Ben Peek (benpeek) wrote,
Ben Peek
benpeek

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Books, Gambling, and Cricket (And Making Rjurik Davidson get a Blog)

Things continue in an erratic fashion here, which'll likely continue for another four weeks or so, till I'm done with the thesis. If you've come into this blog over the last week or so, and traffic has drifted up, so I assume the controversy of the last week and a bit has done that, sit tight, cause things'll pick up in a bit. I'll leave the house for more than work, for one, and I'll take up gambling with people due to new interaction. I've already won a meal and a movie off my friend L., who bet that her new boyfriend wouldn't want to do something on Valentines Day. I felt bad taking advantage of her, but I've got to eat, y'know?

In a slightly related topic, I'm trying to convince Rjurik Davidson to get a blog. Some of you might know Rju as the author who wrote 'The Passing of the Minotaurs', which many liked, even though he referenced Blade Runner at the end of it. I hate Blade Runner with a passion, but I still dug the story, and Rju is slightly more intelligent than your average writer, so obviously he needs a blog to get caught up in arguments and shit, yes? There's nothing like backhanded compliments to convince an author of this, so I don't know how he'd ignore me, but what you all should do is leave your messages of command to him in the comments. He worries about it eating up his life. I need him not to publish anything for a year. Help a brother out, will you.

Still on fiction, I finished Lydia Millet's Oh Pure and Radiant Heart during the week. That was book three out of the fifty books a year challenge, and as you can see, I'm doing real well with that. At any rate, I'm all about love, here, and I loved Millet's book, and so I'm going to write a review for Strange Horizons (sh_reviews), and see if what a proper book review about love is like writing. Hopefully it won't result in screams and rejection, but you never know with these things.

Jumping suddenly, it appears I've developed a problem, and I appear to be watching cricket. I don't know how this happened. I suspect drugs--I've been drugged, I'm sure. Still, it makes good background noise when I get sick of music, and it has nothing to do with literature, and numbs the mind allowing me to just escape the thesis for a while. Is this why everyone else watches cricket? I can only assume it's something like this. Usually, the obsession of sport that exists in Australia just generally pisses me off, especially when you see how much the Arts struggles to find any outlet, but isn't that the way everywhere, anyway? In addition to this, the Australian cricket team seem like a disturbingly serious bunch of wankers these days (last time I watched it was in highschool and they're still using David Boon jokes), so I don't know why they're getting any love. They're certainly not from me.

But I dig watching Sri Lanka play. They're a dynamic bunch of guys and it's good fun watching them stick it to the Australians, who have won too much to be truly interesting anymore. But most of all, I love watching the spin bowler Muttiah Muralitharan do his shit. It's all shades of coolness.





That picture goes out to anyone with lingering hate for me out there, by the way. Wouldn't want you guys to not feel the love.

I would really, really hate to be able to read only sweetness and light. And if an artist (in the broadest sense of the word) cannot take criticism and either learn from it or ignore it, then they are in the wrong business.


From Glenda Larke's blog.

And, lastly, because of E. (gadarene) I filled out this Johari box thing. Pick six words that you think describe me, and see if they match, or some thing. I'm not sure what the point is, but there appears to be an interactive window. Who doesn't like that. Click here to voice your opinion about me.
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