Oh, I had quite the frothing rant in mind for today’s column. It was a political rant, of course, and really tore into the spineless Democrats and the evil, soulless Republicans. Unfortunately, I can’t remember more than that, at least nothing more than “I should really write this down,” and then nothing. Because I fell asleep, you see.
I seem to have two peak ranting times: 1) Right before going to sleep; and 2) When I’m getting ready in the morning. I don’t know what it is about a nice bed or a hot shower that gets me ranting; frankly, I’m probably better off not knowing.
The “ranting as I brush my teeth” tends to work well, as I can usually remember enough of the thought to get it down on paper later in the day. It always diverges fairly significantly regarding the specifics, but the gist is always there. The column about people being too damn tall? That was a morning idea, but the original idea had me talking a lot more about tall people using up too much air, and some sort of (unrelated) mention of Michael Jordan. I can’t honestly remember what that was about, so it’s probably for the best that I let it go.
As for the evening column ideas, I have to put a lot of trust in my own, very vague memories of the topics. Sure, I think that my planned column was a masterpiece of foaming bile, but it might well have been “Damn cowards…need to fight back…evil Rumsfeld…giant transforming toothbrush monkey…”
So, scratch that idea, however brilliant it might have been. Something about drifting off to sleep and the ritual of morning ablutions obviously has a liberating effect on my subconscious. I have about half a dozen “obvious” topics lined up, but can never make much headway with them. No, it’s the random jags of thought that work best.
“Obvious” topics include “What I’ve Been Reading Lately,” which is better titled “What I’ve Been Reading, and What You Should Read and What You Should Avoid Like Unto the Plague.” But then I realize that you philistines don’t care, do you? Sun Ra can certainly wax academic far better than I can (I reassure myself with the knowledge that he knows little about the current state of “Walker”-type robotics research, miniature wargaming releases, and non-RTS computer games), and everybody has their own (lesser) taste in books. But as a quick suggestion, I recommend Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About, by Mil Millington. There’s lots of good funny in that book, although it’s of the Dry British Wit sort, which I know that Sun Ra abhors with a passion, and seeks to stamp from the face of the earth. On the other hand, the protagonist does get smacked in the balls at one point, which I imagine is a concession to his American readers.
And then, thinking about the last dozen books that I’ve read, I realize that I haven’t read much science fiction. I haven’t read much in the past few years, in fact. I think the last I read was Tad Williams’s Otherland series, or maybe a book of particularly nihilistic short stories by Harlan Ellison. Sure, Ellison is pretty nihilistic at the best of times, but this was of the “Free Straight Razor Included With Each Book!” sort. It’s not that I don’t like SF; I think it’s actually because I read most of the classics when I was younger, and then found that most of the rest is utter and complete crap. So it’s not that I’m avoiding it, it’s that I’m being more selective about what I do read, from whichever genre the book is from. Sure, I’m young, but I have something like 45-50 books waiting to be read, and at least that many more that I have my eye on to purchase. So wading through a few hundred pages of crap is something I’d like to avoid.
Astute readers will notice that I mention 45-50 books; I think that I’ve mentioned a similar number in the past, probably months ago. Frankly, I can’t be bothered to check, but let’s assume that I did. I probably mentioned 45, didn’t I? To reassure you, it’s not that I’m not reading; no, I’m still getting through a handful of books a month. It’s just that a single trip to the bookstore can erase a month or two of gains. It’s not that I want to visit the bookstore, but I can’t hardly force my daughter to read the same old books about monkeys jumping on beds and whatnot when she’s now interested in stories featuring a gigantic red dog, can I? Of course not, that would be base cruelty. And parents have a duty to pass their addictions on to their offspring.
But as for reading a “handful of books a month,” it’s a tiny handful. Not like Sun Ra, who I believe reads only every fifth sentence. There’s really no other explanation for the rate at which he reads books. So while I relish a good book, savoring the complexities of character and the use of language, Sun Ra rips through them, casts them aside, and exclaims “Ha! Another notch on my bookmark!” It’s a very comforting explanation, and I refuse to accept any evidence to the contrary.