08
Feb 10

You take the good, you take the bad*

It’s snowing like a motherfucker** outside. Sure, sure it’s no DC snowmageddon, but it’s still snowing like hell. It’s supposed to snow for the next day and a half. After I white-knuckled it home from Sister #2’s last night (doing 45 in the 65 the entire 6.2 miles) I gave myself a mental high five for not having to leave the house until the snow ends.

Some days it’s good to be a stay-at-home freelancer.

Of course, it’s 2 p.m. now and I’m taking a break between jobs and I’m kinda craving a cookie and longing for the ol’ lunch bunch at Hell, Inc. Because 2ish was when we would stop what we were doing and toss some break and bake cookies in the toasty. It was always a nice break in the day and right now I could really go for the distraction of inter-office gossip, jokes, and various small talk.

The cats, they suck at gossip (but Paco kicks ass at laying on my feet and keeping them warm).

*yes, that’s a blatant attempt to get the Facts of Life theme song lodged in your skull
**not spending great amounts of time around other humans makes me want to swear more



05
Feb 10

How to adequately judge what is funny

Watching Garfield with Liam, who is four.
“Garfield is not funny,” I said.
“Yes, he is,” Liam said.
“Nope, he’s never been funny. Not even in 1984.”
“LAME!”
“Garfield’s lame, not me,” I said.
“Garfield is a cat who acts like a human,” he said, laughing at the TV. “That’s always funny.”



04
Feb 10

Side effect of working from home & spending too much time alone

You have a very heated debate (with yourself) on whether you should spend five of your hard-earned dollars on 20 Greatest Hits from Conway Twitty (for real, it reminds me of being a kid) or on the Crazy Heart Soundtrack. The debate is raging on, I still haven’t made up my mind.



03
Feb 10

I love the Emo Family Robinson

When we last left The Umbrella Academy the gang were saving the world from their sister, The White Violin, run amok. Now the Emo Family Robinson is back in The Umbrella Academy: Dallas trying to recover from the fallout of their shattered family and saving the world, again. Damn world, why can’t it just stay saved? I hope the world continues to be in constant peril because I want more and more and more of the Emo Family Robinson.

This volume finds the family in shambles (again) Kraken’s trying to fight crime; Spaceboy’s drowning his sorrows in milk, cookies, and bad TV; Rumor’s pissed off that Vanya took her voice even though Vanya’s gone a little crazy; Seance is getting manicures; and The boy’s betting on the dogs and massacring an army of time-traveling assassins.

How can you not love this family?

Of course, while each sibling is trying to deal with their personal demons the world decides to get into jeopardy again, only this time it’s kind of The Boy’s fault. Seems while spending most of his life flitting through time he kind of fucked up some stuff, specifically the assassination of JFK.

Carmichael (who appears as a man with a fish tank and fish for a head), the boss of history and time travel, dispatches Hazel and Cha-cha two of his best assassins to go get The Boy so he can set things right. Hazel and Cha-cha are easily two of the creepiest killers ever. They’re drawn here as men in suits who wear giant, cartoon like masks. Scary.

So yeah, there’s tons of mayhem and time travel, a little bit of what the fuck is going on here, and great gobs of ‘oh I hope they write about that later.’ The scenes of the family coming together in 1963 Dallas are awesome. In these scenes the words are doing as much work as the art (which isn’t often the case in this book, because the art is so powerful), and that’s magic.

Generally, I’m kind of apathetic to the whole superhero genre. I like a good Superman story as much as the next person, but most superheroes have 50+ years of history to catch up on. Oftentimes, when I read superhero books I feel like I’m only getting half the story because sometime in 1948 Superman tripped over Lois’ high heel and broke a fingernail, and by not knowing this I’m somehow missing out on a significant piece of the modern story.

But with The Umbrella Academy, I feel like I got in on the ground floor, and that’s a heady trip. I can’t wait for the next emo adventure.



02
Feb 10

I really do have a Nikon camera & I used to love to take the photographs

I was on my way home from the grocery store waiting for a red light when I noticed the lady behind me doing something unusual. I watched her in the rearview mirror as she held up a page of negative sleeves up to the sun.

Wow, I thought. That’s a blast from the past.

When’s the last time you’ve seen negatives out in the wild? Hell, I don’t think I’ve really dealt with negatives since college. Watching that lady look at those negs reminded me of watching “Funny Face” with Jaycie and Max during Musical Night over Christmas Break.

They were obsessed with the darkroom scene when Fred Astaire is singing about Audrey Hepburn’s funny face. Why is it the light red? Does that really happen when you put it into that tray? Why does it have to be dark? How could you see anything?

“You mean you know how to do that?” Jaycie asked.
“Hell yes,” I said.

All my photography classes came back to be and I began yammering about silver crystals, dodging and burning, fixer, and the black bags you’d shove your hands in to unroll the film from your canister so you could develop it.

For once they listened with rapt attention.

“It sounds like magic,” Jaycie said.
“It was like magic,” I said.
“Where did you learn all that stuff?” Max, ever the skeptic, asked.
“In high school and college,” I said.
“You had darkrooms in college?” Max asked. He was incredulous. He might as well have asked if I took Poli Sci 101 from a Brachiosaurus.

I then went on to explain how digital photography was really new when I was in college. So new, in fact, that I even wrote a story for the newspaper about this newfangled Photoshop stuff and digital cameras.

“Wow,” Jaycie said. “I hope I get to use a darkroom when I’m in high school.”
“Me too,” I said. “Because I got a Nikon camera. . . ”

Then I started to sing because it was musical night, after all. But I really do have an old Nikon SLR upstairs. Next time they come over I’m digging out that crap — the negatives, the SLR, and the big box of 8×10s I printed of people I barely remember.



01
Feb 10

Vodo & The Big Ticket

Okay, here’s a confession. Even though I was surrounded by a dozen or so intelligent readers and writers at Hypster Mom’s Lit Salon, the only thing I wanted to talk about was Vodo & The Big Ticket. And now as I’m typing this I have no idea why I didn’t take a picture. I wrote down quotes, oh yes, I did (one included “oh yeah, I find myself drinking mustache water for like an hour.”) but I a picture never, ever crossed my mind.

From the moment I walked in the door, I couldn’t talk about anything else. I was all, “Hey Jags, Hey David, Hey Dale, Hey Beard.”

Since I last saw Vodo he’s grown this big, Grizzly Adams’ beard. It’s hilarious. Vodo’s a skinny hipster doofus who rocks the Buddy Holly glasses and the floppy boy hair. To see this big, bear-like beard on his face is weird. Really weird. And it’s not as though he looks bad, it’s just that he looks very unVodolike. More unVodolike than when he went from the long, luscious hair to the short, floppy boy hair.

I was obsessed with the beard. People kept asking him what he was up to, and I pointed at the beard and said, “Growing that thing.”
“Well yeah,” Vodo stroked the bushy thing. “It takes a lot of time. It’s like a plant you have to feed it and talk to it.”

Then I peed my pants from laughing so hard.

I kept trying to change the subject — music, books, writing — anything. We almost had a good discussion about superheroes and comic books, but every time he would ponder something he’d stroke the beard.

“What’s that?” I asked.
“What?” he asked.
“You keep stroking your beard. It’s like you want to call attention to it.”
“I didn’t even realize I was doing it,” he said.
“I hope you know I am going to blog this,” I said gasping from laughing so hard.
“If you do, make sure you call it The Big Ticket.”



31
Jan 10

Literary Salon II minus the electric boogaloo

Friday night my friend, Hypster Mom, hosted a sort of literary salon featuring J.C. Hallman author of many things, most recently the short story collection The Hospital for Bad Poets.

Before he read a story he talked a little about a book he edited called, The Story About the Story. Specifically he talked about the Charles D’Ambrosio essay about J.D. Salinger. While Hallman quipped about how talking about his own book was a great homage to Salinger, it really was a sweet and tender tribute to D’Ambrosio and how he discovered Salinger. I haven’t read the essay, but now I really want to.

It was a glorious evening filled with people talking about reading, books, and writing. I got a chance to meet Jeff Kamin who runs Books & Bars, this great Twin Cities bookclub. A bookclub so popular that they have outgrown the capacity of the Bryant Lake Bowl and often have to turn people away. How fucking awesome is that? Well, not for those who get turned away. It just makes me so happy that something like this exists and is that popular. Because reading is such a solitary activity and because finding other serious readers is hard it’s easy to forget that you are not alone.

[Random Aside, Re: serious readers: Today on Sister #3's Facebook page there was a multi-comment discussion about the awesomeness of Nicholas Sparks. It too all my willpower not to spill all kind of frothy bile and rage and snobbiness all over those women praising his insipid, pointless drivel. But I resisted and for that I deserve a medal

And I am not alone. I have to admit I spent a lot of the evening red-faced and humbled. I heard a hundred times about the awesomeness of Minnesota Reads. All I could do was shake my head in amazement, and give most of the credit to the amazing writers who share their insights in exchange for free books. If it weren’t for the MN Reads’ reviewers, the site would have died a long time ago.



30
Jan 10

Book review, a dialog

Laura van den Berg writes beautifully. Her sentences and paragraphs feel like gauzy, ethereal dreams. It’s the kind of writing that seems effortless which means it probably took great amounts of effort. She populates the stories of What the World Will Look Like When All the Water Leaves Us with people on quests for mythical creatures — bigfoot, Nessie the Loch Ness monster, Mishegenabeg (a monster said to inhabit Lake Michigan) –which adds to this dreamlike quality. But make no mistake these people live in the same world we live in and face the same kinds of problems we face. They’re all dealing with some kind of loss — parents, career aspirations, husbands or boyfriends — and are searching for something to fill the hole that loss has left in them.

Now, I’m going to offer up a transcript of a chat I had with my friend Kelly (who also writes the occasional MN Reads’ review) about van den Berg’s collection. While trying to write this review I kept going back to what Kelly and I had discussed. I was going to attempt to recreate the points in flowing paragraphs, but decided instead to just show you what we said, for two reasons. First, it’s short and to the point. Second, I like that people discuss things like this. Here we go:
Kelly: I finished What the World Will Look Like. . . I dug it.
Jodi: I am on the last story I think she writes beautifully, but some of the stories are a little over-long. The fucking Loch Ness one went on forever.
Kelly: Yes. And, like a lot of first collections, it’s the same story over and over.
Jodi: Yes! My guess is her second collection will be totally awesome.
Kelly: I agree–her writing is really beautiful. The last story could have been a novella I thought.
Jodi: I’m only a few pages into the last one. She tends to repeat herself. Even that last story, three, four pages and she’s told us not once, not twice, but three times about the dad not coming back from Alaska. [Editor's Note: The last story, eponymously titled, is amazing, even with the whole Alaska repetition. There's a scene where the young narrator is swimming in the ocean with her mother's lover that is so fraught with tension my jaw clenches just remembering it. It's really fucking goo]
Kelly: Ha! I noticed that. The first story, I think, blew me away with its awesomeness. And the death mask one.
Jodi: I agree! The first one is my favorite so far because, well, there’s a real conflict. A lot of her tension is really subtle and internal which seems to give the collection a sort of floaty quality.
Kelly: Yes. And, I think if I read the stories separately, the plot/character repetition wouldn’t have stood out quite so much. . . but I think you’re right with the the length and some of the internal repetition making some weak
Jodi: But her writing is so strong that you overlook that, or at least I do.
Kelly: Yes–and, part of what the collection taught me is how overly-critical Loft classes are (and have made me)…can you imagine one of her stories being workshopped? Some of the housewives/Salingers would have shredded it to bits, when they’re all, though somewhat flawed, really amazing stories.
Jodi: Which is why so many people think stories can be “too workshopped.” We workshop the originality right out of them.

Want more van den Berg?
Read her Larghearted Boy Book Notes essay
Read her story Up High in the Air (this is the one with the Lake Michigan monster)



27
Jan 10

Days of Crank & Crabbiness

Monday I fell into some January funk and it took a long time to get climb out of it (when you have adult-onset ADD two days is a very long time). The funk yesterday was so awful that I totally shut down. I spent the day whining, taking a hot bath, and napping.

It was bad. I was angry and sad all at the same time, wanting to weep while tearing off people’s faces with my bared teeth. Good times at Supergenius HQ. Being that I had one sane braincell left in my head I slowly backed away from the computer lest I do some sort of irreparable damage.

But I woke up this morning funk-free. I have to give all the credit to my new writing group. Thank the deity of your choice for misanthropic, curmudgeonly writers who understand the funk. Not just understand the funk but will help shake you out of it by laughing at it with you.

Now onto this grand day filled with Apple announcements of stuff I will want with all my heart even though it is just being invented and the State of the Union address. This is like the second best day ever (the first being June 6).



24
Jan 10

The validity of eye witness accounts

Yesterday I rode to Rock & Roll Bookclub with Jaycie, Ben, and Max. I’m not sure how we got on the topic but Max was waxing eloquently on the awesomeness of MonsterQuest and how I should spend my time watching it.

“Eh,” I said from the front seat, “It’s not my thing.”
“But they talk about Sasquatch,” he said, cradling the Quatchi stuffed Sasquatch I had just given him
“Do they talk about Mishegenabeg?” I asked
“What?”
“It’s a monster in Lake Michigan. Well, I think it is. I read a story about it but the author could have just made up the monster. She’s a good writer.”
“Well, they found a monster in Lake Champlain and they talk about vampires.”
“There’s no such thing as vampires,” I said.
“What?” Jaycie piped in. “You said you were part vampire, and I was too.”
“Besides Aunt Jodi,” Max said. “What do you think they eye witnesses saw?”

I had no argument for eye witnesses might have seen.


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