I never thought I'd like the Rolling Stones. They have so much working against them; my parents like them, Mick Jagger comes off as a real shmarmy fuck, the wierd cocaine connection (have you seen how many times Martin Scorsese uses "Gimme Shelter" in coke scenes?), good lord they made some bad music after a certain point... and yet here I am, on the eve of thirty years old, don't drink, don't smoke, don't do drugs, but I listen to the Rolling Stones alot. Mr. Risk jokingly says it's because they worship the devil...
Okay all that above was all babble until I could remember what I was really meaning to say here... Lately I'm sitting down to type in my entry and my mind goes blank. I can't remember what I had intended to say. But I'm not letting myself off that easily so I babble until it comes back. Yesterday Mr. Risk brought home the Lynda Barry book "One Hundred Demons". Let me tell you it is fucking brilliant. It is a beautiful piece of art and the stories are just so right on. I have loved Lynda Barry's work for a long time. I have watched her stories get better and better over the years. I have always felt most connected to her stories about disaffected youth and kids making the most of growing up in fucked up environments. Hell I don't know Lynda Barry, I've certainly never met her, all I know is that over the years I am relating more and more closely to what she's getting at. Often times she tells my life and my stories so closely it scares me. Plus like Lynda's character (the stories are only semi-autobiographical so who know's what is fact or fiction), I'm the oddball result of the wackiness of genetics; my cultural/racial background doesn't come through via my physical appearance in the slightest.
The story I liked best was "Common Scents". I have a really keen sense of smell which makes the smell of a place a pretty big part of my experience of it. The Aswang is another great one. I am well-versed in the messed up dynamics that can take place between mothers, daughters, grandmothers, etc. My favourite parts are: "Mom used to scream that she couldn't wait until I had children so I would know what HELL was like." and later "Who was the first aswang in the world? I'm 44 years old but I still don't know the answer. I never did have children. There must be a better way to fight vampires but I just couldn't think of it in time."
Here's a great part from "Resilience": "I'd be good and the dark ghosts would vanish. When your inner life is a place you have to stay out of, having an identity is impossible. Remembering not to remember fractures you. But what's the alternative? Tell me.
This ability to exist in pieces is what some adults call resilience. And I suppose in some way it is a kind of resilience, a horrible resilience that makes adults believe children forget trauma."