8/1/04 - "Shows and books."

I went to the Suffering etc. show at the Paradox last night, and I'll say that on the whole the music was really good - the Hidari Mae cover of a Suffering song (and vice versa later on) was inspired and lovely, I enjoyed Dear Darling quite a bit, and this was the first time I've seen Damien Jurado ever, so that was neat. But being there completely alone really sucked. I need to remember that no matter how much I like the music, I can't go to shows alone. I always think "Nah, it won't be such a big deal, plus I REALLY want to see these bands, and isn't that what it's about?" but I'm wrong wrong wrong. That's what it SHOULD be about, but that's never what it's actually about, and one can't start a social revolution alone; that's just called being a loser.

I'm sitting around in my bathrobe reading the last bit of High Fidelity and wishing I was satisfied with any aspect of my life whatsoever. But I'm not, and all the assurances that that's just "part of the age" have fallen on deaf ears. I'm sure I'll snap out of it soon and go back to pretending everything is sunshine and bunnies, but these brief lapses into cognition of the generally lousy state of affairs are genuinely unpleasant, to say the least.

Oh well, back to reading. I'll be done within the next half-hour or so, what should I read next?

I'm torn between more of this modern kick I've been on (First Tommy's Tale, then The Hottest State, then The Virgin Suicides, and now this), or returning to my classic roots. Actually, I think just at this moment I've become un-torn: these modern books are theoretically good, but so fast and tasteless... I'm tearing right through them and it's becoming old, how momentarily-entertaining-but-ultimately-uninspiring they are. So classic it is.

I've got some unread Nabokov around here, Bend Sinister is the most accessible (i.e. unpacked--isn't that disgusting that after six months I still have things that are packed?), and that Nietzsche compilation I bought at Steph's urgings but have only leafed through, though I think at this point Nietzsche would make me want to kill myself, so I'd be more likely to pick up the Nabokov. What else... some Rilke (Duino Elegies and Sonnets to Orpheus), which would of course be inspirational; The Crack Up, which I need to get to soon if I really want to consider myself a FSF fan (it's a collection of stories and letters and things by him and people he knew detailing his spiral into ruin, pretty much), though it's guaranteed NOT to be inspirational except as a testament to the perils of success and alcoholism, two things I'm most certainly lacking; and I'd like to give Franny and Zooey another shot, as I was much too young when I tried to read it the first time.

Anyway, thoughts, suggestions? I'm trying to conquer all the things I've bought and not yet read-- my reward at the end will be getting to buy the new David Sedaris book, which will be a sweet reward indeed. That man is a genius.