nightdog_barks (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nightdog_barks) wrote2016-09-24 04:14 pm
nightdog_barks) wrote2016-09-24 04:14 pm
This, That, and the Other Thing
1) It rained some earlier today and we are supposed to have more, but right now it is sunny and warm (and humid).
2) I was reading Black Deutschland and it was pretty good, but I have to admit it was also somewhat ... boring. So I thought, "Oh, I'll put this aside for a moment and read Rabih Alameddine's An Unnecessary Woman, which I've been looking forward to!" So okay, I pick up Unnecessary Woman, which is about the life of a Lebanese woman in Beirut, and I'm reading it, and then I come to page 43. The narrator, Aaliya, is bartering sex for a gun, because her apartment has been broken into. Her partner is Ahmad, who used to work in her bookshop but has since moved up in the world (so to speak) to become a feared militia torturer.
What seeped through the mortar of my walls was not his technique (adequate) or his ardor (more than). I was on my knees facing away, he behind me still smelling of licorice and anise, engaged in an age-old rhythm. He slowed, and his fingers explored the topography of my lower back. I could feel his face descending, examining a tiny city on a map. His fingers squeezed gently before he removed them. At first, I tried to dismiss this interruption, considered it a possible sexual quirk, but his fingers resumed the exploration of region, lower back and upper derrière. His fingers squeezed once more, and this time I realized what he was doing. I recognized the feel of a blackhead being extruded. When he removed a third, I looked back, and it was more likely that I'd have turned to butter than to salt. He apologized, begged my forgiveness. It had been unconscious. He couldn't see a blackhead on his own skin without removing it and didn't realize he was doing the same with me.
I asked him not to stop. I loved it.
SO. I get it, I know that I'm intended to read this as darkly absurd and ridiculous, a comedy of the human condition. But all I can think is, DUDE, WTF? Dear Reader, I have not been able to continue with this book, and I am not sure I will finish it. I'm probably overreacting, but to me, that is just such a weird choice as a writer to make. :-P
3) I am now reading John Scalzi's Old Man's War, which is at least some decent brain candy.
4) Is anyone going to watch the first Presidential debate on Monday night? The NY Times is predicting "Super Bowl type numbers" in viewership, and Ithink they're full of shit just don't see that.
5) On our walk last night we saw a tiny baby toad that was about the size of my thumbnail. :D
Five things make a post.
2) I was reading Black Deutschland and it was pretty good, but I have to admit it was also somewhat ... boring. So I thought, "Oh, I'll put this aside for a moment and read Rabih Alameddine's An Unnecessary Woman, which I've been looking forward to!" So okay, I pick up Unnecessary Woman, which is about the life of a Lebanese woman in Beirut, and I'm reading it, and then I come to page 43. The narrator, Aaliya, is bartering sex for a gun, because her apartment has been broken into. Her partner is Ahmad, who used to work in her bookshop but has since moved up in the world (so to speak) to become a feared militia torturer.
What seeped through the mortar of my walls was not his technique (adequate) or his ardor (more than). I was on my knees facing away, he behind me still smelling of licorice and anise, engaged in an age-old rhythm. He slowed, and his fingers explored the topography of my lower back. I could feel his face descending, examining a tiny city on a map. His fingers squeezed gently before he removed them. At first, I tried to dismiss this interruption, considered it a possible sexual quirk, but his fingers resumed the exploration of region, lower back and upper derrière. His fingers squeezed once more, and this time I realized what he was doing. I recognized the feel of a blackhead being extruded. When he removed a third, I looked back, and it was more likely that I'd have turned to butter than to salt. He apologized, begged my forgiveness. It had been unconscious. He couldn't see a blackhead on his own skin without removing it and didn't realize he was doing the same with me.
I asked him not to stop. I loved it.
SO. I get it, I know that I'm intended to read this as darkly absurd and ridiculous, a comedy of the human condition. But all I can think is, DUDE, WTF? Dear Reader, I have not been able to continue with this book, and I am not sure I will finish it. I'm probably overreacting, but to me, that is just such a weird choice as a writer to make. :-P
3) I am now reading John Scalzi's Old Man's War, which is at least some decent brain candy.
4) Is anyone going to watch the first Presidential debate on Monday night? The NY Times is predicting "Super Bowl type numbers" in viewership, and I
5) On our walk last night we saw a tiny baby toad that was about the size of my thumbnail. :D
Five things make a post.
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I can't stand debates usually, all those voices shouting over each other, but of course this debate is just two voices. However I'll be working my volunteer shift so I can't watch it anyway.
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Keep choices rooted in character, authors.
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2. My brain initially read Black Deutschland as Black Dachshund and had a really cute mental image for about one second.
3. W. T. everlasting F, author. O.0
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Black Deutschland would probably be better with a black dachshund, because really nothing much happens. :D
AND OMG YES. I can't believe that section got greenlighted for publication. I understand Your Kink Is Not My Kink and That's OK, but JUST UGH NO.