Hah!

We Are Warned About Too Much TV

But never warned about too much mythology. Quote of the day: "Oh, I wish the Goddess of Death would  not go around killing people. Why does there have to be a Goddess of Death?"

One thing I guess I sort of do, without having some specific plan about it, is feed my kid's imagination so that corporate-sponsored storylines can't take too much hold over it.

This hasn't worked with Star Wars but because Star Wars took hold of my imagination as a child, I suppose I just go with it.

My kid is obsessed with Star Wars. Note, unlike this story about Star Wars taking over the mind of young boys my child is not a boy. Nor was I a boy. Why this person thinks Star Wars would only interest boys is anyone's guess. The usual fucked up sexism. Star Wars has some technology in it. We all know women have nothing to do with technology. Why, if it wasn't for men we'd all be living in caves, right? Also we know that girls and boys are so fundamentally different that if a boy is interested in something it is impossible that a girl would also be interested in it. So if you parent a boy and your boy likes something (say, Legos) why, this is a sign of your boy's masculinity, no? Of course, girls could not possibly like legos because then legos would cease to reassure parents of boys that their kid is a 'real boy' and will grow up to do well in math so that they can be architects.

The woman who wrote the story hypothesizes that Star Wars love is about marketing and toys. But my child was immediately obsessed with Star Wars simply upon hearing the story--attached to a game played with sticks that were 'light savers.'  Every stick thereby became a 'light saver' and she has yet to have any Star Wars toys. (She also loves Legos.)  Of course, seeing the incredible light saber on the screen sent her to the moon. And it sent me to the moon when I was a little kid also. Those things are fucking cool.

Anyway, I'm not trying to keep my kid from liking princesses. It's more that my theory about princesses is that they are good stories badly told by Disney. So, to prevent Disney from commanding all storylines, I have sought other stories--and even other versions of Cinderella.

I'm not saying this is a conscious thing. I think what I unconsciously do is just remember all the powerful moments of my own childhood and then I kind of find the things that prompted those moments and give them to my child. So I'm not against Disney movies in some vehement way. I simply remember my childhood as this kind of  trippy fantasy world and now I have a kid who is so much like me in this way. Bad stuff happened to me as a child so I escaped into fantasy. But also, I was able to really live in imaginative worlds that were spin offs of stories I'd read. She also does this and so it's hard not to keep giving her all the stuff I was into.

Myths were a very big deal to me and my sister. We loved myths. So I thought it would be OK to read my child this book D'Aulaire's Book of Mythology for Children.

And I was charmed by the fact that the Barbies she has (I didn't buy them for her...Grandma!) turned into Persephone and Demeter and the Goddess of Fire. (There is no story about the Goddess of Fire. Where the Goddess of Death and Fire came from is anyone's guess.) Until she started becoming the last believer in Greek Gods and Goddesses. I'm not sure we're ready just yet to build a temple of Hera in the backyard.

Books On TV

They have books on tape so why don't they have books on DVD? I know what you're thinking. You're thinking 'you dope, there are all kinds of books on TV. Like The Dukes of Hazzard, that was a book by Wm. Faulkner.'  (So many dissertations written about that one.)

That's not quite what I mean. What I mean is: Why are there no DVDs of people reading books to you? I mean, I could see how this might be a very specialized market. Yet, it's nice to be read to and wouldn't it be nice just to sit in a comfy chair and watch someone reading to you?

I wonder whether my baby would go for it. (Or 'toddler' I guess I should say. What the hell is she besides a child? Toddler, pre-schooler?) Because this kid, she likes to be read to. Don't want to sit on the potty? I'll read you a book! Always works. Don't want to take a bath! I'll read you a book! She's quoting the books back to me.

Sometimes it's OK and sometimes I just get impatient. For the longest time she didn't like Dr. Seuss and I was apalled. How could you not like Dr. Seuss? The only commie who escaped scrutiny during the McCarthy era?  You have to like Dr. Seuss! Dr. Seuss is how we turn children into leftists. And make them receptive to good drugs (you know, the creative kind).  Then I realized that I was reading all the Dr. Seuss books at top speed "IamSamSamIamdoyoulikegreeneggsandham." She doesn't like the speed read. She likes you to sloooooowww down. But I am a very fast reader. (In some ways, this is a problem. If I start a huge novel in the morning and it's very good then I may feel that I need to finish it by the next morning, which means no sleeping, which can be a bit of a problem when you have to lecture off the top of your head for three hours. I mean, I don't read novels anymore!)

Slow is boring. Slow drives me crazy. I hate reading slow. You have to put some variety in to keep yourself awake. I read like I am on "This American Life." Flat, then suddenly lilting for no reason. Pregnant pause. Why there? Why not?  No intonation. I am Sam. [long pause] Sam I am. [quickly] Do you like Green Eggs and Ham? [flat, no indication of a question.]

Ira Glass developed the world's most annoying narrational style and then somehow manage to pass it on to every single person who ever says anything on "This American Life."

I don't usually use the "This American Life" voice when it's a book I respect (like Dr. Seuss). I stay away from the Zsa Zsa Gabor accent and the drunken slur. No, I use those for the insipid books, the ones with Elmo that were sort of kind of free from the Scholastic Book Club (BIG SCAM! Don't join them. Fight them, fight them with all your might even though you won't get the supah cool backpack with The Cat In the Hat on it.)

One of our most fun times, back when myself and husband fought a lot and sort of hated each other (I.e., when we were dating. We sometimes hated each other when we were dating but we got married anyway for some inexplicable reason. Now we love each other all the time. I really think everyone should marry someone they sort of hate) we used to take a nice break from fighting and sex to read to each other. Richard Brautigan was always a fun one to read to your beloved (who you kind of hate). It brought back memories of the time when I thought all I needed to do to be a great artist was take as much acid as possible. Don't have many memories. Guess why.

Speaking of Richard Brautigan, God I've had some very saddening re-reading experiences lately. The first was Raymond Carver. I remember the first time I read Raymond Carver and of course like everyone else I was floored and worshipful and sure that he was the best writer ever. When I found out he liked Chekov I was like "Of course!"  Because Chekov is my most favorite writer. So I put Raymond Carver and Chekov up there in the pantheon of fame And a couple months ago I read Raymond Carver and get this--I kind of didn't like him. And in a way, I kind of wonder whether it was even worse than not merely losing my ardor for him because I think maybe I didn't like him for his politics (partly).

Because how stupid is that? Am I going to stop liking Anthony Trollope now? Or even Chekov who some people say is sexist.

I read Are These Actual Miles? and he describes this family going bankrupt. They go bankrupt, he makes it quite clear, through their own fault. They buy a bunch of stuff they don't need on credit (and they seem unattractive, greedy) and then the husband loses his good job at the factory. The wife has to go out and sell the car and the clear implication is that she has to sleep with the used car salesman to get a good price on it.  The final scene of the story make it clear she despises her husband for going bankrupt. And she's just a tramp, the end.

Dang.

It might just be all the debt I have.  Now that I'm all grownup I thought Raymond Carver would understand me.

I still like "Cathedral" but it wasn't the earth shattering piece of brilliance that I recall.

And then I read Thom Jones. Thom Jones who I bow down and worship. "Sonny Liston Was A Friend of Mine" and he puts a speech into the mouth of the young male character that just seems...wrong.  But I refuse to back off on Thom Jones. I love him, I will always love and I love him even more because he hasn't written anything in years and I imagine him freaked out just like me, yearning for death but sometimes trying to write something. Not like me because I can't write for shit but like me because, I don't know, he's freaked out. I love him as a person** Raymond Carver, I don't know anything about.

**I'm making this up. I know nothing about him except that I was shocked as hell to discover he isn't a Vietnam vet. It was like the time I discovered that W.S. Merwyn lived in Hawaii. Hawaii!! I vowed never again to pry into the biographies of my literary heroes.

Maybe Chekov was a sexist but at this point I simply don't care. Chekov, I'll never turn my back on you.