"It's 6 a.m., Do You Know Where You Are?"

I forgot to post, although Frank Sinatra woke me up at 3am and told me I was a loser, by 5am I was listening to a reading of It's 6 a.m., Do You Know Where You Are? by Jay Mcinerney. Nothing makes you feel like less of a loser than being in your warm bed and reasonably healthy (physically and mentally) while listening to that character!

Believe it or not, even though I love Carver, I have never read any JM. Not short stories or Bright Lights, Big City.

I need to go back to the text, but there were a few sentences that I heard in my headachy, sleepless morning haze (best way to hear it?) that were so gorgeous they stopped me in my tracks. Or whatever the loafing in bed equivalent of "tracks" is. There is some line, and I can't even remember what it is, but I promised myself as I was drowsy that I would track it down and remember it forever. I can't wait to go to Myopic Wednesday night to track it down.

I think I will hate reading this book based on that character ... but I loved the writing. Funny, all the criticism of other white man short story writers of an older generation I have a hard time understanding. Who cares if they are entitled. Sexist. Have a narrow East coast view of the world? For me it is enough of another time and place that it is interesting. Time travel. Another world.

But a clubster white boy in 1984? It just seems cheap and lame and dated. Just the description of the silk jacket that he trades for bread at the end of chapter one walloped me with cheesy Don Johnson.

I wonder if I can get enough perspective to enjoy?
I'll try.