a tribute to the bad movies i've slept through

Revisited

I haven’t been here in a long time but now I am bored.
Not many things interest me, but I can come up with three: good writing, dismal movies with a hint of sophistication, and food. And though I am a skinny, slow reader lacking on attention span, I often have things to say about books, movies and food. And the only way to keep this blog going is to stick with these things.
Books. Lately I have been reading whatever catches my attention at the used bookstore. I used to go straight for the fiction section because hard to follow nonfiction upsets me more than bad fiction but this last time I found at a shelf labeled “Cult” (I don’t remember what it was labeled but “Cult” sounds close). One of the things I picked up there was The Onion Eaters by J. P. Donleavy – the title sounded familiar, and the book cost less than $2. When I first started reading, something in the way the language and the story sounded in my head made me think of Henry Miller. It must have been the intense sense of impulsivity and engrossment in the present (that I honestly find a little overwhelming in Miller). The Onion Eaters starts with an old deserted castle on the rocks of Ireland, and each character that arrives, human or animal, openly adds a large chunk of madness. And every character adamantly refuses to leave and thus take away some of the disorder. About a third into the story I found it to be the opposite of Henry Miller. Where he has pages loaded with sexuality and candidly turns chaos into passion, The Onion Eaters leaves things to chaos. I found something distinctly anti-sexual about this book. Whenever characters are sexually engaged (and this is no rare occurrence), they seem to be doing so either reluctantly, or with grossly exaggerated passion, so grotesque it becomes trivial. Do I recommend the book? Only if you think you can handle the turmoil.

“Bloodmourn waiting. Without crutches. In the early afternoon. At the mahogany bar. In this high ceilinged public house. Named Cosmos after the universe.”

“For
The circus
Continues
More crazy than cruel
One of us now
Will spin like a top
On the end
Of his tool”

As for food, last Sunday afternoon, while on my third beer, I thought I could most accurately pin down what Bulgaria smells like. Much of the country has the distinct and by no means unpleasant smell of cigarette smoke mixed with French fries swathed in grated cheese.

posted by Dora @ 7:53 AM