Squeasel > Recent Status Updates

srsly, it's unfathomable and creepy. and happens like every time.

On the rare occasions anyone dares to mention to Lestat that he's not perfect, the other people in the room sob constantly, hug each other at the horror of this happening, and try to make silent "please forgive and be patient with this ridiculous malice!" signs behind the speaker's back. This happens often enough that I'm starting to wonder if this is how disagreements with Anne Rice go, in her entourage or whatever.

At this point I'm just wishing the bird aliens in the last book had killed him. If AR had been deliberately writing this to show us the feelings and delusions of some perfectly horrible cult leader, and the jaw dropping horror that the fanatic servile crowds around him are orgiastically mindlessly cheering him on as they guzzle the koolaid, I'd have at least some respect for the book. The cognitive dissonance stuns.

I guess I'm a masochist

"He felt like he was drifting. He could hear their mingled voices, but not their words."

This is a decent picture of how I feel about this book. I feel trapped at a never ending boring cocktail party with hundreds of Lestat's Fangbook friends, most of whom I'm somehow supposed to know, but all their names and faces and chatter blend into a pointless vague headache and a need to have it be over, please.

I can't manage to force myself to continue.

thinking, plot wise, that the end of the audiobook was probably near, I was nonplussed to find I was only at chapter 120 out of like 248. I'm perfectly fine with epic length prose, but apparently find this one yawnish, misogynist, and somewhat pointless. I took a pause/detour to read 7 books about people dealing with/surviving/escaping scientology, wondering if after a break I'd be reinvigorated to finish. Nope.

I don't even understand all the high ratings. This is painfully bad. Characters make decisions seemingly at random compared to anything we know about their motivations or personalities. Personalities not engaging. Relationships also make no sense. Still waiting to find out if there's any narrative direction. Willing suspension of disbelief is so constantly overturned by various things, it's painful to keep reading.

Note to self: Self? When, in future times, you nuke some soup and go back to reading your book, especially if the book is full of photos/artstuffs and kind of expensive, and most particularly if the soup is some sort of slurpy noodle soup? Just, I don't know, remember these words. Hazardous Noodle Spatter.

"Who’s extinct now?” Gaygent Brontosaurus asks aloud as the wreckage is swept away with the ocean tide."

" Harder!” I scream at Torbo. “Turn me gay!"

"Inside of me, a fire starts to burn, overtaking everything else with hot, unfiltered desire to be a part of this erotic celebration of living confectionery. “A dozen?” I repeat back to Parker in astonishment. “That’s a lot of glaze."

"We had heard tales about the utterly depraved donut scene in San Diego, but deep down I had always considered the idea of living, talking, gay pastries to be a purely European thing"

"What do you want from me?” I ask him. “I need you to stop haunting my balls. I mean, you seem like a nice guy but it really hurts.”“Aye, the cold grip of death is a bastard!” Agrees Lorko. “It was not my intent to make ‘yer balls ache like two oysters in the deep"

"Just give it to me straight, doc. How sick am I?" Dr. Toro shakes his head. "Well, you're not sick, actually." He explains. I stare at him blankly. "I'm not?" A smile of relief slowly begins to creep across my face. "But don't get too excited." Dr. Torp tells me. "You're still in a world of trouble. I'm afraid your balls are haunted."

"You’ve been a very bad astronaut.” Orion tells me, his raptor face pressed hard against mine as we pump together in sweaty unison. “So you’re gonna take my Jurassic load up your asshole and you’re gonna like it."

"I mean, it’s not gay if it’s a dude raptor and a dude human, right?” I ask. “Totally not gay.” Says the dinosaur.

"that it was an invertebrate he was almost certain," postulates brilliant scientist guy w/r/t the spirit/ghostie thing Amel that first meshed with Akasha thousands of years ago and in doing do formed the first vampire. REALLY? you're so science brilliant and have been studying this for decades and you're PRETTY SURE this ghost/spirit thing DOESN'T HAVE A SKELETAL STRUCTURE? Damn.

Of the tens of thousands of vampires, someone finally made ONE who's a doctor/scientist/researcher. And of course not one of these brilliant minds can understand him, INCLUDING the one who "runs a vast pharmaceutical empire." Also, it turns out that someone made ONE ugly vampire in these thousands of years, but not to worry because she was killed off before any dialogue with her could occur.

apparently vampires only buy iPhones, never android. and so far only three females have had any lines of dialogue.

and by "vampire celebrities" I don't mean celebrities that are now vampires, just the random characters in her books

wow, Anne Rice has decided there are a bunch of paparazzi vampires now. seriously, you're a vampire and you have nothing better to do than go around taking pictures of other vampires? who are you going to sell the pix to, since she makes a point of declaring that the public doesn't believe in vampires, and there aren't vampire-specific media outlets other than one vamp-hosted internet RADIO show.

re-reading

"You aint *had* a grilled cheese sandwich till you've had one made with government cheese." only at page three, and already delighted with this gem.

This book might be more strange than Klaus Kinski's autobiography.

rereading

rereading