Let me be clear. I don’t know Zoe Sugg. I don’t know if her vlogs are any good. I’m just excited that someone has erupted out of a somewhat-new cultural avenue to dominate something as antiquated as the “best selling books” list. At least for now this celebrity born out of the YouTube-Universe is the best selling debut novelist in the UK. Ever. Will she succeed going forward? Who the fuck knows. But petulant, authority-dismissing me likes this.
Another true Wizard of Existence has sloughed the coil mortal. Opting out of this realm of rot for the wonderful embrace of entropy. Fare thee well on your transmutation back into particles, R.A. Montgomery. You gave us fucking “Choose Your Own Adventure”, and for that we are hyper-textually blessed.
IT’S ABOUT TIME. Amazon is absolutely the devil. Absolutely ruining everything. Also absolutely essential to my life. And for months now I haven’t been able to order books from them because they’ve been beefing with Hachette. Now! Now though. It’s over.
Alan Moore has finished the first draft of his novel, Jerusalem. And it’s more than a million words. God Save The Editor! And God help whomever decides to delve into this albatross.
Sure we all loved Goosebumps, but it was R.L. Stine’s “more mature” book series Fear Street that gave me some of my earliest adolescent shocks, and boners. Now it appears that Stine is bringing the series back. Here’s to more shivers, shocks, boners, and funny feelings!
Oh shit! Tolkien’s 88 year-old translation of “Beowulf” is finally seeing the light of day! I can’t fucking wait! In all honesty I didn’t even know this shit existed. However, it is certainly fucking cool that we will see the Hobbit King’s translation of a work which Surely Influenced Him. GOOD LUCK fucking topping HEANEY’S TRANSLATION THO, bro.
How the fuck has this news been out in the Nether-Webs for two days without me noticing it? I’d be more outraged, but frankly all the chemicals in my system are murmuring “shh, shh, slumber now” in my psychological ear. So instead I’m just going to be FUCKING STOKED at the news that Ellis’ next novel has been revealed. Then go to bed. Immediately. Maybe dream of the bearded one, hovering over me. Maybe rubbing my ears, helping me along the road to Morpheus’ haunts.
Welcome to the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE! What do we do here? Well, we discuss the various bites of nonsense we’ll be crammin’ into our skull-holes. Why do we have to do this? Well, if we don’t surround our brain-bones with inspiring, ridiculous, entertaining detritus, then there’s a chance that the bad vibes might get in. And bad vibes are to minds what termites are to wood.
You remember what the termites did to Grampy’s pirate leg, right?
So hop into the frenzy and show off what you’ll be doin’ this week!
Life is tricky and heroes help out.
There’s no doubt that there’re plenty of problems to be had. Even the strongest amongst us is still, ultimately, an insatiable consciousness traveling in a meek meat-vehicle. While many are bound to experience transcendence at some point, all must deal with turmoil. Hell, dealing with bullshit might be the very yarn woven throughout the entire fabric of the human experience.
“We are all bitched from the start,” Hemingway once wrote.
Luckily, the variety of problems running amok is matched by an equally impressive assortment of heroes. There’re all different sortss, some real and some fictional and others somewhere in between. What do they do? Well, right now they’re at work doin’ medical research and teachin’ guitar and writin’ plays and demonstratin’ the high-jump and makin’ pots of coffee and intermediatin’ conflicts and givin’ earnest advice and huggin’ it out. So if it seems like shit’s gettin’ mad-daunting, keep your eye out for a hero.
In the same letter mentioned above, Hemingway instructed his friend to “Forget your personal tragedy.”
That friend was F. Scott Fitzgerald.
My hero du jour? Michael Keaton. As a self-diagnosed maniac (diagnose yourself otherwise the man with the clipboard will tell you what you are), I need my inspiration to come from superheroes and ghouls and Tarantino characters. So, Keaton’s pretty perfect.
Us maniacs, we need Michael Keaton.
Welcome to the MMC. I’m goin’ to show you some stuff I’ll be doin’ this week. Check it out and then hit up the comments section and describe what you’ll be rockin’ in the upcoming days.
When you pick up a novel, you basically know what you’re going to get: some characters, a setting or two, probably some discernible overriding theme—you know, the bare necessities of storytelling. These components are in any narrative concoction; whether it’s good or not is usually all a matter of mixing it up the right way. And there in the middle, moving them all about in some dramatically interesting fashion, is the conflict. Conflict can be a make-or-break element because a story’s clashes and bashes and gnashes propel everything and really make the story come to life. But for me there’s an even more primary conflict attached to this whole process, one that exists outside story itself: summoning the strength to actually pick up the novel to read in the first place. And, if you don’t mind, this conflict is what I’d like to investigate here today.