The problem is that books, more so than most other forms of popular entertainment, are often thought of as art, that literature should do something for us, enrich you in some vague way. I thought about this today because I was reading something that is dismissed by lots of people, that was dismissed by me for the last two years, but which I finally read today, The Da Vinci Code. And so I wondered what it was then that I was reading, if not art? Simply entertainment? And where is the line that demarcates one from the other, and how often is that line drawn by some form of class anxiety, of needing to distinguish yourself from common tastes? And so when you read something, like this book, a page turner, you are slightly embarrassed by it, that there are so many levels of pretension associated with reading, and to read something like this, to read this book that is a best seller, you, or at least I, and lots of my friends have unease about it, about our own tastes. So far this entire paragraph is evidence of that. There is always the need to somehow distance yourself from that mass of people for whatever reasons we feel superior to, the general reading public, and make it clear that you are aware of what it means to read this book, somehow trivilize it, read it self-consciously.
I doubt I would have taken this book on the subway to read, despite how much I enjoyed it and how much I seriously could not put it down. I would have been too aware of being one of those people reading Dan Brown. There is nothing artful about the language of this book. There is often not anything artful about the language of lots of popular fiction. There was not one passage that I wanted to star and for that reason, I brush these books aside normally, but man, there is something at the very least, skilled, about being able to write something that has you racing to the end of the book, that can get its hooks on you. And maybe that is not what art is supposed to do, that art should somehow make you slow down, reflect, and take things slower, but fuck, this book had me from the first ten pages. I started it yesterday afternoon, put it down for five or so hours to watch the first season of Pete and Pete with Ethan and then picked it up again, not putting it down until I finished it this morning.
I really enjoyed it a lot, the book, and I wish I wasn't so hesitant about admitting that, wish I did not have to preface it with all of that. It's a lot more interesting than I thought it would be, and I understand why so many people read it, are reading it. And so maybe some of the art history and Vatican history isn't totally right - I wouldn't know, but so I have heard - but it is a fun read. And maybe that's what I want, to have fun and listen to pop music and dance close to other human bodies.
I have really been incredibly horny ever since New Year's Eve and really wish there was a boy in my life to ease this loneliness. Work ended up getting canceled today; however, the regular contacted me and so I am about to go see him and get a blowjob and that could ease some of this horniness, but also could have the opposite effect of being the taste of the meal I can't afford, will make me long for the rest of the entree, the never entirely clear set of emotions that accompany sex with a person you like.
Also, I have been thinking a lot about this one episode of Pete and Pete, "A Hard Day's Pete," and it was amazing, that episode, it said so much about memory and pleasure and art, that we can remember these moments we spend with rock and roll, but we can only hold on to them for so long, that slowly the song fades from our mind and we have to search the radio airwaves hoping and praying to come across it again, and if desperate enough, will try to recreate that song, will start a band to keep that song alive, to keep it playing. There was something so beautiful about the theme of this episode, a beauty that is still with me on this day after, the memories, and how long till they fade as little Pete also wondered, and what to do with this beauty, this inspiration we have come across, that has entered our lives?