back page: cherry

VI.
cherry by mary karr

10/19/04
"yet another 'messed up girl grows up' memoir. i think it left me feeling sentimental and that 'cherry'-- [i think that's the main character]-- is really missing the point (of life). i guess i [just] find it hard to relate to her. it may have been well written [it seems that i was afraid to say one way or another] and includes some objectionable content."

i rarely mark on the front or back covers of books. it's unsightly and somehow discourteous. however, after concluding cherry i apparently felt free to scribble messages to past reviewers:

frank mccourt: "she's a poet and there are passages in her writing that glitter."
andrew david: "i probably agree."
sunday times: "...she writes with wonderful exactness and candour about sexual experiment and girlish desire."
andrew david: "...and this is probably why i don't relate."
caroline gascoigne: "this frank account of a wild texas girlhood is the most unbeatable read of the year...."
andrew david: "this frank account of a messed up texas girl is...."

if you read my blog as closely as i do, you'll notice that my book reviews tend to appear in alphabetical order by author's last name. today marks the end of that tradition. after unknowingly bumping into karr last week, i felt it was only fitting to conclude her time on this blog with a back page review. as my editorial marks attempt to highlight [i.e., these boxy brackets, the pesky pets of overly attentive editors], i didn't have much to say about this book. i'd just finished janet fitch's white oleander, so i was on troubled-girl-overload. still, i wonder if my response would change had i known that karr was a recent (?) convert to catholicism. would i have embarked on a wild goose chase, searching for a subtle message of redempton whereby i could exclaim, "ah hah! i told you she was a christian"? would i at least find some nugget to dissuade me of karr's pointless vision of life? maybe one of you will read it and tell me...

andrew david. 'wimps die 1 & 2' yelapa, mexico.
the guidebooks claim that there are no roads in or out of yelapa. however, any andrewesque wanderer who journies beyond the cemetary, up a dusty trail, and past the occasional clothes line may find a most marvelous sight: a nonexistent road. and maybe, if this window is particularly portentious, one may find this same vehicle, still waiting the return of its daring dead owner.

google searches & house tour

my cyberpet, the statcounter, attempts to track how many people visit my blog and their method of doing so. during the last 100 visits, there were 5 visitors who arrived by google and 2 by yahoo. here are their queries:

	4 visits	36.36%	the 17 point scale
	2 visits	18.18%	http://the17pointscale.blogspot.com
	1 visits	9.09%	interracial photo sessions
	1 visits	9.09%	failed blog
	1 visits	9.09%	god laughs and plays
	1 visits	9.09%	lekkerman
	1 visits	9.09%	history of church on yelapa

failed blog! hah. i have no interracial photo sessions to share, so i thought i'd share another little chunk of my mexico photos instead. by the way, after a few months worth of posts, i'm finally nearing the end of the good photos from that trip. anyway, here's a tour of our $95 accomodations in yelapa (that's right, only $95 bucks! crazy ridiculous good deal; in case you're wondering, this is at casa isabel):


a view from beth's bed; a view of beth, angie, and our front porch; a view of beth's bed and the kitchen from my bed


a view of of beth, the kitchen, and some ladders to the girls' rooms; angie's bed; the bathroom sitting room

my bed and views from my bed
the shower (well, kinda')
the bathroom (kinda)

this is a litle tale about sleeping

once, long ago, a whirling bit of cosmic dust, an almighty deity, or some cosmic accident resulted in this thing we know as humanity. whatever our origin, us bipedal primates were designed to spend half of our lives sleeping.


indeed, the bed is the great equalizer; even honeymooners and dudes on death row must sleep.


finding this sleeping business a bit tedious (and an utter waste of time), beth, angie, and i planned our escape. we traveled deep into the sun soaked land of mexico.


once we reached the coastal village of yelapa, we sidestepped the bed bugs for an hour or so by joining a candle-lit dance party. the locals were a peculiar blend of hippee, tourist, and native, but the dj's fondness for cheesy eighties music made us retreat to our jungle bungalow.


and it was there that we succumbed to that inevitable sign of human weakness--we slept.


like any holy grail quest, our search was in most ways a failure. despite its two dollar margaritas, roaring iguanas, and tropical beach, yelapa could offer us no antidote to the night. still, our sleep was far from boring. as you may or may not have noticed, these beds are covered in netting AND, better yet, they hang: we were safe from all those nasty jungle critters while hanging suspended in mid-air. it was as if the bed itself was a physical representation of our sleep state; that night we hovered happily in our dreams. how can sleep get cooler than that?

(it can't.)

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. what if we're stuck in seattle? should we avoid the boredom of sleep and advocate our friends and roommates to do the same?

2. speaking of roommates, what is one to do if his (or her) roommate serves as a roadblock for this pursuit of waking life? for example, let's say that at 9pm someone intends to delay the call of sleep by watching a hit tv show (e.g., 24) with his girlfriend, but that his roommate says, "no, i have to work early in the morning; i'm going to bed now, and the tv is too loud." what should one do?

3. okay, okay. so assuming that one does the polite thing and lets his or her roommate drift safely to sleep, what if the roommate also says "yep, i've decided that i need more sleep, i'm gonna start going to bed about this time every night. maybe you could use the tv friday nights..." what now? sure, mark needs his sleep, but what about my right to occasionally watch a movie on my big screen tv?

(i was going to ask a sex question related to hanging beds, but then i remembered that i was annoyed about our small house, so alas, i asked no sex question. now it's too late.)

duncan and driscoll

a while ago i almost posted something like this:

my girlfriend and i happen to be huge fans of david james duncan. his book 'the brothers k' is nearly a perfect novel. in any case, last month he visited seattle, promoting his new book God laughs and plays: churchless sermons in response to the preachments of the fundamentalist right.

during the last few weeks i've been meaning to share about the brilliance and so-so-ness of duncan's visit. my experience with authors has recently been like watching ray and walk the line in quick eye-blink succession. in the space of two weeks, i heard both anne lamott and duncan--two quasi-christian, anti-bush authors who use their talent to push political agendas. duncan (and lamott) had good things to say, but i suspect that i'm something of a purist. give me fiction, i say, screw politics.

my response to these authors is similar to attending a service at mars hill church. this trendy yet word-based church is an odd phenomena in seattle: it's growing. it's growing so much that following a 8:30am service in the ballard sanctuary (the first of the day), pastor mark driscoll's voice is thrown into the back of a van (on dvd, of course) and driven thirty minutes north to a 9:45am service. all told there are seven services between these two locations. now, pastor mark's voice has cool things to say. driscoll seems dedicated to preaching straight from the text. however, he also seems to have pet issues. i can't recall a sermon where he didn't refer to gender roles--a man does this, a woman does this. personally, i teeter-totter back and forth in my opinion of gender and the church, but week after week i don't need someone like driscoll jumping on the teeter-totter with me. give me the gospel, i say, screw gender.

okay, i know: i'm insane (aggggggahawwwwwwwwwaaa!), but david james duncan has become a literary (and liberal) mark driscoll.

ummm...anyway, duncan also read some really interesting passages. and, to his credit, it totally makes sense that he writes about his passions. i really should shut up and applaud his efforts.

andrew david 'shaman for hire' yelapa, mexico. there's no connection between pastor mark driscoll and this shaman. while driscoll drinks beer i doubt he chews peyote or practices ancient huichol customs. also, this list was for a sign-up sheet for one-on-one healing; despite the title, i don't think people actually had to pay the shaman for his services. in any case, it was a wee bit odd staying in the same jungle as mr. shaman. the thing that i really like about this picture is the cork and other periphereal items. i think that they give the picture a lot more character.

real life gets in the way of blogging again

monday: lost two basketball games, 7-11, to nathan; watched 24
tuesday: celebrated beth's new job at tuta bella; watched 24
wednesday: barbeque with mark?
thursday: see the da vinci code
friday: hear bach at st. james
saturday: not sure. possible church dinner.
sunday: not sure. possible compline.


andrew david 'a not-so-photogenic cat' yelapa, mexico.


andrew david 'stray cats aren't fire proof' yelapa, mexico. these pictures really stink, BUT i thought it was quite shocking that the cat was so startled by my nikon and i that he fled through the fire. by the way, i hope these pictures load, they seem to be having some difficulty.

united 93

beth and i saw united 93 tonight. one might think that a post-9/11 film might be a great date movie, but i'm here to say that despite the nearly empty theater, the atmosphere was a bit too somber for making out. and obviously date movies are only worthwhile if there is kissing. still, i would have liked to see a couple more couples turn out to see this film. after all, it's only been a week since opening day – i'm a little surprised that beth and i got two rows to ourselves for such an important movie.

in any case, you can read good reviews elsewhere. in short, i don't see how someone could have made a better film about this tragedy. united 93 was poignant without being preachy; it was touching without being (overly) dramatic. perhaps the greatest testament to the emotional punch of this film is that our audience of 20 left the theater silently. indeed, the hush reminded me of a maundy thursday service or compline at st. mark's. it was a holy quiet.


andrew david 'five pictures' yelapa, mexico. (yes, i know. it's a little odd to include pictures of a mexican cemetery in a post about a US historical film. still, they seemed somehow appropriate. also, aesthetically i didn't feel they were worth a post of their own. by the way, i doubt you find many pictures of the yelapa cemetery elsewhere; it's a little off the beaten path.)