Diary of an adult runaway

Yes, even MORE books!

Just as well I'm surrounded by good books these days because I've been fighting off the 'flu for the past week and all I've wanted to do is read. Which is what I've been doing, when not hacking up half my body weight in snot. (Ha!) So here's the state of play this week:

Book #5 (for the year): Earl Emerson's Primal Threat. Thank God I was assisting at a meeting on Thursday, because once I got everyone seated and the Powerpoint presentations set up, I huddled behind the PC and gulped this down. Most of the book takes place over one day and you'd think that would drag, but--as usually happens with me and Earl--I had to put my hand over the page to stop from jumping ahead.

Book #6: An erotica collection that made me titter much more than it titillated me. Just not sexy at all, and the dialogue was some of the clunkiest out there. Didn't bother finishing it. Shame. The cover was great.

Book #7: Tales Of The City. It was while first reading this back in '94 that I came across the term fag hag and you can go ahead and call me that because I adore Armistead and will be hagging all over him when he hits town in the spring. I had a sudden craving to reread this, partly because I wanted to get my hands on the funky new packaging, and it's as fresh as reading it for the first time. Note to author of Book #6: read Maupin to learn dialogue. And characterization--he can nail a character with 1 trait. 2 problems: 1. reading this after Michael Tolliver Lives is bittersweet, because Mouse is still with us but not everybody is, and 2. now I'm going to have to buy the whole series with these new covers. I'll end up like Keris, with 53 different versions of the series. But I can think of worse things--both with having all those books and with being like Keris, come to think of it!

Book #8: Forget About It by Candice Crane. Hasn't grabbed me as quickly as Stupid and Contagious did, but I have the feeling it will still satisfy. However, progress was interrupted today by the arrival of...

Book #9: A Version Of The Truth by Jennifer Kaufman and Karen Mack. I kept seeing this all over Florida and I'd pick it up then put it down, thinking I'd get it off Amazon. Oh, how I wish I'd kept it in my grubby little hands and thus had it to read on the flight home, instead of that stupid romantic suspense that shall remain nameless. Probably just as well I didn't, because this had me wheezing with laughter on the metro ride home (the parrot screaming "dumbfuck!" did it for me). It's funny, insightful and set in Topanga Canyon. Plus there's a hottie on the horizon. Can't ask for much more than that!

Melissa, I haven't started Wicked yet. It was going to be next, then Primal Threat arrived then the others and, well, the witch got pushed aside. Truth be told, I didn't even read the first page before I bought it. I just saw the cover, read the premise (how clever is that?!) and tossed it in the basket. Only later did I see some kid wearing a t-shirt and figured out it was on Broadway. I'll let you know how it goes for me.

So yeah, the plan is: Wicked (which also happens to be the title of my WIP, and at some stage Cora dons a witch outfit but I think that's where the similarities end), then Cracked (Dr. Drew) then Me and a Guy Named Elvis: My Lifelong Friendship with Elvis Presley then Modoc. Yep, I couldn't resist :-)

A whole grab bag of stuff!

Okay, I thought I was jealous of those at National, and then I saw this!:

(Photo BRAZENLY stolen off Keris's blog, coz she so deserves it)

Yes, Keris, you most definitely ARE a hag. You meet Armistead without telling me, get your books signed, AND forget to ask him the KoolAid question. If I didn't love you so much, I'd have to hate you.

Anyway, sigh, yes, it's RWA National conference time again and I'm NOT there and that's bumming me out, except that Mel is keeping me entertained (as well as disturbingly turned on) and I had a mini-mini-conference on Tuesday with the delightful Laurie Schnebly Campbell, who was in town. You might know her as Laurie Campbell (Silhouette) or as the woman who gives fabulous workshops. Her Tips From Madison Avenue: The Selling Synopsis is outstanding, and she's just as dynamic and interesting in the flesh. We rabbited on for 2 hours, during which she gave me a copy of her new craft book on creating characters using enneagram theory. I don't have the book with me to give you the full details, but I'll post them--I'm suspicious of using "molds" for characters, but this book immediately gave me so much fodder for Cora's "boy" that I truly give thanks to Laurie. See you in SF!

Here's a shot of us at Caffé Kimbo, in which I'm looking remarkably stupid, but you can't have it all:

What I would like is a little warmer weather, and so would this little girl, I'm guessing:

And this guy:

Oh, and here's a shot of the racks for the new bike program. No bikes yet. The deal is, you either sign up for a year or rent by the day or week (with a pre-authorisation on your card so if you happen to "lose" the bike...) and put the bike back at any of the stands around town. They're popping up all over the place, it's a joy to see.

A guy getting his daily bread on the way home:

Just across the road from the Moulin Rouge, there's everything you could need: a chemist, a café and a sex shop.

We Montmartrois/e had been waiting for this one for a few days. Cones and tape around parked cars means a film crew will soon be showing up (they tape off the parking spaces then move their vans in when the cars move out), which they did last night. And stayed all night.

I could hear the generators going until they packed up at 5.45, but the poor folks on rue Gabrielle--the street was blocked off all night and they had a camera crew up on a cherry picker-style thing. I think it was a period piece, there seemed to be a few old cars floating about.

Another random shot from my balcony:

So, yes, as I said, it's National time. I always get melancholy this time of year if I'm not there, because I know what I'm missing out on (though thanks to Blogging National, I'm feeling less woebegone). Okay, sometimes it feels like Vegas because some people can be so desperate, thinking this is their one shot at publishing and they HAVE to follow the editor into the loo and shove their manuscript underneath the door (don't laugh, it's happened), but overall it's a big delightful ball of fun and information and adrenilen. Oh, and sequins--that's always seemed a bit weird to me and I did giggle at the Denver conference awards ceremony when they started out with some weird Hollywood-esque music (WTF? I'm at the Academy Awards and no one TOLD me?? Where's George??) and got some dirty looks, but apart from that, it's all good.

Well, no, that's not entirely true. This time of year I always think of those who I met at conference and who are no longer here, noticably Vicki, such a fighter, going to the Beau Monde (Regency chapter) dress-up ball looking so vibrant, even though the chemo had made her hair fall out. We caught up again that year at the Desert Dreams conference, then again a few weeks later when she, Tamara and I took a long walk through Muir Woods. That was over a decade ago, yet I never think of National without thinking of Vicki, even more so this year with the news of the deaths of Kathleen Woodiwiss (whose Shanna was such an inspiration to me) and Ronda Thompson. (And that reminds me: vale, Ladybird Johnson.) Good luck to all the GH/Rita finalists--though I especially have my fingers crossed for Jeri Smith-Ready, whose Eyes of Crow is a phenomenal read.

What else? Damn, I was sure there was more! Oh yeah, here we go! I've been watching The Age Of Love and throughly enjoying it. Mark Philippoussis is a Melbourne boy, and had quite the rep--a little sulky, a lot spoiled. One radio station had a segment where listeners called in with gossip. About, oh, 8 years ago, a girl called to say her dad, a cop, had clocked Mark doing 100kms under the Westgate Bridge (a 65km zone). One of the DJs asked "What in?"--meaning what car, because he was known to have a few. I had a great laugh when the other DJ jumped in and said "A bad mood."

All that aside, there's no doubt he's an excellent player, though I often had to change the channel come Australian Open time because you could see the instant he ...well, I don't want to say "gave up" because I don't think that's what he did, but it was heartbreaking at times. And there's no doubt he's a hottie. I saw him in a Davis Cup parade once and was suitably impressed--although, all the other players (Pat Rafter included--yum!) wore their full uniform and Mark was dressed casually, until someone threw a Davis Cup blazer over him.

Anyway! That's a long way of saying I'm really impressed with how he's grown up and what a decent guy he seems. I'm also completely digging the 40-something women and laughing at the 20-somethings. It's the most frustrating thing to hear, when you're younger, that you don't understand everything but by God, as I watch this, I think "It's true!" At least, it was with me. (Shh! Don't tell anyone!) I'm loving how the 40s kick back and have a great time--and say what's on their minds. I also think it's interesting that no blonde blondes remain. I know he really, really likes 20-something Amanda, but that Jayanna's a spitfire. I loved the look on his face when she said "You should have kissed me by now." She's my hero! (But memo to Mary: please, stop crying. Please. Or I'm coming over to give you, as my mum used to say, something to really cry about.)

And that's it, I do believe I'm done!

The awe continues (more spoilers!)

Yesterday I was all a-quiver over Rescue Me. Today--finally finally finally FINALLY--the adulation is directed at Michael Tolliver Lives.

I'd had my fingers crossed all week that it would turn up in time for the weekend, so yesterday afternoon when I went by our hussier's (officially "usher" but it also kinda means doorman/security guy) desk and saw him sorting mail and saw the Amazon package, I charged full on into bliss. Alain is sweetly indulgent with me, but when I clasped the package to my chest and said "Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod!" even he looked askance at me.

"I've been waiting for this for over a decade!" I tried to explain.

"Okay...enjoy..."

And that's exactly what I did--right up until about 11 when, crying, I closed the book. The jacket copy says it can be read as a stand-alone, but I wouldn't recommend that. You absolutely, positively, MUST read Tales Of The City, More Tales of The City, Further Tales of The City, Babycakes, Significant Others and Sure of You. If not, you'll probably enjoy this book but you won't get the full impact of it. Brian might seem a bit scattered to you (when we all know he's fucking HOT, esp. as played by Paul Gross in the first miniseries*) and you won't get just how deep the betrayal by Mary Ann was and how everyone is still impacted by it, or how bittersweet it is for Michael (who will always be Mouse in my mind) to call Shawna "Babycakes." Anna Madrigal might seem like a slightly eccentric octogenarian, instead of the life blood that flowed through 28 Barbary Lane and loved so many people into loving themselves. And when you hit page 148, you probably won't be sobbing like I was upon learning about Mona. I was especially touched by this:

Several years later, when those planes hit the Twin Towers, I remember thinking how shrewdly she had timed her exit. Her big wounded hippie heart would not have prospered in this cold new climate.

Reading this was a joy, but bittersweet--the same feeling I get when a favorite TV show wraps up. The 70s are way gone, these wonderful, vibrant people are older. 28 Barbary Lane has been sold and Anna can no longer handle the stairs so she lives elsewhere. I wanted everyone to stay happy and healthy and high in that Victorian house on the hill, but life goes on, and that's what made this such a special read to me. Because life has gone on for Mouse, when at the end of Sure of You, we weren't too sure.** This book has some obvious biographical touches (Mouse and his husband, Ben, met the same way Armistead and his husband, Christopher, did) and I adored the aspects of life in San Francisco, the strong political opinions, the sly subversive commentary, and the no-holds-barred account of the life of an aging gay man. Fearless writing is such a joy to read.

I said when I heard about this book that I wanted Mary Ann Singleton's ass kicked, and I was very pleased that she did it to herself so I can take her off my shit list. Yes, I know! I put a fictional character on my shit list, but she was as real to me as anyone I know. Now, thankfully, I understand what she did and I love her again. (Interesting to read that one of the people Maupin thanks is Laura Linney, who played Mary Ann so perfectly  in the 3 mini-series.)

I have one single, teensy weensy niggle. Remember the other day when I said it was Flavor Aid, not Kool-Aid? Yes, AM  referenced drinking the Kool-Aid! Armistead, I know you're a shameless self-Googler. If you happen to find this post, why Kool-Aid, especially after the whole Jonestown connection in Further Tales?

But you know, I would have loved this book for the cover alone, which reminds me of an old Sunset travel guide. I'm so grateful that the inside was even more beguiling than the cover. Maupin not only creates wonderful characters, he sculpts wonderful prose. It's a true delight to read a book that carries you along with delicious word play.Maupin's working on another Tales book, and I could not be happier--especially since it seems I won't have to wait 14 years to read this one.

(* 2 girlfriends went with Kurt and me to watch the miniseries at the Melbourne Queer Film Festival in '94 or '95. It was an all-day event and I've never had so much fun at the movies. The whole audience was cat-calling and whistling, and we all--straight and gay alike--cheered when Brian came down the stairs in his cut-offs, then applauded at the vignette of Armistead, typing away in his little cottage as Brian and Mouse sunbaked.)

(**Background info: Mouse's HIV+ status reflected that of Maupin's then-lover, Terry Anderson. I read that because he didn't know what was going to happen to Terry, Maupin felt he couldn't write more about Mouse. Thankfully, Terry is doing well.)