stern
supercilious
sneering
obstinate

Yes, there was a certain theme to the words used. Apparently, Harlequin readers everywhere long for bastards named Dominic (the heroes were almost always named Dominic. It was weird).

*My parents eventually found out, as my friends and I filled out one of the sweepstakes cards to get free lipstick, and didn't realize that meant we had signed up to order fifty more Harlequins, which all started arriving at my house along with requests for payment. That went over well, let me tell you.

What makes a crazy fan?

When talking about the unabomber, Thomas Pynchon came up in conversation last night.

Cordelia: We should netflix Good Will Hunting. I love that bit where Robin Williams schools Stellan Skarsgard. You know, where he lists this cool mathematician's resume, and Stellan's never heard of him, and then he asks the bartender "Hey Bill, who was Ted Kaczynski?" "Unabomber." And Stellan looks all sheepish.

Guy: You know, I thought Thomas Pynchon was the unabomber. And the funny thing is, I wasn't alone, either.

Cordelia: I bet they were all crazy fans, too. It's always the crazy fans that think he's capable of and responsible for everything.

Guy: Hey, he's got a new book coming out!

Cordelia: Yeah, another one for you to have several copies of. You having multiple copies of things is why we have no room on our bookshelves. Did you see the amazon thing?

Guy: Yeah, it sounds awesome!!

Cordelia: Wait, you don't think he actually wrote it? God, you're one of those crazy Thomas Pynchon people! Did you go talk about it in chatty rooms?

Guy: (defensively) No! And of course he wrote it, it's exactly the kind of thing he'd do.

Cordelia: Why, because he'd never do it?

Guy: Exactly!

Cordelia: Why on earth would Penguin deny it was him?

Guy: Controversy sells, it's Publicity 101.

(Let us not forget: Guy went to Wesleyan).

Cordelia: He doesn't need publicity, nobody's going to suddenly be like "I've always meant to read this Thomas Pynchon guy, I'll start with this instead of, say, Gravity's Rainbow."

Guy: You know, I've never actually read that one.

Cordelia: (shrieking) What??? How can you be a crazy fan and not have read Gravity's Rainbow?

Guy: You haven't read it.

Cordelia: I don't like Thomas Pinch-on. You, on the other hand, think he posts descriptions on Amazon and then insists they be taken down immediately and categorically denied like Jesus. Do you not see the contradiction here?

Guy: Hey, I was on tour. You try reading a book like that in a van with five loud guys. I've read Mason & Dixon. I have unpublished stories. I got them in London.

Cordelia: Wow, you went to a bookstore in the UK. You still haven't read your favorite author's biggest book.

Guy: I have multiple copies of it. I was busy--I had kids, I had work to do. I was on tour!

Cordelia: That was eleven years ago! You mean to tell me you haven't read a single book in the past eleven years?

Guy: Um. . .no.

Cordelia: I gotta post about this. It's too weird. I thought you were a fan.

Guy: I am a fan!

Cordelia: Yeah, a crazy fan who's never read Gravity's Rainbow! You're a freak of nature!

Guy: Just refer to me as a casual crazy, okay?

Cordelia: No way, pal.

Guy: I've gotta get you drunk so you forget all of this.

Cordelia: I gotta take notes.