Never underestimate the commercial value of mental illness.
Jasmine or honeysuckle, if you’re offering. Lavender and gardenia make my nose itch.
THE JEWEL OF MEDINA by Sherry Jones
A resident of the Ivory Tower, who apparently called dibs on A’isha (child bride of Muhammed) as her personal and exclusive domain of study and forgot to send the memo, raised a ruckus about a book she didn’t like and managed to get Random House to pull it after the author had been paid her $100k advance and the presses were rolling. I say it’s an academic hatchet job.
Last night’s fare: I Am Legend.
I don’t watch many movies because I’m usually obsessed with the ones playing in my head, begging to be laid on paper.
But I’ll roll over for post-apocalyptic tales (oh, 12 Monkeys and Waterworld come to mind and that reminds me, why [other than Kevin Costner’s acting] is Waterworld so reviled?). I Am Legend is the best I’ve seen yet.
This morning I’m listening to Simply Red (flashbacks from freshman year at BYU) and the song “Money’s Too Tight to Mention” is a good song. If it weren’t, I wouldn’t have it in my library.
It also trashes things I believe in. Does it bother me? On some visceral level, yes, but that doesn’t make it difficult for me to listen to it and it certainly doesn’t keep me from listening. I’d miss a whole lot of good music (and that voice!) if I took umbrage at other people’s opinions and the way they state them (usually the way they state them is more off-putting than what they say).
So it started me thinking about how I read fiction,
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