In the spirit of the "Eight Things Meme," I'll be revealing eight little known things about me, but as opposed to the meme, I'll examine each one in its own entry. The hope is that you as the reader will feel compelled to comment and join in the discussion, and I can find out a little more about you too.

Fourth thing you might not know about me:

Browsing bookstores is my best way to relax, and it doesn't matter if I don't buy a single book. I don't know what it is: maybe the potentiality of all those stories stacked together, just waiting for me to unlock them and bring them to life, to explore the truths of our existence, to get taken out of myself for a short while and inhabit the eyes and ears and mind of someone very different. But that's what I like about fiction in general, not the books themselves. There's a tactility to books that I get from nothing else, how they sit in the hands, how the pages feel against my fingers. I enjoy the visual splendor that is rows upon rows of books sitting on shelves (remember Dustin Hoffman's office in Stranger Than Fiction? My idea of heaven). And the smell of a bookstore, it's almost indescribable; the odor of all that paper and ink brings a smile to my face every time. (If you, like me, lament the environmentally destructive nature of book printing, Eco-Libris provides a way to feel better about it, akin to offsetting your carbon footprint.)

Incidentally, this is Buy a Friend a Book Week, so buy a friend a book! I received a gift certificate to Kinokuniya for my birthday, which kind of counts. :)

For a while, Maud Newton was posting various readers' tributes to independent bookstores, and this is what I sent to her:

My favorite independent bookstore would have to be Quail Ridge Books in Raleigh, NC. With a knowledgeable and enthusiastic sales staff that places customer service as their top priority, a constant stream of author readings and book club meetings to enhance the feeling of community, and a well-stocked but cozy shop space where you can snag a cushy chair in front of the fireplace and read for hours, there's no bookstore I'd rather patronize. The place just feels like home.

Owners Nancy and Jim Olson are very active in promoting literacy in the local schools, libraries, and throughout the community. They also won't be undersold by the big chain stores, offering bestsellers at a significant discount. Their work ethic and welcoming atmosphere make it feel less like you're there to buy books than to visit family. I lived only five minutes from the store for a little over a year and a half (and no more than a half-hour away for the last 19 years), and one of my biggest laments about my recent move to Singapore is that I can no longer just drive down the road and spend time in that wonderful bookstore.

Publishers Weekly did a much more comprehensive story about QRB after they won Bookseller of the Year for the second year in a row: http://www.publishersweekly.com/article/CA74853.html

And though I haven't yet found a Quail Ridge equivalent here in Singapore, I feel my muscles relax whenever I step into Kinokuniya or Select Books, and I know that I can take refuge there when I need to.

Oddly enough, this doesn't work with libraries. Maybe it's because they aren't trying to entice you into shelling out your money for their stock. But the metal shelves are almost always fairly tall, none of the titles are faced out, and it's not always clear in which section you'll find a certain book (I was searching for China Mieville's Un Lun Dun at the national library recently, and after walking through Science Fiction, Fantasy, Mystery, Young Adult, and Literature, I finally resorted to the electronic database, and it was shelved in Children's Books. Or at least, it was supposed to be, since it wasn't there. However, after telling one of the librarians about my difficulty, she spent ten minutes herself looking through returned books, and other secret hidden places, and couldn't find it either, so she put a trace on the book and called me several days later to tell me it had showed up. I picked it up Saturday and should be starting it soon.) Anyway, the experience tends to be claustrophobic and has the odd side effect of loosening my bowels; don't ask me why.

Tangentially related, I will be participating in the 24-hour Read-a-Thon on October 20, and will appreciate any and all cheerleading in my endeavor. I imagine that I'll be getting up to use the bathroom quite a bit (reading for long stretches of time makes me pee for some reason; jeez, this entry was supposed to be about books and bookstores and it ends up with comments about pissing and shitting; high-brow blogging, this), but I anticipate keeping to the schedule dutifully. As of this entry, I've read 75 books so far this year, but I've never read for a solid day straight; I'm curious myself how it'll turn out.

Previously: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

In the spirit of the "Eight Things Meme," I'll be revealing eight little known things about me, but as opposed to the meme, I'll examine each one in its own entry. The hope is that you as the reader will feel compelled to comment and join in the discussion, and I can find out a little more about you too.

Third thing you might not know about me:

I am very spatially aware. Those who've met me (or seen photos of me) know that I'm a big guy. I've been so for a long time now. I'm also a bit clumsy; hell, I'm a klutz. Forget the bull, I'm a drunken bear in a china shop. Antique stores or souvenir shops with lots of glass and ceramic items are a horribly uneasy experience. This has engendered an incredible sensitivity to my surroundings, especially to people. I'm constantly on guard to not bump into fellow pedestrians, or to move out of the way if I'm walking a bit slowly for people behind me, or to allow someone personal space if I'm standing too close on the train. Things like that.

What drives me batshit crazy is the people who don't do me the same courtesy. The oblivious tourist who stands directly in front of the train doors, so that when they open, you have to throw some elbows just to get through. The chatting mallrat engaged in conversation with her friends, who stops walking in a two-lane four-foot aisle with foot traffic in both directions because hey don't you want to check out that shop over there, I don't know what do they have, oh you know the usual and don't my clothes look cute today, with the result that you either have to stop too, interrupting your forward momentum, or somehow dodge to the side without crashing into other people. The raucous bar-goers or restaurant patrons who take up as much physical space around them as possible, gesticulating wildly and preventing you from just getting a damn hard cider dammit.

I'm the first to admit that I'm not perfect, and that I've unintentionally done these things as well, but I feel horrible afterward, beating myself up over not paying enough attention. What gets me about people such as those above is the appearance that they just don't care. Is it so much to ask for to hear "sorry" after you've blocked the way and I have to clear my throat, say "excuse me," and try to push past?

Previously: Part 1, Part 2

In the spirit of the "Eight Things Meme," I'll be revealing eight little known things about me, but as opposed to the meme, I'll examine each one in its own entry. The hope is that you as the reader will feel compelled to comment and join in the discussion, and I can find out a little more about you too.

Second thing you might not know about me:

Certain physiological bodily issues are asymmetrical, and in a weird way. This isn't just stuff like my right eye is two millimeters higher than my left, or one arm is longer than the other. These are things that I deal with on a fairly regular basis.

Example 1: I sweat more on the right side of my head than the left. This is something I've just started noticing recently, but it's very evident on particularly hot days here in Singapore. I have no idea why this might be the case; maybe my right brain is running hotter than my left, the creative overclocking and outpacing the logical.

Example 2: My ear hair grows more in my left ear than my right. Yeah, I know, ew, ear hair, but it's something that guys have to deal with. Well, at least hairy guys like me. And wow is that hard to trim or what?

Example 3: My right sideburn grows faster than the left. My sideburns descend to just about level with my earlobes, and I like to keep them trim and clean and even with each other. I find myself having to trim the right side much more, else it keep creeping down and overtake the entire side of my face in a giant Wolverine muttonchop.

So what does this say about me? That I'm unbalanced? Perhaps. That I'm obsessed with bodily functions? Likely. That I'm weird? Most definitely.

So what about you?

Previously: Part 1

Recently, there was a meme going around wherein participants would reveal eight little known things about themselves. As with most memes, there were rules, and the requirement that you tag eight more people to perpetuate the meme further.

The problem with this, though, is that many of the participants would write out a simple list of their eight things and leave it at that. Because of this, comments would be diffuse and spread out over the eight topics, to the effect that yeah, okay, maybe you know eight new things about the meme-taker, but it doesn't really mean that you know them any better. Which is kind of pointless, really, though I suppose most memes are.

Anyway, I'll be using the spirit of the "Eight Things Meme" but not the structure. I'll be taking these one at a time and spending more than just a few lines on each topic. The hope is that you beautiful people will feel compelled to comment and join in the discussion, and I can find out a little more about you too.

And no worries, I won't be tagging anyone.

As John Lovitz used to say: "Get to know me!"

***

First thing you might not know about me:

I talk to myself. Like, a lot.

It started when I was a kid. Like now, I was pretty introverted, and spent a lot of time by myself, reading or playing or drawing or listening to the radio. My kid sister Kristin (now a working actor in New York) was around for this stuff too, but I also liked the solitude.

When playing with my Transformers or He-Man or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figures, I would naturally give them voices and produce sound effects. When drawing, I would carefully narrate each line and stroke of my pencil, hoping to get as accurate a reproduction as I could to whatever I was copying (usually comics art by Alan Davis or Jim Lee; sadly, I never got past this imitative style of drawing). When listening to the radio, I'd sing along or talk over the DJ commentary.

Oddly enough, I was completely silent when reading. Reading, very quickly for me, went from something verbal to something done internally; according to my mom, I was an extremely fast learner when it came to reading, and she loves to tell the story about me meeting my kindergarten teacher for the first time, and surprising her by reading every single poster on the walls of the classroom.

As I got older, I kept the dialogue with myself going (although I guess a dialogue with oneself is still a monologue). It became thinking out loud, vocalizing my thoughts and trying them out before foisting them on other people. I did that sterotypical movie thing of practicing what I would say to a girl when asking her out, which would almost always devolve into stutters and stammers once I actually did it. I would replay arguments and discover points that I could have made, had I had time to think about it some more.

Now, if I get stuck with a story I'm writing, I'll pace up and down a certain length of floor and talk it out with myself. I make commentary at TV shows and commercials even if I'm the only one in the room. I repeat memorable lines from movies and chuckle to myself about them. And of course I fume and fuss every time El Presidente opens his mouth and a new stupid falls out.

So that's me. What about you? Do you talk to yourself?