9/2 Hellllooooo September!

Holy crapchair, time is going by pretty quick, and writing a novel is hard. Otherwise, sleeping in is good, and the new Neil Young live release is really, really good. I realize why I've been ambivalent about Mr. Young for years: Crazy Horse. I don't think Neil Young rocks. And when Neil Young brings the band and tries to and turn every song into a 13 minute rock anthem, my brain turns off. But Live at Massey Hall is just Neil. Neil with an acoustic guitar; Neil at the piano; Neil telling stories about his songs and then singing them solo. It's good.

Finally wrote some today, though only part of the 3,000 word proposal I'm supposed to be turning in. I'm finding that summarizing a potentially 100,000 word work and all its relevant themes, setting, and characters in 3,000 words is slightly difficult, especially because my plot is not easy to concisely define. At this moment it's two major plots from different periods in time cut together, all told through a framing device of some months after the end of the the more recent plot. So what the fuck? Maybe Jane can help.

BOOK REVIEW TIME!!!!

I finished The Last King Of Scotland. And it sucked. Maybe that's a bit harsh, since I did read 350 pages in 4 days and was pretty into most parts. But remember the movie of Return Of The King where you kept thinking it was over and half-got out of your seat, but it went on for another 25 minutes tying up every loose single possible loose end? Yeah, that's what this was like. I would have been perfectly happy if the book ended with him getting 'rescued' by the Tanzanian army. Or if it ended after they conquer Kampala and he joins the crowd in searching one of Amin's estates. Or if it had ended after he drives away from Amin's 'escape point' alone. Or after he arrives in Kenya. Or after he arrives in the UK. Or on the way to his 'bothy'. Or when he gets there. Or when he gets settled in to write this account. Get it? But it KEPT going until it ended with the most improbable scenario possible-- a total load of horse shit. Not to mention that countless random details throughout the text were pointless. It felt like a journalist trying to write a thriller and could have lost 50 pages easily-- it may have won the Whitbread award, but that doesn't mean the editor did a good job.

Drink Count: 4 (oh yes, I bought a new box of wine!)