I'm really tired of all the people who say that A Million Little Pieces is well-written. James Frey writes like a bombastic twelve year old. I don't know what all this redemptive power bullshit is either. The last thing anyone needed when this book came out was yet another addiction take, especially a witless bombastic one assembled out of discarded cliches. I've never known anyone who really was a badass who felt the need to state this every few paragraphs either. It's often the case that if you lived through it, you don't have the energy to write about it. There are many exceptions, but be suspicious of anyone writing about their personal experiences who claims to have been to hell and back more than a dozen times.
If you could read my memoirs, they would knock your socks off, but as it is the state of my life prevents me from writing them.
If you want to read about another memoir with problems, read about how I went to the bookstore to find a book by my ex-housemate about being obese all her life only she wasn't. You should find it below.
If you want to read my article on twelve-step groups, including what I think of insecure bragging males in them, look under essays for "Twelve Step Groups Need To Get Real."
There's some spelling errors and typos on here. Sorry. Try to read around them. It's not as easy to correct stuff in this system as it could be. I'll get them later. I'm a sleepy girl.
G'Night.
I was struck by the announcement that of the likes of George Bush would be honoring deceased civil rights leader Rosa Parks. It wasn't that long ago that he banned parking for miles from his Texas Ranch to keep live protester Cindy Sheehan away.
Like a lot of you I saw Katie Holmes seemingly go from a flat belly, to a three to month pregnancy to a five month pregnancy within days. What do you think, is this a real pregnancy?
