I’ll start out with the incredibly trivial tonight: Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore got married. Here’s my question, how does this even count as entertainment news? Seriously, Ashton is on That 70’s Show, which is a second or third tier Fox show and Demi is, well, why the hell is Demi Moore famous? Is it still because of that Vanity Fair cover where she was wearing the body paint? Because she was married to Bruce Willis? Because she starred as the least memorable stripper ever in that Burt Reynolds film? We need some surveys to figure out why this is considered a Yahoo headline.
On even more trivial (but very uplifting) news, Lindsey Lohan has put on weight and gone back to being a redhead. To which all of us who had donated a paycheck to the “Buy Lindsey a sandwich” fund can feel proud in that we have truly made a difference in this world. Actually, I’ll just be happy to have people with slightly more realistic body images on television. I view this as a one step at a time process until we reach that true level of wisdom in which guys with graying hair and glasses are viewed as the sexiest people on the planet. I mean, there are some undeniable truths after all.
Ok, I’ve talked about the writer Jonathan Carroll in this space before. He is an incredibly talented, incredibly creative, though sometimes disconcerting writer. My best explanation of his work is that he writes the best opening two thirds of a novel that I’ve ever seen. It’s that last third that always seems to be a problem. The other thing about his work is that after you read it months later you think about it and you can’t remember if it was something you read or something that you dreamt or something that you lived. And I can attest to that, as I dreamt that I was in White Apples while I was reading it. But this next story is even weirder.
One night a few weekends ago I had a very strange dream. I dreamt that I was walking back from the bar late at night and as I was making my way home I saw something walking on the sidewalk, just on the edge of the grass. What it was pretty much floored me. It was a little person. Not hobbit sized but like six inches tall, just making it’s way down the sidewalk minding its own business while everyone walked by and went, “Well, would you look at that.” When I woke up I went “Wow, that one was pretty weird” and figured that maybe I should just cut back on some of my less desirable habits. But for the most part I paid it no mind. Until yesterday.
I’m at Midway Airport going on much less sleep than I should. I grab my copy of Glass Soup and figure that at least I have a new novel to burn some airport time with. So the book starts with a character at the end of his rope, his entire life having collapsed around him, getting dressed to go to work feeling that if he didn’t produce he’d be fired by the end of the day. And on page 4 this character starts talking to a little guy, about six inches tall, who is standing on his nightstand. This is really frightening. It’s one thing to dream something you’ve read. It’s much different to read something you’ve dreamt.
I’m not sure if I should take this as a sign or not. If anything, I’ll use this as another reason to push you to find some of his books. A few are still available in bookstores, he is horribly out of print (but Pamela Anderson isn’t, explain that one to me.) All I know is that it’s nice to know that someone is on the same wavelength as me in this world. I just wonder if it is a good frequency or not.
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