14 March 2012
[Warning: While I do not intend to reveal any specific plot points or twists in this series of blogs, I may comment on the pacing of the novel. If you do not care to have the pacing revealed to you, please read no further until you read Pet Sematary for yourself. – JPR]
Yesterday, I began reading Pet Sematary, my first Stephen King novel. I made it through the author’s introduction with no issues. In fact, I am proud to say I sailed through the introduction, not just unafraid, but emboldened.
I am nearly 80 pages into the book now and nothing entirely creepy has occurred. I feel fine so far, but am beginning to get anxious like at the beginning of a rollercoaster as it climbs to its inevitable perilous descent. What, at first, allows for a relaxing look about at the scenery turns (quickly or slowly depending upon your personal constitution) into an undercurrent of paranoia that the world will soon spin out of control and one will be strapped in for the duration of the predictable disaster.
Although nothing devious or outright sinister has happened in the novel yet, I am walking around with an internal sense of false bravado—a bravado meant to mask my deep trepidation.
I have never seen Psycho. I visited Disney World and Universal Studios in my adolescence, though I can’t quite remember where the following scene took place. As a group, we saw a behind-the-scenes look at Alfred Hitchcock films. The viewing had various scenes from The Birds and Vertigo and the shower sequence from Psycho. That was as close as I’ve gotten to seeing the film, but I can’t shake that image.
I always buy see-through shower curtains and sometimes keep my eyes open the entire time I’m cleaning my body and washing my hair and scrubbing between my toes like a good boy. I fear someone will sneak in unannounced during my cleaning ritual and commit some heinous act. If it were not a clear sign of unrestrained neurosis, I would probably attach a small ringing bell device to my bathroom door to indicate when someone (or something) enters or exits the bathroom. This plan has at least one fault. I’m sure I would constantly imagine the bell tinkling and just resort to my paranoid plan b—never showering and never blinking while sitting in the corner of a perpetually well-lit room. I would probably be allowed visitors from time to time.
I fear this sense of dread will be unleashed the further I delve into the novel.
Thus endeth Day One.
22 October 2011
Time passes and the distance between us grows.
How I’ve missed you all. As you know, the bulk of my time has been involved in work and will continue to be so for a couple more weeks.
So, here is a break, a breather. A chance to tell you a little bit about what has been happening.
GF and I discovered a miniature golf course (putt-putt) near a suburban shopping center. The putt-putt course was within an establishment also containing a driving range. (Who knew stoves could get licenses?*) I have never been to such a place before. I found it quite odd. Some patrons were carrying buckets containing ice and Corona beers and some patrons were sitting in a club house structure watching sporting events at a high volume (decibel-wise, not quantity-wise).
During our putt-putt adventure, GF scored a hole in one! Our trip included a visit to Johnny Rockets restaurant, in which I felt bad for the employees, all of whom had to dress as if they actually worked in a diner from the 1950s. Interesting to note- There was a painting on the wall of kids eating something from the restaurant. The kids were wearing baseball uniforms. One of the kids was African American, even though I doubt he would have been welcome at the diner in the 1950s. Thanks Johnny Rockets for erasing the past.
We ended the day by going to Macy’s. The Macy’s was creepy. Here is the bathroom, which was fine.
Stay tuned for an upcoming post in which I describe two different dancing experiences.
*Alternate joke A- Who knew an open region in which animals can graze could get licenses? Alternate joke B- Who knew a series of things in a line (especially mountains) could get licenses?
10 August 2011
I drink copious amounts of beverages. I drink Mountain Dew, Coke Zero (thanks to a former intern who turned me on to it), water, tea, coffee and more throughout the day.
I pee. Frequently.
Today, I went to pee and for some reason (you can probably guess the reason) I utilized a stall (not the sweet skateboarding move) rather than a urinal in the bathroom for male-identified people at my office. While I was in there, someone entered another stall.
Within 13 seconds, the unidentified person and I were urinating concurrently (literally, “with similar streams” in the Latin). I spent the next 34 seconds stifling a chuckle.
The person left the stall, turned on the water in the sink (I couldn’t see if they actually washed their hands), turned off the water in the sink, grabbed paper towels, crumpled them and exited the bathroom.
For a few brief moments, our streams were simultaneous, our flows one chorus ringing in the frequently churning waters of the loo lake.
It was synchronici-pee.