Invisible fine print

Deep in the hearts of sleep deprived parents of young children, babies and toddlers is Samuel L Jackson reading this.



Parents who are at wits end to feed their kids anything (forget nutritious stuff that are actually good for them), will nod along to this ...



Things they don't tell you when you are told to go forth and multiply.

I want a perfect soul

When I first heard this on the radio, my first thought was: YES.



This song is my personal anthem; it resonates with my psyche, illuminates the darkest corners of my soul, voices the dreams I left unsaid. It has been many years, but my Pavlovian response to the opening chord remains the same.

This version by Scott Bradlee and co may not have the same shadowy depths but it's still delicious and hits the gut with a punch.



Happy Monday, y'all.

Coulrophobic no more

I've always found clowns creepy. No, I never saw or read It. I just don't like the idea of people whose faces are disguised from me; it rouses such violent impulses in me. Heck, I'd decap Ronald McDonald given the opp.

But this video goes a long way to make me look at grease-painted jesters with a little more equanimity.





But I still doubt I'd date one.

Autophagy*

Picture by alizzzz is stolen from here. 

I taste like clouds.

The scissor didn't hurt as much as I'd thought. Its point slipped through the fibre of my skin delicately, elegantly. The blades snipped through me almost by its own volition, its jaws opening and closing with unexpected gentleness, separating the threads tenderly.

I taste like clouds.

I look down as the scissors progressed from the base of my belly, moving up and up, all the way to my throat. The blades stopped. My skin separated beneath the pressure of the incision.

I taste like clouds.

Almost immediately my stuffings fell out, like eager children after the bell rang, tumbling out the door that had confined them. My stuffings billowed out like exuberant clouds racing through the sky of a sunny afternoon. It fell out between my paw-feet, pillowy soft. I could feel the pressure within me ease. My knee gave way and I slumped against the wall.

I taste like clouds.

My paw-hand trembled as I scooped up what once gave me form and dimension. It seemed wrong to leave it wasted on the floor. I didn't know what to expect. It was soft and springy, the darker pink contrasted beautifully with the pale shell of my skin.

I taste like clouds.

I squeezed my hand-paw. I thought I'd feel a tug within, but nothing. My stuffing regained its former fluff, with a faint trace of the shape of my palm. The slight breeze from the fan made it quiver. I didn't notice as more spilled out of me, decorating the floor with whimsy.

I taste like clouds.

My stuffing crossed my lips. It was like a blissful sacrament of tenderness and joy. The sweetness was indescribable. It rested on my tongue for an eternity, before my jaws moved slowly, my teeth grinding my stuffing industriously, thoughtfully.

I taste like clouds.

The adults always tell you not to play with scissors, but they don't know what I know now: the scissors were a liberator. I am now free of the weight of my form and function.

I can just be.

I am.

Free.

*Title is taken from the biology term that describes "eating one's self". Cross-posted on writing blog and Facebook.

We're damaged people ... drawn together ...

A Gentleman Undone by Cecilia Grant
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

It has been ages since I found such a refreshing voice in historical romance. I would classify Ms. Grant in the same category with Joanna Bourne and Sherry Thomas. The narration was articulated in a voice that is very reflective of the Regency era but in an accessible manner.

This book features characters that would be considered as unconventional to the mostly silver spoon characters that populated this genre: the heroine is a prostitute and the hero a failed gentleman. She chose her ruin, which is rather unusual, as penance for her past mistakes which has extorted a large toll on her. He was a former soldier who harboured a dark secret which weighed his conscience and spirit down.

I love how the story progressed towards both of them accepting each other's flaws and darkness. Their love was unflinching, unconditional of perfection, but rather, healing two damaged people who have been adrift for so long.

I also like how the Blackshears are not the hunky dory family of most serial novels; Will's decision to marry a harlot has rendered him persona non grata to most of his family except for one sister. I do believe that there will be reconciliation and acceptance in future novels and I cannot wait to see that.

Some favourite passages:

... grateful for the darkness that prevented his being seen like this, given up to sinuous gyrations like some Amazon queen's slave-dancer ...

O.M.G. *fans self frantically*

But the one that blew me away?

She stared down at him, his judge and his ravisher, appalling as the eagle who'd feasted every day on Prometheus' liver, and he as powerless as that Titan, chained to the rock, rent open, his darkest, most unspeakable secrets laid bare to her view.

Her eyes hardened. Her lips pressed tight. She leaned an inch nearer. "I love you," she breathed, just loud enough for him to hear.

Stupendous. Made me cry, laugh, squirm, and all the good stuff that a great book do that gives you the feels. Go read it.

Female protagonist: 5/5 stars
Male protagonist: 5/5 stars
Pacing: 4/5 stars
Storyline: 5/5 stars
Repeat reading factor: 4/5 stars

...

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Screwball comedy heist fun

The Chase by Janet Evanovich
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Ms Evanovich can be depended on for a fun romp of a book. This is her second collaboration with Lee Goldberg and the outcome is just as explosive and amazing as the first. They crafted such fabulous characters in Nick Fox and Special Agent Kate O'Hare, very much a throwback to the screwball comedy pairing of the Golden Age of Hollywood but with a modern twist.

This time the dynamic duo faced off with a crooked (is there any kind?) former White House Chief of Staff with a penchant for high end art and no moral compass whatsoever. I love how much Carter Grove, baddie du jour, reminded me of Donald Rumsfeld. At least this time around, he got what he had coming, unlike Mr R.

Second book usually means greater character development. Kate and Nick discovered how proximity breeds a kind of intimacy that made each go what-would-the-other-do, co-opting traits and skills, shifting perspective and ethics. Lots of international hijinks and imaginative art stealing action to spur things on; I practically inhaled this book in a single seating.

Fabulous all around. So much fun.

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Opening doorways to wonder and tragedy

Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This was not an easy book to read. I'm used to books that are more action oriented rather than introspective; the shift took some getting used to. The dilemma faced by the fifteen year old protagonist was diametrically different from my halcyon days of the same age; but some things still resonate.

Kafka is a fifteen year old boy who ran away from home to keep himself from fulfilling a terrible prophecy. Nakata was a man who lost himself at the cusp of adolescence and was rendered mentally differently abled as a result. I still don't understand why Kafka's narrative was in the present tense and Nakata's in the past, but I think that has something to do with the different trajectory of their journey.

The book have talking cats, hidden forests, and a sense of lyrical magic that intertwines through the whole story; a sense of foreshadowing, a glimmer of innocence and unexplained resonance with the psyche. A very interesting examination of Japanese culture past and present, as well as a snapshot in a moment that is neither modern nor obsolete.

This is not a book to be read and discarded; but one to be poured over and contemplated. I really had to resist the resistance to scribble on the margins just so I could keep track of what's in my head.

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