Works For Me

I have found a new comfort zone when I read.

Inspector Gamache. This is so unlikely for me, yet I am gobbling up these books and enjoying them like the finest dark chocolate.

A long running series written by Louis Penny. 

I think maybe I am a sexist. Maybe not. But I don't read female authors. I've tried a few and found them lacking in whatever it is I need from a story. Perhaps I pre-judge them, or maybe there really is something about the female perspective that does not provide the entertainment that I need.

However, the Inspector Gamache series is giving me the peace I need right now. The characters are human, they are fragile, imperfect, petty, substantial, quirky, loving, conniving, confused, cocky, self-doubting and more. They truly come across as genuine, flawed, sensitive human beings. Reading the books makes me feel peaceful. I sprinkle them in amongst other books I am reading so I won't Google 101 ways to commit suicide.

The stories are murder mysteries and they are good. But the characters blow you away. They are not superheros, they are your neighbors or normal people you meet every day. Even Gamache is achingly human.

I am not adequately expressing myself, so I'll let Louis Penny herself do it. In the intro to The Brutal Telling she writes:

"No one quite appreciates and recognizes the light like those who've lived in darkness. That awareness is what I try to bring to the books. The duality of our lives. The power of perception. The staggering weight of despair, and the amazement when it is lifted. The gap between how we appear and how we really feel.

At their core, though, these books are about the profound decency of Armand Gamache, and the struggles he has to remain a good person. When "good" is subjective and "decent" is a matter of judgement.

These books might appear, superficially, as traditional crime novels. But they are, I believe, more about life than death. About choices. About the price of freedom. About the struggle for peace."

This country being what it is right now, you may need to read these stories just to regain your sense of yourself as a human being.

They work for me.

A Powerful Work of Fiction, and.......................

thank God! - who could live in an actual country like this?

Big Brother Is Watching You

War Is Peace

Freedom Is Slavery

Ignorance Is Strength

"Parsons was Winston's fellow employee at The Ministry of Truth. He was a fattish but active man of paralyzing stupidity, a mass of imbecile enthusiasms - one of those completely unquestioning, devoted drudges on whom, more even than the Thought Police, the stability of the Party depended."

"He picked up the children's history book and looked at the portrait of Big Brother which formed its frontispiece. The hypnotic eyes gazed into his own. It was as though some huge force were pressing down upon you - something that penetrated inside your skull, battering against your brain, frightening you out of your beliefs, persuading you, almost, to deny the evidence of your own senses. In the end the Party would announce that two and two made five, and you would have to believe it...........................

The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command."

Slogans and excerpts from 1984.

I Knew You Were Faking It

 "Very few people do this anymore. It's too risky. First of all, it's a hell of a responsibility to be yourself. It's much easier to be somebody else or nobody at all."

Sylvia Plath

Alone Again

I really wanted Djokovic to beat Alcaraz. 

To win the Australian Open. To grab that elusive 25th.

Alas, it was not to be. I fear that record breaking major is fading further into the rear view mirror for Novac.

Djokovic is 38, Carlos is 22. Age vs Youth. Generation after generation in all walks of life.

I was hoping for a miracle to help inspire my own, the miracle it will take for me to go out in a blaze of glory.

Guess I'm on my own.

Again.

Perfect Peace

 If you long to connect your soul to the Absolute Truth of Life, if you want to feel the perfect peace that accompanies that experience, then listen to Tom Russell - specifically a CD called Blood and Candle Smoke.

What The Fuck Is Wrong With Me?

Stayed up until 1:30 this morning watching a documentary on Marc Maron - Are We Good?

Love Marc Maron.

Today I am tired. Can't concentrate. Can't get anything done.

Really?

For Christ sake, John Wick gets the shit kicked out of him 15 times in every movie, and then bounces back to kick the shit out of every remaining bad guy. Beats 'em, kills 'em. Viciously. And he accomplishes that even though he is suffering with nasty cuts, broken ribs, amputated fingers, exhaustion, and extensive blood-loss.

I'm tired?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Chilling

Recently read a book that was chilling. Written by Daniel Silva.

The story revolved around a white supremacist movement that had been festering, plotting, planning and growing, kinda underground, over a few decades. With a much bigger - MUCH bigger base of support than you would expect in a civilized country. Their ultimate goal was to take over the government of the country and cleanse the population so that it looked exactly as they wanted it to look. Meaning just like them.

Of course it was a work of fiction.

When they gained control of the government the plan was to harass the shit out of immigrants, beat them, cuff them, kill them, and deport them - at least the ones left alive. They would break every law and make up some of their own. If random citizens got caught up in the violence, so be it. 

This would all be done anonymously - masks, no badges, no visible ID - to protect the brave men and women performing the cleansing. Makes perfect sense.

The movement included and was backed by high-level politicians, billionaires, big business, lawyers, the military and other high-minded people.

Eventually the true patriots managed to thwart this plan before it could be completed, although it came very close to fruition, causing enormous death and suffering along the way.

A truly frightening read.

Thank God it was fiction.