Showing posts with label awesomeness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label awesomeness. Show all posts

Friday, May 16

HappyThankYouBeerPlease - a sneak peek at Beer House Fourways

You know the old adage, "Don't go to Fourways on purpose"? No? Is that just something I say to myself? Right.

Well, Fourways has never been my favourite place - it's crowded, the drivers are mean, and the fake sky at Monte Casino gives me Truman Show anxiety.

But the other day I was invited - in my capacity as Dasia of Dasia Has A Blog, monger of puns, slayer of webseries, queen of the scandals and the first Ben - to the roof wetting of a new Beer House establishment in  - you guessed it - Fourways.

And so, to the not-so-old adage of "Don't go to Fourways on purpose", I said, "Screw you - FREE BEER!"


One of my favourite things under the sub-category of FREE STUFF.

Beer House, like most cool hipsterish things, is originally a Cape Town brand. How will they fare in heartless, stingy Joburg? Pretty well, I think. They've got a brilliant location - big and airy, it used to be a Keg apparently - in Pineslopes Centre, right next to Stones. With Billy The Bum's in the same centre, Beer House is the prime spot to chill away from the randy teenagers of Stones and the bad decisions of Billy's. Or at least get the night going at a place where you can actually hear your friends talk. (God, I'm old.)

This isn't even the free beer talking (anymore) - I seriously can't wait to go to this place once it opens. They have a huge selection of craft beers (99 bottles on the wall, 20 on tap - it's like a beer fest that's on ALL THE TIME) and though I've got the refined palate of a raccoon, the sheer variety gets me giddy. The people who run it are super friendly and very knowledgeable, sending me straight to a brilliant brew after my nearly-useless hint of "Um, I don't hate Amstel? I drink Corona on pay day?"

No, of course I don't remember which one I had. It was the tap on the left, okay?

Don't hold me to that. Might've been on the right.

So 'roof wetting' is one of those weird terms that nobody really knows the origin of (I googled it and the closest answer I got was "In Bermuda, they used to wet the roof..." wow, internet, you're the best.) But basically it was a first peek at the unfinished venue. They're planning to open mid-July 2014. You can keep up with Beer House on twitter @BEERHOUSE4ways and on Facebook for burly beerly goodness.

My night at Beer House was such fun, I've decided to do more reviews of eateries and drinkeries around Joburg (it's part of my plan to blog more in general.) So keep up with me by liking my Facebook page for new posts.
And comment below or drop me a line with suggestions for places I should review!

*Images used in this post belong to Beer House, but I totally got permission to use them because I'm "press", bitches :)

Thursday, March 28

Lifehack! How to Break a Habit

As I've said before, I'm a loser who's bad at life (not as bad as some people, but still pretty bad,) and that's why I read books with titles like The No-Moving 100% Ice Cream Law Of Attraction Diet and Chicken Soup for the Twitter Addict's Broken Husk of a Soul. I've probably read upwards of forty of these sorts of books and here is one of the three* that have actually changed my life in a tangible, positive way.

It's called The Power of Habit, and it's AMAZING. Not only is it impeccably researched and well written, but it offers a fascinating combination of the science behind habits, and how to apply those lessons to make everyday life more awesome.


The Power Of Habit by Charles "the shiz" Duhigg.
I just made that nickname up but here's hoping it catches on.


There are so many fun facts in this book it makes me want to cry, and Charles Duhigg's clear and engaging style made me fly through the 300-odd pages. I mean, when I learned that at least 60% of our behaviour is driven by habits rather than conscious decision making? It blew my mind. The conscious 40% of it anyway. The other 60% was eating a cookie at the time.

So here's the coolest part of the book: the habit loop. Every habit comes in this structure and learning it basically lets you break habits and hack your life and win at everything!

How does it work? Basically, every habit consists of three elements:

1. Cue: that thing that triggers the habit, like a certain time of day makes you want to have lunch or a looming sense of anxiety makes you want to check your phone so your hands look busy.
2. Routine: the actual habit you act out, like smoking a cigarette or unlocking your phone and navigating to facebook (I do that so automatically I can be halfway through replying to a message before I realize I'm even on my phone.)
3. Reward: what you're getting out of it, whether it's as vague as momentary distraction or as powerful as the dopamine rush of someone proposing to you on twitter.

As a rule, the cue will trigger a craving for the reward, and the routine is the flexible part which you can alter to make real, lasting changes.

It's really interesting to take a behaviour you want to change and dissect it into these three separate parts. Some habits are easier to analyse than others: if your cue is thirst, your routine is getting a glass of water and your reward is relief from dehydration. Bam!

Of course, nobody wants to break the habit of water drinking so let's go with something more interesting: incessant phone checking.



Dopamine may stain some fabrics.

Our cue here is a nagging little anxiety, which creates the craving for that happy little rush that social media provides. It's that craving that gets the habit loop rolling through the routine of checking your phone, and of course once the habit is established you're not in conscious decision mode anymore. The cue comes along, and just like a zombie, or a lab rat, or a soccer mom who's been sleep deprived for eight years, you automatically act out the routine in order to get your reward. In fact, the cue gets you excited about the reward so you get a pre-rush just starting the habit. It's like a little shortcut that your brain takes to save time. Isn't that amazing / terrifying?

Now that we've identified the habit, we have the power to break it - well, actually 'break' isn't the right word, because this habit's structure will always be in place: anxiety will always trigger a craving for relief and distraction.

It's the routine bit that we can manipulate to get a better result. See how the routine has a little dotted line surrounding it so you can cut it out? That means you can replace it with something else. The important part is that the new routine is triggered by the same cue, and offers the same reward. To mix metaphors, you're putting a different train on the same track in your brain! You're rewiring your powerful unconscious networks! You are the one, Neo!

It's fun to experiment with different routines until you find just the right one to hit that reward in the nuts. For our example, an alternative to checking your phone might be:

  • Having a glass of wine
  • Taking three deep breaths
  • Popping a happy pill
  • Pulling out a Moleskine notebook and writing a haiku about your feelings

As you can see, some of these solutions are better than others. But I included stuff like having a glass of wine to illustrate that the routine can have negative consequences but still serve to satisfy the craving. That explains why people who quit an addiction often replace it with another - because the craving has to be satisfied and the habit loop's already in place. But if you become conscious of it, you can replace the routine with something healthier and better for your liver.

And of course after you've changed the routines in your existing habits, you can create wholly new habits that have a much bigger chance of sticking around because you know how habits are structured. Your brain wires this stuff the same way every time: get yourself a clear cue, plan a sustainable routine and give yourself a powerful reward and see how much easier it is to make changes than when you're just white-knuckling it and hoping for the best.

Obviously this post is only scratching the surface of this cool concept but I hope it helps a bit and piques some interest in this whole process. If you dig it, I highly recommend The Power of Habit if you want to level up the train tracks of EXISTENCE.** Or if, like me, you just want to stop pulling your hair out or checking your phone so much.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to have a glass of wine while breathing deeply and writing a haiku about my feelings.


*If you're wondering what the other two are: Follow Your Own North Star by Martha Beck, and A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle. Both brilliant.
** Yes, I've mixed so many metaphors I seem to have ended up with a metaphor salad. All it's missing is the avo of truth.

Tuesday, January 1

Big Bang's 'Fantastic Baby': The Only Song You Need In 2013

I'm the first to admit that I don't really 'get' K-pop, but I think everyone needs the video for Big Bang's Fantastic Baby in their lives on a daily basis.

Just look at it. Seriously. WATCH IT RIGHT NOW.

I'll wait.



Seriously, wasn't that just the best four minutes ever?

It's got everything you could possibly want in a music video. And in life:

  • Sassy half-English rap
  • Some sort of post-apocalyptic universe where music is apparently considered evil (so it's sort of like that town from Footloose, I guess?)
  • A disproportionate amount of eyeliner for a video starring zero women
  • One man's hair going from red to white to yellow to pink in the space of four minutes
  • Another man whose hair is as blue as the sky and as wavy as the ocean
  • Lip applique (again, no women star in this video)
  • A point (1:32) where I ALWAYS laugh out loud where a topless blonde man earnestly sings as he is chained to a wall (supposedly by the oppressive anti-music regime [or as they like to call themselves, the pro-talk-radio movement])
  • Outfits, sets and CROWNS so fabulously elaborate they must have been a designer's dream / nightmare
  • Pretty Korean boys
  • More pretty Korean boys
  • I mean, seriously, no amount of plastic surgery or photoshop will EVER make you as pretty as these Korean boys*

So I did a little research and the sassy rapper (the one in the beginning) is called G-Dragon and is kind of a big deal. I watched a few of his other videos and his sass is as boundless as his willingness to look silly. I heartily endorse him.

The other ridiculously pretty one (Mister Blue Hair) is called T.O.P, and I sincerely hope he was aware of how that sounds in English-speaking queer culture, and named himself that totally on purpose**. Because otherwise that'd be pretty embarrassing. But anyway, I checked and he isn't genetically engineered. ALLEGEDLY.***

Hey wait, what if the music-haters in the video are actually a metaphor for North Korea? I watched a documentary that said every house in NK is fitted with a propaganda radio speaker thingy that can never be turned off! So... guys, Fantastic Baby is totally a veiled critique of totalitarianism. And talk radio.

Hey, let's watch it again!

BOOM SHAKA LAKA.


*By 'you' I mean 'me'
** LOL
*** I googled "T.O.P. Korean rapper genetically engineered" and my computer froze and then google showed me a bunch of stuff about PSY and genetically modified crops. So let's just say there's no proof that he's NOT genetically engineered.

Tuesday, July 24

The One Where John Finnemore Won't Lick My Autograph

Sorry for the break in posting, the blobfish ate my brain.

So guys, my awesome friend Ali - whose blog is kinda superior to mine seeing as she has adventures and posts pictures and says clever things, whereas I just watch tv and then BLOG ABOUT MY FEELINGS  - just happened to inspire my incredible envy last weekend* by going to a recording of John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme.

Just in case you're not quite sure who John Finnemore is, LET ME TELL YOU. He is a comedian, writer and actor, who is hilarious and charming and intelligent and silly and sarcastic and wonderful. 


For the record, I introduced Ali to John Finnemore, which is the only way I could repay her for introducing me to Benedict Cumberbatch. Well, obviously not LITERALLY introduced. But you know, in that weird we-live-in-the-future way that makes you feel like you know celebrities by being constantly exposed to their work, so that you get so familiar with the concept of that person that you find yourself casually typing "Where EXACTLY does Benedict Cumberbatch live?" into google and not even feeling bad about it**. 

I'd wanted to ask Ali to get me an autograph since I heard she'd got tickets to the show, but obviously I have all this awkwardness and self-loathing so I didn't say anything because I didn't want to inconvenience her or be disappointed or be a person who exists or whatever. PAIN IS REAL. Luckily alcohol came to the rescue, and after a Long Island ice tea roughly the size of my arm, Ali updated facebook saying she was off to the show, and I promptly commented: 



I'm thankful to Ali for not only coming through, but actually risking a restraining order to get me a one-of-a-kind autograph! Starting what I hope will be a long and noble tradition of making celebrities uncomfortable, Ali promptly got a normal autograph for herself and a GLORIOUSLY INAPPROPRIATE ONE FOR ME: 


To Dasia
All the best
No, of course I won't lick it!
But still, all the best.
John Finnemore

JOHN FINNEMORE.
WROTE MY NAME.
AND SPELT IT RIGHT.
AND REFUSED TO LICK IT. 
THEY DON'T MAKE CAPS BIG ENOUGH TO EXPRESS THE ALLCAPINESS OF MY FEELINGS.

Doesn't he have lovely handwriting? He's the complete package.I've never been an autograph person but I really see the appeal of it now. Maybe I'll start collecting written  refusals to silly / inappropriate requests and could eventually build a gallery out of it: "The Hall Of Celebrity No, Of Course I Won'ts!" or something similarly cheesy and awesome.

Anyway, I really love that this actually happened because I'd gone out the night I found out about all this, and woke up on Sunday morning thoroughly believing that the autograph was just an awesome booze dream. So yay for good things that aren't booze dreams! Ali's posting me the original, and I'm more nervous about this autograph being in the post than any certificate or degree I've ever gotten. 

Which is normal and healthy, right?*** 


*It was actually the weekend before last  - it took me a surprisingly long time to finish this post.
**I felt a little bad about it.
*** They don't make rehab for fangirls, apparently.

Sunday, May 27

How To Make A Green Smoothie That Doesn't Taste Like Regret

I'm not exactly a health nut, but I do enjoy smugly saying I drink a green smoothie every morning because it makes people look at me like I've just said I chew glass instead of flossing, it's better for the environment.

Green smoothies have gotten a bad rap for looking like portable swamps and tasting like socks. But I swear guys, this recipe is not only healthy, but tastes good. Now, I'm not saying it tastes good compared to steamed broccoli or lettuce tartar. I'm telling you: macaroni and cheese tastes good, toffee ice cream tastes good, and this green smoothie tastes good.

It's pretty simple to make, too. It takes me ten minutes (including washing the blender) to make in the morning, and that's with my sloth-like agility. You may not have these ingredients in your fridge at the moment, but that's the great thing about shops existing.

Yummy Green Smoothie 

(Serves 1, because let's face it, nobody's going to be asking for a glass until they taste yours and realize it's mindblowingly good.)


You'll need:
  1. A blender (to mix it all together, not as an ingredient. That would be a bit chewy.)
  2. Fruit juice, one cup (I use fruit cocktail, but apple tastes good too.)
  3. Raw seed mix, one teaspoon (mine has sunflower, pumpkin, sesame, and flax seeds.)
  4. Fresh cucumber, one mini (pickles don't count!)
  5. Baby spinach, raw, three handfuls (this freezes well too.)
  6. Fresh mint, raw, to taste (also freezes well, but if you can't find it, you could try mint essence. Mine's frozen, which is why it looks so black and sad in the picture. Still tastes awesome though!)

Step 1: Pour the glass of fruit juice into your blender and add a teaspoon of the seed mix.

*action shot!*

Warning: DO NOT try to replace the fruit juice with water. It will negate the glorious balance of the universe and make your smoothie taste like cold, bitter, spinachy regret.

Blend on high to chop up the seeds. This is especially good for the flaxseeds, which are super-mega good for you but aren't broken down in your stomach unless they're crushed open first. The seeds help you to feel full with all the omega-3 fatty stuff. You can also replace them with a scoop of avo, which is quite lovely.

Step 2: Turn the blender OFF first (if only I could send that piece of advice back to my past self) and add the baby spinach, mint and cucumber.

If you can't find cucumbers, substitute with alien willy.

I use three sprigs of mint because I think mint is the best thing ever. Also it takes the slightly spinachy taste off the end result. Using baby spinach instead of regular means that there isn't much spinachy taste to begin with, and using fruit juice with a bit of orange involved takes it away completely.

Blend on low for about a minute, until everything starts looking uniform.

Step 3: Pour back into the glass you used to measure the fruit juice (what, you think I was going to dirty an extra glass for no reason?) and enjoy!


Warning: Though this smoothie definitely tastes more like accomplishment than regret, there's no way to keep it from looking like a tiny, portable swamp. If left unattended, it may attract bog creatures.


Be on the lookout for giant gangsta penguins, incontinent crocodiles and the Great Scuzzy Lion of Indifference.

You may have to share.

Monday, January 23

Amazing Guest Post: Top Ten Torrid Moments In Period Film


In a recent post, Dasia listed my blog Yearning for Wonderland as one with which she’d most like to do a post-swap. 

I have never guest blogged. However, given that Dasia sometimes writes her posts by MASHING HER BOOBS ON THE KEYBOARD, I felt confident in writing this post as I, too, have boobs.

Also, as you can see from the previous paragraph, I have mastered her advanced blogging technique of ALLCAPS. This technique shows how EXTREMELY IMPORTANT THESE WORDS are. See, don’t they leap right off the screen?

These techniques (boob mashing and ALLCAPS) are but two of the reasons why Dasia is my blog/Twitter buddy/Siamese twin separated at birth. She is also brilliantly funny, not to mention the originator of the “Benedict Cumberbatch weequashing in crisp twilight” meme. I kid you not. 

Well, okay, I’m kidding about the separated Siamese twin thing…unless they found a way to separate us by *gasp* nine years. Time traveling Siamese twins! I think I’m onto…no, I’m just digressing.

As I pondered how to transcend my own whimsy for DHAB, I direct messaged Dasia on Twitter.


In typically Dasia fashion, she immediately popped back with:



A splendid solution - I could write a post on period films that would be too saucy for my own blog and yet likely bore Dasia’s jaggedly sophisticated readers to tiny tears of despair.

I started researching this post, if you call eating  a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and numbing yourself with endless video clips of men in tight-buttoned pants (excuse me, BREECHES) as research.

For inspiration, I stared a lot at this photo:



Then I went to the kitchen and made some nachos. I decided I needed further inspiration, so I stared awhile at this photo:



This is how you can tell I am a real writer. I intersperse my writing and research with lots of eating (hard) and daydreaming (harder).  I watched endless clips of period pornography, involving lots of glove squeezing and longing glances. I suffered, gentle reader, so you need not. 

Tuesday, January 10

Here's The Thing About Benedict Cumberbatch...

Disclaimer: I'm just a girl with a crush on an actor. I'm not crazy, my mother had me tested.

But here's the thing about Benedict Cumberbatch. 

He’s flawless in his strangeness.

Above: beautiful alien.


Oh, it's so hard to keep my squee in check when we're talking about him. But I’ll try to explain my love using words rather than just mashing my boobs on the keyboAEFEZANJL.OHNJSDFVGJHYDSFGVA

Ahem. 

Right, we're going to use words. Here are some words:

THAT VOICE THOSE CURLS THAT TALENT THOSE PIERCING BLUE EYES THAT BRITISHNESS ALL THAT CHEMISTRY WITH MARTIN FREEMAN THAT UPPER LIP HIS GENERAL SWEETNESS AND GENUINE INTELLIGENCE AND PASSION FOR HIS JOB AND HUMBLE SELF-DEPRECATING BEAUTY  OH AND THAT EFFORTLESS GRACE THAT PERMEATES EVERY PART OF HIM WHEN HE ACTS.

You might have guessed that I'm serious about Benedict Cumberbatch. I don’t mind being called a cumberbitch. I don’t mind being called a leperous prostitute with an enthusiasm for the b’cumz.  Any label that shows my devotion to this man I’ve never met is FINE with me.

The thing I love about cumberbitches (or cumberladies, cumbermuffins, cumberpuffs, what have you) is that it takes a certain sensitivity to understand why Benedict Cumberbatch is so awesome. That sensitivity usually comes with cleverness and an almost manic loyalty which makes Cumberbatch fangirls just the funniest, craziest, most entertaining fanbase I've ever come across. 

See, Ben* is not just a Hollywood hunk with fake teeth and a six-pack. He's one of those serious actors that does plays and movies about war and the past and shit. Despite his mesmerizing performance as Sherlock, he's played Stephen Hawking, Vincent Van Gogh, Victor Frankenstein, and of course, plenty of important old guys from the past. He's not famous because he's hot - 

Doesn't hurt either... *smolder smolder smolder*

He's famous because he's a fucking amazing actor. And that's exactly why I'm totally spectacularly ridiculously obsessed with him. Do you know how short my attention span is? Do you know how superficial I am? I get BORED, you guys. I get over most crushes in the time it takes me to tweet about it. But since I saw the first season of Sherlock six bloody months ago, I can't get Benedict Cumberbatch out of my head.

He defies logic. He has an unfortunate name and he's one of those cursed people who has a double-chin even when they're really skinny. Anyone that posh is usually crippled by his own privilege. He's not supposed to be a star - he's not even supposed to have the self-assurance to be an actor. But he's got this confidence, this charisma, this endless talent-tinged energy that gives you a glimpse of something far deeper than ordinary life when he performs. 

And once you get that glimpse, it's a little addictive. You end up watching really depressing period dramas and poorly written Hugh Laurie shows just to get your fix. If you're really lucky, you'll even discover a hilarious and perfect radio sitcom** that takes Benedict Cumberbatch's voice to new levels of endearing sweetness (did I mention he has great comedic timing? Because HE TOTALLY DOES.)

But it's not all perfect. So he's cheating on me and THAT'S OKAY. Apparently he's still with "designer Anna Jones" (the obnoxious air quotes will never die) whom he began dating a few months ago. I loved how on twitter all the girls were all like "ooh we're so happy for him" and I was all WHO IS THIS BITCH  and taking my earrings off. 

It's one of the perils of him being so extraordinary -  it's easy to forget that he's an actual person who lives in the world, as is his girlfriend. He wants babies, she has lovely childbearing hips. I'm sure they're very happy together (she typed as blood poured from her slit wrists onto the keyboard.) 

That neck will be the death of me.

He's lovely, and I want him to be happy of course. It's just that a big part of me wishes he'd realize that "designer Anna Jones" has a boring name, break up with her, and then one lonely night he'll be drinking red wine and on a whim decide to google his own name. And then he'll come across this blog and see what a lovely convoluted name I have (my middle name is Shamilevna, bitches, I'm fascinating) and then he'll smile and send me an adorable email and we'll chat and get married and stuff.

IT COULD HAPPEN.

 *Of course we're on a first-name basis. We're dating, remember?
**Pretty please click on this link, because Cabin Pressure is the source of almost all my sitcom references nobody will get tags!

IMAGES USED DON'T BELONG TO ME. FIRST AND LAST ARE © BBC (SHERLOCK SCREENCAPS), I'M AN IDIOT AND CAN'T FIND CREDIT FOR THE SECOND PIC. IF YOU KNOW WHERE IT'S FROM, PLEASE TELL ME SO I CAN CREDIT! THANKS FOR READING ♥

Friday, January 6

Friday Review: Becoming A Writer by Dorothea Brande

This book is dope.

A short but content-rich read, Becoming A Writer is a fluff-free gem of sensible advice about how to stop being a tortured artist and start being a happy and productive writer.

Written in 1934, it's a classic of the writing-on-writing genre. It's easy to see why. Even though it's been around for over 70 years, the message was fresh and relevant to me.

I repeat: dope.


There are some cool exercises, all practical things that should turn into habits rather than fill-in-the-blank homework. Some I haven't tried yet, as they tend to build on each other, but the one I love so far is getting up a little earlier than usual each day, and writing FIRST THING.

You shouldn't read (or preferably even speak) a word until your allotted writing time is up. I've done this for a few days and let me tell you: it's a pain in the ass, and it's totally worth it. Writing before consuming any information (and therefore influence) really lets you find your own rhythm and voice. Highly recommended.

Though the tone is generally kind, one moment Brande actually says that if you consistently fail at one of her exercises, you're probably not cut out to be a writer. (To be fair, the exercise was focused on discipline rather than skill.) I really respected her for saying that. Though she condemns instructors who aim to discourage writers, she doesn't offer blind encouragement either.

Did I mention this was written seventy years ago? That tripped me up a bit. Here are some fun archaic moments:

  • The word 'behooves' always makes me chortle. Behooooooves.
  • "The typewriter has made the writer's way more rocky than it was in the old days of quill and pen." Ah, the old days! When you had to climb into the eagle's nest to get a fresh quill. Good times.
  • Brande suggests that you not allow your fancy white friends judge to you for listening to "Negro spirituals" while you write.
  • NEGRO SPIRITUALS. At no point between 1934-2011 did anyone think to backspace that and replace it with something not so ridiculously offensive? 'Gospel' would've worked.
  • "Talking pictures should be very rarely indulged in." Oh, them talkies are the devil's work!
  • She uses the idea of 'duplicity' (every writer has two sides, the one that makes shopping lists and the one that writes poems about the moonlight) and spends at least five pages convincing the reader this duplicity is "not psychopathic". I guess back in the olden days of quill and pen, people spontaneously went on killing sprees after doing a particularly creative scrapbooking project.

Despite these jarringly oldschool moments, some of the advice is nothing less than New Age by today's standards. Brande encourages clear-eyed awareness exercises that would make Eckhart Tolle proud*, and the main technique she prescribes for unleashing your 'genius' is simply a focused meditation.

But you know what's really great about this book? It gets to the root of why most writing advice misses the point completely. Anyone who's suffered from writer's block, stared at a blank screen (or blank vellum sheet, their quill unyielding) or wondered why inspiration hit only once in a blue moon has usually sought advice. But studying plot structure and approaches to dialogue aren't the solution, because the problem isn't the writing, it's the writer themselves. Brande understands the personality pitfalls of being a writer and offers imminently practical solutions.

This is one of those rare books that makes you want to go write! I'd give it a 4.7/5 or 9.4/10 - if you're a writer, this belongs on your bookshelf right next to Stephen King's On Writing.

D. O. P. E.

*Does Eckhart Tolle feel proud about anything? I get the feeling he's perpetually just-okay with the universe, man.

Friday, December 30

Friday Review: The Selected Works Of T.S. Spivet by Reif Larsen


Basically what happens is that a twelve-year-old genius, T.S. Spivet, is obsessed with mapping the achingly ordinary world around him, until it stops being quite so ordinary – he wins a major scientific prize and has to decide whether to stay on the dry Montana ranch he calls home, or somehow travel two thousand miles across the country to claim his place among the scientists he so reveres. 

Guys, it was so good. If you missed my hints on the blog and twitter, here's how freakin' good it was:

TWO THUMBS UP KINDA GOOD! [Doing two thumbs up while holding heavy book: unsuccessful.]

You know what I loved? The experimentation with sidenotes and illustrations. I literally got this book because I saw it and went “Ooh! Pictures!” and I definitely wasn't disappointed. The little maps, sketches and graphs all add to the story and appeal to my incredibly short attention span. 

Almost every page has a little sketch leading from the text with a delightful dotty arrow.

Reading a sidenote, even at the very end, feels like you're unlocking a secret layer in the narrative. It creates an intimacy with the reader that isn't easy to come by in contemporary lit.

You know what could've been better? The language didn't strive to be childish at all, but there were glaring times when the voice was all “hello, I am an adult self-consciously writing from a child's point of view.” Luckily those moments were few and far between.

Another thing that irked me is the micro-story in the middle, which had its thematic appeal, but dragged on a bit too long. It was compelling at first, but I got through the whole thing only by devouring the side notes. There's also an annoying deus ex machina that pops up towards the end to iron over some dodgy plot points. But hey, this stuff is forgivable.

This isn't an action-packed story, but it's certainly a compelling one. Though T.S. is a little genius, he's far from cold, and there is a pervasive curiosity and clarity of vision that sticks with you after you've put the book down. What's most fascinating is the way he charts and maps his family – from the traumatic accident that killed his brother (this broke my heart a little bit, because it was never fully fleshed out, but constantly hinted at in the narrative) to the series of muscle contractions that make up his father's expressions. Larsen's also a kickass illustrator when he's not doing the whole measuring-and-charting thing, too.

One of my favourite pages, a swarm of sparrows.

Much of the book is set on a very long train ride, and it was described so well that I felt a little fatigued and motion sick whenever it was mentioned. I don't generally recommend books that make me sick, but there you go.

Too charming for words.

I loved it, not only for the rich, endearing story, but because it's so visually interesting I couldn't wait to turn each page. I could argue that the tangential structure hints at the way a genius' brain works, but to be honest it felt very natural and not at all contrived to prove some abstract literary point. It's a brief and intoxicating return to picture books mixed with the secret thrill of reading someone's journal and turning the page sideways to check what vital insight is squished along the margin. 

I wonder if Larsen designs tattoos? *pines*

I recently got a Kindle (yay!) but The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet is exactly why I'll never stop buying print books. I may be downloading classics I'm not sure about, and new stuff that'd take ages to ship to S.A., but something as beautifully crafted as this book could never really live on a screen. It's meant to be held, the weight of it showing how much talent and hard work went into it.

Also, I cried at the end. SO YOU KNOW IT'S GOOD.

I give it a 4/5, or 8.2/10, or :) / 9000. Do pick it up if you get the chance!

Wednesday, December 28

20 Followers! Yay!

I'm so thrilled to say there are 20 beautiful people following this blog - only SOME of whom are related to me! -  and I want to say THANK YOU to every single one of you!


♥ Stas ♥ [Top Commenter! Top Sister!]
Amy
Autumn
Elsha
Dana
Dav
IndianaRonaldo
SJW
Ali
Lady Minya
Anna
Sarah
Daniel
Mouse
Mabel 
Angie
Lillie
Sagitarius167
Dawn
Janet (aka MOM!)

Thank you all for reading, commenting, sharing, liking, skimming, bookmarking for later, hugging the screen (am I only one who does that?) and generally being awesome. I'm in perpetual awe that even one person wants to read my ramblings, let alone twenty! You guys rock!

These are my Blogger / Google Friend Connect followers - if you follow by email or RSS, I don't know about you! If you'd like a shout-out, leave your name and preferred colour+font combination in the comments!

Now everybody GROUP HUG!

Friday, December 16

Friday Review: No Country For Old Men by Cormac McCarthy


No spoilers here, safe to read!

Basically what happens is a regular guy stumbles across some deep shit in a drug deal gone wrong – he's got to find a way out of it with both the Sheriff of his town and a really, REALLY evil hitman on his tail.

If you don't feel like schlepping through this whole review, have a visual representation of my reaction to No Country For Old Men:

I liked this book!

...But it made me sad.


You know what the best bit was? The opening was gripping – I mean, a guy's hunting and suddenly comes across a field strewn with dead bodies, abandoned cars, a stash of heroine and a case full of MONEY. Shit son, I'm interested. I'm wondering what I would do in that situation and I'm eager to read on.

I also loved the interludes of the old Sheriff's inner monologues. These were refreshingly personal and engaging, compared to McCarthy's usual dry, direct style. Which I love almost a little too much on its own. 

The entire narrative was an honest, sad portrayal of moral degradation without being didactic. I still can't quite figure out how McCarthy did that. I think he's magic.

You know what pissed me off? This was one of those books where a simple statement of what fucking year it was would've really helped. I was so confused – this guy is a war veteran from Vietnam, okay, but he seems sorta old, so maybe it's the eighties, but maybe it's the seventies because his wife is nineteen, wait, no, is that a DeLorean I see over the horizon?

And another thing... When I was expecting a massive showdown at the crux of the novel, when the guy we're rooting for and the seemingly indestructible hitman stalking him finally go head-to-head, it just didn't happen. Instead I got a straight-faced account of the aftermath from the Sheriff's point of view. I felt like I got left at the altar, man. Lame.

In a way I can understand why McCarthy made that choice, but you can have all the highbrow literary aims you like, you still left your reader unsatisfied and that's the bottom line. Nevertheless,  that one anticlimax didn't ruin the book for me, because by then I was invested in the other characters. Overall the book ended on a poetic high note.

Quotable quote: When you've said that it's real and not just in your head I'm not all that sure what it is that you've said. (p. 299) I mean, how awesome is that? Layers, dude. Layers.

Should you read it? Sure! It's one of those books where even if you didn't like it, you still know it's good. While it didn't rock my world I'm definitely glad I read it, and I'm eager to reread it soon to play spot-the-foreshadowing.

Should I rate it? That's what reviewers do, right? Well I'd give it 4/5 or 7.8/10 , whichever you like. 

What'd you think of my new review format? I'll be putting up new reviews every Friday. Don't worry, there will still be deviations and snark, but luckily not everything's as bad as Divine: The Series

If you have suggestions for stuff I should review, let me know in the comments!

Thursday, December 1

8 Awesome Quotes for Writers


I love quotes - those bite-sized, perfectly worded, honest and wise little things. They're like the cupcakes on the dessert menu of literature. 

Mmmm. Wisdom.


With NaNoWriMo over, I've clocked in my first win after 2 failed attempts in previous years, and these eight cupcakes (erm, I mean quotes) have given me the mental sugar-rush I needed to get through the toughest and most productive month of my writing life. Enjoy!

#8. It took me fifteen years to discover that I had no talent for writing, but I couldn't give up because by that time I was too famous. - Peter Benchley (author of Jaws)

This sort of stuff always cheers me up because it reminds me that perseverance, not talent, is generally what makes people successful. I read somewhere that it takes the average actor ten years of work to become known, and most actors give up within one year of embarking on their careers. I'm sure it's the same, if not worse, for writers. It sounds depressing at first but it's actually very grounding – I may not be able to control how much inspiration visits me, but I can control my attitude and make sure I don't give up.

#7. Believe in yourself and there will come a day when others will have no choice but to believe in you. - Oscar Wilde

This ties up to the point above, and although it may sound a touch trite and 'inspirational', my boy Ozzy knew what he was talking about. Although all artists crave external validation like sugar-coated crack, it's no substitute for believing in yourself – or, at the very least, believing in what you create.

#6. The best kind of writing, and the biggest thrill in writing, is to suddenly read a line from a typewriter that you didn't know was in you. - Larry L. King

I bet anyone who takes writing seriously has had at least one moment like that, and it's just swell. This quote is great to get you through the slow, painful days when it feels like you're wrenching words out of your stingy muse's mouth with blunt-nosed pliers. Gosh, that was a violent image. Sorry, my muse and I have a really dysfunctional relationship. Moving on...

#5. All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them. - Walt Disney

This one's not strictly about writing, but it applies perfectly to the craft. Courage isn't a word I use often, but in this context it's not about slaying dragons so much as slaying the paper tigers of your own anxiety. There's nothing quite like saying “I want to be a writer” to inspire looks of pity at your naïvety from everybody who's doing more sensible things with their lives. But in a world where you're constantly bombarded with other people's opinions, isn't it a small act of bravery to believe that your own insensible dreams can come true?

#4. How vain it is to sit down to write, when you have not stood up to live. - Henry David Thoreau

This little line means so much to me. And what's a quote collection without Thoreau? To me, this quote isn't so much about life experience (I've met 50-something 'writers' whose wooden prose made me weep) but about awareness. Presence of mind, presence of spirit, experiencing the immediacy of life instead of dismissing it with tired labels. There are too many writers, both amateur and professional, who depend on the linguistic and structural conventions of their genre to give their work validity, at the cost of letting their writing live on its own terms. Life isn't on the page, it's all around you. Stand up to live.

#3. Just write. Do not wait for an idea. Start writing something and the ideas will come. You have to turn the faucet on before water starts to flow. - Louis L'amour

I've loved this quote for a long time, and my NaNo experience really proved its truth to me. It's amazing how you can meander pointlessly for a thousand words and then suddenly, out of the ether, the best stuff shows up. Mine is almost always fashionably late, but it's the life of the party and makes all the other words seem fun and interesting.

#2. The first draft of anything is shit. - Ernest Hemingway

This quote got me through NaNo because I have a really bitchy inner editor. I could easily spend an hour staring at the same line and rewriting it, until I eventually backspace it and wonder if it's too late to apply for a Master's degree in Not Writing. Letting the imperfect stuff stay on the page, at least for a while, is the best new habit I've learnt in November.

#1. Stories are found things... fossils in the ground. - Stephen King

This is the most important quote for me, because it points towards that fact that (for me at least) writing is an act of faith. You have to trust that the story will reveal itself to you if you just keep digging. It also implies that every story has a perfect, true form that you can strive towards, and that's comforting in this bullshit artistic realm where people keep telling me 'there are no right answers' – I don't believe that. Maybe there are no simple solutions, but there is truth. Why not strive towards it?

So those are my eight favourite cupquotes. What are your favourite quotes - about writing, cupcakes or anything in between? Share in the comments!

Thursday, August 18

The Magical Lunar Seahorse Angel

This one time, I was watching TV, (this is how most of my stories start) and there was this fantastically uninformative and mildly entertaining show about… ::shudders::… mysterious things. (What show was that? Boston Rob was in it!)

It was called… um… UFO Investigates? Sci-fi investigates? Mysterious Investigations..? Investigating Mysterious Things That Other People Have Investigated Before Us And Reached No Useful Conclusions And After Twenty Minutes of Cheesy Mysterious Music and Cute Editing We Reach No Useful Conclusions?

Something like that, anyway. It had this brilliant moment where a local in some hick town had a whole photo album of UFO sightings and such. One of the pictures was a Polaroid of the back of a guy’s head – but get this – there was no guy there when he’d taken the picture!

Dun dun DUUUUN.

He was just, like, you know, taking pictures of the lawn outside his house at night, and judging by how blurry the picture was I’m almost sure he was sober, so there can be no other reasonable explanation. The photograph was of an alien! An alien who only looked like a person, but a person invisible to the naked eye (an ingenious double-disguise, that sneaky alien bastard) but who showed up on the picture, because... well... the alien wasn’t expecting anybody to take pictures of a seemingly empty piece of lawn, okay?! So he didn’t take his photo-invisibility ray-gun with him on the trip. Ha!

And because I can’t find the actual show online (that’s how bad it was) here’s a watermarked image that’s sort of the same:

Eerie.
Funny story, because I was actually taking a picture of the empty sky the other night when I noticed a MAGICAL LUNAR SEAHORSE ANGEL!

No, seriously.

Monday, November 22

OMG Dante!

An extract from my ranting-diary for Travel Writing... Rewriting Dante's Inferno from an OMG!blogger point of view ~ Yeah, it seemed like a good idea at the time ;)



Actually, how I got to see hell is a funny story. You see, *clears throat* …
Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself in a dark wilderness,
For I had wandered from the straight and true.

I had taken one too many bribes while in local government (how else was I going to keep myself in Prada?) and found myself wracked with guilt after a few bottles of wine, stumbling through a forest looking for a decent place to throw up. And then I thought I saw a long-dead scholar idol of mine, and I was like “OMG Virgil!”
And Virgil was like “OMG Dante!”
And then we totally hugged.
And Virgil was like, “Dante you’re such a loser. You should stop being a loser and be awesome instead.”
And I was like, “But Virgil, I don’t know how to be awesome. Will you show me?”
And Virgil was like, “No dude I can’t, I’m totally dead! And I was a giant Roman heathen anyway. But since you’re already trippin’ (never mix shrooms and wine, dude) I can take you on a journey through hell so you can see what happens to losers who don’t become awesome before they die.”
And I was like “WOOO! ROAD TRIP!”
And Virgil shook his head and was like, “You are so wasted this may as well be a Contiki tour.”
And I was like “WOOOO –”
And then I threw up.

Sunday, October 10

Pigfarts you are not running -- it's Mars!

The title is the Translation Party result of the quote "You can't just go to Pigfarts -- it's ON MARS!" (from AVPM! Which I totally did not watch last night instead of sleeping / writing past due essays / planning my escape from academia to sunny Mexico.)

I discovered Translation Party about half an hour ago and have been obsessed with it ever since. You give it any sentence and it translates from English to Japanese and back, until it finds 'equilibrium' (the English sentence goes into Japanese and comes out exactly the same. I don't know how else to explain it. I've been writing past due essays all day!)

So the sentence "I discovered Translation Party about half an hour ago and have been obsessed with it ever since" went through a couple of incarnations and morphed into "Before it is to find a hook for 30 minutes, I need to translate official." 

My favourite translation was the line "Life is too important to be taken seriously," which only took 3 morphs to get to "It is important that life too seriously." It's like seeing the intimate crevices of an Engrish mind at work.

And remember kids, whenever you're having an existential crisis, solve it the same way Happy Rotter does...

Get it?