Creampuff Revolution

Creampuff Book Blogging: Part Two

Remembering Lex's Mini Book Expo ALSO reminded me that I was going to do this book meme from Winter via Andy. Having left on my 6 week Fringe tour without bringing a single goddamn book, I'd been thinking about books, and my lack of them, a lot lately.

1. One book that changed your life:

Well, that's pretty extreme. I've read a lot of books in my day and you'd think I'd remember if one of them had a "change your life" sort of impact. Cunt by Inge Muscio came close, but I think I'll have to go with Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters for this particular question. Not because it was some big gay reveal ("Oh my GOD - I have a crush on MY dance hall partner Kitty too!") but because it was the first lesbonic historical fiction I read and therefore the first time I realized I was not alone in my - ahem - avid interest in Anne of Green Gables-like slash fiction.  Furthermore, I realized there's an audience for that kind of sexy corset stuff and it's, uh . . . given my work some focus for the last several years. Thank you, Sarah Waters. Thank you.

2. One book that you’ve read more than once:

ONE? I'm the queen of reading books multiple times. But I guess my latest re-read was The Robber Bride by Margaret Atwood. Atwood chaps my ass most of the time for a variety of reasons and other than The Handmaid's Tale, I'm not a big fan. But I've read The Robber Bride, like, five times. The plot is pretty compelling and I just can't get enough of Roz, Charis, Tony and that evil, evil Zenia. I will admit, however, that since the first read, I always skip Roz and Tony's childhood background parts, 'cause they remind me of Atwood's other books, which I don't like.

3. One book you’d want on a desert island:

Probably Neuromancer by William Gibson (preferably the trilogy - I think it's out in "one big book" form now, isn't it?). I don't usually dig the science fiction but there's something about Gibson's effortless blending of the technology, the grubby world and the poetry of same that I find breathtaking every time I read it. Lines like "Does its laser vision scan the silent fall of midnight snow?" I mean, seriously. Also, I've read it multiple times and still . . . don't really get parts of it. But I WANT to. Also, Molly/Sally, the chick with the sunglasses set into her skin and the razor-like talons hidden under her fingernails and her tear ducts re-rooted to her mouth so she when she cries, she spits? HOT.

4. One book that made you laugh:

Yarn Harlot: The Secret Life of a Knitter by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee. Katr gave me this book for Solstice before I had even learned to knit and I worried that I wouldn't get the knitting humour without having the mad knitting skillz to back me up. But Yarn Harlot is just so hilarious anyway that I laughed and laughed, even without knowing shit about knitting. Now that I've been knitting for 8 whole months, I still laugh - but NOW I laugh KNOWINGLY. HA ha - yarn overs - SO TRUE.

5. One book that made you cry:

Fall On Your Knees by Ann Marie MacDonald. I saw Ann Marie MacDonald read what she called "the sexy bits" of this book at Nightwood Theatre's annual Feminist Cabaret before it even came out and was pretty excited to pick it up. Imagine my surprise when I found that 99% of the book was gut-wrenching. I found it so beautifully written, so rich and evocative and then was so disheartened and vomitous when it ended in that quiet and despairing way that's so popular with Oprah. The sexy bits were very sexy, though.

6. One book that you wish had been written:

Lizzie Liked the Ladies, Ophelia and Gertrude: The REAL Closet Scene and Anne and Diana Were Totally Doing It - Erotic Lesbian Fiction Involving Literature's Best Loved Heroines

How 'bout it, science?

7. One book that you wish had never been written:

She's Come Undone by Wally Lamb. Fuck I hate that fucking book. I've never burned a book before but that one was so toxic that I was forced to set it alight so that no one could mistakenly say I'd lent it to them. If you haven't read it - and DON'T - it's one of those books where the heroine goes through all kinds of pain, world-inflicted AND self-inflicted and you look forward to her figuring her shit out and having, if not a happy ending, an ending rife with possibilities. Instead, our heroine settles for something that makes her go "meh" and that's the end. I could elaborate, but I've spent enough time on this already. Fucking Wally Lamb. Fucking Oprah, for having the book in her "lives of quiet desperation that never im-fucking-prove" book club. My mouth still fills with bile when I think about it. 

8. One book you’re currently reading:

**Spoiler alert!!**

Well, I just finished Wideacre by Philippa Gregory which was deeply engaging in its complete horror. I picked it up for a trashy historical fiction romp - I enjoyed some of Gregory's other books, like The Other Boleyn Girl and The Queen's Fool quite a lot and was expecting similar courtly intrigue.

Instead, I got patricide, lover-cide, sister on brother incest and sado-masochism, matricide and inbreeding. GAH. And yet, I COULD NOT STOP READING. The main character just kept making these terrible, terrible decisions and I kept thinking "She's gotta pull herself outta this downward spiral SOMEtime, doesn't she? DOESN'T SHE??" But she didn't. The best part is that Wideacre is the first book of a trilogy and I can only assume that one of the two inbred children is the main character in the next book. I expect there will be a lot of drooling.

9. One book you’ve been meaning to read:

I am curiously book-ambition free at the moment, although that may be a form of denial brought on by having to seriously cull our book collection when we moved. I seriously cannot think of anything. Although I suppose that, given the opportunity to re-read the first two books, I would like to continue with the adventures of Thursday Next, Literary Detective, in the hilarious and literary works of Jasper Fforde. I loved the Eyre Affair and Lost in a Good Book - I think The Well of Lost Plots is next. I love books that make you laugh AND feel real, real smart. Huzzah!

10. Now tag five people I tag anyone who feels like sharing their reading habits. Like Winter, I too find them FASCINATING. No pressure.

Creampuff Book Blogging: Part One

In attempting to catch up with the blogging (after catching up on sleep after my - hee hee - delightful weekend), I remembered that I had signed up for Lex's awesome Mini Book Expo for Bloggers. I chose to read Bleed by Laurie Faria Stolarz, because I enjoy knowing what the teens are up to. Turns out they're up to sex and a little self-mutilation.

I think that I would really have enjoyed Bleed as a teen - it was a little sexy, a little racy and was written in what I read as a very authentic teen voice. I enjoyed it much more as an adult, because it reminded me of how much it sucked to be a teen and how glad I am that I am not one anymore.

Bleed is essentially a series of short stories which are all connected or rather bleed into one another and come full circle at the end. There's the girl who contrives to bed her best friend's boyfriend - there's the girl who's not complete until she's managed to get all her good friends to draw blood on her skin - the guy who's just looking for a connection but ends up being taken for a ride by a flaky girl - the bitter junior who wants revenge on the popular girl who mocked her - and, of course, your typical jailbait love story between a guy who's in prison for killing his girlfriend and the girl who's sympathetic to his cause - after all, he was, like, REALLY in love with her.

The book covers, but does not try to solve or explain, a myriad of teen issues like the sex, the cutting, the pervert live-in uncle, the eating disorder, the tyranny of parents, the jock who wants to wear a dress and the delusional convict fantasy. I'm not gonna lie to you - it was funny in parts and definitely well-written but mainly kind of bleak. The teen Roro would have given Bleed full marks, which I suppose is the important thing. The adult Roro wanted to send all the characters to a therapist.

Creampuff is Just That Irresistable

Dear people in long distance relationships:

How the hell do you do it? The "long distance" part, I mean - how you "do it" is none of my business. Although I'm generally pretty curious, so if you feel like sharing, go for it. Most outlandish and euphemistic story gets a dildo cozy!

Anyway - I knew that Katr and my "long distance relationship summer" was in trouble when the lovely and literary HB from Cold in Norway very kindly e-mailed me several pages of poems about love and longing and lesbians. There were some funny poems, some tender poems, some sexy poems and some sad poems. I savoured them all, and sent a few to Katr in Vancouver and we made fun of how ridiculous and sappy and co-dependant we are after a few weeks apart. And then Katr decided to take my pleas of "Fly to me!" seriously by booking a plane ticket here for the weekend! Woooo!  She's arriving tonight! And I am TOTALLY getting some, people!  HA ha! Although I'm fairly sure we won't wear out the sheets like someone I know (Dildy looks so pleased):

- photo gleefully supplied by Syd.

I'm hoping that my anticipation of this weekend's connubial bliss will spur me on to even greater heights of artistic achievement this afternoon when 87% True opens at the Edmonton Fringe.

I'm also hoping that in her delight at seeing me, Katr won't notice that my yarn stash has grown considerably since she last saw me and that, for the first time, I've started to purchase yarn that's not ear-marked for any specific project. I never thought I would be one of those types of knitters. Then again, I never thought I'd find 213 yards of beautiful alpaca for $5 a skein at the Wool Emporium in Saskatoon. Oh . . . and some other stuff . . .

Good thing I also bought new underwear in Saskatoon or I might really be in trouble. Happy weekends to you all!!

Creampuff Does Not Even Know Where to Start

Ha ha - hey! What's the what? I guess with all the "moving to Vancouver" and "Fringe touring" stuff, I've gotten a little behind on the ol' blog. I have a lengthy list of topics to write about and hope to get to them all one day. But today, I'm thinking I'll list them in point form and then get to the knitty gritty. HA ha - see what I did there? Jealous?

Things That Roro Would Like to Address in Detail on Her Blog Sometime in the Near Future

• How our friends, whether they sent nice notes or came to our farewell open house to help us get rid of stuff or found homes for our beloved fish or gave us the gift of iTunes or offered their contact info to Katr if she needed any help in my absence, are incredibly kind and unbelievably generous people;
• How, at different points in the moving/packing process Padu, Deuce, Drew, Chgi, Ers, Jusm and Mipa all (mostly willingly) became our bitches and we couldn't have done it without them;
• How our real estate agent ROCKS and if you are buying or selling in the GTA, you should hire this man;
• How I was reminded, over the course of our 5-day journey from Toronto to Saskatoon, that my ass responds to a nice bathroom like it's Pavlov's dogs; and
• How Katr's in Vancouver and I'm in Saskatoon and we are sappy, sappy lesbians who miss each other terribly. Sniff.

Things That Roro Will Be Addressing in This Post

• Knitting

As we were leaving Toronto, Chgi and I stopped at a yarn store, as you do. I promised Chgi that I would be quick - I just needed to load up on yarn for a cross-country mystery knitting project. Also, Chgi was going to pick out some yarn for me to make him a scarf, as it was his birthday that day. And no one's birthday should go by without a visit to the yarn store, am I right?

I was worried that I might hold us up in the yarn store, what with my need to touch everything, but I soon relaxed when I saw that the delights of yarn store had Chgi completely in thrall. HA ha! I browsed in peace for many minutes while he exclaimed passionately over the range of colours and textures before settling on what I thought were three skeins of Takhi Donegal Tweed - one teal, one gold and one brown, all with little flecks of colour throughout. I checked the label on one of them, noted that I had the right needle size already, bought Chgi's yarn AND my mystery project yarn and a new $13-highway-robbery-no-handjob circular needle and we were on our way. Woooo!

Our first night in Sudbury, I wound all the skeins of tweed into balls and I started Chgi's scarf on the way to Wawa. He wanted a simple pattern - a big chunk of brown, a smaller chunk of gold, a small chunk of blue, then gold, then brown again. I was happy to oblige and cast on with the brown as we sped down the Trans Canada. A few rows in, I noticed two things:

a) the brown was very nice, but . . . thicker than I expected; and

b) the first few rows were real, real tight. Like I was knitting a dense, cushy tweed bathmat.

Because I have the tightest cast-on in the Western Hemisphere, I didn't let it bother me initially - in fact, we even took a photo of the brown section in front of a lake while bikers mocked our truck, then nodded respectfully at Chris's mustache:

A few more inches in, that brown was getting tighter and tighter. I was perplexed. I had checked the label. I was using the right size needle size. I continued to rationalize - maybe it's SUPPOSED to knit up like this. It's from Ireland, after all - perhaps the cops there wore bullet-proof vests made of this tweed during The Troubles. Finally, doubt overcame me in Sault Ste. Marie and I checked the label again. And that's when I realized that I had bought TWO DIFFERENT KINDS OF TWEED and that, unlike the teal and gold tweed, the brown tweed I was currently knitting on 5mm needles required a minimum needle size of 6.5 mm. FOILED!

Shitbag. So then I had to make a choice. Would I:

a) frog the whole six inches of scarf and start again on bigger needles - REALLY big needles, 'cause the only thing I have bigger that the 6mm are my 8mm; or

b) tell myself and Chgi that it would all work out, uh, once I "blocked" it (non-knitters are impressed with fancy knitting terms).

It was hot and I was tired and our truck is not air-conditioned. Don't judge me. Anyway, here's the scarf so far, alongside some very fetching mystery knitting.

That's not the $13-highway-robbery-no-handjob circular needle, by the way - I managed to somehow kick that unopened piece of knitting equipment out onto the road somewhere near Brandon, Manitoba and had to buy a new needle in Saskatoon. Cost? $3.00! No more fancy needles for me. And I can handle my own handjobs.