In which I will not talk about The Shining the way I thought I was going to

Last year when I was about to embark on my -- hang on a second -- FOURTH NaBloPoMo (I was about to say 'third or fourth' and then I remembered that a couple of weeks ago I asked my friend if her husband's law practice had been open for more than a year and she told me it was FOUR, so I counted), a friend warned me that NaBloPoMo had killed her blog. I always think it kind of resurrects mine - the fact that I'm obligated (however artificially) to post every day removes a lot of the pressure to post only weighty or worthy or thrice-polished material, and it gets me back in the habit of writing, after a fall season where school and activites have started and my resolve is often flagging.

When NaBloPoMo ends, I usually post again the day after or the second day after, and I think "yeah! I've GOT this! I'm going to keep posting every day! Or almost every day!" And then another day or two goes by, and I've got an idea of what my next post will be, but it's not NaBloPoMo any more, so I don't HAVE to post, so I think, I'll wait until I have a little more time to work on it. Because I have to go in to the library today. And then I have to take the van in to the shop. And then Eve and I have to get flu shots.

And then it becomes apparent how quickly I can fall into the habit of very much not posting every day again.

So I won't be presenting a carefully-marshaled discourse on The Shining, or goodness knows when we'll all be meeting here again. I'll just throw some thoughts down and not let the Cement of Endless Deferral harden on here any longer.

I can't remember how old I was the first time I read The Shining, but I think I was too young to understand a lot of the subtleties. I do remember being kind of confused and a little grossed out by the sex stuff - which is really tame and between married consenting adults, so I must have been pretty young. There was a bit about a bisexual movie producer or something and a gay man in a dog suit where the sexual subtext COMPLETELY escaped me last time. A lot of it felt like I was reading it for the first time - it wasn't even like I didn't remember it but then rereading it brought back the echo, it was like new stuff was there.

Like I always think about the best horror, this book isn't about the surface scariness of monsters or ghosts or dark places. It's about the kind of sadness that comes welded to any kind of love. It's about being afraid, not just that you'll lose the people you love, but that it will somehow be your fault - that you won't have been strong or selfless enough, and that the loss and grief will be deserved.

While I was reading, I kept thinking about how back in elementary school we used to study "themes" in literature, and I saw "MAN vs. NATURE" and "MAN vs. HIMSELF" on a blackboard in big block letters. The struggle within Jack Torrance, against his weaknesses, against alcoholism, against the fear that he'd never live up to his early promise, against the fear that he'd lost his wife and son - is illustrated masterfully.
Woman against herself too, which is another thing I didn't remember from the first reading - Wendy's fear that she'll turn out like her mother and destroy her son, or at the very least her relationship with him.

There's a dreadful inevitability about it all too, which is a huge part of the claustrophobic atmosphere. They all sort of "know" that if they stay something terrible will happen, but it's something completely inexplicable and undemonstrable, and the consequences of leaving are so tangible and horrible, that they CAN'T leave until the terrible thing actually happens, so they stay and HOPE it won't actually happen, although they KNOW... endless loop.

I remembered again how much I adored Dick Hallorann, the cook at The Overlook who pegs Danny for a Super Mind-Power Ninja instantly and moves heaven and earth to help him when things go south. It reminded me of King's gift for sketching a character you can love as much as someone in your own family in the space of a page or two. Hallorann's character is one of the principal reasons for my loathing of the movie.

The device of the topiary animals that went into attack mode at certain times didn't really work for me. I wondered if King was just trying not to confine all of the action to the hotel. It seemed kind of silly, although I might have not been able to envision it properly - it's the kind of thing that would probably be scary in real life, but in writing it was just Hedge Animals Gone Bad, and it didn't work for me.

That's all I can think of at the moment. Steph has taught this book - I wish she'd teach it to me. I feel like I could benefit from a lecture or two on it.

I still have to watch the movie again. I did read an article that said Stephen King didn't like Shelley Duvall's part in the movie either (or any of the movie)  - he said she was basically there to "scream and be stupid". I also found this movie on Netflix - "an exploration of various theories of Stanley Kubrick's film The Shining", so clearly I'm going to have to watch that.

On the whole, I think the book was really good. But I don't think it's one of my all-time King favourites. It might be interesting to rank them. Maybe I'll do a post on it.

Probably not tomorrow, though.

Mondays on the Margins: Remember When I Used to Write Coherently About Books?

I have high hopes that I will again someday.

Today is not that day.

I wanted to write about a book of short stories that I took out of the library. I looked at the book notes that I keep as Word files, hoping that I had made notes on it, although I had no memory of making notes on it - I do many things that I have no memory of doing these days.

I didn't make notes on it. I also didn't order a copy of it when I ordered books the other day, using the gift cards Angus gave me because he had a bunch piled up in his room and was never going to use them (talk about a gift that makes you simultaneously exultant and despairing). I would have put it on my list of books to buy; in fact, I might have. But I can't find the list.

I feel a little like I'm walking on a disappearing path.

 Today while we were sitting waiting for our estimate at the collision centre, I told Matt that I was throwing in a load of laundry in last night, intending to go to bed right afterwards, then I went and told Angus that he should go to bed and read for a bit, and he looked at me like I was crazy and said "remember, a couple hours ago, we said we're watching The Walking Dead at nine?" I said to my husband "there's something wrong with me." "No there isn't," he said "I live my whole life the same way." I said "THEN THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU TOO!"

So I looked over some of my book notes, which is always diverting. It's funny how there are some fonts that make me feel like the person that typed those notes was very young. I can't decide why, or if I should change the font.

I use the word "haunting" a lot.

Is it possible that I was ever organized enough and had enough time to take notes on every single story in short story collections?

Then again, I'm not sure how I convinced myself that "refugees, thieves, phonograph, crying" or "man from Vietnam owns one of John Lennon's shoes" was going to adequately recall a story for me. At least it reminds me of whether I'd like to revisit a story, I guess. Or maybe I could use them as bizarre poetry:

Man charged with taking a group of madmen
across the city to asylum
Stops at cafe with friends
loses the madmen
Picks up twelve of "the most insane looking peasants" waiting for construction work
drops them off at the hospital
No one seems to notice the difference.
Tea.

Thirty Days Has November

Last day. It always feels like I should have some big wrap-up 'ending' post, and I don't think I ever do. I don't feel like I covered myself in glory, but it's kind of like when halfway through a canoe trip I wonder why the hell I ever thought this was a good idea, and then at some further point it becomes clear that some things you just do to see if you can do them. You might not do them perfectly (especially if you're in a canoe with a crazy Austrian who periodically takes it into his head to see how well a canoe corners) and they might not change your life, but you commit, and you complete, and you feel a kind of quiet satisfaction, or it would be quiet if the thing itself didn't require you to GO ON TYPING EVERY DAY FOR A GODDAMNED MONTH.

Okay, clearly I'm still a little conflicted.

I am grateful beyond words to all of you for keeping me company through this bleak and bumpy space of days (Steph - you're so cute. Don't ever, ever apologize for commenting on the wrong post, or commenting twice, or commenting "blue clowns make the typewriter choose yogurt" or whatever. The fact that you're taking the time to comment while you're away from home makes me want to buy you a coffee, or tea, or spinach burrito or something - in fact, if I can figure out how to buy a gift card in Canada that works in the states, I will send you one in a Christmas card). I always worry that NaBloPoMo might turn out as a string of commentless, increasingly desperate posts, possibly with pathetic promises to give stuff away or flash my boobs as the month wears on. I consider you all pearls of great price.

I'm hoping we can get a Christmas tree tomorrow and start hauling out the Christmas boxes, although I think the door to the storage space is still choked with Halloween boxes - I always tell myself I'm going to get organized BEFORE December first, because if I wait to start on that day then nothing will actually happen until at least December fifth. I whiled away today in my reading chair with this book and this book and this book (well, those were the ones I read, I was also surrounded by piles of other books - I use one or two of them to prop up my ipad if the book is on that) and I tried to start this book and then I got very sleepy so I played Words With Friends and turned on some music and stood up and did jumping jacks, and then I sat back down and felt sleepy again, and within the space of about ten seconds went from the "no, I slept in, I can't possibly need more sleep, if I nap I'll just screw up my night, I'm going to finish this book today, I'll get up and do something and then come back and read" to an equally definitive "FUCK IT, I'm napping" and the bed was delicious and my white blanket felt like a cloud on top of me and I had the most blissful perfect nap of all time.

I played the piano three times last week. I worked out three times this week. I bought Advent calendars two weeks ago and just now I found them exactly where I thought I'd put them and laid them on the table for the kids to find in the morning. I'm not on top of everything by a long shot, but I'm not lying underneath it all, covered in dusty sheet music and limp strands of tinsel, either.

And that's something.

Batting Clean-Up

I can't think why I didn't mention that my kick-ass awesome day yesterday started with tea with Sarah after dropping the kids at school. Wait, yes I can; it's because I had been to the dentist, where I waited for eighty grueling years for the torment to end (I hate being tipped backwards and lying down. I hate people touching my face. I hate the horrible scritching sound. I hate all that more than I hate the pain, which is not all that bad. And my hygienist is very, very nice and understanding of dentist anxiety and makes it as un-horrible as possible, which is to say still very, very horrible) and then I went to get groceries and then I went home and felt hot and tired and dizzy and realized I hadn't really eaten anything all day because I was nervous about the dentist (although tea with Sarah was an absolutely splendid distraction) and then I went to get Eve and then we went to the mall and then we came home at seven and then I went to get Angus from volleyball at school and then I fed Angus and then I was very, very tired. But anyway, tea with Sarah was lovely and she agreed with me that having a pap smear is preferable to having one's teeth cleaned.

I also didn't talk about The Imperfectionists, which I said I would on Day 27. I wish I had taken better notes. I borrowed it from the library as an ebook and then it expired. I remember that I read a few pages and absolutely HATED it, but I can't remember why. Then I read a few more and liked it much more. It's a story cycle about journalists who work for a small, failing newspaper based in Italy; every chapter is from a different person's viewpoint. I can never decide if this is kind of a lazy, cop-out way of writing a novel, or an ingenious device, or if it's entirely dependent on the individual author, which is probably closer to the truth. Some people thought that many of the chapters didn't ring true, although some were very good. Others didn't like that there weren't more reappearances of characters once their story was gone, which made it seem like the book was marketed as a novel when it was really a book of extremely loosely linked short stories. There were certain moments that struck me in the heart, and overall I liked the book. I wish I could remember what caused the initial surge of dislike.

I've started reading The Shining again. I can't even remember when I first read it, but I think I was very young, and I missed a lot. I'm enjoying the reread very much. I'm planning to watch the movie again when I'm done, but I'm fairly convinced that my opinion of that won't change a whole lot.

Eve and I are watching Rose again next week. Stay tuned.

Zarah called today because she was laid up with a hip flexor injury and bored, which reminded me that I still haven't said anything about our week-end. It was fabulous. We had her friends over for a clothing swap, and drank wine and ate popcorn and walked around half-naked. We put on sparkly eyeliner and got dressed for a party with other women. One of them was talking to her girlfriend on the phone, and the girlfriend asked if she was going formal, to which the first replied "no, I'm wearing leopard print pants, red lipstick and glitter - I look like a ho", which led us to coin the phrase "Slutty Casual - it's the new Cocktail". We walked to the market and bought cashew corn chowder with cilantro cream for lunch, which I became briefly obsessed with recreating and then totally forgot about until just now. We went out again and walked downtown and shopped a bit and then stopped at a little store that had wild boar shank in a vegetable cassoulet, so we bought that too, because WILD BOAR and also, laziness. We talked and played music and talked and talked some more.

I'm still not ready to talk about the homosexuals being welcome in the Catholic Church thing, but I'm working on it.

Okay. I feel better. Husband is home from Tokyo. Tomorrow I shall be chair-bound and book-buried. Then we can deal with snowy driveways and busted fenders.

Happy week-end, all.

Gray Thursday?

The whole concept of Black Friday eludes me. I mean, Boxing Day makes a twisted, horrifying sort of sense, I guess - you just bought a bunch of stuff for other people, then you go buy a bunch of stuff for yourself, and it comes in...boxes...or something (I don't shop on Boxing Day either). But Black Friday? That sounds like a plague or something. Crap, it just occurred to me that if I Google 'Black Friday' I might discover some extremely good reason why Black Friday is called Black Friday.

I'm not doing it. Can't make me.

Anyway. There is no way in hell I will be crashing through anybody's door at seven o'clock tomorrow morning. BUT Eve needed a Christmas outfit and some pants that fit for the winter, and I needed some goat milk lotion from Crabtree and Evelyn (shut up, I totally needed it) and Angus was staying after school for the evening to referee the grade seven volleyball tournament. And it's Thursday, NOT Black Friday.

Yesterday Eve said "so you'll pick me up after school?" and I said "Yes". And she said "and we'll go straight to the mall?" and I said "Yes." And she said "....in my pajamas?" And I remembered that her class was helping with the JK class's Teddy Bear Sleepover (cutest thing EVER, they've been doing it since Angus was in JK - the kids bring their teddies to school, they lock them in the principal's office overnight and when the kids get to school the next morning the teddy bears have broken out of the office and made a big mess in the classroom; Angus's teddy bear was making paper airplanes - Eve's was half-buried in the bead bin) and told her I would bring her some clothes.

Turns out a lot of places at the mall already had stuff on sale, AND it wasn't full of crazed bargain-hunters. AND I hate the mall less when Eve is with me because she thinks everything is AWESOME and EPIC and she laughs at my jokes and people smile when they see her petting all the fuzzy sweaters.

We went in the pet store and squealed at the adorable sleeping kittens. An older couple came up to us and the woman said "excuse me. I have a question. I don't know you, but..." and I was briefly terrified that we were about to have a horribly awkward encounter, but they just wanted to know what size pants to buy for their granddaughter who was the same size and age as Eve.

At one point Eve said "so there's extra small and extra large. I'm trying to imagine what extra medium would look like".

At another point she said "OMG (yes, she said the letters) I thought that mannequin was a real person who was TOTALLY STYLING. No one could ever wear that outfit now because that mannequin rocked it so hard."

We found a drop-dead gorgeous Christmas outfit at H&M - my jaw literally dropped when she came out of the change room. We had dinner in the food court. Eve got complimented twice on her t-shirt. We held hands and made fun of silly clothes and skanky clothes.

I got my teeth cleaned this afternoon, which I hate more than almost anything in the world, and it was STILL a kick-ass awesome day.

Day 27

It snowed. I told Angus if we got 20 centimeters of snow I wouldn't be able to drive him to volleyball practice at seven. So he got up at six and shoveled the driveway. So, okay, I drove him to practice. Then he called me after second period and said there were only six kids in his class, and could he come home? So I said yes.

Meanwhile, the buses for Eve's school were cancelled. I used to send the kids when the bus was cancelled, and then at some point I decided that I wouldn't, not every time - not for any really good reason, there are a lot of walkers and the classes usually aren't that empty, but they never get REAL snow days like we got because of the weird funding formula that means the schools stay open even when the buses don't go, and I am a big fan of periodically playing hooky and not driving in heavy snow. But today she said "but would you MIND driving me?" Well no, because Angus already shoveled the driveway. And I have my parents' car, which has snow tires, while my Van of Shame is parked in their garage and they are soaking up the sun in more hospitable climes.

So I made soup. And worked some more on the Christmas calendars. And fed Angus every hour or so when he wandered up looking for food. And walked around in the snow a little. And decided I could make it to book club because the roads were okay now and I couldn't go last month because Matt was away then too, and Eve had African drumming so I was going to just bring her with me and go late, but then she got sick so I couldn't. I said "I really don't want to miss two months in a row" and Eve said "well, they wouldn't really care, would they?" and then her eyes got big and she said "do you think they'd kick you out?" And I said ha ha, no, of course not, and then I thought crap, they wouldn't kick me out, would they?

No, almost certain not. Then again, it's November, and I am twitchy and paranoid. It's better that I went.

This was the book. I'll talk about it some more tomorrow. If I remember.

I have to go to bed now.

I always lost at hide and seek too

The prompt for today is "tell us about the last thing you hid".

When I got home from Zarah's, I had two shopping bags that had presents for the kids in them (mostly for Eve, because pretty much everything Angus is getting comes from Best Buy or Evoshield, not quaint little shops in downtown Barrie). I was exhausted from the drive, and I stuck them in a corner of the living room, intending to deal with them better the next day. Five days later, I realized that they had been sitting there, not particularly well closed, right next to where Eve practices the piano every day, and she hadn't looked in them. I realized this because she reminded me that they were there, and asked me if I could move them because she was having a progressively harder time resisting the temptation to investigate.

And that is what kind of kid I have.