And the weirdness that is the [tag]holidays[/tag] is off to a rocky start.
I walked into my coffee shop this afternoon looking forward to relaxing with a cubano and getting caught up on my blog/news reading following the holiday. But alas, no. It is crowded with Black Friday shoppers; suburbanites coming up to this neighborhood for trendy boutiques and a slice of bohemian freakshow before returning to the safe confines of suburban sprawl. So I was forced to sit at the bar—there was a small table in the window, which is always preferred, but the battery in my laptop was shot, so here I sit at the bar, tethered by the need for electricity.
Sit cursing these suburbanites. Not because they are suburbanites. Because they broke the espresso machine. It apparently got so overworked with the rush of morning shoppers here to get caffeinated before heading off to the Ludlow Ave. shops that it broke under the holiday stress–stressed in such a way that valium and therapy won’t fix. Thus I am forced to consume standard coffee with a couple shots of almond syrup in it to make it palatable. Barely.
[Insert Charlton-Heston’s-voice-a-la-Planet-of-the-Apes voice here]. “You maniacs! You blew it up! Damn you! Goddamn you all to hell!” This is what consumerism hath wrought.
As if this weren’t enough of a kickoff to holiday weirdness, I just read on one of my favorite author’s blogs that she really likes Billy Joel. I have mixed feelings about this. On one hand, like she points out, she’s old enough and self confident enough to happily cop to her admiration for The Piano Man. This warrants admiration. On the other hand, it’s [tag]Billy Joel[/tag]. Ah well. I own a [tag]Gordon Lightfoot[/tag] CD, so I’ll stfu.
On the other hand, on the blog of another one of my favorite authors, said author gives a positive review of the new movie The Mist based on the [tag]Stephen King[/tag] story. This was one of the first works of his I read, and it pretty much blew my teenage self out of the water. At the time I didn’t know enough to really articulate why I thought so, but even my teenage self recognized the man’s brilliance as a writer, and this story is definitely one of the standouts in his copious oeuvre—it has always stood out for me as one of his best efforts, even as I went on to gobble up much of said oeuvre.
Just don’t ask me about The Stand, unless you want to listen to an angry diatribe. But that’s another story. I digress. It’s nice to hear that one his fellow authors thinks that this movie lives up to the original work. I’m sure it’s not as good, but at least perhaps it will do it justice; perhaps I’ll even brave the holiday horde and go see it in the theater.
P.S. As I was posting this, the espresso machine repairman showed up. Let us all pray abase/kow-tow/self-flagellate according to our respective religious beliefs.