Have you ever read Haruki Murakami? I became a fan of his while I was living in Tokyo – books like his A Wild Sheep Chase and Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World would simultaneously thrill and scare me. Imagine, reading all about subversive, quirky and mysterious plots involving a subterrainian Tokyo world… while you are riding on the subway in Tokyo. It was kind of weird and I kind of really liked it.
Early Tom Robbins reminds me of Murakami. Still Life with Woodpecker? To me, that’s pure Murakami, with a funny American twist. They have the same sort of surreal, twisted logic that makes you kind of look at everything and…wonder.
Well, and yes – I think I am going somewhere with this! – this baby-business of milk/pumping/nursing and whatnot puts me in this kind of Murakami space. Like I could be in my twenties, sitting and drunkenly talking about the “meaning of life” – only I’m not drunk, I’m not in a bar, I’m not in my twenties, and I’m not with anyone else (besides the baby, anyway). I’m just spending a whole lot of time alone and looking at a wall. I get into that world where Murakami and Robbins make a whole lot of sense.
Moving on, the object of my madness:
Oh yeah, he’s intensely cute. I don’t need to say anything so obvious as “it’s his saving grace” or “that’s just a baby’s survival tactic”
“Evolutionary: survival of the fittest, and the it’s the cute that win.” Because everyone knows that stuff, right?
This little guy though. Yeah. He’s cute. A soul that was born old.
He makes the world seem mad, crazy – and magical. All in one fell Murakami/Robbinsesque swoop
Maybe I’ll be back tomorrow with something else.
Or maybe I’m going to be off chasing sheep in Hokkaido.
So… if you don’t hear from me, you’ll know where to find me.
Message from Blurb, my favorite book-making company: