Chris Pariseau > Recent Status Updates

"The authorities had optimistically reckoned on the coming of winter to halt its progress, but it lasted through the first cold spells without the least remission. So the only thing for us to do was to go on waiting, and since after a too long waiting one gives up waiting, the whole town lived as if it had no future." (p. 258)

"... but there is a terrible cogency in the self-evident; ultimately it breaks down all defenses."

"After these wearing weeks, after all those nightfalls when the townsfolk poured into the streets to roam them aimlessly, Rieux had learned that he need no longer steel himself against pity. One grows out of pity when it is useless. And in this feeling that his heart had slowly closed in on itself, the doctor found a solace, his only solace, for the almost unendurable burden of his days." (p. 91)

It's a generational (X) memoir. The jury's still out on this one. I'll let you know when I'm finished.

I have a feeling that Uncle Jack (Dr. Finch) is going to finally explain what Jean Louise can’t possibly understand (or, at least she THINKS she can’t); that being why the "good men" of Maycomb have turned into those who would marginalize Black men. The stream of consciousness that Scout had during Ms. Alexander's tea social was written so well; an intimate portrayal of someone confronting their own color blindness.

"Boats and fishing and saltwater, not to say other kinds of fluids: it's as if these overlapping dreams... frame Hemingway's correspondence in his early Key West years, the more so when he is in some kind of pain and seeks escape."

A friend has said of the French existentialists that they are like stinky cheese; good, but too much can make you sick. But with gems such as the following quote, it will be hard not to overdo it: "What difference does it make if you accept everything? ... Death to us all, but his own death to each. After all, the sun still warms our bones for us." Man, if I could only end my essays with sentences like that... !

"I also know it's greatness calling, seeing if I have what it takes. Greatness is seeing if it can weed me out... Trying to separate the eagles from the birds. To do this you have to fly in the thin air." ... "Fuck spirituality. It's all in the flesh and how much you can take. You want to transcend? Burn." Here we see Rollins' transition from post-punk documentarian to full-fledged existential philosopher.

From the dead-on metaphors ("Depression drives a car into my back") to the heartrendingly honest mourning of his dead best friend, Joe Cole ("Yesterday I wanted to crawl inside the pictures and be with you"), revisiting Rollins' early writing is a reminder of the foundation that built the spoken word political honesty that crowds flock to today.

What a delight! Like Fitzgerald's Gatsby, only funnier, Jim Dixon is a man wedged between dozens of hilarious social circumstances that, while distant in time and place from the American reader, are completely identifiable to most who are burdened with negotiating the confusing rotating dance of the ever-revolving and annoying maelstrom of social cliques both in the workplace and in one's social spheres.

"Marketingwise, Sub Pop was the culmination of a decade of blood, sweat, and tears. But as such, it was also the beginning of the end."

I just finished the chapter on Northhampton band, Dinosaur Jr, and it was fascinating. I've never read a more thorough analysis of a band's inner turmoil. The quotes here were strong and painted a crystal-clear picture of Gen X's roots in a "no harsh things... relatively comfortable, uncontroversial time" which produced the "slacker" affect and culture that this band's undisciplined noise so embodied.

When fans read chapters that Azerrad tackles on their own particular favorite band out of the handful that he chooses to write about, they might be disappointed that there is less detail about the recording of seminal albums and more about how hardcore bands at this time varied in their approaches on how to keep their artistic integrity while dealing with "the industry".

You'll be paying a late fee when you take this one back to the library, but it's worth it. This tome tells the story of 13 seminal bands that created a foundation for American independent rock from the early 1980's to the mid-90's. That those readers who were ardent fans of these bands at the time of their rise will be the only ones who pull this one from the shelves is regrettable since other readers will miss out.

McGuane expands outward from talking about fly fishing into such uncharted territory as the lineage and fandom of cutting-horses to the search for his prized sail, the Meadow Lark. While his topics in these stories span outward, his tone and focus span ever inward into man's motivation for sport, his humorous wrestling with his own inequities, and inevitably his finding of his own True Self in "the game".

Just finished "Tarpon Hunting" and am about to begin "Molly". He's a great writer on hunting, fishing, motorcycles. You know. Guy stuff. Along the way he reveals his weaknesses and doubts about his own manhood which is really the best part of it.