By The Way

Until further notice, this blog will not be used for public consumption. I am on facebook. I will be using their notes feature to post excerpts from my book to illicit feedback. If you would like to help in this process and hate face book, let me know and I will hook you up through google documents (I have a mac, it’s just easier).

More rants can be found at I suggest you read that shit.

Listen to Mogwai, Trash Talk and Bridge and Tunnel like I will be this week.

Fuck yea!


Opulance in Fiction

I’ve been listening to the audio book “Entombed” written by infamous lawyer turned crime novelist Linda Fairstein. Aside from her obvious racism, which I guess is just the predeliction of the upper class white society, her lazzier faire attidtude towards her own oppulance, as displayed through her charachter Alex Cooper.

American’s are funny about our oppulence. In this day and age, even the struggling working class doesn’t realize the oppulence it lives in compared to most of the world. We live in a society built on consumption and isolation. We have made a world in which it is easy to live in a community without having a community, but everyone puts out loads of recycling every week. We are burried behind the walls of stuff we consume. There doesn’t seem to be a way out. My own suffocation under this wall has seemed to have paralyzed me.

Fairsteen through Alex Cox doesn’t seem to care. The loss of another human being loved by a collegue is an exscuse for Cox to go a get away home in Virginia. Because for Fairsteen, this is how you cope, by indulging in the freedom of the oppulent. the rest of us we greive amongst the bills, the laundry, cooking and cleaning. We don’t have the luxury of up scale resturaunts or freedom to reflect on the pain and misery and hurt. We exisit amongst the recyle bin filled beyond capacity and ready to be taken out. She has more then that to distance her self, even from her own real world of violent crime against women.

How an artist can tackle such an important subject as violence against women with such dismisal of the reality of our world is beyond me. Any research on Fairsteen’s track record as a lawyer however uncovers that she had a less then spectacular record in some high profile cases (The Central Park 5 is a good starting point). It is perhaps her experience that could be interjected into her books that makes it so cold. Perhaps she has just seen too much, become too jaded.

It’s Tuesday. My stomach aches for sustance. My mind is cloudy, I haven’t been sleeping well. The world is moving fast, much faster then I am ready for, but that’s how life moves.