The Worst Book Review Ever
By Kelly Rae Roberts (Author)
Review by Robert BrockwayThe Publisher's description: "In Taking Flight, you'll find overflowing inspiration--complete with a kindred spirit in author and mixed-media artist Kelly Rae Roberts. Join her on a fearless journey into the heart of creativity as you test your wings and learn to find the sacred in the ordinary, honor your memories, speak your truth and wrap yourself in the arms of community." Oh... well, shit. I picked this book because I thought it was a how-to guide on building and maintaining your own wings, like Icarus. But I guess it's more of a spiritual guide. That's probably for the best come to think of it. I could use some spiritual help, after all, seeing as how I was planning on using my DIY wings to rob the elderly and spy on hot young college coeds (which I would then also rob). So let us begin...
Chapter 1: Unearthing Buried Dreams
Some dreams stay buried for a reason...By "unearthing my buried dreams," I assume the author is encouraging me to listen to my inner voice in order to better discover my hidden wants and desires. I'm not going to read any further in order to verify this, so I think it's best to just listen to my "inner voice" immediately, and do whatever it commands. So here goes: "You can do this! You can do anything! Let's get going, man! The world is your oyster! You could paint a picture, or plant a garden. You could finally learn to skateboard. You could have a few drinks to help silence the incessant noise from the screaming masses that prattle ceaselessly to one another yet never seem to say a word. You could become something! You could become something terrible. You could become something terrible and mighty and you could do much in this world... to this world."
"Birthed of fire I am come, and you may call me...death."So, OK! That got creepy fast. But I'm taking this seriously, so I guess I'm going to listen to its advice. Very well, book. But remember, this is on your head. *** I have just killed a man with a lawnmower. I still feel this may have been ill-advised, but I am, after all, just listening to the book. On the down side, I'm only on the first chapter and it's advocated murder. But on the upshot, I can already feel the power of Mr. Stevens's life-force coursing through my veins.
Chapter 2: Facing Your Fears
Not pictured: Optional T-Top, chrome trim, luggage rack, spider chamber.I am alone here. I have not seen another human being for a week. I have ceased speaking aloud and wearing the clothes of man. Every morning, as the hazy sketch of the distant horizon gives birth to the flaming sun, I open the trunk of my Datsun, and I climb into the spider bath. My life is fear and insanity. But it is my fear. My insanity. I have learned to own it. On the eve of the seventh day I kill a wolf and leave my 'little fears' to feed. As I drive away, back towards civilization, the Datsun feels too light without the reassuring weight of 10 thousand spiders. It feels as though it may float away.
Chapter 3: Creating Community
Chapter 4: Finding the Sacred in the OrdinaryI have commanded my skank-followers to worship the comedy of Martin Short. This is the most ordinary thing that I can think of, and so it is sacred.
"I guess he's not the worst thing in the world, so he is your god now."
Chapter 5: Honoring MemoriesIt's custom in the hip-hop community to pour out one's alcoholic beverage in honor of their dead, whereas the Vikings would set their deceased afloat on a blazing funeral pyre. These both seem like fitting, touching ways to honor the fallen, so I will do both: I will pour liquor out on my memories, and set them ablaze so that they may become one with the gods. Well, if you want to get technical about it, I guess I'm really just burning my old middle school down to the ground. The cops would probably call it "arson" and say they will "investigate." I call it "honoring" and say that "I think I'm going to go honor the shit out of the Dairy Queen right now." Because they make delicious sundaes, and it is only a fitting tribute that I top them with fire and retribution.
The final voyage of the summer of 1998, when I worked at a Pizza Hut and once made out with a girl underneath the bridge in Jackson's Park. Rest in peace.
Chapter 6: Speaking Our Truth
Chapter 7: Embracing our JourneyI am not sure what to make of this one. My inner voice screams to me that I should hunt down Steve Perry and choke him out, but I think that is being too literal.
"And I dub this hellish event... Wednesday."*** I write my final summation from my cell as I await trial. I am not sure for what, exactly, I am being tried, and neither is anybody else. They say there's "just too much here to list properly," and so I must wait. I believe I have completed the journey the book has dictated, and my inner voice is silent now that I take these blue things twice a day with meals, so I figure I actually have time to read the words within my sacred book. I am worthy now. I have done, and been done to--like three times just last night, even if one of them was technically just a fear-induced hallucination of a naked she-spider--and I am ready to Take Flight. *** Turns out this is an arts and crafts book? WTF?!
Final Score: 7/10 In Summation: There are some very neat paintings in here, just don't skim through it.
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