Aliens, Telepathic plants, cat socks.

 This last Christmas I asked for cat socks, and cat socks is what I got. Having a matching pair of socks feels like such a luxury. And I think it is one I can afford. I try to be like that with myself as an adult. It's not absurd to want enough pairs of socks that they always match. There is nothing wrong with me for wanting that. 

The shame makes me think that. Recently I realize I have fallen into the habit of assuming I do not move with shame. I don't know if that's true, but I try to make it true. Mostly I think I've just had enough embarrassing shit happen to me that normal daily events feel like a non-issue.  

But I don't feel the shame younger me experienced. And I'm happy for that. I think it's a healthy change. I'm happy to live my life without shame, because I don't think shame is very productive. 

Anyway. I came here to write about the book I just finished, titled New Mistakes by Clement Goldberg. I initially picked it out because it was in the queer section at Powells. I may not be a lesbian but that will not detract me from reading my lesbian romance novels. And that's exactly what I got - gay sex! This book is filled with it. I didn't think it was over the top. It felt appropriate. My favorite character is Avery. There is a quote in the book where Avery says he was prepared for anyone to ever ask him when did you know you were straight? I laugh, because I also had this experience. I desperately wanted to be gay, and had to come out as straight as an afterthought. I sympathize with his struggle. 

I thought the book was creative and well-paced. It kept my interest at least, and it was good enough for me to buy. I didn't love the ending. Ultimately I felt it was too short, and that the ideas in the novel were truncated and not properly fleshed out. I think Goldberg could have had a really cool novel if you had the sense that something had actually happened in the book. But you don't get that feeling. There was all this lovely buildup that didn't pay off for anything. 

It's not often that I recommend a book be longer. So I guess its a rare compliment for me to say that in this instance - the book should have been longer. I wanted to write a more in depth review of the book potentially with some research, but google scholar reveals zero searches for the book. 

Ah. I'm trying to accept imperfection, that this blog post doesn't really feel worthy of being posted. I struggle with that so much, and I need to remind myself that the important part is I keep creating. Consistency, like Octavia Butler says. Persistence will pay off in the end. But it's true I didn't edit this very much. lol. 

Not much else to say, other than this book comforted me during the most recent snow storm we had. that's why I bought it. my family informed me the roads weren't safe to drive home, so I stayed downtown with my sister. And I thought, if I'm going to be snowed in, then I'm going to have a good book with me. 

Do you think I should read Middlemarch next? It's so damn long. But I do love it. I've read about 200 pages so far. I donated my copy to the psych ward in New York, along with Audre Lorde and Fanon. It hurt just a little bit to part ways with them, books I had had since college. But having books in the clinic was the only thing that kept me sane, and I wanted other people to have a scrap of sanity with some good literature. I hope no one stays in the clinic long enough to ever actually finish Middlemarch. But at least I know people won't run out of books to read.