I haven't actually read up to that bit in the book because I am actually reading Postcards From the Edge by Carrie Fisher. This was a gash pick from the single rack of Alternative fiction that Waterstones used to have in the late eighties. I read it in one go, absolutely drawn into what seemed to me then a difficult and dangerous world and now just seems normal for a lot of people. It is obviously a book about experience wrapped up in fiction - sort of like The Bridge Across Forever with teeth and balls and cocaine (and without a naff title). The first section consists of daily entries by Suzanne Vale, a moderately successful actress who is detoxing in an LA clinic. At some point these entries become interspersed with what appear to be interior monologues by an erstwhile writer called Alex who goes spectacularly off the rails. I read the first part of Alex's pieces early in the week and then more after watching That Mitchell and Webb Look. Ever since then Alex has spoken in the random tone of Robert Webb's literary agent/publisher. It is beginning to get distracting. I have to play Numberwang to get him out of my head.
Friday, December 05, 2008
Starglider and Thomas Aquinas Have Left the Building
I have been at the same piece of code for a week and it is beginning to seep into my dreams. Dreaming in code is a bad thing to do. Whereby in real life, it is obvious that the solution will appear at some time, in dreams, the code you have already written dances around itself to flummox any possible fixes you might put in. I've nominally started reading Rudy Rucker's book on the Fourth Dimension (and of course how to get there) and this has a description of the world dancing around the intellectually-visible fourth dimension which reminds me of the code in my head.
I haven't actually read up to that bit in the book because I am actually reading Postcards From the Edge by Carrie Fisher. This was a gash pick from the single rack of Alternative fiction that Waterstones used to have in the late eighties. I read it in one go, absolutely drawn into what seemed to me then a difficult and dangerous world and now just seems normal for a lot of people. It is obviously a book about experience wrapped up in fiction - sort of like The Bridge Across Forever with teeth and balls and cocaine (and without a naff title). The first section consists of daily entries by Suzanne Vale, a moderately successful actress who is detoxing in an LA clinic. At some point these entries become interspersed with what appear to be interior monologues by an erstwhile writer called Alex who goes spectacularly off the rails. I read the first part of Alex's pieces early in the week and then more after watching That Mitchell and Webb Look. Ever since then Alex has spoken in the random tone of Robert Webb's literary agent/publisher. It is beginning to get distracting. I have to play Numberwang to get him out of my head.
I haven't actually read up to that bit in the book because I am actually reading Postcards From the Edge by Carrie Fisher. This was a gash pick from the single rack of Alternative fiction that Waterstones used to have in the late eighties. I read it in one go, absolutely drawn into what seemed to me then a difficult and dangerous world and now just seems normal for a lot of people. It is obviously a book about experience wrapped up in fiction - sort of like The Bridge Across Forever with teeth and balls and cocaine (and without a naff title). The first section consists of daily entries by Suzanne Vale, a moderately successful actress who is detoxing in an LA clinic. At some point these entries become interspersed with what appear to be interior monologues by an erstwhile writer called Alex who goes spectacularly off the rails. I read the first part of Alex's pieces early in the week and then more after watching That Mitchell and Webb Look. Ever since then Alex has spoken in the random tone of Robert Webb's literary agent/publisher. It is beginning to get distracting. I have to play Numberwang to get him out of my head.
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