The Scribble Pad - Roslyn's Blog
Thursday July 2 - MJ and me
Actually there is no MJ and me, in even the most remote sense, but it seems that everybody who had even the most tenuous connection with the man, from the chick who clipped his toenails to the truck driver who dropped off loads of soda pop at Neverland's back gate, is vying for their 3 1/2 minutes in the sun. Reminiscing about their few precious moments with him and trying to sound important.
And I watch the crowds gathering in town squares everywhere for gang moonwalks, and see the fans holding onto each other and weeping, and I wonder what's wrong with me.
No indictment on the man or his music, but I'd be hard-pressed to find myself that emotional over the death of a star. I admit I felt some pain at the death of Steve Irwin, even though I had stopped watching his show after the baby and the crocodile incident, but even then, I appreciate all he did for the world's wildlife and I think he was a great loss. But I shed no tears.
Somehow I couldn't get in touch with any deep well of sadness when Diana died, and now, I can't find it within myself to feel any great loss, even for someone who has made such an impact on the world. Maybe it's just my natural iconoclasm.
And it's not just because I've never met the man; it's just that I reserve my tears for stories that touch me, even when I've never met the person involved. A few weeks ago a 10-year-old child was snatched on her way to the corner store, strangled, and stuffed into a hole. I was driving when I heard on the news that they have found her body and found myself driving through a curtain of tears.
Last week, three idiot carjackers jumped into the backseat of a woman's car and told her to drive. Drive she did--right into the yard of a police station. Furious at being thwarted, these living warts on the ass of society shot her in the heart. She was the wife of a soldier in the mother of a 10-year-old boy. I cried for her, too.
Maybe I'm just not the kind of person who feels a personal connection with stars. Maybe one of my personal icons hasn't died yet, and I have tears yet to shed. I guess if I live long enough, I'll find out.
Read the previous entry - Meet Me in Paris!
Sex and Obeah
This one's very short, and quite funny. I got a kick out of writing it. Maybe you'll get a kick out of reading it.
FOLLOW-FASHION
It was one of those sweet sweltering April afternoons, and the shoreline was crowded; cars lined the beach, children shouted as they played while mothers laid the chicken and potato salad onto paper plates. The man had come alone, and as he parked his battered Toyota in one of the few last remaining spots, he surveyed the glittering blue water through the muggy haze, longing for it.
He stripped to his shorts and strode eagerly towards the pier, passing giggling girls in bikinis flirting with young boys eager to show off their toned muscles. He walked right to the end, and dove cleanly into the water. It seemed to sizzle as he hit it, so hot was the day. He struck out, swimming hard, strokes cleanly entering and leaving the water.
Read interviews by your favorite authors!
Our new interview is with Bettye Griffin
What is your idea of the perfect romantic hero?
In a nutshell, someone who isn't perfect. He's got to have faults and make mistakes. And definitely no alpha males. Their behavior borders on abuse, in my opinion. He’s got to be sexy, although he doesn’t have to have the perfect physique, especially if he’s over forty (yes, an overweight man can be just as sexy as an overweight woman.)
Read the rest of Bettye's interview here
Simona Taylor's 50-Book Challenge 2009
One year. 50 books...if it kills me.
July 2
Book #20 (Ta Daa!) is Story of a Girl by Sara Zarr
You know you've got a good book in your hands when you end up weeping and blowing snot all over yourself.
Story of a Girl is just that, a story f a girl who gets caught in the back seat of a car having sex with a 17 year old boy (for various heartrending reasons) and has to suffer the stigma of being called the small-town slut for the rest of her high school career.
Beautifully written, in easy, flowing language, with superbly drawn characters. I loved it at my age, and would have loved it as a teen - if they dared write about such things 25 years ago!
Read what I thought about book #19, Talking to Addison by Jenny Colgan
True A Day
A brand new story every day about crazy (and sometimes stupid) people doing crazy (and sometimes stupid) things.
(You might see random question marks all over the place. Don't ask me!)
