A Million Little Pieces … When someone is broken beyond repair, it's one of the first things that surfaces into my consciousness. Pulverizing one's seA Million Little Pieces … When someone is broken beyond repair, it's one of the first things that surfaces into my consciousness. Pulverizing one's self into molecular form. This book gives me a mental image of what I stated. A Million Little Pieces … Bit by bit to the point that you are not longer existing. Perhaps that's the goal. Self-destruction. To be non-existent. To die. To be no more. Good-bye.
Nowadays, that being broken is being turned to literature. As to what a guy said to the another broken guy, “The best way to get over a woman is to turn her into literature.” You can even make it as something you call sell. As for James's case, it's more of catharsis. I know a bit of Psychology. It's called the Cathartic Method or the talking cure. It's developed by Joseph Breuer. It was even used by Sigmund Freud. And now, a lot of psychotherapists and counselors are using that technique. It's just simple. Let the patient pour it out. Everything. The worst of their sufferings. Their extremely fucked-up moments in life. Your deepest guilt and regrets. Your anxiety. Talk about it. Spit it out. Sometimes you want do die just to forget. These are the moments you don't usually talk about. These stories rot you from the inside. A poison in which you created for yourself. It's killing yourself … softly …
James did that thing. Intoxicating himself makes it a lot more easier for him to cope with his life. A life destroyed by crack, coke, acid, alcohol, pot and more. Addiction. For him, life is terribly fucked up and addiction is the only way to deal with. He's an alcoholic. A drug addict. A criminal. Each day was mixture of being drunk and being dope. Puking and pissing and shitting blood. Committing crimes. That's his everyday life. Everyday destruction. It's what waking up another day meant to him. To get fucked up. Annihilating himself with every choice he makes.
He finally had the accident that made him land on that treatment center. His very kind parents decided to put him there. His parents love him so much. An alcoholic. A drug addict. A criminal. Their son. In the center, James was told that if he continues the shit that he's been doing, he's gonna die. Gonna be no more. He made his choice. The withdrawal effects are very disturbingly graphic. It's a day to forever fight against addiction. It's a fight that lasts forever.
In the treatment center, it's where a story of friendship and love grows. He meets many fucked up people. It's a very unfolding journey inside the center. To live or to die. It has always be a choice ever since. Addiction was a choice. To get fucked up is a choice. To heal oneself is a choice, To become a better person is a choice. The power choices can be destructive and curative.
Love heals what The World, and Time can't.
This book just grabbed my heart.
Frey's writing style in A Million Little Pieces really fucked away all the scandals this book has gone through. I even wished I made this review before I knew about issue. The way he crafts the sentences the repetition of words the description the way he plays with he prose fuck all the criticism it doesn't matter. It doesn't really matter. Whatever they say. Doesn't really matter. A stream of consciousness writing style that makes other books look like pussies. He lied. He motherfucking lied about the things in this book. He said that it was the truth and that is all that matters. What a hypocrite. Again. It doesn't matter. He's human just like us. Human beings are basically good. What he had written in this book changed my life. That's the truth. And it's all that matters for me. A Million Little Pieces To be broken beyond repair . . . It creates art like no other . . . It's more than expressing oneself.. It's about touching lives. Thank you, James.
Diary by Chuck Palahniuk. This. Fucking. Book. Is. Shit. I am having a hard time finding the fitting words to say about this. To write a something likDiary by Chuck Palahniuk. This. Fucking. Book. Is. Shit. I am having a hard time finding the fitting words to say about this. To write a something like "This is Fucking Great!" or "This book is GOOD!" or even "This book is perfect!" to do so is going to be a crime. Even giving five stars wouldn't be enough. I would even say that this is even better than Fight Club.
A dark gripping tale of an artist doomed because of her oozing lava of talents. Misty Kleinman Wilmot, you are cursed with that gift that you have for—eternity. As a girl, being raised by a hippie mother, Misty never experienced what world is like outside the trailer park in Tecumseh Lake. That dream of being an artist is what Misty was living for. She weny to art school. In there, she met Peter Wilmot. The biggest mistake of all the mistakes she ever made in her life. Poor Misty. Gifted. Cursed. Inspiring.
Peter Wilmot was on a mission to find that woman cursed with talent that will provide salvation to Waytansea Island. Yes, he was successful. The name "Misty Kleinman" was hyphenated with Wilmot. He soon tried to get Misty to Waytansea Island—the island populated with lunatics. The island trapped with traditions. In order to get Misty to the Island, he impregnated her. Tabbi Wilmot was the result, and Misty staying in the island. I meant trapped. Better word—wrapped.
Being promised that her dreams of being an artist would be made into reality, she lived in that island as a waitress at a hotel the Wilmots owned. A mother. A queen of fucking slaves. For some reason, Peter attempted to kill himself. He failed. Peter had become a living dead in the hospital. A vegetable waiting to rot—was slow rotting. Then, together with Grace Wilmot, Misty raised Tabii.
Suffering. Suffering. Suffering. A daily overdose of it brings her talent back from the dead. The sleeping volcano exploded. She started to paint like a schizophrenic overdosed with talents. With her eyes closed and Tabbi as her inspiration, she painted masterpieces of art that were known to be impossible. Misty had lost everything. Now, Tabbi and that dream of being an artist were the only things left for her—what was left for her to do. And oblivious to almost everything, what awaited Misty was a conspiracy that happens every four generations that would kill hundreds of people. An event that would make the island filthy rich for generations at a price of hundreds of lives. Misty Kleinman Wilmot. A queen of fucking slaves. A hostage who was destined to save the island from running out of money for the next four generations. A tool to use. The island that trapped itself with its own cycle. Once you are born, you're already doomed to fulfill your fate. You're doomed at being you. How can not being you and being you be curse at the same time? ... Life perhaps is... A cursed gift.
A fucked-up life is the main reason why we great art ever existed. How stupid would be a painting of two unicorns kissing each other compared to a painting of a sky burning like hell with angels crying and screaming from wounds inflicted by demons, winged beings falling down from the great red sky. How stupid would that be if you call Justin Beiber's songs “Art.” Ok. Ok. I'll stop making fun of her.
Suffering ... is the key in creating exceptional art. What hurts us the most awakes the artist inside of us. Brings out the genius out of our brains, out of our souls. Scars and wounds are the best source inspiration. You art shows your wounds your scars your life—it shows everything about you. Art and Suffering—they're almost synonymous.
Do you know that the best artists are not the finest and perfect human beings?
Chuck Palahniuk's Angsty Nihilistic Existential Voice was never this loud. Cynical and in some sense, optimistic. The plot build-up flares with excitement and disgust. Not to mention that this book has the best plot twists ever. Whoever the narrator was (probably it's Misty), it still continues to be a puzzle. Which is one the things I liked best about this novel. One of the best reads I ever had. To not read this would be a crime against yourself. You don't know what you're missing. And just for the record, you've already missed enough things in your life. ...more