So you think you know Jane Austen?

Apparently...I don't. I got 12 out of a possible 18. What kind of a bookaholic is that?

Take the quiz.

Books Books Books (2)

I went through to Stellenbosch this weekend to celebrate Marissa's birthday with an Alice in Wonderland-worthy tea party at a place called Cupcake. The party was brilliant. However, the true find of the day was Verbatim, a gorgeous little bookshop inhabited by two ladies who talk a mile a minute and have an opinion about everything...
I bought Master and Commander and Post Captain by Patrick O'Brian, The I hate to Housekeep Book which looks amusing, and Somerset Maugham's collected short stories.

PATTOTE: Better living through adding more books to my already precariously piled shelves.

A sign of things to come?

This morning I tried to put the iron into the fridge.

PATTOTE: Better living through a crazy great goat

Foiled Again

Justice took another nosedive today when the Jacob Zuma corruption case was struck off the roll. The judge said the state's case lacked evidence. The state believes that it still has a case and will continue to investigate in the hopes of bringing an indictment at a later date.

This is very frustrating, especially after the whole Aids fiasco. The judgement also lends credence to his claims that the government is setting him up. He has manipulated the negative publicity he has received perfectly, creating a little niche for himself as the wronged struggle hero. Rather than his political career being in tatters, he can make a new stand. I hope that the ANC still blackballs him for their national executive, despite the continued support the Youth League is giving him. I don't know what will happen if he enters politics again, but his signature song is "Get me my machine gun". Do we want that in a position of power?

Laughing - but dying on the inside

Seen today in the submissions pile:

"amaizing"

I didn't know I could twitch and laugh at the same time. Progress!

PATTOTE: Better living through correct spelling - and laughing at creative attempts.

For your Information

An addition to my post yesterday. Here is a link to the pope's full speech. Were his comments taken out of context? Is he spoiling for a fight and now getting what he deserves? You decide.

Or Else

I've been reading about the outcry among Muslims after Pope Benedict's speech, in which he is reported to have quoted an obscure medieval king who labelled Islam cruel and inhumane. The pope has a propensity to overestimate his audience, often delivering incredibly complex and academic speeches to people who are only half-listening. After the reaction to his speech broke, he stated that he never intended to offend anyone and that his comments had been largely misrepresented. However, some sections of Muslim society are demanding that he withdraw his statements completely and apologise. Or else.

It's the "or else" that worries me. This latest outraged reaction has been widely reported as coming from the extremist Muslim minority, and it is they who are getting all the airtime and all the newspaper space. That minority is holding the rest of the world to ransom. Support us "or else". Publish our point of view "or else". Print pictures of us burning effigies and flags "or else".

And it's not the non-Muslim world that is suffering because of that attitude. It's the million of non-extremist Muslims that are caught in the middle, in a world where dialogue now consists of fury from one side, and silence from the other - or else.

Personal Ads

I've aways said that if I were to place a personal ad it would be:
"Neurotic Virgo seeks one more thing to worry about."
You?

Oh, irony!

So Marissa and I are walking along on Friday afternoon, pavement bustling with rush hour traffic. We're discussing the fact that everybody looks so adult and together. And as I say: "Yes, well, we all look poised and confident on the outside, but on the inside we're a mess," I trip and land flat on my face. That is where poise will get you.

PATTOTE: Better living through two bruised knees, a giggling friend and soothing pots of tea.

Counting Crows

Ok, I'm going to be upfront and say that the biggest reason I came to love Counting Crows is because Adam F Duritz writes so many beautiful songs about someone called Elisabeth. Admittedly "Elisabeth" must have done some serious damage, because those songs are always a little desperate and painful. Desperate, painful and beautiful. But outside of the kick I get when I hear him singing to Elisabeth, I have a deep affection for the group's lyrics.

They remind me a great deal of TS Eliot's work. Words, upon words, upon words, in an order you never contemplated but comprehend nonetheless. TS Eliot always makes me feel that I'm on the edges of understanding and that at any second I'll get it, and the secrets of the universe will be opened to me.

The two songs by Counting Crows I love most are "St Robinson in his Cadillac Dream" and "Wish I was a Girl". St Robinson feels to me like having a dream that leaves me feeling content and happy, and trying to have that dream translate into reality. Sometimes real life is such a let down. That moment between the dream and the waking up is perfect. There's the potential that today will be the day. Real life could be the dream.

Wish I was a Girl means a great deal to me, largely because of the lines:
"I wish for all the world
That I could say
Hey, elisabeth, you know I'm doing all right
These days"

At one stage I would have sold my soul to hear those words directed at me. Now, of course, I'm a big person and I understand that this is a song about letting go. A song about reassurance. Now these lines strike me:
"For all the things you're losing
You might as well resign yourself to try and make a change"

Nothing stays the same. What you lose, you regain at another time, in another form. The only thing you never lose completely is you. I'm the only person who knows me inside out. I find that comforting.

PATTOTE: Better living through Counting Crows, because they are totally going to live on my island one day.

Encounter at the ATM

While waiting in line at the ATM the other day, this young guy joined the bunch of bored looking people. He smiled at us all, nodded his head a couple of times and said: "The Lord Jesus loves you all."

And that was it. Short, to the point, and he returned to perusing his bank statement.

The fine art of waking up

As far as I can tell you get two kinds of "not morning people". You get the sort who can't function at all before 10am - speaking to them will garner you a grunt and that's about it. Then you get the sort that can function fine, but the getting up part is a nightmare.

I'm the latter. It doesn't matter what time I go to bed, when that alarm goes off I'm barely concious. I hit snooze multiple times. I bargain with myself over whether 15 extra minutes would really kill me. I come up with elaborate schemes to wake myself up without actually having to get up immediately (the latest being putting the light on after the second alarm but keeping my eyes shut).

Of course I'm annoyingly compos mentis even when I'm trying to avoid getting up. I talk a mile a minute every day of my life, and straight through the night as well. Why would I not grumble loudly to myself as I try to find the off button on my alarm?

PATTOTE: Better living through those of us who are "rubbish in the morning" (quote unquote).

Atomic puns

Oxygen and Hydrogen walk into a bar. Gold is sitting at a table. They say: "AU, get outta here."

Snark snark snark...

Books, books, books!

Marissa gave me three new books to feed the addiction. They are:

Fever Pitch by Nick Hornby (to fill out my collection)
Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer (a book I wanted to read forever)
and
Vanilla: Travels in Search of the Luscious Substance by Tim Ecott (which sounds decadent and fascinating)

I can't wait to get in there.

PATTOTE: Better living through libraries, especially mine.

Going to hell in a handbasket

I love this saying. Not only are things going to hell, they're going in a pretty container, probably with bows and flowers attached. You just can't get much more pear-shaped than that.

PATTOTE: Better living through me, cause the world is going to hell in a handbasket.

Frodo "blah blah" Baggins

I'm reading Lord of the Rings at the moment. I'm about half way through The Two Towers and enjoying the book more than I ever have before. I think JRR Tolkien's books fall into that category where, unless you're the right age and in the right frame of mind, you just fail to get into them.

That said, Frodo and Sam are working on my nerves big time. It's traitorous but true: I hate the main characters, and arguably the main point of the books.

But seriously, they're going to destroy the source of all evil. This should be riveting stuff. Perhaps my theory will mean that when I reread Tolkien's work in ten years I'll update with Legolas "blah blah" Aragorn "blah blah".

PATTOTE: Better living through rereading the classics.

Please do not complain about the pictures...

...there's fuck all I can do about them. Once you've all seen them, they're coming down anyway.

Dial 1-800-CANINE

So I phoned my dog on Saturday afternoon. Ok, ok, strictly speaking The Mother and The Sister went to visit Siska at the scene of her incarceration and phoned me and let me chat to her over the speakerphone. So I talked to my dog on Saturday afternoon.

Me: Siskey! Siskey! Baby girl! Googoo gahgah!
Siska: [thinks] What's the buzzing?
Me: [getting frantic, the dog has forgotten me!] Siskey! Baby! Siskey! [whistles loudly]
Siska: [puzzled] Hiking lady?
Me: [relief] Yes!
Siska: [still puzzled] Where are you Hiking Lady? Lady-who-owns-the-handbag-full-of-sausage-roll-dog-treats and Lady-who-smells-of-baby-powder are both here but I don't see you.
Me: Well, I am rather far away. I'm talking to you over the cellphone. You know, the boxy thing that looks like a toy but isn't.
Siska: Ohhhhh
Me: So, how are you?
Siska: Same old, same old. When you've been on the inside as long as I have...
Me: Yes, about that...
Siska: You lied.
Me: Well, it wasn't a lie exactly...
Siska: You lied.
Me: You exaggerate.
Siska: [does remarkable subliminal imitation of Liz's gooey Siska voice] What a good girl you are! You deserve a holiday. Yes you do, yes you do. And because you're a special doggy who deserves a holiday I'm sending you away on an all expenses paid trip to the Ryslip Hotel and Country Club. Five star accomodation, meals, hiking trails, new toys, tons of food.
Me: [defensively] You get fed!
Siska: You lied. You put me in a wooden box and the next thing I know I'm being unloaded at the "hotel", except its labelled quarantine facility! And the people talk funny! [wails] They called me fat!
Me: Calm down...
Siska: You lied.
Me: Ok, ok so I lied. It was for your own good. And you can't tell me you're not having a good time.
Siska: [sniffs] I guess not.
Me: [patiently] How's Squeak?
Siska: He's all right. He likes it here and he has a new friend. Lady-who-owns-the-handbag-full-of-sausage-roll-dog-treats brought a new one. She keeps saying he's orange. Could you tell her I'm colour-blind? But he's very nifty. And I have my bone, and my balls, and my rope and my bed and everybody loves me here.
Me: Way to be modest, Siskey.
Siska: It's not my fault I'm beautiful. Lady-who-owns-the-handbag-full-of-sausage-roll-dog-treats, Lady-who-smells-of-baby-powder, Man-who-likes-to-terrorise-me and Other-man-who-looks-at-them-all-like-they're-mad tell me so all the time.
Me: [mutters] We've created a monster.
Siska: There are dogs here, you know.
Me: Really? At a kennel? How odd.
Siska: I've never been a dog person.
Me: Strange that.
Siska: They're very loud.
Me: So shout back.
Siska: Oh, I do. The book club is great. Then there's the music forum. And a Toys We have Loved retrospective. We have a debate every day...
Me: [interrupts] A debate? You're a bunch of dogs. What could you possibly have opinions on?
Siska: [huffily] Excuse me, we are a bunch of dogs from all over the world. We discuss lots of stuff. Lots of important stuff.
Me: Like?
Siska: Uh...we discussed what kind of cat George W Bush is like. Why vacuum cleaners are scary. Whether retrieving sticks makes us smart or makes us slaves. Begging: the ends justify the means. Stuff.
Me: Who's a clever girl?
Siska: [smugly] Oh, stop.
Me: I have to go. I'm sorry I lied.
Siska: That's all right. I really like it here. It's better than the big farm in the sky.
Me: Ok, go get Squeak!
Siska: [...]

PATTOTE: Better living through black labradors with toys on the brain.

Singularly Uninspired

I know, I know...my propoganda has come to a grinding halt, but even future dictators get writer's block (although we usually have our spindoctors, er, eliminated, for it). So in the interest of assuring you all that I am alive, here is a little roundup:

Where am I?
I'm sitting at my desk, waiting for the Fuhrer to finish up pg 1, so that I can collect the newspaper and send it to the printers before I get a worried phonecall from them, tsktsking about printruns and distribution.

What am I doing?
You mean, other than quickly scrolling through the windows I have open on my desktop to pretend I'm working? Nothing.

What is next on the list?
It's either going to be collect, distil and send, or make a cup of tea and hide out with the admin staff. I'm leaning towards the tea.

What have I been listening too?
A group called The Weepies. Their discordant harmoniousness rules.

What have I been watching?
A lot of crap on DStv that I would usually refrain from, but it's there.

Where do I find the time?
Well, I'm dogsitting in a big-ass house and that much space is kind of making me nervous. And a little paranoid. And a little insomniac. So, I've been watching a lot of Wildlife SOS and Pet Rescue in addition to slavering over BBC Food. And Supernanny. And It's Me or The Dog. The latter make me worry about the future of humanity and plan my island sanctuary in more detail.

And when you're not watching crap?
I'm reading Cold Mountain and admiring Jude Law in my head. Lord of the Rings is up next. Again.

Immediate plans for the future?
To go home. Enjoy my day off tomorrow. Eat my colleague's sundried tomato and pesto dip. Put petrol in my car. See the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Watch a dvd called Gaia for work and write a pithy review of it. Remember to go back to my place to pick up my shampoo and said dvd.

Next week, we're back with a vengeance with a review of Cold Mountain, a transcript of the phone conversation I intend to have with the dog on Saturday and perhaps pics of the entire "putting a newspaper together" process. Never say I'm not devoted to the education of the masses.

PATTOTE: Better living, through, um, something. Sorry, the situation of spindoctor is still vacant. And takers?

The Incomparable Jasper Fforde

Right now I'm reading The Big Over Easy by Jasper Fforde, a cautionary tale from the Nursery Crime Division of Reading Central Police. Reading, it seems, is the hub of nursery tale activity, with gingerbreadmen committing heinous crimes, and the Three Little Pigs getting off for the murder of one Mr Wolff. This is the first book in the series, and DI Jack Spratt and DS Mary Mary are investigating the mysterious death of Humpty Dumpty. Did he jump off the wall or was he pushed? I haven't figured that out yet but so far the book is very funny. There are tons of references (Humpty's landlady is Mrs Hubbard, and his next door neighbour is the narcoleptic Willie Winkie) and even more puns. I like them, they make me feel smart. The next one in this series is The Fourth Bear, and it features a blond who comes along and ruins the Bruin bear family's life. Heh!

The other series Fforde writes is much the same. The books feature a literary detective called Thursday Next. In the first book, The Eyre Affair, Next investigates the kidnapping of Jane Eyre and other literary characters. Fforde has created this awesome little world, where all that matters is books and the characters in them. Shakespeare fans have streetfights with Marlowe fans, and everybody takes bets at Shakespeare performances to see who will win the next fencing match. I'm going to start Lost in a Good Book as soon as I figure out who offed Humpty.

The writing is brilliant, and now that I've seen Reading, even funnier.

PATTOTE: Better living through anthropomorphised animals and unfzskably surreal situations.