Grace Notes @ Snarkattack

…disappointing, ill-timed and without warning -
autumn came.
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It’s amazing just how much memory one loses for the ‘little things’ when one starts going off the rails. In a way, slipping in and out of mental stability is like losing and winning on the stock exchange or something.
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Someone, I don’t know who, owes me big-time.

I got a faulty life and I want my money back. How much would my life be worth? How much is anyone’s life worth?
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Men are such bastards, perhaps I’m turning into a lesbian or something. Hey, it could be worse.
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Television is so bad for you.

I have my first official girl-crush ever – Lisa Loeb.
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So this nice, hot guy that promised to call did in fact do so, and somehow I even managed to get him to cook me this absolutely delicious meal. Beautiful, but almost sublime. Really.

Apparently, according to him, I talk about sex a lot; I seemed to have some habit of mentioning or pointing out that various objects were phallus substitutes (thank you arts degree, my brain will never be the same). In my defence, I tried to explain that me calling myself a poet is really just a socially acceptable way of saying I’m a big ol’ pervert. I’ve said this to quite a number of people before, too.

One could choose to write anything they want in this day and age…why poetry? There’s so much bad poetry in the world as it is, why do I feel the need to add to it?

When in doubt, blame it on Freud. Sigmund, you old perv, this is your fault!

Eek, on Saturday (March 18th), I turned 27. Somehow survived it too. Not sure why but a lot of fuss was made over it this year, I don’t understand why as it wasn’t any more special than any other birthday I’ve had. It just seems that a lot more people remembered it than usual, and I received lots of well wishes and a few cards.

Our family is currently living on remains of a splendid Indian feast, which suits me fine! Had a couple of friends over, and even got some unexpected gifts: a lovely lipgloss (Napoleon’s ‘Satin Lips’ in ‘Nickie’, orange-peach bronze), Footballers’ Wives seasons 2 & 3 on DVD from my brother and a nice flowerbox thingie from his girlfriend with a cute balloon.

Parents made quite the fuss, my mother getting a cake which we’re all struggling to finish. My two friends also got a bottle of shiraz to take home, and some leftovers of the gargantuan feast. Generous, but somehow slightly embarrassing. Sort of like my stomach after the meal.

Also got to taste Frangelico for the first time in a long while. Sure is yummy stuff, even with soy milk.

The word honden means ’shrine’ in Japanese, in case you were wondering. And in case a particular ‘Magic’ pal of mine is wondering, yes, I did know the word before discovering the delights of the ‘Kamigawa’ block.

Anyway, this is about a book I am trying to read. Lately, I’ve managed to finish a few books that have had bookmarks in them for a very long time. I have (attempting to no longer have) this dreadful habit of starting books based on my mood, meaning several unfinished, reading-in-progress books everywhere. Well, no more. This year, it stops. One of the reasons it’s hard for me to ‘commit’ to a book is that a lot of what I want to read is very mentally challenging and draining. Stimulating, yes, jam-packed with knowledge, double yes, but not always good for someone of a delicate mental constitution.

So, this morning, I find myself reacquainting myself with Natsume Sōseki’s deliciously snarky I Am A Cat. It is told from the point of view of a kitten who is adopted, has no name (and seems to not ever acquire one), cannot catch a mouse for the life of him but has the talent to observe and communicate to the reader the truly baffling phenomenon that is human existence. He is hilarious, nasty, witty, learned, cheeky – he’s lots of things I like. He might start off by narrating the last stupid thing his master did and end up hurling various philosophical beliefs at you, in order to explain his master’s behaviour.

One thing I don’t recommend: if you’re embarrassed easily, don’t read it on public transport, or in public! You will laugh out loud (and if you don’t, clearly there is something wrong with you). Oh, how I aspire to be as masterful at snark rhetoric as that cat! Like T.H. White’s The Once and Future King, it’s not just a bunch of interesting stories, but is gently infused with concerns and ideas that would have been current in the writer’s social landscape. He is not only critiquing his contemporaries, but documenting them.

It would have been a fascinating time to be alive in Japan, when the book is set and when the author lived. The period often referred to as that of European modernism (at its peak from 1880-1920) roughly coincides with the Meiji era in Japan, when Japan was as open as she had ever been to Western influence. That meant ideas, knowledge, aesthetics, modernity. It also meant having to give up the more traditional Japanese ways: bushido, the warrior code that samurai had lived by for centuries. Why fight with swords when now there were guns and cannons? Such social upheaval would have been difficult to say the least.

Sorry, enough crapping on. Modernism is one of my pet likes. If you have the chance, pick up this fantastic book and be prepared to be amused, and dazzled by a very intelligent cat. Here are full bibliographic details: Natsume Sōseki, I Am A Cat (Boston & Tokyo: Tuttle Publishing, 2002). Translated by Aiko Ito & Graeme Wilson. This book brings together all 3 volumes of the work.

This fantastic place opened up a while back devoted to more cult beauty goods, which aren’t too wallet-crippling, called Kit Cosmetics. Since my health has been pretty good, I’ve been venturing out into the city centre a lot more often and recently checked it out for the first time.
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