Most people will have heard the news, of course, that Ray Bradbury passed away yesterday. The outpouring online (a place he avoided) has been both wide and deep. I’ve read many tributes to him, essays about him, and interviews with him over the past day and I think the world is less rich for being without him now.
Here are some of the pieces that touched me or spoke to me.
A non-SF short story by Bradbury himself, made available by the New Yorker: "I See You Never."
An essay by Bradbury himself about science fiction and his grandfather in the New Yorker: "Take Me Home"
A piece on Bradbury by Neil Gaiman published in the Guardian: "A man who won’t forget Ray Bradbury"
A piece by Junot Díaz in The New Yorker: “Loving Ray Bradbury”
And this 2010 interview with Bradbury in The Paris Review
I am eagerly awaiting the publication of Margaret Atwood’s piece in the Guardian
I was going to tweet to Tony Horton as an early start to my celebration of completing P90X, but I find myself feeling odd about being so close to the end of it. I should feel happy, ecstatic, proud. I should be celebrating. I don’t feel any of those things. I feel a bit of dread and a lot of confusion.
The truth is this: I DON’T WANT IT TO END. When P90X is over, the question for me is what’s next? Do another round choosing a different program? Make up my own workout schedule utilizing other systems? Try Insanity? What comes next?
And I can’t help but find that question a little intimidating. I am in the best shape of my adult life, possibly of my entire life. And I’m addicted to feeling like this. I also know how easy it would be just to relax, to allow myself to think “I’ve done it. Glad it’s over.” and eat a Krispy Kreme. As Tony would say, “Nuh-uh, no Krispy Kremes in this house. Get ‘em out!”
I have some ideas about things I want to do, but I’m also taking suggestions. Anyone else had any experience with post-P90X-depression? How did you fight it? What dd you do after P90X?
Also, while supplies last, I’m selling tickets. To the ladies’ gun show. ;) <flex>
Oh how very, very true. My last trip resulted in 13 books entering my house.
The Known World by Edward P. Jones
I am currently reading The Known World by Edward P. Jones. I’m not far enough into it to talk about the story or over-arching themes, yet. But I am loving the style. Each sentence feels like a story on its own: it hints at events yet to come and reveals details of the past that color the present and will direct the future. Yet the sentences also feel like a conversation you might have sitting on the porch in the evening in the company of an older friend who knows all the histories of everyone in your little town, knows the gossip, meanders through the stories, but never once judges, just tells the tales.
That being said, it does make for tough reading sometimes and I find myself dodging back and forth through the pages to make sure I know the stories of the character who is currently the focus of the writing.
I found this brief interview with Jones at NPR which I enjoyed. I think I would like the opportunity to have a glass of iced tea with Jones and listen to the stories in his head: of his characters and of his life. He seems much like the narrator of his novel, with all the stories, but also, no judgements.
The Muppets pay tribute to their creator, Jim Henson, who passed away 22 years ago this week.
"We were just starting to get to know him."
Jim Henson (September 24, 1936 – May 16, 1990). Henson may be gone, but his magic is not.
Lovely image of Henson with Ernie from Sesame Street fame.