Kristin got into town yesterday and gave a talk to the film and theater students (and whoever else was interested) at St. Augustine's College (where my mother is a journalism professor) about the practical side of being an actor up in New York. The way my mom tells it, I wish I'd been there to hear her; she was funny and informative, a big hit. I always knew my sister was a superstar, and she's well on her way to proving me right.

We had dinner at my parents' house last night, artichoke dip, moussaka, salad, chocolate pie. There was talk of the wedding Kristin is going to down on the coast today (hopefully missing the newest hurricane), my new job, the old (1941) Life magazine recently sent by my uncle that shows an advertisement for bicycle brakes and uses a photograph of my grandmother and grandfather when they were only seniors in college. We played with and got sniffed by Neli. It was a fun evening.

Kristin wanted to give me my birthday presents early, since she won't be here on my actual birthday, so I opened them up after dinner. One was The Practical Writer, which seems perfect for the journeyman writer, which I consider myself; it's put together by the folks at Poets & Writers Magazine and looks to be a great resource. The other is a gorgeous leather blank journal that makes me want to travel to the coffeehouses of Paris or Prague in order to write in it; she said it's for when I run out of moleskines, but I'm kind of impatient to use it before then. Kristin always does a good job of knowing what I like, and these two gifts make me feel writerly indeed.

Going backward one day, Wednesday morning, I got a call from the CTE, from the lady who interviewed me the day before, saying that my resume was the most impressive that she'd seen out of all the candidates for the job, and that if I was interested she'd like to offer it to me. Woo! So I'm employed again, and this time I'll be doing writerly things for a living, at least until December. The job is a writing/editing assistant with the Center for Transportation and the Environment, and the building is on NCSU's Centennial Campus, which means I could take the bus there after class.

During the afternoon, I did some homework and read a bit in Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (which I have on loan from the public library), and worked on The Two Cranes Press Secret Project Which Will Be Revealed Shortly.

Wednesday evening was the Chuck Palahniuk reading in Durham. He'd also read earlier in Chapel Hill (as covered by Andreas and Luna), but I was just getting to the park-and-ride after class at that point and didn't plan to go then. The Regulator Bookshop was hosting the evening reading, so Janet and I got there early, so early that we walked a bit up and down Ninth Street to kill some time. About a half-hour before the reading was to start, we headed into the bookstore and promptly discovered that the reading was in another location; they figured they wouldn't be able to accomodate the legions of Chuck's fans there at the store. So with twenty minutes to go, we sped off to the Downtown Armory and managed to get there in time. Chuck was signing books ahead of time, so that the queue wouldn't stretch down the block afterward. We got a seat close to the front, and a little after 7 p.m., he took the podium.

fig. 1: Chucky P reads "Guts"

After a brief intro, he told us that one of his mantras when flying used to be that he had three of the funniest masturbation stories locked in his head, and that God couldn't kill him yet by crashing the plane because these stories would be lost forever. And of course these three stories were combined into his infamous short story "Guts." So instead of like the last reading he did down here -- where he didn't actually read at all but instead talked for a while and then answered questions -- this time he read the story.

I say "infamous" because since he started reading the story at public appearances (I think) more than a year ago, at least one person has passed out in the audience at each event, and several people have gotten violently ill. And the record remained unbroken that night; about three-quarters through, a guy with a shaved head who looked like he could have been an extra in the Fight Club movie swooned and fell out of his chair: number 55. When I first started hearing off these faintings, I was skeptical, thinking it a publicity stunt. I'm still not sure, but I gotta say, even though I'd already read the short story and knew what was coming, I did feel a little lightheaded. I am glad I warned Janet about it beforehand.

What kills me is that the story is part of a story-novella cycle that comprises his upcoming book Haunted, and it was the only one out of the others in that book that he felt could be read in public. I'm almost afraid of the other stories now.

After finishing (he asked permission from the guy who'd fainted before continuing), he did Q&A, and passed out plastic severed limbs to folks asking questions, which he maintained were excellent dog toys for playing in the park. Most of the answers I knew already, but I did discover that the London Ballet will be performing a ballet of Fight Club in the near future. Almost all his books are under movie options (no one will touch Lullaby), and several are in pre-production.

Then the signing queue began, forming nearly instantaneously; we stood there for about thirty minutes, and had to listen to the college-age idiot behind us give his nonsensical reasons for voting for Bush to his pal in line. I'm surprised Janet didn't turn around and start yelling in his face; she showed a lot of restraint, as did I. So we got up to the front, and Chuck signed the books I brought.

fig. 2: Chucky P signs Survivor: Test Yourself!!

He was also nice enough to pose for a picture with me.

fig. 3: Say "Zadie Smith"

It was an interesting reading, as expected, and I came out of it with even more respect for Mr. Palahniuk's verbal abilities. His writing reads as if he's telling you the story in a bar, and I think this is one of the secret's to his success. He really knows how to draw out the suspense and not show all his cards at once, and really get the reader to trust him. By the end of "Guts," you're almost wondering if this stuff did happen to him, though you know logically it didn't. Still, his confidence as a storyteller makes you pause for a moment. It's definitely something to aspire to.

Now Reading:
Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke

Stories Out to Publishers:
8

Books Read This Year:
51

Zines/Graphic Novels/Fiction Mags Read This Year:
28