The House I Want (Part Four)

Planning for the Future Post #4

Don't just rest...relax.

The bedroom is not the heart of the house, but it's the place you rest when you're sick, lounge when you're lazy, entertain when you're serious and rest your head at night. The one I have now has a brown polo paint job (I never did the moldings in the darker brown like I was supposed to) and I've got a leather bed. Not bad work if you can get it. It's a queen not a king, because I believe you shouldn't be able to retreat across the bed from your partner, that the intimacy bred by the proximity is something to treasure. But I digress.

For my bedroom, I want THAT bedroom. With the dark brown walls, but the slightly darker trim. Some art on the walls. Photos that I took. Dark wooden shades and the walk-in closet the size of a complete other room (but that's a whole other post). I want it both spacious and cozy, which I know is quite a trick, with enough room for a couch and a mini-kitchenette, a small space to heat up something in case I don't want to walk down to the kitchen. Maybe a balcony overlooking the fabulous deck I want? Oh the possibilities.

I guess mostly though I want a space where I can close the door and get a good rest.

Straight Outta....well, maybe next time.

Ramblings Post #295
I've had a lot of free time on my hands lately. Too much really. Because when I have too much free time I try to do too many things. I'm still working on my book. (Yes, same book, surprise!) But I'm also starting to think up a new series of characters for a new series of books that would act as a prequel to the book I stopped writing to write this book....which I haven't forgotten, but also working on some songs since I got this app, and also reading a whole lot, and game strategy, and....as I said, too much. 

Straight of Compton

I'm probably not going to see Straight Out of Compton. At least not out. Not out of protest, not because people who didn't make it are mad it didn't include the parts they wanted (see Dee Barnes), not because it somehow "glorifies misogyny", but because the last movie I remember seeing in at the movies was Skyfall, and the next one will probably be Spectre. That AND,  since I was there the first time, actually purchased the albums and listened to the gossip, seeing it all chromed out and cleaned up really has no thrill for me. It's like watching Will Smith play Ali when I could actually watch the documentary and see Ali be himself.

No thrill.

Further, I'm not happy with how the premiere was framed by the media. The implication that there would be violence because of the film was just plain crazy. The audience for this film, NWA fans, are at this point are in their forties and fifties, with careers, mortgages and kids in college. They're not riding up on twenty eights with the choppa in trunk and bum rushing the Regal. They've bought their tickets online at the place with surround sound and stadium seating that serves dinner and dessert, because this is their one night out a week and they need to get home before they piss off the babysitter.  This is folks reliving an admiration of their anti-heros from a hazily remembered youth that wasn't even real the first time around. Think college homecoming in the alumni section more than club full of gangbangers. And yet the media is stunned their was no violence.

I understand the film did well, and hopefully it will open the doors for more films telling the black stories that have black people in them. Hollywood finds every excuse to not tell the black tale unless it's filtered through some other's lens, but here the outlaws were in charge. Well corporate outlaws living off a twenty five year old legend, but outlaws just the same. They did it their way. So maybe a another door opens somewhere. Maybe, just maybe. But I'll be waiting for HBO.

Barkeep, I need me a little gin with some juice. Yeah, I know it's a throw back. But make Tanqueray and the juice a mix of Mango and Pineapple. Fresh juice, now. We're not savages here.
 

Odd Quotes

I unfortunately don't remember who to attribute this to. If you know, I'll add it.

"Be alone. Eat alone, take yourself on dates, sleep alone. In the midst of this you will learn about yourself. You will grow, you will figure out what inspires you, you will curate your own dreams, your own beliefs, your own stunning clarity, and when you do meet the person who makes your cells dance, you will be sure of it, because you are sure of yourself."
~ Bianca Sparacino

A Quick Book Review - Slumberland

I'm reading a lot of books my brother has suggested, and honestly it's been hit or miss. To read his latest suggestion I actually had to activate the Kindle app on my tablet. This is something I had avoided doing for a long time, because I have an issue with Kindle, or Nook, or one of them. Whatever. In any case, my issue is that you don't actually own the books, but read them through a licensing agreement. Which sounds great until you realize it gives them the power to take the books back at any time, without your knowledge. I would say or consent, but we all know its somewhere in the 57-page agreement nobody reads, so whatever. But as a person who re-reads books all the time, sometimes three or four times, the idea of waking up one day and my books are gone just doesn't even feel right.

But I digress.

Slumberland. I wish I could find what the author was on when he wrote it, because the book reads like less like a story and more like the muttered recollections of someone fresh off a three day bender. At 7am and they are still half alseep and still half in the bag. While you putter around somebody's kitchen on a Thursday morning (Do the math.) While trying to conceive of a breakfast that includes chili powder, leftover dip, and pasta. While also trying to remember A)who these other four people are and B) whose house this is and C) whose underwear you have on. Meanwhile everyone is laughing and knows your name. The book feels like that.

What? That exact thing has never happened to you? Um, never-mind. Let's just say it's an odd book.

The hero, um, narrator, um...there's this guy, in a tanning salon. He's black, but he's in a tanning salon. He explains why eventually, but it's not important. Well, maybe it kinda is. Anyway he's produced what he and his sound collective guesses is the perfect piece of music, or so they think. So he, um, goes to...no, tricks these...er, he goes to Berlin, right, just trust me, and he's searching for this guy, this musician he had decided is the singular authority to validate his music. Only he's never met the guy, has no pictures and has no idea what he looks like. It's that kinda music. 

Beatty, the author,  falls into what I'm seeing as the new style....finding a single concept and drilling down to it's very bottom, then creating a story around it, as if to celebrate it. With Ready Player One, it was the 80's video games. With this it's music.

So, this guy ends up working at the Slumberland bar, this spot where German women pick up black guys as the guy who sets the musical tone for the place. He meets some interesting characters on his quest to find this musical guru, and is black in Germany. Seriously, that's a theme, being black. Look, the book flirts with a broad range of stuff, although it makes love to the author's diverse musical tastes, and covers things like bits of philosophy, a take on California, the government, the fall of the Berlin Wall, the modern record industry, pornography, fill in the blank here, something else, etc. It's hard to explain, without telling the whole story, or giving away the bits of the story that make the read interesting. 

Now, be aware, there is not a lot a story, something I only realized after a good bit of reading. It's mostly thoughts and extremely colorful description. Honestly, I could boil the actual story part down to three good paragraphs for Wikipedia. But Beatty takes what he has and tells it well, and as I said, he is so very, very descriptive. There are ramblings and tangents, asides and impressions and a host of other things that aren't really story, but give the story flavor. And a story without a flavor is just text.

This was a good read. Brisk, and occasionally a little convoluted, but good. Maybe you pick it up. Maybe I get another ice cream sandwich.