argh!

I wrote a very detailed post explaining my long absence, but the good lord took it away from me, perhaps because he resented its utter uselessness. So, here's the big mystery: during a day trip last Sunday (very early in the Feb vacation) I fucked up my knee really badly. As in, my knee cap made this nasty cracking noise and veered alarmingly to the left.

This meant that I had to live out my great fear of dealing with doctors and shit in France, made worse by the fact that I have not finalized my social security. Wheee! The best part was the doctor telling me I need to go to 20 physical therapy appointments. I, like, can't wait! He didn't even prescribe me not working, which was the main reason I fawking WENT to the doctor (that and the unimaginable pain and semi-immobilization, of course).

Not a good time to run out of that terrible hash I bought on the street.

Anyway, so this vacation sucks and I'm crabby as fuck but I have been reading a lot, which has been good. I finished Johnathan Strange and Mr. Norrell (awesome) at long last, as well as The Line of Beauty, which I thought was insufferable CRAP. I mean, is it SO much to ask for a really great gay novel in this century? Obviously, it was a literary affirmative action kind of a year at the Mann Booker Prize office. I really, really hated this book, seriously - it's symbollic of everything that is wrong with modern gay fiction: jejunosity and superficiality of its characters, completely un-compelling storyline, writing that tries to be showy and intellectual in all the wrong ways. Throw in silly, omnipresent British emotional restraint and presto! I knew it was over when it was revealed the the title comes from something by Hogarth. Yech! Maybe it was some kind of homage to James, but as a novel I thought it was especially bad. Or rather it came into conflict with every principle that defines good writing and good storytelling in my overly analytical opinion.

Sorry, I had to publically hate on that book. However, if you are looking for great gay novels and have not yet read Giovanni's Room or Dancer from the Dance, get thee to a bookstore toute suite!

In a totally unrelated note, I had the CRAZIEST codeine dream last night/this morning. It involved me seducing my sweet Espagnole Magui and us playing video games, small dogs eatting out of people's ears, me making out with my friend Marie's husband quite lasciviously, among other freakish details.

Anyway, now it's back to my room for a little Six Feet Under with commentary and curling up with another, hopefully better book.