I’m Thinking Every So Often I’ll Post A Book, Just Because I Can, And Tell You If I Think You Should
I’m thinking every so often I’ll post a book, just because I can, and tell you if I think you should read it or not, who WOULDN’T trust the opinions of a drunk stranger concerning classical and contemporary literature, obviously.
Treasure Island, this is a book I read as a kid, some of you may have read it as a kid or a teen. Personally all i remembered was typical pirate story, nothing really special. I reread this as an adult, and found it a much more interesting book. Though written from the perspective of a young teen boy, it’s much better understood from an adult mindset. the brief synopsis ( SPOILERS ):
Jim Hawkins is a 13 year old boy who works at his family business the Benbow Inn. A rich seacaptain comes to town and takes residence there, where he gets drunk and generally terrorizes the patrons. He pays Jim each week to keep lookout for any seafaring men that should happen to pass through, especially the seafaring man with one leg.
The captain as it turns out was the first mate for a crew that found a great treasure and buried it on, you guessed it treasure island. One day one of his old crew comes in and gives him the black spot, the mark of death, and the captain chases him out with a cutlass, come in and has a heart attack. The doctor sees him and tells him if he keeps drinking he’ll die. the next day hes getting booze shakes and drinks and dies, shocking.
Jim and the rich doctor set up a crew and sail for treasure island. Half the crew turns out to be the old captains crew and when they hit the island they all mutiny and fight and so on. A giggle here, and a laugh there later and the pirates are all dead but long john silver the one legged seafarer, who weasled his way into a pardon at the bitter end.
ok, now onto why you should read this as an adult. Well it depends on who you are I suppose, i happened to grow up in a bit of a well, a coastal town of drunken fishermen, just really like horribly accented new england drunks. As such these sort of character i found sadly relateable and was surprised to find besides the manner in which they spoke, the conversations and things they did were the same as whats going on now 100s of years later.
Infact a I reread the book as an adult i realized the treasure, the pirates, the sword fights, really the books not about them in the least. I mean if you like action there’s plenty, but its an interesting and very subtle narration on things like the nature of people, the futility of seeking riches, the advantage and disadvantages of fighting, and so on. And instead of it being the sort of young adult reader book i remembered it as, it was very adult, had some of the most memorable fictional characters I can think of, and had quotes, within context, that were astonishingly good writing. I also have a suspicion that this book is where like 60% of our conceptions of a pirate come from.
It’s a shortish book, if you like reading and havent read it since youth, try picking it up sometime, if you havent read it and think its a teen pirate novel, its not, give it a shot, its one of those books where you legitimately want to know what happens next.
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The Russians have this sort of unspoken cultural thing, they never smile at people on the street, rarely do they smile in public period, because when a stranger smiles at you, he’s deceiving you, he wants something from you, there’s no reason to be smiling right now, we dont know eachother. Smiles are for friends and family only, no smiles for you, asshole.
Looming visage noble American colonel. Courageous, renown of history, Colonel Sanders, image forever accompanied odor of sacrificial meat. Eternal flame offering wind savory perfume roasted flesh...Seek midday nourishment. Visit memorial acclaimed war hero Colonel Sanders.” " All object printed: Love me. Look me. Million speaking objects,begging. Crown American consumer with power of king, to rescue choose and give home or abandon here for expire.
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The NASA/ESA Hubble Space Telescope has captured the sharpest and biggest image ever taken of the Andromeda galaxy — a whopping 69,536 x 22,230 pixels. The enormous image is the biggest Hubble image ever released and shows over 100 million stars and thousands of star clusters embedded in a section of the galaxy’s pancake-shaped disc stretching across over 40,000 light-years.
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(WARNING: May cause existential crisis)
Clay, did you ever love me?" I'm studying a billboard and say that I didn't hear what she said. "I asked if you ever loved me?" On the terrace the sun bursts into my eyes and for one blinding moment I see myself clearly. I remember the first time we made love, in the house in Palm Springs, her body tan and wet, lying against cool, white sheets. "Don't do this, Blair," I tell her. "Just tell me." I don't say anything. "Is it such a hard question to answer?" I look at her straight on. "Yes or no?" "Why?" "Damnit, Clay," she sighs. "Yeah, sure, I guess." "Don't lie to me." "What in the fuck do you want to hear?" "Just tell me," she says, her voice rising. "No," I almost shout. "I never did." I almost start to laugh. She draws in a breath and says, "Thank you. That's all I wanted to know." She sips her wine. "Did you ever love me?" I ask her back, though by now I can't even care. She pauses. "I thought about it and yeah, I did once. I mean I really did. Everything was all right for a while. You were kind." She looks down and then goes on. "But it was like you weren't there. Oh shit, this isn't going to make any sense." She stops. I look at her, waiting for her to go on, looking up at the billboard. Disappear Here. "I don't know if any other person I've been with has been really there, either ... but at least they tried." I finger the menu; put the cigarette out. "You never did. Other people made an effort and you just ... It was just beyond you." She takes another sip of her wine. "You were never there. I felt sorry for you for a little while, but then I found it hard to. You're a beautiful boy, Clay, but that's about it." I watch the cars pass by on Sunset. "It's hard to feel sorry for someone who doesn't care." "Yeah?" I ask. "What do you care about? What makes you happy?" "Nothing. Nothing makes me happy. I like nothing," I tell her. "Did you ever care about me, Clay?" I don't say anything, look back at the menu. "Did you ever care about me?" she asks again. "I don't want to care. If I care about things, it'll just be worse, it'll just be another thing to worry about. It's less painful if I don't care." "I cared about you for a little while." I don't say anything. She takes off her sunglasses and finally says, "I'll see you later, Clay." She gets up. "Where are you going?" I suddenly don't want to leave Blair here. I almost want to take her back with me. "Have to meet someone for lunch." "But what about us?" "What about us?" She stands there for a moment, waiting. I keep staring at the billboard until it begins to blur and when my vision becomes clearer I watch as Blair's car glides out of the parking lot and becomes lost in the haze of traffic on Sunset. The waiter comes over and asks, "Is everything okay, sir?" I look up and put my sunglasses on and try to smile. "Yeah.
Bret Easton Ellis, Less Than Zero
I will say, if you need your job title, be it cop or military, to include hero in the title somehow magically youre not a hero youre a fucking small cowardly publicity whore, you know what makes a hero? someone who rejects that title...
2pm and I’m already basically shitfaced. Happy sabbath jesus, love the hair.
Themed Blogs
You know like, the fat goth chick that makes sure every picture they post is black and white, or even worse the like color themers, people that have purple writing and tint all their pictures purple, thats not art, its fucking gay and a waste of your time and mine, get a real skill if you wanna make art.
I soon came to understand that drink, tobacco and prostitutes were all great means if dissipating (even for a few moments) my dread for human beings. I came even to feel that if I had to sell every last possession to obtain these means of escape, it would be well worth it.
Osamu Dazai
All Alcoholics and Junkies talk about is how many days since they’ve done blank, and how great it is to not be on blank, and how last nights meeting about blank was inspirational.
But blank doesnt still control their lives, it’s their every waking thought, but it doesn’t control them...
Musings and more of a despondant 30 year old man, former drug addict, current writer/alcoholic. I'm unmarried, I have no children, and all my dreams are dead, I've wasted my life, and you can too! Never say never. Sometimes prolific, mostly offensive observations about people, life, and the nature of the universe. I'm a communist, your god's a lie, hate mail welcome.
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