I think I’m in love.
Yesterday, I made my usual visits to the gossip blogs and came across this.
“What a douchebag.”
It feels good to say, “douchebag.” It’s got two different plosive sounds, the “D” and “B”, and nicely wedged between is a wonderful “sh” sound (technically known as a voiceless palato-alveolar sibilant, at the risk of coming off douchey) that, when preceded with “oooooh”, give your lips the sensation of sliding on a hardwood floor in a pair of woolen socks.
It was someone quoting John Mayer, on his dissection of that ever-useful, ever-in-vogue term after he learned by googling himself that he is considered a douchebag by many. I didn’t know anything about John Mayer, other than he dated Jessica Simpson for a while and he’s a weird-looking musician of some sort–the tragedy of our times is that all too easy a man becomes better known for whom he bangs than what he does–but after I read a hundred words of his writing my interest spiked higher than the price of milk.
I read the paragraph again, aloud, lolling like a pig in mud in the texture and weight and sound of his words, and shivered as I recited “the sensation of sliding on a hardwood floor in a pair of woolen socks.” And then I immediately went to read as much of his blog as I had time for.
I still haven’t tried his music, but what a gorgeous writing voice the man has.
If you are bored, or suffer from blog-itis as I do, here are links to a bunch of blog entries I have up at various places around romancelandia.
Please don’t read this if your name is Anne Stuart. (Ha, like Anne Stuart cares. But I’m still scared of her.)
I hate heart-warming unless it has Hayden Christensen in the shower.
In other news–though I could be eating those words in two weeks–I think DELICIOUS will turn out to be a superior book to PRIVATE ARRANGEMENTS. Now everybody pray hard that I’m right.
A safe and fun New Year’s Eve to everyone. And a happy and healthy 2008 to all. Should be an interest year for me.