For Matt - Sorry no previous descriptions of the books. Adrienne recommended The Rapture of Canaan. It was a really interesting book. It went into religion and the extremes of doctrine, belief, church law. The narrator was a young girl within the religion who experiences the religion from childhood and begins to question its validity.
Back When We Were Grownups has the greatest first line. This is why I bought it: "Once upon a time, there was a woman who discovered she had turned into the wrong person." A great tale discussing the past, our decisions, our feelings about those decisions, and in general, people who think too damn much. No, really, it was a great book.
As for the last one, Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, it is told from the viewpoint of an autistic boy. Sounds very Faulkner, but the story is carried in such a way that it comes to term through a consistent narrator.
Enough of that. Today, I woke up still ill and decided to treat myself to a day of rest. Somehow, rest is not very restful. I kept thinking of other things I needed to do and regretting that I did not have the energy to do them. So I watched several movies on TV, cursing the commercials and then watched a Law & Order: Special Victims Unit marathon. It was great fun. Now, I am thoroughly paranoid, glancing behind my back for psychos every few minutes, but I am no nearer sleep. 11:25 p.m. I have to work tomorrow. Not a good situation.
Yesterday, as promised, I went to Houston to check out the Diane Arbus exhibit. If you don't know anything about her, find out more. She is a fascinating character, and once again, I am astounded at how the arts seem to meld into one another. A photographer with a great grasp of the English language, her journals and correspondence were just as enthralling as her bold, staccato photographs. Thanks to a great friend (Keith) for loaning me a book before I went so that I could study her life in detail and really grasp her images. Immediately, upon leaving the gallery, I wished I had my camera. I want to make pictures. I have a desire to find my own eye within that elusive lens, as she would say.
I also attempted some lighter galleries with a friend. There were several openings on Art Row on Lake Street near Rice Village. These galleries were handing out the wine, sparkling water, and expensive, not-so-great art. Although, there were a couple winners among the rubbish. Basically, however, it was a lot of wealthy people with no taste and more interest in who was in attendance than who the artist happened to be. I got a migraine and left before they could nauseate me further.
The rich get richer, and the poor make art....