Not Flying Straight… an owner’s manual
The delights in not flying straight…
And now for something completely different but ultimately, very, very rewarding…
I’m reading a lovely story right now that sort of snuck up on me and took me by surprise. It seemed innocuous enough a subject – a gay coming of age story set amongst some witches in Seattle, Washington. Sort of a gay American Harry Potter – only with hot boy/boy action, right?
Yeah, well, sorta in that that’s not all Jacobson rewards us with. There is a crispness to the prose that I am really liking. The protag makes me grouse a bit, but I love it when authors do that – so bang on the money Jacobson! Well done, you!
The book of which I speak, btw, is called
The Boy Who Couldn’t Fly Straight (The Broom Closet Series)
by Jeff Jacobson
The Boy Who Couldn’t Fly Straight (what a GREAT title for a gay witch story) by Jeff Jacobson
Here’s the thing about this little gem… it’s YA so we don’t have to worry ourselves about the hot b/b action getting too hot and heavy so much because of the way the genre curtails that within the these sorts of books. Why? I don’t know because at 15/16 i was already reading John Rechy’s The Sexual Outlaw to sort things out (as I’ve said in earlier blog posts). I am assuming that this fair is playing it safer for the girls because, yeah, boys aren’t so shy about the topic of sex – remember, contemplating linoleum gets boys going at this age. They are so not afraid of their own manly parts – just sayin’…
But that is NOT something I will put on Mr. Jacobson. No, I’d rather talk about his work, rather than the foibles of the YA genre (gay or straight). As for the book, here’s the dealio – I am purposefully reading it s-l-o-w. Why? Because the first one is the only one out right now and goddamnit, I miss the heady days of Harry Potter! Jacobson is MY Rowling, now! Not saying that if JKR put out another HP verse book I wouldn’t be there at the midnight release party (remember those…?) in line with all the others, but yeah, for now Jacobson will fill that gap rather nicely.
Part of me is reveling in this tale of coming of age because the closet is inferred (and sometimes quite literally in your face) in many different ways in the book. Each person has a reason to “come out” (so to speak) about something in their past. While it doesn’t (at this juncture – I am only 58% through the book – remember, I am reading it SLOWLY to savor every little element from it) have all the side stories of Potter’s world, or a Hogwarts (though, Puget Academy is sort of playing second fiddle in a weird granola hippy we’re too nice to say anything bad about anyone because we have the über tolerant (and as it turns out, resilient) headmaster of the school who enforces the no bullying policy (as he should) with an iron fist), it does have nicely drawn secondary and tertiary characters that give the whole world a nestled in the greenery feeling that comes from that part of the US Northwest (I have family there so I know the area quite well – something that Jacobson unveils to great effect).
Charley Creevey is a hot mess (of sorts). He’s eye rolling worthy at times, which I think is a lovely character standpoint to write from and Jacobson does it brilliantly. Charley is tangible. He is exasperating (in all the right ways). His love interest, when he is fully realized is Diego Ramirez is a great match – I am loving them so far. Their pairing is sweet as it is heady and intoxicating (as only a first love can be).
“I am not through with the book, but I can say the book has me through and through.”
I am not through with the book, but I can say the book has me through and through. This is a series I think I will come to cherish as much as my beloved Potter series. The artwork is brooding and evokes danger and an eking into Creevey’s life. A wonderfully brilliant start to a series. While I don’t read too many YA novels (because of the earlier sentiments I have for how we suppress the sexual laden nature of our teen years when we ALL know the reverse is going on) I will stand by Jacobson’s position on this series – It’s bang on! But again, the other point is a blog posting for another time.
I’ll probably write another final review of the work. But this one has me hooked. What I like about this one is that my daughter probably won’t mind my reading it with the granddaughter (who is pre-teen and a darkling of a goth like girl – she doesn’t look the part but she’s goth in an epic way inside). Keely’s a big time Beautiful Creatures series reader (also along the witch/caster line). But she’s all about the gay boys too (something about her grandpa being one and all, I suppose). She seemed pleased that we have something to share together. It’ll be a good match.
Anyway, I highly encourage picking up this delightful read. I am savoring each and every page!
Keep Calm, The DOCTOR Is Near…
“Keep Calm, I’m the Doctor…”
Yeah, I’ll confess it now: I’m a Whovian.
I can’t help it.
There’s no therapy that I know of to cure me of my plight. Well, except the love and adoration that happens when you’re surrounded by other Whovians of the Doctor Who universe.
And ya know what? I don’t want a cure. No interventions required, thank you very much!
The Doctor is absurd, it asks much of its audience to suspend disbelief, it strains the boundaries of standard narrative and a cohesive universe as we know it. But that doesn’t matter one jot.
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Because the magic is what sustains us. The magic is in the writing. The magic in the characters, the worlds the beloved Doctor takes us to. The examining of our human condition and interpersonal relationships that only someone from the outside (who looks so much like one of our own) can hold a light and microscope to and let us see what makes us undeniably well, uh, human.
There isn’t much of what goes on in that universe that I don’t love. And I get to share it with family and friends and co-workers alike. One big Whovian family.
I came to the Doctor very late in life. My previous boyfriend was a Whovian from the classic era. I knew about it. I indulged his fascination with it (and in particular Tom Baker’s incarnation). I only started to take note of Doctor Who with Chris Eccleston’s Doctor. I know. I know. Really late to the party. That isn’t to say I haven’t done some catching up either.
The granddaughter and I have watched the early eps up on Netflix. Thank the heavens for Netflix. My Doctor’s are never far from reach.
And tomorrow we’re gifted with our new incarnation. Peter Capaldi.
Can’t wait…
He won’t be Matt. No one can be. But it’ll be great to see what Capaldi does with him. He’s supposed to be darker, more brooding.
Brooding is good. Don’t know if it’s sustainable over time. But it’ll be interesting to watch. Though I am not emboldened with some of the Whovian chatter about the chemistry disconnect between Jenna and Peter. That doesn’t bode well for the series if there’s any truth to it. It could just be Whovian fan drama stirring up what really isn’t there. But the picture opportunities at the world wide events have sort of bore this whole thing out. They seem a bit stilted together. Gone seem to be the youthful exuberance. It’s now something unknown, darker – mysterious. Even Clara doesn’t quite know what she’s got.
Neither do we.
In a very real way, I am bang over the moon on the sudden shift. We could’ve lapsed into complacency in Matt’s lovable turn as the Doctor. And like many I adore Matt Smith. You can’t help it. He just pulls that from you. It’s in the air – it just becomes electric.
Capaldi is darker. His temperament isn’t quite clear. It’s British… in every way that a man can be – but that’s the Yank in me that’s talking there.
Though Matt carried a certain air about him that had an American Cowboy swagger that even we Yanks could appreciate. Tennant was brilliant, as was Eccelston. But Smith was the real connection to the world for this character. HE threw the doors wide open.
Capaldi’s gotta build on it. Darkness is okay. Darkness can be cool. But if the chemistry between Clara and our newest Doctor don’t jive, then Houston, we’ve got a serious problem.
I hope it won’t come to that. I love this character (one of millions, I’m aware). I love this universe (it gave me Captain Jack Harkness for Chrissake and who doesn’t love a bit of John Barrowman goodness?).
We’ll just have to see what’s in store for ep 1 later on today… crossed fingers that it’s gonna be a whopper!
It’s all just timey-wimey stuff anyway.
Growing Up in the Kool-Aid House…
Growing up in the Kool-Aid house…
-or-
“I’d rather have a crap load of kids over my house because at least I’ll know what my kids are up to…”*
So I got a rather interesting response from yesterdays emotive vomit (I really was all over the place with that). I swear I try to keep it in check but hey, that’s why I called the blog Errata – cause it’s chock full of musings, errors and all, meanderings, and down right what the fuckeries all over the damned place.
It isn’t meant to show off my writing prowess.
It’s more of a series of brain flatulence or random stream of consciousness of whatever strikes me.
So anyway, back to the comment from my last entry – I brought up my wacky crazy family life (not that it necessarily detracts from your ball of whacked that may be your family – just sayin’ I got my own that made me the overall freak fest I can be from time to time).
So I guess there comes a time to acknowledge that.
We were the Kool-Aid house – and if you need a clarification of that pop-culture ref then you probably ain’t gonna get what I’m on about in this blog entry.
When we were young we had all of the kids over to our house from the neighborhood. It wasn’t unusual to have 10 or 12 of us running around getting into all kinds of strangeness. I mean once we held a funeral for a cockroach. Yeah, a cockroach. I mean, who does that?
We did…that’s who. It was more about the spectacle of a Roman Catholic styled funeral and the pageantry of everyone who attended and the morose feelings the assigned mourners had. The matchbox coffin was rather inspired as I recall it – covered in tin foil and carefully crafted marker designs. This roach went out in style!
Then we got bored with it and tossed the damned thing on top of an ant hill and watched those fireworks for the better part of an hour as those ants devoured its carcass.
We also decided one particular summer (I think I was like 11 or 12 at the time) where we all (the kids on our street) had decided enough was enough – we went on chore strike. We outfitted our bikes and wagons with big propaganda signs protesting doing chores (even if we really copped to the fact that our parents were rather generous with our allowances – we were just bored and it was something interesting to do – commiserate with our union brethren, ya know?).
Yeah, we were a bit strange. Goonies didn’t begin to cover it – though I will admit that when that movie came out we totally thought we got ripped off. Only we were far more gooned out than those normal assed kids were. They went Spielberg Hollywood. We were the ones keepin’ it real.
We had the whole homie swagger goin’ on. We were freakishly goonie – but we were cool doin’ it.
So yeah, my being gay – coming out to my parents – eh, not so much of a out of the box thought. Not that I was swishy or anything but my parents just loved us unconditionally and (more importantly) meant it! It was more important for me to be happy with who I was than for whatever hopes they had for me.
I remember my parents saying that – “If you’re happy and your not hurting anyone else or they aren’t hurting you, then I’m good with it.”
Cool, huh? Yeah, my parents rocked.
Epically rocked!
That’s not to say that everything was a bed of roses… well. it sorta was but, as with those beloved flowers, there were thorns along the way. In fact, some things that tripped us up were buried and germinated back then that now, some forty some odd years later, are only just sprouting and quickly testing the ties that bind us.
One of my sibs is having a tough time. He’s the middle kid with serious middle child issues. They’ve always been there. They’ve always been thorny to deal with. He often masked it with humor – a good sign that there’s an underlying problem.
Robin Williams had his own demons to grapple with. My brother does too. He has a great sense of humor but it had a definite edge to it. Something that now has led to some serious and debilitating outcomes that the family is trying to sort out along with him.
I hope he comes out of his current trauma a stronger person. It’s gonna get a helluva lot darker before he ever sees some light. It’s not a good situation. I find I think about him a lot. We aren’t close (not my doing – he pushed nearly all of us away over the years). I want more than anything to be there for him, but I know I am the last person he would ever want there. It’s just how it has played out. I have had very little part of his life over the last twenty years. I’ve kept in touch through my sister and mother (dad passed 15 years ago) to see what he’s up to as they live in a different city from where I am in the SF Bay Area.
He’s always felt the need to compete with me (though I often said that out doing him was never my goal – I compete with one person in life – ME). I am tough enough on myself, believe me, I don’t even need anyone else to bring it. I do it enough all on my own, little brother.
But it still hurt that he pushed me away. To be completely sidelined to just one email a year if I was lucky. Often even that wouldn’t happen. The message was clear – I wasn’t wanted in his life. Message received.
But I wish nothing but love and hope that he makes it through okay. That he’ll be all right. I don’t want him to go through any pain – but I know he will.
I don’t know if I could’ve done something different. If I could’ve but didn’t then I would wish I could go back and set it right. But I know I can’t and I know it won’t happen. But it doesn’t detract from that singular wish.
Wow, that went down a dark road, didn’t it? I swear sometimes I don’t know where I’ll end up with these things. I start with one thing and the stream just takes me downstream to some end goal.
I didn’t start this out to go dark. I swear – I guess it’s just where my heads at, at this point.
Goes to show ya, it never hurts to spread the love… even if it’s from a distance and over digital bit and bytes.
Love ya, bro.
Get better…
PS – * The quote in the title came from my dad when he was asked why we had so many damned kids at our house. My dad rocked.
It’s all in the marketing…
A fanboy’s perspective on science going sexy…
So the hubby sent me a youtube that I thought was pretty fucking cool. It is for a science paper released to the world via reputable journal. The thing is, the guy who was part of the team decided that with all of the work that went into it that it was missing something, that it warranted something a bit…more. A bit more… Hollywood.
Chuck full o’ Awesome Sauce…
Cool, right?
So this sorta was right up my alley as I am literally married to an actual rocket scientist. And while I am not fully versant with the whole quantum mechanics thing – I mean when I look at his stuff (meaning his books and science journals) I think of them as my picture books. I mean I am not stupid by any stretch of the imagination but really, we’re talking quantum mechanics here and I just never went there academically. So yeah, picture books to me.
I admire scientists. Fuck, I married one.
So yeah – I fully admit that that I fanboy the fuck out on scientists. Full on geeky sci-boy sorta love. Guy or girl – don’t matter. I love them all. I admire their dedication to their passions. And scientists are very, very passionate people. My hubby bubbles over with it – and for a quiet and private kinda guy that he is – his passions are very hot and heavy when he gets excited about something. That’s why I love scientists. When they’re passionate – they fucking light up. Like Christmas trees. It’s rather amazing to watch. If you ever have the opportunity to speak to a scientist – ask him or her why they do what they do and watch the fireworks happen.
My buddy Chuck is like that too. He isn’t a scientist, not really. But he sure has the brain for it. When he and my hubby talked about that sorta stuff – well, they both practically glowed. It was hella hot to watch two men riff on something completely esoteric to me but watch the passionate interchange of ideas. I admire brain power. I do. Which is why this little video caught my attention. In one small video – a scientist captured the passion they all feel. It doesn’t matter that you may not grasp it – watch it. You’ll at least see the passion. And gosh-a-mighty, as my Aunt would say, when they light up – it’s rather spectacular.
And this youtube video sorta exemplifies it…
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I mean this is cool on an epic level! And why shouldn’t a scientific paper not get this sorta polish? It may be in jest (at least partially) but I think it’s pretty damned hot and amazing all in one little youtube vid.
This is something that Neil deGrasse Tyson might even like. Hell his fan club does:
Fans reaction… NEW RULE!
So I say bully for the scientists! I get what they’re on about – and why not get a little sexy with science? After all sex is science – and in that way we’re all practitioners, aren’t we?
I know I like to practice it whenever I get the chance…
Wow, it just occurred to me … I am a scientist in that my books have quite a bit of sex in them. Yeah, that’s probably a real stretch. But with me and my hubby’s picture books (or what I call “picture books” though they actually make sense to him), that’s about as close as I’ll ever get.
So spread the word and a little love to those geeky science boys who give us so much and often don’t get their full props. These men and women are amazing.
Now it’s time to find the hubby and practice a little bit of science…