A few book suggestions

The thought of seeing one of my beloved idols, the Prince of Puke, John Waters, standing on a highway ramp asking for a lift fills my chest with fluttery excitement and a touch of jealousy for those who actually did encounter him during his May 2012 hitchhiking journey. The trip was the real deal, with Waters hitching rides all the way from his doorstep in Baltimore to the doorstep of his San Francisco dwelling, but he doesn't share those details until he first indulges readers with fictional best and worst case scenarios, which definitely hold the majority of the entertainment value, considering that the actual trip was relatively normal, swift, and full of lucky breaks. He scored rides with both average folks who were, at best, vaguely aware of his status and people who already held a reverence for his work, including the band Here We Go Magic. One of his most oddball drivers was a 20-year-old tea partier who boldly defied his mother's worry about her son driving a degenerate artist across the country when he provided Waters with two different cross-country lifts on the fly, thereby gaining Waters' eternal trust and real-life friendship.

The scenarios he conjures in the fictional "best that could happen" section puts some of his greatest qualities on grand display: a bold and unabashed appreciation for the underdogs, outsiders, and misfits, and an ability to find artful beauty and empathy with the repulsive and tasteless corners of humanity. Waters has made a career out of his non-conforming and poetic approach to shock and vulgarity, and a hitchhiking trip is probably one of the greatest canvasses he could let his imagination run away with. A bittersweet chapter where Edith Massey appears will especially delight longtime fans.

When John Waters tells you something is fucked up, it's probably actually really fucked up. That being said, the "worst that could happen" section is as wonderfully vile, funny, and shocking as one of his films. It's laugh-out-loud material, unsettling stuff that can dredge up your most deeply-rooted idiosyncrasies and phobias.

One of the greatest things about Waters, which stands out distinctly in all of his written work, is the way he dignifies the most reviled people and situations and gives them life, validation, personality, and humanity, while never compromising his own personal sense of right and wrong. While he proudly wears his cultish crown of decadence, he maintains a strong moral compass rooted firmly in humanist values and artistic freedom, rather than religious or societal norms, a rare trait that becomes even more pronounced in other books of his like Role Models.

I couldn't promise any of his work is for everyone, but if you're already one of his disciples, Carsick will delight, entertain, and re-affirm your love for John Waters.

Yoko Ono follows up her 1964 book Grapefruit with Acorn. Where the former was seen as a conceptual art piece, Acorn is more of an instruction manual for exercises that help generate mindfulness, open-ended thought experiments, and better awareness of the world around us. It's small and portable, and great for taking to a park bench or for reading on public transit. Summed up, it's basically a book of avant garde zen wisdom that requires suspension of disbelief and facilitates open-minded imagination. Read it and do the exercises in bed just before going to sleep or over coffee in the morning.

Where do modern critics and reviewers begin with Tom Robbins? It feels stale and late to the party to try to explain or critique a Tom Robbins novel, because he came into the scene decades ago in a fireball of chaotic wordplay lacing together eclectic characters and stories. To people outside the mainstream of literature, he's the ringleader of Wacky and the maniac priest of wit and esoteric tropes. Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas was published in 1994, making its mark fairly late in the game. It's not on the reading list of most people who lightly dabble in Robbins' work (dabblers usually gravitate toward hits like Still Life with Woodpecker or Jitterbug Perfume), but is arguably one of his best novels. Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas is written in second person, a device that takes some getting used to but has a strong effect once you become desensitized. One of the main characters was inspired by Terrence McKenna, which can definitely still work for people unfamiliar with McKenna but may rob them of a multi-faceted appreciation of some of the wittier tropes. Psilocybin, the Sirius Mystery, and the Dogon tribe are the main focus of the brilliantly crafted storyline. Whether the result of maturity or experience, over time, Robbins has whittled away some of what might be gently described as gratuitous efforts to be zany in his older novels, providing fresh and sharp storytelling laced with ecstatic wordplay and engaging philosophical asides that delivers the same euphoria at the turn of the last page as his more famous novels have for generations.

David Lynch is a modern-day bodhisattva. Written with the same innocent simplicity that he presents himself with in general, this book is a great tool for artists, as well as anyone who finds inspiration from Lynch's art. It's a fast read, and has the potential to inspire deep inner peace. I still don't know what Transcendental Meditation really is like, but I take his word for it that it's a powerful tool for creativity and self-realization.

Helen Macdonald wrote this memoir about a goshawk she reared in the wake of abruptly losing her father. With a primal torrent of pain afflicting her, this wild and fierce creature mirrored the turmoil in a sublimely healing way. Her writing is luminescent and elegant, laced with vibrant imagery, historic contents, and tons of interesting information about raptors. As a lifelong student of falconry, with some of her influences dating as far back as the 15th century, she parallels her experiences with a tortured falconer from a bygone century to create a darkly compelling portrait of the inner human storm that falconry can both mimic and abate. Macdonald herself is as anachronistic and timeless as her magnificent bird.

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