The scrapheap in the middle of my mind

BOOK REVIEWS: The Late Bloomer's Revolution by Amy Cohen

There’s a bit of a story behind me reading this book.
First: I like reading memoirs, at least, so I thought. I started reading memoirs years ago. I started with David Sedaris, and moved onto Sarah Vowell, and then some Augusten Burroughs, Chuck Klosterman, and some David Rackoff… all authors that I greatly admire for their writing skills. This is akin to me taking up watching basketball by watching the all the 1992 Dream Team games. It turns out not all writers have the ability to spin a yarn about their lives that I find completely entertaining like the people I mentioned above. But on I went, reading people’s memoirs, thinking if I knew about other people’s lives, maybe I’d figure out a bit more about mine.
I picked up “NO TOUCH MONKEY” by Ayun Halliday, which I promptly gave up reading, and I picked up The Late Bloomer’s Revolution, which I put down several times, but eventually got through.
Here’s what attracted me to the book. The cover, a quote by David Rackoff, and it’s about being single, which I was at the time of that I picked this book up.
If misery loves company, then I wanted Ms. Cohen to come over and watch old episodes of COPS with me.
A funny thing happened while I started reading the book. Someone asked me out on a date, and as she and I continued to go out and eat and see movies and hold hands, I lost interest in reading about Amy Cohen’s lack of a social life (and so I put it down, and picked up No Touch Monkey). I thought The Late Bloomer’s Revolution was whiney. It was sad. It was about being single, which I no longer was, thus I didn’t care. Oh sure, a week prior I was all about going to bed at 9 at night, but now I was staying out late, and on occasion, going to bed with someone else, reading that book was for suckers.
Still I read on (on rare occasions). And then, in the cruelest twist of fate- Amy Cohen found the love of her life (in the book) on the very same day my date buddy and I broke up. The universe does have a funny way of balancing itself out. I wished she would go back to talking about crying herself to sleep, and going to see movies by herself. Now she was talking about making dinner for her boyfriend, and planning trips together.
I was miserable… but I found that everything Amy Cohen said was true. Being single sucks, dating sucks. And when you do think you’ve found someone, you become crazy about what you say, eat, smell like, how you look, how you look naked. You want to tell everyone that you’re happy, but you don’t want to tell anyone about dating someone in case it doesn’t work out- lest you look the fool. I was a sad boy made a bit sadder by the fact that sad Amy Cohen as right about everything… even if the book isn’t a funny tromp through heartache city.
In the end- well, I’m not giving away the end, but maybe a lesson is learned, and maybe it’s 1:13 in the morning and I’m watching a TIVO’d Dr. Who in my pjs about to go to bed alone.

BOOK REVIEW!!!

ON THE ROAD by JACK KEROUAC 

“Oh, yeah man, On the Road. Dude, that’s a good story man. So good. Yeah man… so… dude, yeah, man… dude, bro…” I had been stuck with concessions, AGAIN! My friend was producing a play, and me not being an actor, or a director, or a sound or lighting technician, but wanting to help out, got stuck with selling tickets and concessions. So I brought my book to read, and the book was ON THE ROAD. I was halfway through the book. And I sort of liked it.
I was kind of getting into it. I could see it happening. I wanted to see myself driving back and forth across the country in the late 40s, early 50s (Is that when it took place? It’s been awhile since I read it… and I can’t say it all stuck with me). Then this happened.
There I was, minding my own business, reading my book, selling Sprites to anyone that wanted one, and this tiny, scrawny, long-haired, belt studded, black wearing hippie/cool/emo/rocker dude walks up to me and starts to talk to me about how he LOVED ON THE ROAD.
Really? Is this the target audience? Is it that cool to read Kerouac? Snap, snap daddio.
I guess so. I did like it while reading it. But since then, time has passed for me. And honestly, as more stuff goes into the brain, more and more of On The Road has been forgotten. Thus I guess it doesn’t stand the test of time. Then again… I’ve never driven across the country, so maybe one needs that experience in order to… no wait, wait, I have driven across the country. Hmm… I’ve never listened to jazz in San Francisco? Listen: let me put it like this, reading On The Road is sort of like being a year into college, and you’re having fun, and you’re meeting new people, but you miss your old friends, and you miss the easy school assignments, and how little responsibility you had to deal with. You had this faux sense of happy nostolgia. Then you get a few years older, and then you’re thinking, “No way in hell would I ever go back to high school, I don’t care how hot Sunny Crane was, she’s definately not worth going back for, especially if I have to sit through another damn calculus class.”
On The Road: Sure Sunny Crane was hot in high school, but is she hot now? Don’t know, don’t really care to find out, cause there are other things on my mind