A new era of blogging

So, I haven't posted in a million years, and I think, instead of trying to catch you all up on what my life has consisted of since...March (in short: a promotion, a birthday, stabbings, a lost tooth, a trip home, my first kayaking experience, a pregnancy in the family, and a new dating experience), I'm going to completely revamp my theme for my blog. From now on, all you're going to hear about is my opinions on new music, movies and books that I'm partaking in. That is, new to me. Doesnt' necessarily have to be a new release. Capisce??

So, to start off, I recently finished a book called "Still Life with Woodpecker" by Tom Robbins. I have to say, I was not prepared for this book. A friend of mine bought it for me with the understanding that I would read it and tell him exactly what I thought of it. (This friend, by the way, is a film teacher and an English major, so he should know good storytelling when he sees it). The cover is rather decieving, unless you know your cigarettes. To me, it looked rather prissy. Curiques and trees and pyramids in the background, with a picture of a bird (ostensibly a woodpecker) in the foreground. My smoker friends, though, immediately recognized it as the design for a Camel pack.

"Still Life with Woodpecker" is written in this self-depricating, roundabout, ironic way that only a cynical author with a sharp sense of humor could possibly construct. In fact, I think I may have fallen in love with Tom Robbins a little bit because of his writing style. The book examines the life of Leigh-Cheri, princess daughter of King Max and Queen Tilli, deposed royals from some (I think) unnamed country overseas. Leigh-Cheri is an angsty environmentalist princess in her early 20's who, after her second miscarriage, has decided to become celibate, but still has visions of Ralph Nader when she masturbates. To lift her out of her existential funk, her parents send her to Care-fest, an environmentalist convention (environ-con??) in Hawaii. On her flight over, she meets the Woodpecker, aka Bernard Mickey Wrangle, outlaw extrordinare and accomplished dyanamitologist as well as a fellow redhead. His mission in Hawaii is to bomb the Care-fest, but after imbibing one too many tequilas, winds up bombing a UFO convention instead. After Leigh-Cheri's antiquated care-taker Guiletta points out Bernard as the culprit, she immediately places him under citizens arrest, which he wrangles his way out of by drinking tequila with her and them falling in love. (Note to self: next time I'm accused of something, make my accuser fall in love with me and I'll get away with it. Hmmm...) Bernard winds up framing a couple who claim they're from the planet Argon for the bombing. (Argonians, by the way, believe that redheads are evil doers who partake of too much sugar and lust). Bernard follows Leigh-Cheri back to Seattle, where his attempts to win over her family are thwarted after he stains a priceless rug with ink, sits on Tilli's pet chihuahua, thereby killing it, and getting busted by the CIA and winding up in jail. Leigh-Cheri consequently decides to sequester herself in her attic as a show of solidarity with Bernard. She only has a pack of Camel cigarettes to keep her company (and, after a while, a frog named Prince charming). Within the pack of Camels she unravels what she considers to be the mystery of life, involving pyramids, redheads and aliens from Argon. Bernard eventually learns of her self-induced confinement, and the nationwide trend of sequestered lovers sweeping the nation as a result, and sends her a scathing letter accusing her of being an attention hog. Heartbroken, Leigh-Cheri immediately becomes engaged to an Arab royal after he agrees to build her a life-size pyramid as a wedding present. Hilarity ensues. Seriously.

It really was one of the funniest books I've read in a long long time. Not to mention that I related to the idea of redheads being some sort of focus point for a long lost race of aliens, who are trying to pass a message on to humankind. I've always thought I was kind of weird. Maybe it's just that I have a little bit of ET DNA in me. Tom Robbins weaves a rather entriguing story on his bright red Remington SL3 typewriter, but finally grows tired of the Remington having all the control over the story, and ditches the machine for a hand written last couple of pages. Where else can you get outlaws, royalty, aliens, pyramids, and a surprisingly relavent and poignant message regarding the state of humanity at the end of the 20th century? This was published in 1980, but with the references to Ralph Nader, the United States dependancy on Arab oil sources, and environmental issues, this is surprisingly just as relavent today as it was in 1980.

So, yes, Tom Robbins rocks, and "Still Life with Woodpecker" was a fantastic read. Currently I'm wrapped up in a book called "The Collector" by John Fowles, about a butterfly collecter whose obsessive stalking "love" of a young college girl turns him into a kidnapper and maybe worse. It's creepy. I'm sure I'll post about it soon-ish.

Peace.