reading

More Books to Add to Your 2022 Reading List

December 17, 2021 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

I don't know about you, but my to-read pile of books is absurdly out of hand. Every year, I manage to knock a hundred or so books from the stack. This makes no dent in that ever-growing behemoth. It does, however, mean that I discover a few gems each year. (A few duds, too, but I'm here to give love, not to disparage. Sorry.)Anyway, this isn't a goddamn recipe blog, so let's skip the boring story leading up to the reason why you're here and get to the goods.Please note that these are not necessarily books published in 2021, just books I read this year that made such an impact on me that I want other people to read them, too. Books by Authors Not New to Me, Who Still Managed to Surprise the Hell Out of Me:Look, this book was published in 1997 and takes place during peak AIDS crisis in San Francisco. Yet, it feels current and chillingly relevant....

The Things You Loved as a Kid are Still Pretty Great

April 8, 2021 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

Google Alerts is a useful tool. I added a couple of alerts about 10 years ago and occasionally, I'll get one letting me know where my books are being pirated. Pretty handy. But mostly, I get a bunch of alerts for Wrestlemania. Why? Because apparently, Rasmenia translates to Wrestlemania in another language. I haven't figured out which one yet.What's weird is, I'm not into wrestling.Okay, what I mean is, I'm not into wrestling anymore.When I was an eight-year-old kid living in Indiana, my mom's boyfriend took me and my friend Patty Foreman to a wrestling match. We drove all the way up to Fort Wayne from our little trailer park in Bluffton. I didn't like Mom's boyfriend, but that night, I didn't notice him. Patty and I bounced around in our seats squealing and giggling with glee while large sweaty men punched one another and bashed faces with folding chairs.Months later, me and Mom were in Colorado with her new...

In Defense of an Aging Rock Star with Shitty Opinions

January 14, 2021January 25, 2021 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

Every day the Internet tells me which artists I'm not supposed to like anymore. As much as I don't want to enable anyone's shitty behavior, people have a right to say and do stupid things. I don't participate in public shaming mobs online. If an artist says an assholish thing that I can't abide, I simply stop giving them my time and money.But the work they did before that stupid thing isn't ruined for me. Mel Gibson is a shit bag, but I still love Lethal Weapon and Braveheart. Louis C.K. can fuck all the way off, but I still think Louie is a masterpiece and Horace and Pete is the closest thing we've had to The Great American Novel lately. Thriller is still a major part of my childhood soundtrack even though Michael Jackson is... well, you know.Sometimes, the offense is less severe, but more baffling. Like when punk icon Johnny Rotten goes full MAGA/Brexit. Or when Dave Mustaine...

Black Stories Matter. Here’s a Few I Really Like.

June 12, 2020December 23, 2020 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

Stories matter. They change our minds and teach us empathy. Stories help us to understand ourselves and those unlike ourselves; experiences we can never truly understand, even though we must try. If we want to make the world a place where human beings can do things like go jogging, relax at home, drive a car, or go shopping without taking a bullet or having their windpipe crushed as they call out for their mother, we must try. We must learn. We must listen to the stories. Because black stories matter.Sure, it's true that some stories are more helpful than others. For every Uncle Tom's Cabin, there's a Birth of a Nation. Every day, you have to decide what you're going to feed your brain and body. What kinds of stories you're going to consume. What kind of person you are and who you're going to be.I read as many books as I can. I try to watch all the things...

Stay Away From the Weird Writer Woman

March 18, 2011November 23, 2020 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

If you have a little girl, don't let her grow up to be a writer. You'll only regret it. Here's what could happen: you could end up with a weirdo. A weirdo who sits alone in her room, scribbling in notebooks. A weirdo who you wish would try a little harder to be "normal". But instead, you've got this strange little shit, sitting in her room, organizing these stacks of notebooks as if they actually meant something. When her birthday rolls around, or Christmas, you hope that she'll ask for one of those cute little fluffy whatever-the-hell those things are called because that's what your friend's daughter wants and they're the same age, so... you hope. But, no. Your little freak asks for a typewriter. Never mind that she doesn't even know how to type. Whatever. You'll buy her the damn thing and try not to stare at the awkward, hand-flying, key-banging style that she's developing as she's teaching herself to type. Then you'll...