blah.

I seem to have nothing cohesive to say today. Meanwhile, my dream of posting every day is far from coming true; i haven't even managed to pay my bills tonight, having gotten sucked in to the Idol juggernaut. I can't resist. It's my cocaine.

Taylor Hicks is my very own personal precious grey-headed American Idol. He just sang "Levon" on my tv, and i adore his voice, love it, but goddamn, please can we put him behind a desk or strap him to a gurney when he performs? Because he ... wiggles ... when he sings, and it makes me uncomfortable. Like those Jello commercials do, but because i love Taytay i have to keep watching, and it's really stressful to hear that voice coming out of that body.

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I just finished, for the second time, A Short History of a Small Place, by T.R. Pearson. He apparently wrote it at NC State (i'm not sure if as a student or prof), and while i always appreciate a North Carolina voice, the second reading didn't really hold up to my expectations/memories of the first. His voice is really funny and consistent, but the schtick gets a little old after a while. And insanely long chapters are a pet peeve of mine; his are super extra long, and the breaks don't always come at the most intuitive places. So, i would recommend it if you've got a long attention span or some patience to indulge his stylistic meandering all the hell around a point before arriving where he was headed. At least the trip is entertaining; there were several spots where i laughed out loud. Also, interestingly, it holds up rather well to being read out loud; Will likes to be read to, and the several times i read from this book it was pretty funny, and if you can hold your breath long enough to keep pace with his phrasing, it'll crack your shit up more often than not.

I'm still slogging my damn way through The Tulip: The Story of a Flower that Has Made Men Mad, by Anna Pavord. And i know she was the Gardening Coordinator for the Observer and has some sort of godlike status among the gardening elite in the UK, but good goddamn, woman, learn the semicolon. Seriously, the book is so poorly punctuated, i cannot focus on the content. I've gained no knowledge about the tulip because Pavord. Cannot. Write. The back of the book lists reviews like "stunning" and "ravishing" and ... no. Just no. Her writing style is so off-putting, i'm having to force myself to read it in tenths. Which is 26 pages at a shot. (The fact that i've done the math at all says a lot about the quality, actually.) And sometimes then i can't make it all the way through. Do not attempt to read this book unless you really, seriously do not have a care in the world for the proper construction of the English language, either British or American. Because you will not find it here. Grr i say!!

Next on my list, as a reward for the goddamn tulips, are both An Unexpected Light and Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, which i have been dying to read ever since Salon came all over it when it was released. It's got footnotes! And it's a historical novel -- if, you know, England had magic. Awesome!! Of course, i have to finish the grammar book too (Eats, Shoots, and Leaves), but that is a) entertaining enough and b) a quick read, so hopefully soon i'll get to the good stuff.