September 30, 2009

Is the sex better in my mind?

I can't exactly put my finger on why I want to participate in coital activities with Martha Stewart. Maybe it's better not to know the reasons for these things. Better left in our secret ethers...
The reason I bring up my nail-Stewart-penchant is because the sex I've already had with Martha in my mind is probably much better than the sex I would have if, say, I met her at a cocktail party, seduced her, and went back to her wood shop (pun intended) for some salacious bonding time.
Perhaps, the same can be said for reviews. Recently, the Collagist posted a glowing, wonderful review of Some Things. The review, in fact, might be better than the book itself. And I have to wonder: is the review building up the novel, much like I've built up Ms. Stewart in my sordid brain, so it/she can't possibly live up to the expectation?
An excerpt: "Joshua Mohr’s debut novel, Some Things That Meant the World to Me, is where Michael Gondry would go if he went down a few too many miles of bad desert road. Replace the director’s Science of Sleep-style clouds-of-cotton whimsy with harsh whiskey and hot sand and you get a sense for the dark world Mohr constructs. Dark, yet not pitch black: he pits his vision of ugly realities against one of basic human kindness. It is this tension that gives his engaging novel its emotional power."