Monthly Archives: May 2009

check out my new blog: Yoga Rants & Raves

yoga blog logoLike yoga and like my writing? Hate yoga and like my writing? Either way, check out the new blog I’m writing for Yoga Sanctuary.

Here’s how the yoga studio describes my new masterpiece in motion:

Our Yoga Rants and Raves blog pushes the envelope even more. We like to think of it as a nice mix of the irreverent and relevant. The topics and content will be far-reaching: offbeat videos, yoga news, things we love and things we don’t, the yoga lifestyle and beyond. If our blog proves to be provocative, entertaining or sometimes controversial, we couldn’t be happier. So if you are looking for a conventional commentary on how to start a yoga practice, this is probably not the right blog for you.

Ikea’s Toilet Roll/ Magazine Holder

Racken $19.99

Racken $19.99

Genius!

Sheer Genius.

$19.99 to make your dreams come true!

Stores up to 8 rolls of toilet paper AND reading material. Though I can’t tell where the magazines go from the picture. With all those toilet paper rolls, maybe they only left enough room to store a Kindle.

Buy yours here!

NOTE: I think I may have jumped the gun on this. Upon further investigation, it seems that this contraption doesn’t hold magazines at all. Somebody should invent something that does. Please, people, make the world a better place by inventing a dual holder for the universe’s two most valuable objexts!

The Real vs. Imaginary “Beautiful Children”

books_021108_beautifulI just raced to the end of author Charles Bock’s “wide-ranging portrait of an almost mythically depraved Las Vegas” (Publisher’s Weekly). It’s not often that I have the pleasure of living in the same universe as a book. This convergence between fiction and non creates the odd sensation of putting a book down only to continue “reading.”

I was going to complain that Bock created a darker Vegas than the one I live in, until I happened to drop by a CVS on Flamingo Road, about an hour east of the Strip. When I stopped in, I couldn’t tell if I had walked into the store or if I had walked into Bock’s head. Just like the many tattered runaways that populate his book, a sad homeless girl loitered at the entrance. She unfurled a cardboard and marker SOS just for me as I passed. Spurred by Bock’s insiduous moralism, I tried to smile at the girl, recognize her humanity, just as he said she would have wanted. But she looked away. And when I exited the store, she was gone. It was an ending as unsatisfying as the book’s.