So much me in one little morning

Dale of the Passion came into this blog back in the winter by saying something nice about it, and then became a fixture in the links that I visit obsessively by making me laugh whenever he cares to and using punctuation in the economical yet expressive way I love. Yesterday he was kind enough to pay me attention on a Thursday with a series of searching questions, so now he's become a fixture in my heart.

Here's the result of the sit-down:

1. Your blog comes in a wide variety of flavours Mistress La Spliffe. Book and movie reviews, the general stuff of life, your dreams and so on. If all your favourite magazines started asking for writing contributions, where would we be reading you next?

The only magazine in my heart is the Economist. I love it to the bones even when it makes me angry with its heartless right-wingery. It has just the right amount of commas and adjectives, I don't feel targeted by its advertisements since they're for the rich, and its obituaries are astounding. On Thursday afternoons I'll check Economist.com again and again to see if they've posted the print version yet so I can skip straight to the obituary.

And that's something else I like about it: it's available in full online, and it has good web-only features. It hasn't run scared from the Internet like most of the print industry has.

2. You recently mentioned that you feel psychoanalysis (and health care) should be free and available to everyone as a basic human right. I agree but how much do you feel that having your blog helps negate the need for formalized therapy?

15%, because 85% of a blog, or at least this blog (despite the spelling mistakes and superfluous words), is much more edited than what a good analyst can drag out of people. And all that editing probably just backs up lots of one's neuroses, in the end.

Your blog is a little different, though, as it's the only one I've read that turns memories from your life and childhood into engaging stories that obviously go somewhere in your own head, so I'd imagine you're working something important out for yourself while you're making us laugh.

3. A while back, you gave me a recommendation on a book I really enjoyed: 'The Reluctant Fundamentalist'. What should I read next?

For you in particular I'd recommend When We Were Orphans, by Kazuo Ishiguro. I love everything I've read of his, and I'd recommend his whole body of work with few reservations (Never Let Me Go is too sad for some moods, for example, and The Unconsoled is probably only appropriate for people who like both David Lynch films and small print).

But I think you'd get a particular kick out of When We Were Orphans. As you know, Paul Auster has not floated my boat and I was particularly annoyed by City of Glass. But When We Were Orphans shares some themes with City of Glass and pulls off some of the stunts I think Auster was trying. There's a similar feeling, though When We Were Orphans reads like a lot more work and thought went into it.

For you, I'd also recommend a novella/short story called (I think) Maitre Muissard's Bequest by Patrick Süskind, the guy who wrote Perfume. I found MMB in a slim Penguin pocket book a couple of years ago but now I think you can only find it as part of the compilation Three Stories and a Reflection, if you can find it at all. Although it's different from the Reluctant Fundamentalist in every apparent way, it has a similar driving tension sort of spinning you down towards the ending - although MMB is way scarier. It's a real headfuck.

4. You're making your home far far away from Toronto now and I feel cheated only have stumbled across your blog just as you were leaving town. Was it something I said? Where have you enjoyed living most?

You made it too easy for me to leave by being available in blog form, which I can get here. If you were only available by mail order, for example, I might have stayed in Toronto to cut down on the postage bills.

I've found something to love about all the places I've lived in, so the one I'm in at the time is usually my favourite (and my least favourite, since I find lots of stuff to hate, too). The most paradisaical place, though, was a city called Pinerolo nestled in the foothills of the Alps in northern Italy. It was beautiful enough, but also ugly enough to be untouched by tourists. Wonderful food, nice people, low rent but well enough connected to major cities - just lovely.

Unfortunately I was young and foolish during my time there, and spent a mere half-year shitting where I lived with the dedication of an undiapered copraphiliac before I had to sneak out of town with all my possessions at first light on a February morning.

5. Do you have an expression that you find yourself overusing? I especially want to hear it if it's a swear word.

People say I use the word 'cunt' too much. That probably won't stop, because I enjoy the way it makes people flinch, like a tampon commercial. Also, last night the F-word and I were chatting about England, and he called the Duke and Duchess of Kent the Duke and Duchess of Cunt, and I called the Archbishop of Canterbury the Archbishop of Cunterbury, and oh, how we laughed.

I also say 'take it easy, portugeezy' too much.

Being interviewed is so much fun that now I'm determined to spread the joy. Anyone else who wants a series of questions has only to ask.