Thursday, August 26, 2010

truth is like the sun

Well, the impossible has occurred - my grandmother asked for a copy of GoAM. I had some misgivings about actually giving her one, but I relented and left a copy with her last week. Do other writers have to go through this? There's some pretty fucked up stuff in there, and the poor woman's almost 90. Good thing I'm almost 30 or she'd probably have me committed to some delinquent home for Satanic teenagers or something.

Anyway, the radio silence here is due to me taking a short vacation to TN, where my lifelong dream of visiting Graceland was realized. I've seriously wanted to go there since I was 10, and it didn't disappoint. Say what you want about Elvis, but he put together the most ridiculous house in Christendom; shag carpeting everywhere, themed rooms, a racquetball court with a bar and no actual racquetball court, animal print furniture, you name it. All told, it looks like a schizophrenic bordello. But I found myself admiring Elvis' horrible taste, not laughing at it. As tacky as everything was, Graceland still felt like someone's home, like it had been lived in. As I went through the exhibits, which included a showroom of his cars and a display of his many hilarious outfits (and silk pirate shirts fitted at the elbows), it dawned on me that Elvis was insanely wealthy from a very early age and just surrounded himself with things he liked. I can respect that. I'm pretty sure I can even understand it.

I brought a souvenir back, too - a black bowling shirt with blue paneling and "ELVIS" written across the back in glittery capital letters. Awesome.