"... patron saint of those men who hear the riverwhistles sing the mysteries and who return to sleep in wine by the south wheel of the city."

(Part of) the last line of Great Jones Street, DeLillo's third, which I just finished. Another mess. But a focused mess concerned only with East Village life in the 70s. It's entertaining to see a take on the city that includes warehouses, vomit, and utter destitution where condos now dominate. An almost classic New York novel? Sure. Readable outside that uber-specific milieu? Not a chance.

"in the end they had to carry me to the infirmary and feed me through plastic tubes."

Another one bites the dust. I'm finished with End Zone, DeLillo's second, the football soap opera. In the end it has less to do with plastic tubes than man's violent nature, with football as the metaphor (subtle, huh?). It's the low point so far, which is saying something considering Americana's radical spin over the edge. Onto Great Jones Street, about an East Village rocker. The namesake is just a couple blocks away, so I'm quite eager.

"monsoon sweep, string-in left, ready right Cradle-out, drill-9 shiver, ends chuff, broadside option, flow-and-go."

At least the Don DeLillo's football plays have words like "monsoon" in them.

I'm in the throws of party preparation at the moment ... I'm making that dip we always ate at special occasions at my house ... I've already had to run to the store for more mayonnaise. Ha. Anyway, if you're not watching the Oscars tonight you're being quite silly. I'm continuing the family tradition of having a party. I'm quite excited, of course.

"this is charles of the ritz. this month's lipstick is salmon puree."

Don't mistake the quote above with the previous few entries. One of these things is not like the other. The last few titles were from camp classic Valley of the Dolls, which I saw for the first time just a few weeks ago.

This title, though, comes from Americana, Don DeLillo's first novel, which I just finished. I'm reading all of DeLillo's books, in order. One down, thirteen to go.

Americana is pretty uneven ... it follows a snarky television executive who leaves New York on a cross-country quest to document real, American lives ... you know, to find our what America is all about. DeLillo nails New York corporate culture, and this satirical first part of the novel works quite well. And there are priceless lines and dialogue. But it descends into near incoherent philosophical babble. Oh well. The first of many.