David Sedaris is My Bitch/Hero

So it turns out that I have a book blog and I haven’t posted anything on it in about six months. Yup. I think I passed the embarrassed stage about three months ago, now I just look at this blog fondly as a thing of the past. Get all nostalgic and sh*t about that time when I used to post more than once a week; it’s great. ANYHOW.

I recently (two months ago) went to a David Sedaris event. I wasn’t really sure what to expect as it was a ticketed event in a concert hall (wasn’t cheap) and it was titled ‘An Evening with David Sedaris’. Was he going to do some stand-up, read from his new book, mingle with his fans in a room of swirling cognacs? Turns out that is exactly what the evening was (minus the cognac).

I don’t remember the last time I had such a good time. So much so that I stopped feeling resentful about the money I had spent to go and see him. I laughed so hard throughout the evening, listening to David (we’re totally on first name terms now) recounting stories and reading diary entries in his surprisingly high pitched voice. I, honestly, fell in love with the man.

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The evening was coming to a close and David said he’d be outside signing books for a short while. Which reminded him of a time when a young guy came to one of his events and said his mum was a huge fan of David’s and would he mind writing something outrageous in her copy of one of his books. Naturally, David wrote ‘Your son left teeth marks on my dick’. HAHAHA. The boy was horrified.

No photographs were allowed, but I was feeling rebellious...

No photographs were allowed, but I was feeling rebellious…

My friend (whom I had very kindly introduced to the world of Sedaris) and I decided to get our books signed. The queue wasn’t moving particularly fast as some fans had his entire backlist with them that they wanted specially signed. Double sigh. So our moment finally came and my friend was nervous, which then made me nervous, which normally results in me talking too fast and laughing too hard at people’s jokes. And overcompensating for my quiet friend.

I asked David to write something outrageous in mine, and as I’m black, I wanted him to write something that was inappropriate and racist. He started telling me a story about a dog shelter run by some elderly people. Long story short, there was an important dinner being held and the words ‘black bitch’ were unknowingly thrown around in reference to a dog they wanted to move out of the shelter. This got us to the following inscription in my book:

wpid-20140327_220254.jpgFollowed by this in my friend’s:

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I have to say, it was funny how, in a matter of minutes, he picked up on the dynamics of the relationship between me and my friend.

We talked to him some more and then made our exit. I was really impressed with how he took the time to speak to each person in that very long line, not the usual “Thanks for coming” type sh*t, but genuine conversation. If ever you get a chance to go to one of his readings, I highly recommend you do.

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Creative Constipation

For me, blogging has become that older relative that you need to go and visit but keep putting off, the longer you leave it the harder it gets, and then it reaches that stage where you’re too embarrassed to even show your face. And that’s where things are getting to with me right now. I can’t believe it’s been a month since I last posted. Life appears to have rudely interrupted my blogging. A day seems to have turned into a few more, into a week, into a month (hopefully not more), without me having noticed. Perhaps I’ll just blame it on the books I’m reading – not feeling strongly enough about them to tell you guys. I’ve given myself until Friday to get back on the Blogging Train. Choo choo.

 

Internet Not Working

Hey Guys,

Just thought I’d let you know that my internet hasn’t been working since the weekend so can’t post my new book reviews. In this day and age when good customer service is a given, the end of a fruitless 2 hour ‘do this, then do this’ phone conversation sprinkled with patronising hold music, resulted in the technician saying they can’t come round to the house until Friday!! Was not amused. I’m furtively typing this at work when I should be working so have to go, but I assume you’re all waiting with bated breath for my next post. Or not.

Koko x

 

Why Blogging Reminds Me of High School

Blogging kind of reminds me of high school. Ok, that’s not quite true.  I didn’t actually go to ‘high school’ per se. I spent my senior school years in England where it is in actual fact called secondary school; so there’s that. I thought I should clarify that in case you were picturing me in jeans and a JanSport backpack, walking down locker-lined halls listening to Blink 182. Mine was an all-girls situation and I had to wear a ghastly red and baby blue uniform. Real Hot. (Did not bring any boys to the yard.)

I should probably shut up now because my ‘high school’ experiences were nothing like that which is depicted in most stereotypical high school teen movies from the late 90s / early 2000s (complete with unrealistic, synchronised mass-dancing scene). (For some reason, the only film that seems to keep popping into my head is She’s All That with Freddie Prinze Jnr, back in the days when he was desirable, haha.)

Source: Wikipedia.org

Sorry, couldn’t resist. This is sooo bad, it’s actually quite good:

So let me change this post to ‘Why Blogging Reminds Me of What I Stereotypically Believe an American High School to Be Like.’

A lot of the bloggers are nice and friendly to the new girl in school: they talk to me, make me feel welcome, occasionally respond to one of my many questions. A small number even decide to be my friend and follow me around the campus of WordPress High.

We wander around in our cliques (categories); the foodies stick together and are always seen with their cameras at lunch time, the bookworms talk about books that are 50 shades of a colour that is not grey, so therefore no one cares; the geeks fill their pages with concepts only few understand, the arty ones don’t care if they’re liked, they let their pictures speak for themselves. And then you have the popular kids which are those blogs with a really large following, taunting you with their stats. They are the jocks and cheerleaders, all blonde and soaring blue eyed graphs looking down at you from their thousandth hit of the day whilst you’re still struggling to make double digits on most days. People just flock to them. You hate them. Or hate that you follow them and ‘like’ everything they do.

You post something new on your blog, ending with a few questions to encourage discussion and debate. You agonise over a catchy title, add a few interesting pictures, tag like your life depends on it, and you’re pretty much good to go.

And then no one responds.

Your question remains unanswered, floating about in cyber space as a constant reminder of your miniature failure. It’s like being relegated to the Loser’s table in the cafeteria (again, making this up, I had an assigned seat at lunch). The sting of rejection is palpable. But then after a while you get used to it, like you get used to having your lunch money stolen. You no longer expect to eat lunch. Who needs those calories anyway? Pshh.

And then one day, out of the blue, you are seen talking to WordPress in the halls (this means you’ve been Freshly Pressed), who’s like this uber cool kid in school so now everyone wants to talk to you. Those questions from before, they’re now answered without any prompting. So many people want to have discussions with you, you can barely keep up. You’re ‘liked’ into oblivion. You feel loved; validated. You try to play it cool.

A week goes by, and soon the other students start to forget that you’ve been touched with the ‘cool’ wand and wander off to talk to the next new thing. You feel used. You feel empty. Like a one night stand.

So the ultimate goal of high school is to be popular, to be heard, to matter. And here most of us are, high school a distant (or I guess not-so-distant) memory, still being haunted by who to sit next to in class. Who will cause those blue-eyed graphs to ripple…?

Disclaimer: This is total tongue-in-cheek.

Pressed Freshly

To say I was excited to be freshly pressed today would be a bit of an understatement. It felt like Christmas and front row seats at a Backstreet Boy concert all rolled into one (as sad as that sounds)!

I have to say that although this image is funny, it genuinely disturbs me. Where are her parents?!

Though I started this blog a few months ago, it’s only last month that I started to commit myself to it, so I’m really thrilled (my statistics graph is hilarious). Thank you to WordPress and to my little group of followers from before. Hello to all you new ones, I promise you’ll never hear me mention the Backstreet Boys again 🙂

Writing 102

Writing can be a bit of a b*tch sometimes. You experience writer’s block, buy little books that promise to have your writing juices flowing in no time, optimistically try a couple of the exercises, get bored, and before you know it the books are gathering dust on your bedroom floor or you start using them as a barrier between your laptop and your now burning thighs. So since I’m fresh out of ideas, I thought I’d give you some general tips. You’re welcome.