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Thursday, 9 February 2012

Red Wine, Book Reviews and a Rather Long Haiku.

The beginnings of 
some spontaneous prose full 
of starts and stops and 

definitely some 
spelling mistakes. My idea 
of the romantic 

is all skewed. I think 
it's because it's soon Valen-
tines. No idea what 

that is *actually* 
supposed to mean, but it is. 
It's true and it's fact. 

The love-fest is al-
most upon us. And I run, 
hiding. As I'm in 

love with too many. 
It cannot work for me.  I 
just want a sausage 

dog. I could be ba-
sically happy for as 
long as I live, if 

I had a sausage 
dog running alongside me. 
One day. Goddamn it - 
                                    ONE DAY.


Why am I writing this on my blog? Really? Isn't it supposed to be a place of insightfuls that people might actually want to read? Reviews of films I've seen or books I've read? Oh shit - yes, I could write to you about The Dreamers. I read that recently. I found myself intoxicated despite the theme being something I couldn't wholly relate.. but you know what I mean. Pushing boundaries, the French text, the romantic themes (or is it indeed a desperate act of lust and the need to belong?) Whatever it was - I really enjoyed every page. When I decided that I didn't actually know how to write a book review - My friend suggested I just tell him what I thought by starting with "I loved The Dreamers because..." and I came up with this: 

What I loved most about The Dreamers was its pure and startling honesty and the depth at which you are let into the relationship of the main characters. Like a secret you feel lost in. A voyeuristic, heart quickening, dark, sweet read.

I think his advice worked pretty well. But to be honest - I work in a bloody bookshop - I should be so used to writing reviews by now. It should flow off my pen (or fingers as I type) But it doesn't. It comes slowly. As I get into the flow of writing like this - as I do at home, fast and inebriated things do change - the descriptive writing begins to drip like ink of my roller and I haphazardly stamp my thoughts all over the place. It's not always neat - but hey. It's the thought that counts. And it's all hand made. Honest, good thoughts. Streaming from my eyes and ears and breath.