Odd Words July 22, 2010Posted by The Typist in Odd Words, Toulouse Street.
Yes it’s summertime and the living is easy which is to say miserably hot and as my earlier one line post suggests, don’t out of the shade grasshopper unless there is cold beer involved. Sensible people, including writers, begin to dream of San Francisco or the coast of Maine. They don’t imagine hauling themselves down into the swampy funk of New Orleans, however writerly and romantic. So, what is there to do? Crib something from the Internet or pull out another dripping amber bottle and crawl back into the shade with a good book.
Or maybe a stack of them, as Doug Bruns writing over at The Millions did. (What did writers do when they couldn’t write, before the Internet gave us the cheap link trick? Go out and get drunk or laid or something. While I’m sitting here reading essays. Which leads us to Brun’s quote:)
I am a reader first. If I were an addict, I would get high and while high, presumably, worry about where I was to get my next fix. Reading is not all that different, I think. As a reader, I am always looking over the binding thinking about the next read, in some instances, longing for it. Some books, like some highs, are better than others. But even with not-so-good books–and there where two this past year I did not see to completion–I will come back to the drug, seeking the next high. I will always be a reader. Of this I am certain.
My colleague on a book project (watch this space) told me I should take last night off from edits and answering a contributor’s email. I replied by text message that unless there was a line a coke waiting for me inside there was no chance I would tackle either task. Bad, she quickly SMSed back. Yes, I told her, I would much rather nod. By which, of course, I meant collapse back onto the couch with a book.
§ How about some Emily Every Day? The internet is almost as strange in its interconnection as New Orleans. I found this via a local neighborhood group mailing list linking to a story in the local newspaper home and garden section, about a writer I didn’t know lived in the hood and her writing porch. Which I now covet, but would repaint.
§ At the Maple Leaf, poet Joseph Makkos reads from and signs new poetry chapbooks.
§ You don’t have to go to big box Metairie or a Sam’s Club or Books-a-Million to see Drew Brees and get a copy of the New Orleans Saints quarterback book Coming Back Stronger: Unleashing the Hidden Power of Adversity, but you will need an advanced ticket to see him in the intimate space of Octavia Books, 513 Octavia St., 1 p.m. Monday. Call quick: 899-7323.
§ I missed out on Macbeth, but I’m not going to miss The Tempest as part of the Tulane University summer theatre series. Details here.