Of saints and addicts

Wow, new year and much-improved Blogger. There is a God.

Just finished reading Narcopolis. So clever, some passages unforgettable, like the similarity between saints and addicts, or the very funny Introduction to Aggressive Reincarnation, or the learning from lines like grief being "a deep distraction, like absent-mindedness without the insouciance". And this amidst the hugely disturbing imagery and characters one watches like an impending car crash.
Not a bad impact for a first book of fiction.

Bedside reading, December

Best bit from Decline and Fall so far: "I don't believe that people would ever fall in love or want to be married if they hadn't been told about it. It's like abroad: no one would want to go there if they hadn't been told it existed."

....goodnight, sweet prince

There has only been one other public figure who moved me with their passing and that was Princess Diana. Hitch would have laughed me out of the room, putting them together. How could I have hoped to explain myself - he would have had the last, sword-swinging word. The iconic piece he wrote below, his last, (what an amazing self-obit), leaves the rest of us with nothing more to say. No man that I have heard about in my time died so courageously, so, as was his wont, intellectually. What is happening that the lights of this world are being so ruthlessly snuffed? How do we go on in the darkening way?

http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/2012/01/hitchens-201201

Chris Hitchens still has his voice

http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/features/2011/06/christopher-hitchens-unspoken-truths-201106?mbid=ob_ppc_22

Only a writer can make his emperor of maladies mere grist for the literary mill. Hitchens has proven he has no need for a trumped-up God, and his courage in the face of life's ultimate betrayal, his eloquent courage, is enough to see me through my day.

Words are so mighty, just read the poetry he quotes here:

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
—T. S. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.”

They told me, Heraclitus; they told me you were dead.
They brought me bitter news to hear, and bitter tears to shed.
I wept when I remembered how often you and I

Had tired the sun with talking, and sent him down the sky.

Or even his own:

"One can become quite used to the specter of the eternal Footman, like some lethal old bore lurking in the hallway at the end of the evening, hoping for the chance to have a word."

This is why everything from Stacia Kane to JP Donleavy keeps me snug in bed in the still of night, happy as only good writing can make me. Knowing that the world matters less than the world of the mind is something else I thank Hitch for reinforcing.

Forgive the maudlin tone but sweet prince, I hope we never have to bid you good night.

Bath&Body really works

I mean, come on, raspberry and vanilla? I could eat that!

Best of Britney

....the bottle and fragrance for Curious. Light and fresh and mood-building.

Where's the X Factor, USA?

So Stacy Francis learned that screaming is not enough even if you have a big voice, but I think her so-called mentor had much to do with her slip-up. To me, the biggest embarrassment has been Melanie Amaro. What was with that other person who possessed her recently to the extent that she was speaking in tongues? Yes, yes, it's all about her origins blahdeblah but was I the only one who thought she had slipped round the bend? And if there's one thing calculated to lose my vote, it's people who thank God ad nauseam for their wonderful lives. Forget the ones leading miserable lives; I wonder who They are supposed to thank. Amaro can sing but she's a damn bore. She ain't got no X Factor.

Meanwhile, my man Josh K has taken a leading role, I'm happy to report. Drew is his biggest competitor. And I like Astro, his ego at least is on par with his talent.

However, I must draw the line at Simon Cowell saying Lakoda Rayne, the least talented but best-looking group in the whole competition, was fabulous. Does he need a hearing aid? Sometimes he speaks like a politician, giving lip-service to public sentiment. Even when the public is an ass.

PS. Isn't Steve Jones hawt?!

Real Steel

That's what 11-yr-old Dakota Goyo has got. In a fun, action movie that sucks in the viewer to the extent that we are screaming along with the crowd at fights, Goyo is the catalyst to much of our response, although he has help. Hugh Jackman has never slipped in front of the camera, whether he's playing Wolverine, Nicole Kidman's brawny lover in Australia or hell, even hosting the Oscars. So Goyo was learning from the best, if he needed to. But here's my forecast: The kid's going to be a major player in Hollywood. He's got the emotion and vulnerability that will make every viewer his biggest fan.

PS. Robots this slick almost overwhelm the human actors. Much like the simian in Rise of the Planet of the Apes.

Zara opens with a bang (but here's a whisper)

When Zara opened in Bangalore, there was not a single crimp in any fashionista's hair (so yesterday). I had been feeling a tad low myself since I lead a solitary life and talking in your own head does begin to pall after a bit. I usually submerge my angst with shopping, as people do, but it's hard to sublimate when you live in a small town. You know what that means: You end by dressing in what you can get, not what defines you. So there hang the drab tunics and unflattering shirts, the maxis that do nothing for your height, the jeans that make you look like you're competing with a tree trunk...you get the picture.

As I walked through Zara at Phoenix Mall which is slap-bang in the middle of nowhere, I did wonder why the law of location, location etc had not impinged on the developers. Nonetheless, I felt like a line from Jerry Maguire, of the 'You complete me' variety, on sighting a veritable fashion wonderland. Roomy totes, striped Tees, cigarette pants with outer zipper details, suede pumps, snakeskin-print shirts, hats which remind you of Faye Dunaway....had I died and gone to live in Kate Moss' wardrobe or what. But hang on, why didn't they have sizes in the half-dozen outfits I wanted? And where was the red and black booties and block-colour Tees I saw on the Zara India site? Oh no, the horrible truth dawned. It was Zara India, not Zara Bangalore they were advertising. Talk about a shock to the system. Obviously, the stocks are in Delhi and Bombay and if you spent one hour to reach Phoenix Mall as I did, do follow the Girl Guide motto: Be Prepared. The heartbreak will be so much less.

Well, never let it be said that I let the details stand in my way. I bought the snakeskin-print shirt and a pair of delectable pink ballerinas with diamante bows. I had to. As a kindred soul sitting thousands of miles away said in her scrumptious blog Fashion Foie Gras, next to a photo of an admittedly divine zebra-print skirt:

“If I don't own this skirt next season I won't be able to continue on with life!”

JR Ward losing the plot?

On things JR Ward: There is no other paranormal writer who compares to her, this is a given. Smexy books have given her a category of her own on their site, which says it all. But is it me or does her self-promotion grate? If you follow her FB page, you'll see what I mean.

Moderators regularly cut comments and we are given the impression that's because some of the comments don't uniformly praise Ward – what is this, Soviet Russia in the 60s? If you read her ghastly Fallen Angels books, you'll see why praise cannot be uniform. But the BDB books – whoa. So she's completed the manuscript of the latest one, Lover Reborn, and she tells us how her editor missed FOUR subway stops because she was so caught up in the story. Jessica, Jessica, ever heard of preaching to the choir? Hon, we would buy the BDB novels even if you were, like John Matthew in Lover Mine, quite mute.

I Belong to Terrible

This is really the time of the non-hero in the non-conventional sense. We're sick and tired of charming, suave, handsome men who are captains of industry – that whole scenario has been relegated to the shame cupboard that is known as the Cliche. Now, the man who twists our hearts until not a drop of air remains is....Terrible. Yes, the only dross about him is the name, but everything else is pure, solid gold.

Terrible is the believable hero of Stacia Kane's Downside books, the holy triumvirate aka Unholy Ghosts, Unholy Magic and City of Ghosts. There is another holy T, made up of our heroine Chess Putnam, junkie and witch, a pusher's top henchman Terrible, and Terrible's rival in love and war, Lex. Or as the incomparable JR Ward would have Chess say about Lex, the Chinese gang member who hops in and out of Chess' bed: “He's my lover...not the love of my life.”

Kane's world is shockingly attractive, God knows why. Chess is a product of abuse, as is Terrible, their lives are violent, they are part of an unpredictable underworld where the prospect of Tomorrow may be a dream, and yet you can't get enough. Kane's people are people you learn to like; for me, Terrible, I'm sorry to say, is my ideal man. He is smart, loyal, powerful, has a sense of humour, and has your back. When he falls in love, he falls all the way. The cherry on top of the chocolate fudge? He can hold a conversation – of course a man like this would have to be fictional.

But I admire Kane's imagination and the fact that she can make a love scene indelible. What more can you ask for as a reader, really?

The show with an X Factor

You may laugh, but Adam Lambert is single-handedly responsible for the slow freefall that is American Idol today. The day he lost – although winning Idol is meaningless in terms of success for contestants, Daughtry is a star and Kris Allen sank back into the primordial swamp from which he emerged – the mere fact that such a phenomenal performer could lose was enough for many to see the writing on the wall.

I believe Simon Cowell was one of them. He quit, Paula quit and now they have resurfaced in The X Factor, USA. Anyone watching the show on AXN every Wednesday will be taken aback at a number of things. First, Simon is totally different here. He's relaxed, funny and actually gives a shit about the people on the show; he's not even cruel for cruelty's sake but keeps his signature sarcasm knowing we would be lost without it. (Like asking a mother-daughter duo from Mars which one was the mother. Well, we were all wondering!)

Even Paula is cool, self-deprecating and less likely to take the slow train when delivering judgement. LA Reid is, in my book, shockingly attractive and clued-in, but I draw the line at Nicole S. She looks dazed and confused and seems to be somewhat jittery to be the cynosure of all eyes – and this from a Pussycat Doll. She's the Kara DioGuardi of X Factor, ie. she may have talent herself but there's something about her that we just don't like. OK, not something. Kara was pushy while Nicole seems witless – and maybe she could stop weeping whenever she has to deliver bad news to a wannabe? It's not about you, hon.

The show, meanwhile, has so much more energy and humanity than Idol. It is bursting with real talent. And yummy host Steve Jones is percolating with feeling as he hugs and laughs and listens to the performers. I am a staunch Seacrest fan, but I must admit Ryan lacks some warmth. His dismissal of Daughtry is still seared in my brain; we know he didn't mean to be callous and just wanted to get on with the show but you cannot make a slip on reality TV simply because the public tends to recall it at inopportune moments – like when a rival host appears on the horizon.

The ones to watch on X Factor:

Josh K. He came onstage looking like he once modelled for Perry Ellis' infamous grunge look (for which Marc Jacobs got infamously fired). No one was impressed. Then he sang two words of the song At Last and the audience roared to their feet. He's 2011's Joe Cocker, down to the way he leans back and looks like he's having a spasm when he gets the rawest of his notes out there. Dude's got the X Factor.

Brennin Hunt. Hilarious. The model came swaggering into the room talking about how he was the 'whole package' and XF editors had the song “I'm sexy and I know it” playing the whole time. But when he opened his mouth, boy could sing. Simon immediately got a glint in his eye; he knew he would have to do no marketing for Beautiful Brennen, guy practically sells himself. I keep him on the list although he hasn't made it to the finals because I don't believe we've heard the last of Mr Sexy.

Stacy Francis. An unforgettable voice and likely to win.

Chris Rene. Real talent, easy on the eye, humble, whose Young Homie is being sung in homes as we speak.

But remember how David Cook came out of nowhere on Idol? To win 5 million big ones, the fight might just be about to get down and dirty.

Point to Note:

Biggest judges' blunders: Keeping Dexter something-or-other who seems like a clown with a Jagger complex and chucking Caitlin Koch. What th' ?