Please Happy

OK, I’m a huge fan of OK Go! And stop action vids. And Echo Park Lake. And Love. So, this video, well, it feeds all my needs. I just wish they had invited me to participate in the picnic. Love the geese!

Thank you, OK Go for being so kooky and creative and awesome. I am so grateful to share a zip code with you!

Infinite Jest has been sitting in my mind since reading Federer As Religious Experience and A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again, and sitting on my shelf since Nic gave it to me for my birthday in January. The 1,079-pager sits sandwiched between Jonathan Franzen’s How To Be Alone (short stories, 305 pages) and John Cheever’s Oh What a Paradise It Seems (100 pages). And I’ve been too intimidated to take it down.

Until today. When I saw this:

InfiniteSummer.Org

So, it’s like the support from NaNoWriMo where participants write 1,600 words a day during November to come out at the end of the month with a novel. Except, this is Reading a Novel.

Summer Reading Support Group.

Complete with conversations, encouragement and commiseration. And no pressure to understand footnotes, allusions, mind meanderings. Just, enjoy. And, so I will start. Seventy-five pages per day all summer long. Woot! Starting… now! Who’s in?

This, from the project’s brainchild Jason Kottke:

But what I am qualified to tell you — as a two-time reader and lover of Infinite Jest — is that you don’t need to be an expert in much of anything to read and enjoy this novel. It isn’t just for English majors or people who love fiction or tennis players or recovering drug addicts or those with astronomical IQs. Don’t sweat all the Hamlet stuff; you can worry about those references on the second time through if you actually like it enough to read it a second time. Leave your dictionary at home; let Wallace’s grammatical gymnastics and extensive vocabulary wash right over you; you’ll get the gist and the gist is more than enough. Is the novel postmodern or not? Who f’ing cares…the story stands on its own. You’re likely to miss at least 50% of what’s going on in IJ the first time though and it doesn’t matter.

And and and! It is a fact that Infinite Jest is a long book with almost a hundred pages of endnotes, one of which lists the complete (and fictional) filmography of a prolific (and fictional) filmmaker and runs for more than eight pages and itself has six footnotes, and all of which you have to read because they are important. So sure, it’s a lengthy book that’s heavy to carry and impossible to read in bed, but Christ, how many hours of American Idol have you sat through on your uncomfortable POS couch? The entire run of The West Wing was 111 hours and 56 minutes; ER was twice as long, and in the later seasons, twice as painful. I guarantee you that getting through Infinite Jest with a good understanding of what happened will take you a lot less time and energy than you expended getting your Mage to level 60 in World of Warcraft.

And so, readers: Forward. I wish you way more than luck.

Comments

I mean, you can’t see his hands. Maybe they’re on a synthesizer. Not to be skeptical or anything. I’m just truly flabbergasted.

We humans can do amazing things. Hope he wins. Or comes to the states to stand outside my bedroom window. No boombox needed.

Visiting Jackson last week, J asks about social services, about green initiatives, about what the big deal is concerning how many Glory laps – or how many different sports – someone can do in a day. He has never heard of TGR, Travis Rice or even Alex Lowe. Refreshing, actually.

While preparing for the bike leg of the Pole Pedal Paddle - a four-leg race of downhill skiing, Nordic skate skiing, cycling and paddling – I got a little anxious, a little worried. I didn’t want to let my male teammates down, I didn’t want to be the weak link. I wanted to perform well.

J watched as I flitted around the pre-race party, repeatedly asking people about the course, the weather, the strategy. He watched as I made several pre-race to-do lists, oiled my chain and rode my trainer while watching Lance dominate the 2001 tour. And, as I fretted about biking, the 2008 Couple’s Division Champions discussed their world domination and how sweet it will be to wear the beanie around town (yes, your prize for winning your class is a wool hat) and the powder conditions they’ll ski on an upcoming yurt trip. And, while they talked strategy, our other friends detailed their spring excursion to the splitters of the utah desert. And the hot dogs they’ll grill and the #1s, #2s, and #3s they’ll be bringing. And during this, J looks like he’s trying to understand a new language – cocked head, furrowed brows, silent. And I’m pre-mixing energy drinks and visualizing myself peeling out of Teton Village and speeding down the road to the put-in for the boat leg.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, bringing me out of my trance. “Seems like you’re stressed, not excited, about it.”

“You kidding?” I say. “This is what we do for FUN. And this is me getting ready to kick ass tomorrow. This is me having fun. For real.”

“Huh,” he says.

Then, after a few more minutes of looking around at the tense sports preparations:

“Bear with me. … This feels like stepping off the plane in China for the first time,” he says. He lived there for four years. “This is like being a foreigner in China. … Except way weirder.”

After borrowing my friend’s clippers … I stared at the box for a week.

I wanted to do it to do it. To feel what it felt like. And because I had wanted to for a while.

I almost freaked out beforehand.  I must say, I do not recommend watching videos of people shaving their heads (even if it is in the hope of attaining some fab techniques). If you have any trepidation whatsoever about doing this yourself. It was way too weird!  Your experience should be yours!

So, I put on Bon Jovi then Björk, stuck my head in the mouth of the trash can and began buzzing at the highest millimeter. I had to take scissors out to get the length down, then back to the clippers, working my way down from 18 to 14 to 12 to 10 and then to the accidental 7mm that was actually the perfect length for this go ’round, and 4mm in the back.

By the way, this was a Swedish Clipper, so I have no idea as to the correlation to the American 4, 3, 2, 1 system. I’m pretty sure I got it to about an American 2 though.

So, to be clear, I HIGHLY recommend you to grab your courage, take a deep breath, and buzz it off at least once in your lifetime. Then EXHALE and look at the beautiful clear being in the mirror. It’s you! Hooray!

And Congratulations.
Lots of Love,

In less than a week, I’ll be standing with my dad, my cousin and about four million others watching as Barack Hussein Obama officially takes office as the President of the United States. (WOOOOOHOOOOOOO!!!)

My dad, a young 52-year-old, is worried recently about cold, claustrophobia and crapping. He’s also worried about standing around in the ticketed section before the event with nothing to do. (I think we’ll be screaming and pulling our hair out and high-fiving our fellow revelers.)

But, Dad’s fears are not entirely unfounded. It will likely be cold and wet, we’ll likely be crammed and claustrophobic and there will be a good chance that at some point we’ll have to negotiate the bathroom lines. Or poop in a bag that I’ll bring from my mountain collection.

Here is The Supply List Dad emailed me at 1:44 a.m.

And he’d like some additional suggestions, though I think if he only brings the last item on the list, we’ll be golden.

Personal Wear:
Ski mask
Thermals
Ski mittens
Pee Bottle
Boots

Medicine:
Ibuprofen
Excedrin

Other:
Thermos w/ hot liquid?
Water bottles
Cushion to sit on?
iPod, head phones
Transistor radio w/headphones to listen to inauguration coverage and any alerts
A book to read?
A stationery exercise bike