Rob Lowe’s latest memoir Love Life is as dull and disappointing as the first one, Stories I Tell My Friends, was charming and delightful. Sad trombone. It feels super snotty to say, but Love Life reads like it was written by a writer who is kind of full himself. As though the success of his first memoir has filled him with all kinds of wisdom he must impart about parenthood, marriage, and success in Hollywood. Snore. Listening to Rob Lowe…
42
On Saturday Wolfdogg gave me shit about the fact that my birthday was less than seven days away and I had not been ceaselessly annoying about it. At all. In fact, I hadn’t even mentioned it. I shrugged my shoulders. “So what one is this?” he asked. “Forty-two,” I said and took a sip of a delicious gin & tonic. He laughed. “You just put that right out there without any hesitation.” “Growing old is a privilege,” I said. He…
Progress Report: Of Interest Only to Me (Seriously)
Ever since my friend, Donna, totally inadvertently shamed me into working on The Beast, I’ve been pretty diligent with the making of the words. Well, I became pretty diligent after I spent approximately three and a half weeks procrastinating. Part of that is The Replacements’ fault because I spent at least a week lost in ecstatic joy over the announcement of the Midway show and getting tickets to that show. Also, I think I was writing for at least a…
The Sins of My CD Collection
Last night I hosted Rock & Roll Bookclub at Supergenius HQ. Even though we’ve been down two members for a few months due to teen volleyball sensations and their hectic schedules, it is still one of my favorite social events. The evening started with Jaycie & Max raiding my ancient CD collection. This collection of plastic is housed in a giant, dusty Amazon box that has been sitting on my kitchen floor for roughly three years. It’s filled with a…
Yep, That’s 7th Grade
Ugh, seventh grade. Do you even remember it? That awful year when everything is changing at a pace you aren’t quite sure of — your body, your friends, the rules of society. Kevin Brockmeier nails it in his latest book, A Few Seconds of Radiant Filmstrip: A Memoir of Seventh Grade. Told in the third-person, the memoir opens with Kevin coming home to Little Rock after spending a summer with his dad in Mississippi. Things seem to be where Kevin…
Missing Maya
At Family Dinner on Monday I recounted my cleaning the loft exploits to my family, rattling off the treasure trove of old ticket stubs I discovered in a pencil box. “Pearl Jam, R.E.M, Warped Tour,” I rattled off. “I even have the ticket from when we went to see Maya Angelou.” “You saw Maya Angelou?” Jaycie asked. “Yeah, she was my favorite when I was younger,” I said. “Your mom, Jodi Hanson, and I went. It was at St. Kates.”…