something... else...

I'm in a wanting sort of mood these days.

I'm not sure how to best explain that, actually.

But let's take the smallest possible example: I want new jeans. I need new jeans. I cannot find a pair of new jeans to fit me if my bloody life depended on it. Everything is too loose in the waist, too tight in the thighs, or simply impossible to drag past my knees. I think I cranked my back trying on pairs of pants today, actually.

And so now I'm woefully depressed and feel like failure to purchase new jeans is the rough equivalent to failure in life in general.

Not that I'm being remotely over dramatic.

So, to books.

Where, unusually, I am also left wanting.

Books and I just aren't really getting along. It's like everything I read is falling flat, or is sort of out of tune. It's not unlike how I can't seem to enjoy any romantic comedies released in theatres in the last three months -- on paper, every single movie appears to be exactly what I would like, and yet they suck. I'm looking at you, Leap Year.

Maybe it's a reflection, too, of what I've been trying to put to the page lately. It's like I can't stand the distance between writer and subject. Now I know I'm not making sense (but kudos to you for getting this far, friend). I just want... I want to be whisked along on a fantastic journey by a really great writer. I want poetry and awesomeness. I want a story I can believe in. I want... something other than what I've been reading or writing or thinking lately.

Bleh. Maybe I just need more sunshine.

I will tell you what has been a delightful break from my "I want, I want, I want"-ness lately, though. Vancouver, by David Cruise and Alison Griffiths. As I think I mentioned before, it's so formulaic I can't in good conscience recommend it.

Except, of course, that it's a really fun read. There's adventure. And deceit. And mystery. Characters you can't quite care about, but which have enough of a connection to the earth that you want them to make their way forward.

Vancouver is less a tale of a city, and more a story of an assumed mindset. If you assume those who find their way to the Lower Mainland seek new lives, fresh starts and something more for themselves, then you can go for the ride, from the story's start thousands of years ago with one man crossing the Bering Strait, to its end in modern-day Stanley Park and East Hastings. If you need a break from real life, it's not a bad ride at all.

on being shallow and having role models

I've been working on some academic stuff, but it hasn't stopped me from reading a super shallow book just for fun.

And that shallow book is Vancouver, a novel by David Cruise and Alison Griffiths.

This one's been on my bookshelf for years -- probably since its 2003 publication. (Which, incidentally, also means I've dragged it across the country at least once. Interesting.) At 914 pages, though, I just didn't get around to reading it.

Now, I can't really put it down. As this reviewer argues well, the book is super formulaic. Kinda sexy. Kinda silly. Not a bad read if you're in the mood for something you don't really have to invest much thought in.

Kinda like eating Lucky Charms for dinner.

Not that I've done that more than once in the last seven days.

Speaking of food, the most recent issue of Vogue has a fantastic piece by Sophie Dahl called "Secrets of the Flesh." Dahl, who has a new cookbook out, has an amazing take on food and body image.

Frankly, her article is like having a really awesome talk with your super self-confident friend who actually likes eating and doesn't really care what size she is.

It's a little ridiculous how refreshing that is and how much I actually want to hug a former model.

Last offering of the evening: A couple weeks ago, Jian Gomeshi talked to Elizabeth Gilbert on Q. Even if you don't buy into the whole Eat, Pray, Love/Committed thing (I don't either), it's totally worth listening to Gomeshi's take on romance....

By the way, did everyone already know Eat, Pray, Love was set to be a movie with Julia Roberts?

I have concerns. Mostly because of Julie&Julia, which was exactly half a good movie. As in, loved Meryl Streep and Julia Child. Hated Julie Powell. I am not sure I have much patience with movies about women who write all about themselves all the time. (Says a woman who writes a lot about herself.)

On the other hand, Eat, Pray, Love is directed by the dude who brought us Glee. So he's already earned a place in my heart.

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