Book Club Sunday

What a great Sunday. This book club thing may be the best thing to have happened to my weekends since the Matador. I was supposed to read my assignment Saturday, but I went to Red Flag with Hannah, my downstairs neighbor. Then I went to Branx to watch Jason spin and tell Michael happy birthday. Ryan, Jen and Al were all there. Mary showed up later. I got pretty drunk and ended up sleeping late. The house was dead silent with club members reading, cramming before the meeting at 2. It was grey and lightly raining outside.

Two rolled around, and as I was making a quick couple of over easy eggs, I noticed we had no ingredients for Bloody Marys, and not much vodka. People started trickling in, and we tried to come up with a remedy. For a second, we were like a small tribe of junkies, arguing over the last hit and whose TV we would hock for cash. We decided to drink what was there and cope with the consequences.

I circled the couches and chairs, and the attending group turned out to be the best meeting yet. They really are getting better and better. What a great feeling to journey through a book along with a group of other folks. We had been shaping and shifting our feelings about the James Joyce book as it went along. And with The Dead, all of our eyes seemed to light up and everybody was eager to discuss the final chapter, but also our evolving theories and interpretations. I got chills a couple of times. It’s a good feeling when an idea comes to fruition and succeeds. That moment when you can exhale and realize that you haven’t created a disaster. And it turned out we had plenty of vodka.

Discussion wound down, and Michael recommended a pizza place down the road. A few of us ventured out in the misty evening to pick up food and talk about comic books. We sat around the house and caught up. Made small talk, relived the mystery of the bed. Told a couple of fake racist jokes. Listened to music and talked of upcoming shows. Played with the cats.

People trickled out and Michael, Kaila and I went to Red Flag for a beer. When Kaila and I returned, Ginger had come home from Mount Hood, and was about to boil water for tea with two friends. The five of us sat around the kitchen table and sipped nighttime tea.

The guests left and Kaila and I watched “Unbreakable,” for my money the best Shyamalan movie. And that was an amazing Sunday. Damn near perfect.

The next assignment:

The Road, by Cormac McCarthy
First 100 pages

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