I like to do my reading in bars. I like that reading is a solitary activity; I don't like solitary confinement. I like to read in bars because there is always background action. It reminds me of when bar bands play where half of the audience is listening and the other half is fragmented with loud conversations, hook-ups, put downs and bar flies who drink Mad Dog margaritas and roll funny cigarettes.
The latest bar-book session I had was to finish off Chuck Klosterman's third book, "
Killing Yourself to Live: 85% of True Story". It was my first time reading Klosterman. I had first heard (of) him on Bill Simmon's ESPN podcast, the
B.S. Report. Based on that initial listening, I think Chuck would make an excellent, if not slightly deranged, police interrogator. Not Richard Belzer on Law & Order deranged...more like like way
Mork from Ork would do the job. I especially liked the way he kept dry humping what ever topic he and Simmons were discussing. He came off like an obsessive compulsive who flicks the light on and off before entering or room or a little kid who can't help picking at his scabs.
I found it entertaining.
The book centred on Chuck's road trip from rock and roll grave site to grave site, spanning east coast to west, from NYC to Seattle. Could Chuck find answers to the existential and cultural questions as to why Rock Stars who die prematurely, get (commercially) better with age? Fuck no. He spent most of the time talking about past and present girlfriends and how he either was fucked up in the relationship, fucked up the relationship or couldn't get fucked in the relationship.
All of this was mildly entertaining and maddeningly narcissistic. The saving grace of all of this girlfriend bullshit was when he was able to compare evey female relationship he ever had with each original and faux member of the band, KISS. That was worth the price of the book (but only if you buy it used and in paperback).
After reading the book, I am not sure what to think. He is talented for sure, but the book left me with a bad date feel. You take a girl out, conversation picks up, you think it may be going some place and then...you hit quicksand. Halfway through the book I felt like I in quicksand [note: I have never actually been in or even seen quicksand, but this is how I imagined it would feel]. Chuck was there for me though. He kept offering me a branch to grab on to so he could pull me out. I kept reaching for the fucking branch and every time I was almost out of the quicksand, Chuck would lose his grip and back in I went.
I am going to give his first book, "Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs" a read and see where that leads me. As I said, I find Klosterman entertaining and I enjoyed his writing writer. His recent review of the Beatles re-issues was sardonic, funny and, oddly,
right. Check it out
HERE.
I finished the book at the bar. I usually know how engrossed I am in a book by how many beers I drink while reading. If I can get off my stool and not have to take a piss straight away, I didn't drink too much and was engrossed. If I put down the book and need to do my Usain Bolt impression to the toilet, I know I made many trips to the bar and wasn't all that into what was I reading.
As soon as I finished Chuck's book, I sprinted for the bathroom. In fact, I forgot to leave the book at the table. I got in there, tucked it up under my arm and did my business. When I was leaving, I decided this book needed a fitting resting place other than my
Shelves of Cool. I left the book atop the paper towel dispenser. I figured if someone would actually want a book that was left in a Swine Flu, Ass Flu or Flu Du Jour filled London pub bathroom...they could have it.
I would love to see their reaction when they got to the end of it and realised that I ripped out the second to last page. Maybe it will make sense after all...
Tune Tags (Chuck's Blues):
