Two Ships Passing in the Night

Well dear readers, I'd love to fill you in on the juicy details of le date last night, but unfortch, le date was not to be. Not quite sure what happened. I showed up early, found us seats, ordered a beer, became engrossed in my crossword puzzle. At 7:30 it occurred to me to check the time, causing me to realize that I was either being stood up, we had crossed paths, or we failed to recognize one another. Determined to finish my puzzle (yes, I am a major nerd), I ordered a second Blue Moon, befriended the nice British bartender and got my crossword on. No worries, I only stayed another half hour or so. And yes, I finished my puzzle--New York Times Wednesday edition no less! Will Shortz, eat your heart out.

This morning, messages were exchanged. I was there and didn't see you.

But dude, I was there and didn't see you.

But I do believe him. When I returned home I caught myself peering into the mirror, wondering if for any reason, my looks are of the variety that causes blind dates to reject me from across the room at first site, until I decided that they aren't and I was being too harsh on myself. But I did slather on some wrinkle cream before going to bed. You know, just for good measure.

But enough of that. A resched is being discussed. I'll let you know what we decide.

So I mentioned earlier that I recently started Lunar Park by Bret Easton Ellis. I'm only 107 pages in, but so far my assessment is: Book LUST! Lunar Park will probably only be enjoyable to readers already intimately familiar with Ellis and his previous books. I say this because in placing the public persona of "Bret Easton Ellis" in the center of the novel's narrative, he slyly pokes fun of himself, but more importantly, our collective perception of him. Critics of Ellis have accused him of being misogynistic, drug addled, self-obsessed and host of other terrible things. So that's exactly how he paints himself here. The Bret Easton Ellis of Lunar Park is a "recovered" drug addict who cheats on his wife with nineteen year-olds; snorts mountains of coke everywhere he goes; fails to connect with anyone around him, especially his children (he likens parenthood to "some fucking Beckett play that we're constantly rehearsing"); and is trying to pen his next novel, a pornographic thriller aptly titled Teenaged Pussy, if only he could get over himself to finally sit down to write. Basically, he's made himself a million times worse than the National Organization for Women (who slandered him after the publication of American Psycho) could ever dream. It's the sort of dark, sarcastic humor that I go crazy for. It's like he's saying "yeah, you thought I was bad before, oh honey, you can't possibly imagine how bad I can be."

Vanity Fair described Lunar Park as a mix of John Cheever and Steven King. The King elements are beginning to emerge. As cracked out as Ellis is, he's lucid enough to realize that things are amiss in the sleepy suburban town he and his family have fled to from Hollywood. Either that, or *because* he's so cracked out, things seem to be slightly amiss. Like Rules of Attraction, the plot of the novel is heavily based on individual perceptions, which can't be 100% trusted. As of now, characters from his previous novels seem to be coming to life...and that's all I got for now. I'm guessing what will end up happening is that Ellis will end up being dragged down by these characters in some way--that the demons of his own creations, so to speak, will be what haunts him. But maybe not. Or maybe yes, but much, much more.

Stay tuned.