Dental Practitioners In James Freys A Million Little Pieces

Monday, March 7, 2022 2:34:40 PM

Dental Practitioners In James Freys A Million Little Pieces



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A Million Little Pieces (2019) - Movie Trailer

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It could have a multitude of meanings, and I prefer the bright, positive ones. Outside, chips were strewn all over the place, bottles crowded on a table, glasses tipped on their sides like fishes out of water, gasping for air. This must be the aftermath of a storm we were not prepared of. And for a rest house close to the beach, we ironically ran out of water. September 16, pm We remember a lot. And like masters of theater breaking the fourth wall, we laughed at the disasters both natural and unnatural.

We always tend to believe or show no storm could weather our spirits, but deep inside I think otherwise. I thought it was the best moment to think otherwise. September 16, pm We finally reached the city. I have always been good at jumping to conclusions: Manila was not spared with a minute of dryness the other day. I was right. Some parts of Makati were waist-deep in flood water, and possibly neck-high in frustration. We changed routes to avoid sinking deeper into unnecessary anxieties. You just smiled like you always do. It had always been your default weapon of choice. Somewhere in the last remaining spots of green in the city, a turtle slipped back in its shell, the hard rain pounding on its back.

September 17, pm We were both good at hesitation. We never really say what we truly want to say. And this is one way of learning poetry: Listen. But in my head I thought I am more than that. I am blessed. But I remain unsure if they do, too. We have fears and questions becoming stranger by the minute. Thursday, September 13, original doubt. But during days when the sun Prides its teeth too much, I envy The natural order of chance.

Not like grocery lists, not like Chips on the finest China. But something in the league Of nautilus shells or the promise Of zygotes. Especially, I envy The perfect mirage of you In a picture frame. All smiles, All in rich disaccord to the times: In a faraway country, maybe famine. Maybe the crumbling of a wall. I am a practitioner Of questions eluded by answers. True, it remains a wonder to me How all of this starts with these: Your message on my phone, your voice In my ear, the textures and shapes Of things I come to yearn clasped In my hands. But you see, doubt Is delirium undistilled, adoration At its peak. Tuesday, September 11, stranger in the rain.

Yesterday evening, on my way home along the lengthy stretch of Frontera Drive in Pasig City, I chanced upon a man in his late 20s. His Gap sweater, cargo shorts, sneakers, everything of him were all drenched under the heavy downpour. He asked for a favor; he found out he had lost his iPhone and wallet upon stepping off a jeepney. He needed money. He repeated his name a second or third time as if I did not hear him.

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Get all three. Terms apply Opens in a new window. There's the wino who wants to do just one good deed to redeem his life. There's the young couple that falls afoul of a biker gang. There is enough material here for four or five potboilers, but Frey, spellbound by the idea of an epic mosaic, can't stop himself. Readers may decide otherwise. The sad thing is, "Bright Shiny Morning" could have been better. When he has a subject that engages him, Frey can write. A chapter about the Los Angeles freeways gives each of them a distinct personality, a mythology, a fabled history.

Frey seems genuinely engaged with his material and, as a result, his prose comes to life in a way that it rarely does elsewhere in this literary pile-up. He might not get a majestic saga out of traffic patterns, but it could have been a lot more fun to read a modest book on something that truly obsessed him. Instead, we got a book stuffed with depthless characters, plots we already knew by heart and a writer in way over his head. Frey opens his novel with a disclaimer: "Nothing in this book should be considered accurate or reliable. But it doesn't get him off the hook. Novels aren't supposed to be factually verifiable, but they should ring true. This one doesn't.

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