Imbibe, All Ye Faithful
Before I begin talking about the things I'll be... talking... about, I feel it's important to include a slight disclaimer:
I don't mean to complain. For the most part, people who look for fault in everything rather than seeing the good in that which is around them bother the holy hell out of me. I personally try to refrain from complaining too much, lest I allow myself to be drawn into that sort of mindless dissatisfaction with life. However, I also hold firm the belief that things are not perfect, a lot of things aren't even good, and it is only through the questioning of norms and the scrutiny and subsequent defeat of accepted if imperfect practices that any improvement can be made. It is therefore that I must first make note of a bunch of crap before I can start talking about all the non-crap in the world. At least as far as this particular entry is concerned.
That being said:
How bad is life people? More accurately, how boring is life? How boring are we when, every holiday, we have to cringe and creep along the streets because, invariably, there's a good number of people who get blasted as quickly and completely as possible lest they be forced to use their conscious, unaltered minds to have a good time?
Is life that horrible for these people that they're incapable of enjoying themselves unless they're blitzed? Are people that bereft of personality that the only way they can be an enjoyable human being is to inebriate themselves?
Enough of the questions, I guess. It's not accomplishing anything. But it should be said and noticed. People use the holidays as an excuse to get shitfaced. And that's not all. Such a huge part of the holiday culture is drinking, as well. It's like you can't have a party without booze there. Not that this only holds true for the holidays, but being the holidays, there are plenty of parties to be had. Personally, I'm polytheistic. That doesn't mean I worship many gods like the ancient Greeks, that means I adhere to many religions, that I might capitalize on days off, holiday gatherings, and gift cullings, accordingly.
I've heard no less than three separate commercials being played ad nauseum over the radio advertising the many places and deals you can get buying booze. BOOZE BOOZE BOOZE! Picture how great your party will be! Mixing someone a drink! Your mom will have a drink! Everyone will have a drink! They'll be drinking! We'll all be DRINKING!
I thought we eventually grew out of the early-college-years fascination with alcohol. Like it maybe loses its novelty after a few years, but no. You need booze. We all need booze.
I also enjoy how my Christian friends have been saying "Happy Holidays." Come on, you wafflers. What's the point of being a zealot if you don't get to be zealous? Merry Christmas! SAY IT! Like it matters anyway! Who's actually celebrating the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ? Who isn't just having a day to get together with their families and have a good time. Put the gifts aside, put the materialism aside, put the commercialization aside, it's still a good time to spend with your family, and not one to think about how one time there was this kid that got born and he happened to be the son of God. Personally, I think Christmas in its current incarnation is more important as a sentiment than it was intended to be at its creation. Celebrating the creation of a deity seems too worshipful to be productive. Spending time with those you love and geniunely giving and caring about others seems infinitely more important.
I recently finished Chuck Palahniuk's Diary. I can't say enough about Palahniuk's work. Of all the media we have today, from canvas to film, there are people diong neat things. Everyone's doing interesting things in their respective discplines, but I swear that there is no one breaking any new ground the way that Palahniuk is. The guy is re-defining the novel. What he writes is different from anything else that has ever been, and it's amazing to be here and see it. To do something new in art is a truly remarkable thing, and the man is simply achieving it. I can say no more than that to his praise.
Diary is a fantastic book. Palahniuk really hasn't played much off the twist ending since Fight Club, his other novels having been straightforward in revelation while still revolutionary in content and style (I haven't read Invisible Monsters yet, so I can't attest to any pattern it may or may not reveal in Chuck's writing), but he goes back to it with a vengeance in Diary. Still avoiding being built upon the lattice of Fight Club, however, Diary Leaves you in the dark the entire time no matter what you attempt to deduce.
While reading Fight Club, if you are informed it contains a twist ending, you might be able to peice it together, to attempt to deduce the outcome (though not the movie... regardless of whether your friends say they did. Think of this, you didn't figure it out, and you're smarter than your friends, aren't you?). Diary has a twist ending. I don't feel bad telling you this. Because no matter what you do, no matter how many lines of logic you try to follow, no matter how hard you think or how smart you are, you can not figure out what the hell is going on in this book.
I have to admit, it was a singularly frustrating experience. The entire time I was reading it, as enthralled as I was by the story, I could not figure out what the hell was going on. He draws you along, does Palahniuk, he keeps you involved and gives you enough of his trademark painstakingly-researched inner-dark of the everyday world, but at the same time you are surrounded by this surreality, this nonsense that simply does not tie together until the end. Fight Club's ending at least came as a surprise. With this novel, you're waiting for the twist. You're aching for the twist, for anything to come along and explain what the hell is going on.
And now, on to the question of publishing. Bit of a pet peeve for me, I'm going to describe for you the actual process of starting this novel.
1) The Cover: Diary, a novel by Chuck Palahniuk. The front cover is filigree serrated on one side, revealing a rose pattern on the following page.
2)Inside cover: The words: Where do you get your inspiration. Large, chalked-in.
3)The Rose-Page: Again, Diary by Chuck Palahniuk, along with some critical praise.
4)Inside the Rose-Page: Nothing.
5)Acclaim for Chuck Palaniuk's Diary: More critical praise.
6)Other side: Other books by Chuck Palahniuk.
7)Title Page: Diary
8-9) Splash page over the next two pages, pictures of significance once you've begun the book, along with the words "Where do you get your inspiration?"
10)Next page: More pictures.
11) Another Title Page: Diary by Chuck Palahniuk
12) Copywright information, a legitimately used page.
13)Yet another Title Page: Diary
14)Nothing
15)Page One: June 21st - The Three-Quarter Moon
Just struck me as a lot of excess crap in the front, that's all.
Anyway, great book.
Where do you get your inspiration?
I don't mean to complain. For the most part, people who look for fault in everything rather than seeing the good in that which is around them bother the holy hell out of me. I personally try to refrain from complaining too much, lest I allow myself to be drawn into that sort of mindless dissatisfaction with life. However, I also hold firm the belief that things are not perfect, a lot of things aren't even good, and it is only through the questioning of norms and the scrutiny and subsequent defeat of accepted if imperfect practices that any improvement can be made. It is therefore that I must first make note of a bunch of crap before I can start talking about all the non-crap in the world. At least as far as this particular entry is concerned.
That being said:
How bad is life people? More accurately, how boring is life? How boring are we when, every holiday, we have to cringe and creep along the streets because, invariably, there's a good number of people who get blasted as quickly and completely as possible lest they be forced to use their conscious, unaltered minds to have a good time?
Is life that horrible for these people that they're incapable of enjoying themselves unless they're blitzed? Are people that bereft of personality that the only way they can be an enjoyable human being is to inebriate themselves?
Enough of the questions, I guess. It's not accomplishing anything. But it should be said and noticed. People use the holidays as an excuse to get shitfaced. And that's not all. Such a huge part of the holiday culture is drinking, as well. It's like you can't have a party without booze there. Not that this only holds true for the holidays, but being the holidays, there are plenty of parties to be had. Personally, I'm polytheistic. That doesn't mean I worship many gods like the ancient Greeks, that means I adhere to many religions, that I might capitalize on days off, holiday gatherings, and gift cullings, accordingly.
I've heard no less than three separate commercials being played ad nauseum over the radio advertising the many places and deals you can get buying booze. BOOZE BOOZE BOOZE! Picture how great your party will be! Mixing someone a drink! Your mom will have a drink! Everyone will have a drink! They'll be drinking! We'll all be DRINKING!
I thought we eventually grew out of the early-college-years fascination with alcohol. Like it maybe loses its novelty after a few years, but no. You need booze. We all need booze.
I also enjoy how my Christian friends have been saying "Happy Holidays." Come on, you wafflers. What's the point of being a zealot if you don't get to be zealous? Merry Christmas! SAY IT! Like it matters anyway! Who's actually celebrating the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ? Who isn't just having a day to get together with their families and have a good time. Put the gifts aside, put the materialism aside, put the commercialization aside, it's still a good time to spend with your family, and not one to think about how one time there was this kid that got born and he happened to be the son of God. Personally, I think Christmas in its current incarnation is more important as a sentiment than it was intended to be at its creation. Celebrating the creation of a deity seems too worshipful to be productive. Spending time with those you love and geniunely giving and caring about others seems infinitely more important.
I recently finished Chuck Palahniuk's Diary. I can't say enough about Palahniuk's work. Of all the media we have today, from canvas to film, there are people diong neat things. Everyone's doing interesting things in their respective discplines, but I swear that there is no one breaking any new ground the way that Palahniuk is. The guy is re-defining the novel. What he writes is different from anything else that has ever been, and it's amazing to be here and see it. To do something new in art is a truly remarkable thing, and the man is simply achieving it. I can say no more than that to his praise.
Diary is a fantastic book. Palahniuk really hasn't played much off the twist ending since Fight Club, his other novels having been straightforward in revelation while still revolutionary in content and style (I haven't read Invisible Monsters yet, so I can't attest to any pattern it may or may not reveal in Chuck's writing), but he goes back to it with a vengeance in Diary. Still avoiding being built upon the lattice of Fight Club, however, Diary Leaves you in the dark the entire time no matter what you attempt to deduce.
While reading Fight Club, if you are informed it contains a twist ending, you might be able to peice it together, to attempt to deduce the outcome (though not the movie... regardless of whether your friends say they did. Think of this, you didn't figure it out, and you're smarter than your friends, aren't you?). Diary has a twist ending. I don't feel bad telling you this. Because no matter what you do, no matter how many lines of logic you try to follow, no matter how hard you think or how smart you are, you can not figure out what the hell is going on in this book.
I have to admit, it was a singularly frustrating experience. The entire time I was reading it, as enthralled as I was by the story, I could not figure out what the hell was going on. He draws you along, does Palahniuk, he keeps you involved and gives you enough of his trademark painstakingly-researched inner-dark of the everyday world, but at the same time you are surrounded by this surreality, this nonsense that simply does not tie together until the end. Fight Club's ending at least came as a surprise. With this novel, you're waiting for the twist. You're aching for the twist, for anything to come along and explain what the hell is going on.
And now, on to the question of publishing. Bit of a pet peeve for me, I'm going to describe for you the actual process of starting this novel.
1) The Cover: Diary, a novel by Chuck Palahniuk. The front cover is filigree serrated on one side, revealing a rose pattern on the following page.
2)Inside cover: The words: Where do you get your inspiration. Large, chalked-in.
3)The Rose-Page: Again, Diary by Chuck Palahniuk, along with some critical praise.
4)Inside the Rose-Page: Nothing.
5)Acclaim for Chuck Palaniuk's Diary: More critical praise.
6)Other side: Other books by Chuck Palahniuk.
7)Title Page: Diary
8-9) Splash page over the next two pages, pictures of significance once you've begun the book, along with the words "Where do you get your inspiration?"
10)Next page: More pictures.
11) Another Title Page: Diary by Chuck Palahniuk
12) Copywright information, a legitimately used page.
13)Yet another Title Page: Diary
14)Nothing
15)Page One: June 21st - The Three-Quarter Moon
Just struck me as a lot of excess crap in the front, that's all.
Anyway, great book.
Where do you get your inspiration?
posted by DeadLanguage at 6:56 PM
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