Looking VS Reading

Might I be lazy for a post and direct you to several things I found today on the brilliant World Wide Web? All of these items are courtesy of The Penguin Blog maintained by the kind folks at Penguin UK.

First. A site of book covers. Penguin book covers to be exact. I believe my favorite to be this cover of Jane Eyre:


1,024 more beautiful covers can be found at: http://bookcoverarchive.com/?startrow=0

Second. A wonderful article on design and reading called "In Defense of Readers" by Mandy Brown. Copyright issues probably prevent me from re-posting the entire article here (not to mention the length of the article would dwarf all of my posts), so I shall only include an excerpt.

"The best readers are obstinate. They possess a nearly inexhaustible persistence that drives them to read, regardless of the circumstances they find themselves in. I’ve seen a reader absorbed in Don Quixote while seated at a noisy bar; I’ve witnessed the quintessential New York reader walk the streets with a book in hand; of late I’ve seen many a reader devour books on their iPhone (including one who confessed to reading the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy while scrolling with his thumb). And millions of us read newspapers, magazines, and blogs on our screens every day—claims that no one reads anymore notwithstanding."

There is a bit about the difference between looking at something and reading something. Very interesting.

(my thanks to Mandy Brown, wherever you are)

To read the rest of this article, please visit: http://alistapart.com/articles/indefenseofreaders

It's really very good.

Two more covers to appreciate:

I Made It.

Dear Internet:

This post is woefully overdue, so my apologies are very much in order.

As you can tell from my subject line, I did in fact arrive in Los Angeles safely. In fact I not only arrived safely, I arrived tired and well after dark. Meghan and Joe were very kind to not only let me sleep on their comfy couch for a week but also to store my suitcases and tote bags in their living room.

Here's what it looked like when I crossed the California state line:


What a strange experience this move has been. As I left the unfamiliar, dry landscape of Arizona and entered a state I once called home, the terrain became recognizable and reassuring. All of the hallmarks of a California freeway welcomed me back: highway patrol cars were the usual black and white sedans with officers dressed in brown uniforms; blue call box signs marked the way down Interstate 10; drivers changed lanes without using indicators or their rear view mirrors.

As I headed west through the desert, the intense California sunset faded into whispers of pink and blue and yellow until all the colors bled into indigo. The desert sky was littered with more stars than I had ever remembered seeing out there.

During my first week here I found a very small apartment near work, I bought new tires because two of the old ones split, I enjoyed a lovely lobster pot pie while watching the Oscars with Meghan and I tried a breakfast place called The Waffle.

There will be much to write in the coming days, I suspect. This place feels more like a foreign country to me now than another state.

1000+ Miles and Two Days Later...

Last night I stopped outside San Antonio, made friends with the girl at the to-go counter at Chili's and tucked myself into a Hampton Inn. (I can't help but wonder if I am supporting Paris Hilton's lifestyle each time I stay at a Hilton)

Here are photos from today's journey through the grand state of Texas:


Stopped at The Alamo to buy postcards and so that I could say I had seen it.


Just in case you're ever in the neighborhood.


Wondered why Montana is called Big Sky and not Texas. Isn't everything bigger in Texas?


Found joy in the fact that I could indeed go 80mph on the highway.


See? That glorious sign says 80!


Texas.


Way off in the distance, the sun sets over Mexico.

First Stop: New Orleans

Started the day off with a good breakfast.



Watched the morning commute on the Mississippi.




And decided that I love New Orleans.

Maybe Thomas Wolfe Was Right

Talk about an appropriate fortune. Last week I got this fortune in a cookie, and this week I packed up my car for a cross-country move.

After a year of trying on my hometown with little success of a fit, I am moving back to LA. I can't help but think that maybe Thomas Wolfe was right.

Second Chances Are Cake Stand Blue

I have never been so happy to see the backside of a year as I was this past January 1st. There were some good moments, no doubt, but the majority of my 2008 was smudged with the trials and tribulations associated with my sister's drug addiction.

Usually I don't talk a lot about my sister's struggles with crystal meth because I feel that is her story to tell. So I won't be telling that story here. I do, however, feel that I can talk about the 7 years or so I've stood in the middle of the intense fire that engulfed my family. Topics like this aren't really suitable dinner conversation, so I typically reserve this heavier fare for those late night philosophical discussions with my mom or very close friends.

And topics like this aren't really fun to read about on blogs.

But what does make for a good blog post are those moments when you can actually see the storm cloud behind you.

This week I've been moving all of my things from one room in my parents' house to my sister's old room. This is an effort to provide a healthy environment for my sister when she returns to this house for a holiday visit or a weekend stay.

My sister's old room was a bright purple. The color that a high school girl would pick to match her very girlie Pottery Barn bedspread. I guess most people would look at a color like that and be cheered up. For me, though, that color was terrifying and depressing. I think my mom felt the same way when she looked into my sister's old room because she was adamant about painting over it.

So I went to Lowe's and looked at rows of paint samples called "mint gelato green" and "summer sky" and "antique white" until I found a pale blue called "cake stand blue."

As I painted over that terrible purple, I wondered if the walls would forget all that they had seen in this room - if the memory would be wiped as clean as this new color. I thought about how bright the room had become and the promise of new memories to be made in this room.

For my sister, her current state of transformation is not much different from these four walls. She is in a program, as most people politely refer to rehab, and has matured exponentially in a very short time. It's taking a lot of work, but she is slowly shedding darkness and discovering the bright promise of her future.

Ah, Cake Stand Blue. I think you're my new favorite color.

Another year, another Moleskine

Ah, the first of the year. Time to put away twinkle lights, say "oh no!" to desserts, take up early morning jogging and make declarations of balancing checkbooks and writing more lists on a regular basis.

I say boo to all of these things.

Some people relish the close of the holiday season, but I do not. I adore twinkle lights and using the excuse of December as reason enough for a nice dinner out. I also don't mind partaking in dessert AND jogging.

For me, the start of a new year is celebrated by turning the pages of my new blank (and black) Moleskine diary/calendar. The promise of a blank calendar! After carefully slipping the cellophane off my new calendar, I quickly scribble in important birthdays and anniversaries. Then I flip through the months, anticipating Saturdays spent with coffee and the NY Times, trips I may take, and the adventure a new year can hold.

I also try to begin a new book at the start of the year. I'm boring, so why not? I finished off '08 with "The Picture of Dorian Gray" (many thanks to Katherine for the recommendation of that title while pouring over the classics section at Waterstones).

I'm starting off '09 with "The Reader." It's quite a somber book -- described as morally complex, haunting and philosophically elegant -- but somehow that seems appropriate.

Its subject matter, particularly the relationship between the two main characters, is dark and not for those with a weak stomach. In fact, I have a hard time thinking of people I could recommend this book to who would not find great offense in its explicitness. But I enjoy the challenge of being stretched and questioned by characters who make decisions I would not make myself.

I am promised by the back cover of "The Reader" that the book is ultimately hopeful. Sort of how I imagine my blank Moleskin to be - ultimately hopeful.