Books

Here’s what I’m really excited to talk about. Books! I love them. I love all types of creative expression and I kind of hate how we all get down on each other for our unique expressions.* Like, WTF is it with rating books on Goodreads? Like, I get it, I do. But it seems wrong. My artist friends will back me up, right? The rest of you critics, don’t knock it until you’ve laid your soul bare, OK? Wow, this really got off topic. Really didn’t mean to start lecturing or berating you, it’s just my go-to. So, any who, I love art and expression and I’d love it if you read what I wrote. You don’t have to like it or even finish it, but I do hope for some of you it reminds you of a piece of yourself you may have hidden away. That’s what I love about art. It awakens parts of my soul I didn’t even know were there or may have forgotten about. Whether it’s drinking in the description of Tara from Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With The Wind, or exploring Medieval architecture of the beautiful city of Bruges, or examining the brush strokes of Monet’s paintings, or seeing Banksy’s badass street art, or listening to the entire album of Radiohead’s OK Computer,  or watching the freaking hilarious film Hamlet 2 by Pam Brady and Andrew Fleming, art is there to awaken and inspire us. So if you so choose to read something I’ve written, perhaps it will awaken something in you too.

*My mom informed me that I don’t like all kinds of expressions because being a critic is apparently a form of expression, and not just someone being a dick. So I’ll rephrase  my previous statement here: I like most forms of expression. Or at least a lot of them. A good amount, lets say…