Sunday, April 17, 2011
Bring on the light spring reading! Between the Beckett dubious-existence-athon and Campbell's meth vignettes, I suck in the fragrance of the Earth's bounty as long as my sinuses will allow. I'm using to bookmark Malone Dies a creepy insert card for some oldie-olderson heart medication that fell out of a copy of Smithsonian. He knows what darkness in your heart lies. Somehow it gets to Beckett's point(lessness) quicker and bears a more pronounced sense of existential dread than does the text.
The White Stripes, Icky Thump
Dickie Landry, Fifteen Saxophones
Samuel Beckett, Malone Dies
Bonnie Jo Campbell, American Salvage
Alex V. Cook, Louisiana Saturday Night: Looking for a Good Time in South Louisiana's Juke Joints, Honky Tonks, and Dance Halls
I had the first boiled crawfish of the season out by my buddy John's pool from Ronnie's Boudin and Cracklins on Florida; spiced just right without being egregiously so. John is trying out recipes today for the Internationals next month in Memphis. He and I both will readily tell you about the time he got fifth in the World on chicken wings. The World.
I put my own book up there because I'll be synopsizing and reading it as A Thing Itself rather than a sum of its parts this afternoon so I can reassemble the parts and make it into A Better Thing. Plus, I wanted to see how it looks as a book link and to make sure the largely empty website I've reserved for it is still running. All the while I've been on a White Stripes kick, though this song won the day when it came up on John's poolside BBQ Mastermix.
Weird as Icky Thump is, Jack and Meg could've done a cover of "Undercover Angel" with them acting out all the parts from Charlie's Angels and it would've fit right in. Jack White is all Farrah, but Meg would make a fetching Sabrina, who always was my favorite anyway.