i’m so agitated. and i can blame it all on john sellers. because i probably woulda never wrote this post if it wasn’t for his book.
perfect from now on – so, i’m about 2/3 of the way through this, and i love it. mr sellers is a geeky fanboy of music, and i mean that in the most flattering way possible. be forewarned – homes has a woody for joy division and guided by voices. great bands, don’t get me wrong. but be prepared to be thwacked over the head with it a few times. although, i’m glad he pointed out that new order is just joy division sans ian curtis. seriously, i wouldn’t have noticed. sometimes i don’t pay attention to lineups. there, i said it. shoot me.
i totally love the footnotes, which are huge. leviathan-esque, if i may be so bold. and they’re really funny. the open letter to that guy from my bloody valentine is priceless.
i’m not the kind of person that normally reads the back of the book. you know, on hardcovers? where all these random yahoos praise the book? like you’re really supposed to care what they think? but the other morning, i had put the book on my bedside table facedown. so, i was sitting there, talking on the phone, and casually glancing at the back. long-ish quote from someone that knows the author (kinda funny, nice donkey kong analogy). and then, two little lines from that rancid cock, chuck klosterman.
jesus, i hate chuck.
i’m totally justified, i think. he’s written a few books. my favorite is sex, drugs and cocoa puffs, a series of essay he wrote in the wee hours when he couldn’t sleep. but the book that made me hate him is killing yourself to live. theoretically, a good book. in actuality, a piece of crap. so, he rents a car and drives cross-country, ostensibly to tour sites where rock stars have died. and gravesites of rock stars. kind of like assasination vacation, by sarah vowell, but with musicians instead of historical figures. i loved assasination vacation. i love love love sarah vowell, and i’m ashamed that i’ve never reviewed one of her books here. read all her books.
back to chuck. so, this road trip. i seem to recall exactly one death site. maybe two. yeah, two, because he goes to kurt cobain’s house. the rest of the book is him talking about himself. if this were a memoir, it would be okay. but it’s not. it just pissed me off that the book is only partially about music. i mean, it’s music kinda. it’s more about these women scattered across the country whom he’s either had relations or would like to have relations. which is fine. but that’s not what i signed up for, you know?
the reason i bring all this up is because killing yourself has some similarities to john sellers’ book. both are about music. both talk about music through the eyes and ears of the author. one proclaims to be a book about music as he perceives it, the other a book about musicians and their deaths, and the line of reasoning associated with those things. one delivers, one does not. we love john. chuck should just stick to…uh… whatever it is he does.
and sarah. oh, man. sarah vowell rocks. all her books, as i said, are awesome. my favorite is assasination vacation, because i didn’t technically read it. i rented it as an audiobook, and i was totally thrilled that she read it herself. she did the voice of violet on ’the incredibles’, and she had a few guest voices as various political figures. anyway, she tours death sites and gravesites of political and historical figures, and while we hear a bit about her life, we hear more about what she’s doing. do you hear me, chuck? she does what she says she’s gonna do!
argh. i may be bitter. it may be too cold in here. i mean, there’s a snow advisory and all (here? in november? wow, that’s early), and we still have the a/c coming on.
my point is – john and sarah, good. chuck, bad.
thanks for stopping by.
is there any chance that chuck was just trying to find himself by way of visiting dead idols?
and that maybe his book company is to blame, changing the title of the book from “self-discovery in 15 drunken road trips”? or maybe it was originally called “catcher in the wry.”
just putting it out there. i haven’t read any of them there books you been talkin about. words is hard.
all i can say is i’m jealous. who is it that you actually talk to on the phone? and how do i get in the queue?
i know. i know. i keep pulling the invisible (wo)man thing on you. still. must you punish me so?
i would say holler at me. but then you’d have to poke me in the brain with one of your needles. errr, the knitting type, not the ‘hey, guys, my new hobby is drawing blood’ type. i get enough of that already thanks. not that you offered. but, no, really, thanks.
I saw an interview with Ms. Vowell on Conan years ago. I boggled at how smart she is. I really should read some of her stuff. The name “Chuck Closterman” just makes me think “Douchebag.”
i don’t know who “chuck closterman” is, but chuck KLOSTERMAN is rather self-involved. and i think it’s all his fault.
and… uh… i’m required to answer the phone when it’s my grandmother. because she doesn’t understand the concept of voicemail. mainly, she doesn’t seem to understand that it’s not an answering machine, and i can’t pick up regardless of how many times she yodels “helloooooo?” into the phone.
ah, to be old and irish. i think i answered all three! whiskey for me! right after another 12 hour shift…