So I spent the last week (every day all day last week) delivering flowers for Mother's Day. Saturday was not only my sister's birthday, but it was apparently the birthday of dozens of kids around Hayward as well, judging by all the bounce houses I saw in people's front yards and driveways.
It was a gorgeous day for bouncing, and at about 3 in the afternoon I pull up to a house, number 169, and start walking to the door. Aside from the strangeness of a little boy about 6 years old answering the door and not having a) any parents home or b) any idea if Mariana lived there, the house was remarkable because of what was next door.
In the driveway adjacent to 169 was a truck with planks of wood making the bed deeper. Painted on the wood was a phone number and a logo. It was a bounce house delivery truck. Like Neo, I saw the source.
And I'll tell you my most common thought over the last week, which went unsaid because I'm polite. "I don't know. There's a card here, maybe you should just read that. If I had to guess, I'd say they were from one of your kids since it's you know, Mother's Day."
Monday, May 12, 2008
Thursday, May 1, 2008
"Zac, wome [sic] that cut our flesh S. Plascencia"
After reading the famous novels of Gabriel Garcia Marquez I decided to go back and reread what I often refer to as my favorite book, "The People of Paper" by Salvador Plascencia.
It's hard to describe what it's about since, like all post-modern art, it's really about itself, but the story deals with love, war, sadness and oppression - all of which is about the book in some way if you really wanted to think about it hard.
I first read the book as part of my contemporary American literature class, which ended up being probably the best class I ever took in my academic career. The professor, Katherine Hayles, who also served as my TA during section, is often referred to as one of the foremost literary critics of the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. She has so much clout actually, that she was able to get Sal Plascencia to come to our class and discuss the first, and to date only, novel he's written.
Sal was a doctoral student at USC at the time (and likely still is) and was noticeably nervous speaking about his book not so much to the class, but with Dr Hayles (interesting trivia about her: she has a masters and PhD in English but also a masters in chemistry from Cal Tech).
So we asked Sal questions (the binary sections are just gibberish but there is something written under Baby Nostradamus' black circles) and he signed our books if we wanted. At the time I wished I hadn't cheeped out at the beginning of the semester and bought a used version but now I'm glad there's a little bit of wear and a UCLA stamp on the spine.
The book is out of print (a modified paperback version is available from Amazon but I've looked and never found one in stores) and like "House of Leaves" would be nearly impossible to turn into a movie. It's strange and flawed (the best ones always are) but there's something about it that is fun, rewarding and heartwarming/breaking. About halfway through my rereading of it I've passed my favorite section and can definitively say that it is in fact, my favorite book.
But you might not like it at all. Nineteen reviewers on Amazon have given it an average rating of 4.5 stars out of 5, but McSweeney's fans tend to be pretentious and like things that you've never heard of just because you've never heard of it. They can be spotted by their expensive pants and constant insulting of anything mainstream. I like the Olive Garden and usually wear cheap jeans (though I've recently received a pair of GAP jeans and like them) so maybe there is a bit of crossover appeal with this one.
It's hard to describe what it's about since, like all post-modern art, it's really about itself, but the story deals with love, war, sadness and oppression - all of which is about the book in some way if you really wanted to think about it hard.
I first read the book as part of my contemporary American literature class, which ended up being probably the best class I ever took in my academic career. The professor, Katherine Hayles, who also served as my TA during section, is often referred to as one of the foremost literary critics of the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. She has so much clout actually, that she was able to get Sal Plascencia to come to our class and discuss the first, and to date only, novel he's written.
Sal was a doctoral student at USC at the time (and likely still is) and was noticeably nervous speaking about his book not so much to the class, but with Dr Hayles (interesting trivia about her: she has a masters and PhD in English but also a masters in chemistry from Cal Tech).
So we asked Sal questions (the binary sections are just gibberish but there is something written under Baby Nostradamus' black circles) and he signed our books if we wanted. At the time I wished I hadn't cheeped out at the beginning of the semester and bought a used version but now I'm glad there's a little bit of wear and a UCLA stamp on the spine.
The book is out of print (a modified paperback version is available from Amazon but I've looked and never found one in stores) and like "House of Leaves" would be nearly impossible to turn into a movie. It's strange and flawed (the best ones always are) but there's something about it that is fun, rewarding and heartwarming/breaking. About halfway through my rereading of it I've passed my favorite section and can definitively say that it is in fact, my favorite book.
But you might not like it at all. Nineteen reviewers on Amazon have given it an average rating of 4.5 stars out of 5, but McSweeney's fans tend to be pretentious and like things that you've never heard of just because you've never heard of it. They can be spotted by their expensive pants and constant insulting of anything mainstream. I like the Olive Garden and usually wear cheap jeans (though I've recently received a pair of GAP jeans and like them) so maybe there is a bit of crossover appeal with this one.
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