Thursday, March 29, 2007
Three Words I Plan on Using in the Near Future, hopefully in the same sentence
Pule \pyool\, verb:
To whimper and whine.
1. A compound of bromine and another element or a positive organic radical.
2. A dose of potassium bromide taken as a sedative.
3. A dull person with conventional thoughts.
4. A commonplace or conventional saying.
Someone who roams about in search of amusement or social activity.
Now, ask me about the work I'm not doing...
Drug
Just in time. The neurotransmitters could stand to multiply, if you follow.
"How to Write About Family and Friends So They'll Still Speak to You"
Some useful information here, although I'm not sure how broadly this can be applied: "I'm totally egocentric," she admits. "I'm just flattered that you wrote about me." Most people are like Ellen, and want to think they've made a big enough impact on your life to be included in your memoir, even if their portrayal isn't all that flattering.
See?
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Lipsmack
Once again, Isa Chandra Moskowitz and Terry Hope Romero come through. These margarita cupcakes gave me grief early on, mostly because they simply refused to bake. I must've added 30 percent to the prescribed baketime. Then, the frosting. Oh, the frosting. After sifting in an add'l, oh, CUP of confectioner's sugar, the goo was still too gooey. No stability, man. It did eventually thicken up, but not enough to preclude freezing, for several minutes, the cc's immediately post-frosting to avoid any unsightly drips. The sprinkles helped w/ that, too.
Whatever works, y'know? And believe you me, it work(s)/ed. The cake part, in addition to being baked-through, is soft and light. The frosting, okay, it is pretty sweet (take that, 'betes! that'll teach ya'll to mess w/ my panc) and the limeyness is of the face-scrunching variety, but these don't have to be bad things, right?
Unrelated but just as awesome:
>http://www.dailymotion.com/featured/video/x1h08t_mario-bros-lego
>http://www.jenstark.com/sculpture_01.html (credit to Boing Boing)
>Fact that a certain yellow someone is back in the Apple--and w/ a memory bank full of baby. The plan (shhh) is to lure her 18 blocks north to my new (as of this Sunday) digs w/ some strategically plucked (oh!) home furnishings.
>Petey's hat! (Evidence to follow.)
>I've lived here for two years and five days, on the nose.
Lydia Davis on age, grieving, writing
Above, a few favorite bits from this mesmerizing little book. Sometimes Davis's prose is so nitty-gritty that it annoys me. Sort of depends on my mood. No matter how I'm feeling, I recognize that her writing is so close to perfect that it doesn't seem possible. Or fair.
I love her commentary on writing process, about how she sets out to write one thing and ends up w/ another, unintended story. I generally don't care for this experience myself, although if I feel good about the end result, I can sort of forget about how it might have looked otherwise. When I'm in the middle of writing it is the bad part--that sense that I'm being made to veer from my plan, that I'm 'winging it' where winging it doesn't seem necessary, being that I already have the intended story in my head. Sometimes the end result is different enough from the initial draft upstairs that even though I might be okay w/ the outcome, I've considered starting again--putting together another story for publication elsewhere. I don't think I've actually done that yet.
And the notes on age: I think Davis expresses herself beautifully here. I for one have wondered if, in the company of older/younger people, I act more toward them, or they toward me. "I did not know if I was moving back through those twelve years to be w/ him, or if he was moving up through them to be w/ me."
Perfect.
Friday, March 23, 2007
No corners here
Last night, tipped off by little J, we attended this.
As we waited in line to get in, I was interviewed by these guys--because, suggested Pea, my casual attire (jeans, semi-scruffy jacket) was representative of the *common folk.* (This, in sharp contrast to all the stiff-looking, be-suited, 30-something attorneys present.) Whatever--I was happy to talk, and I wasn't even all that nervous. Also fortunate was the fact that I'd already spent considerable time thinking about the two (predictable) questions they posed ('what do you think of Edwards' decision to continue his campaign despite the news?'/'were you surprised that E made tonight's scheduled appearance, considering?') earlier in the day. My responses were, I think, coherent enough as I went on to talk about how John and Elizabeth strike me as an admirably solid unit, a pair for whom important decisions are made jointly, leading me to conclude (and in line w/ yesterday's press conference and subsequent remarks by the couple) that Elizabeth is just as behind John's resolve as he is himself--and that if she weren't, yesterday's announcement would've been of a different nature.
I didn't actually make the news, but the experience was a positive one, and actually, all of yesterday opened my eyes to an interest in Edwards that I don't think I was fully aware I had, but that was definitely there, just beneath the surface. This first struck me after reading the morning's AP release, at which point I realized I was seriously disappointed in thinking about the seemingly inevitable outcome, namely, that the man would step out of the race. Because I really like what he has to say, at least at this still-early stretch in the game. He's right there on all the domestic issues I care about, he's strong on the environment, he's offered a clear Iraq exit strategy, and he talks about issues that other politicians (afraid of the enormity, afraid of failing) don't prioritize. Also important, he recognizes the interdependence of domestic and foreign policy (a focus of last night's speech), a complete 180 from the stupid, myopic thinking of my eighth cousin once removed. (Ouch. Talk about a black sheep.) So yeah, I'm glad he's still in.
There was, though, something that made me squirm a bit last night. Toward the end of his speech, Edwards, referring to his campaign strategy, quoted his wife--some words about being tough, being persistent, resilient. Certainly relevent, but I don't know, it's the inkling that such a person is using the (highly) personal as a campaign tool. (I know it's done all the time, but this doesn't mean it doesn't make me uneasy.) Talking to little J afterward, she said something logical enough, which was that if her significant other had just received Elizabeth's news, she would hardly be tight-lipped about it/pretend it wasn't a big deal. It's a huge part of the Edwards' lives now, so why not talk openly about it? It's about the forum, though, you know? About how it's delivered, not the fact that he's talking about it/not talking about it. Basically, I think it's just really hard to win in this department. He's in politics: everything he says can be viewed as ulterior, no matter how genuine the sentiment. (And like I said, I don't doubt his commitment to his wife.)
Who knows where I'll be, preference-wise, months down the road, but for now, John Edwards is a refreshing political personality w/ an earnest, hopeful message that I can feel good about. (Eee, that sounds godawfully canned! Eh, so be it.)
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
"Favorite Author Not on Tour? See the Movie"
Such films could eventually take the place of in-store book readings, which attract fewer attendees all the time, many booksellers say.
Hmm, not in my experience. I've been to plenty of these events over the years, most of which, even when it's a lesser-known author who's reading, are well-attended. And I haven't noticed any drop-off.
I hope this doesn't catch on as a replacement for the real thing. As a supplement, fine, but the idea of video alone is depressing. Nothing compares to sitting in a room w/ a favorite author as they read aloud to you. You see it all: vulnerability, anxiety, attachment, pride. Any connection you feel w/ this person only deepens (in my experience) over the course of the reading, and then to actually get to express it afterward during the signing portion of the event--there is nothing like this.
Unrelated: Here's one slug I can deal w/. Wild.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
And then (now) I got sick
The other night I half-woke to Pea: "What time do you need to get up?" As he fiddled w/ the alarm (it was like two in the a.m.), I struggled w/ an answer. "Nine." "Nine? Not till nine?" "I mean [immersed in a dream, I'm sure], eight, eight o'clock." "Eight? Really?" He may have been messing w/ me a wee bit, but mostly I think he was just trying to make sure I got it right. I changed my answer yet again. "No, no. Chocolate. Chocolate time."
Okay, so now the whole thing just sounds stupid, but as it was happening, I actually laughed myself awake. Because, really, my second-to-final answer (final being "seven") was right-on. Let me sleep and sleep and sleep till it's time for 82% Cacao Extra Dark, y'know?
Another reason the incident is, to me, funny is that while I frequently babble in my sleep/half-sleep, what I'm saying rarely makes any sense. I know this because more often than not, my own voice eventually wakes me up, and when it doesn't, Pea makes sure to fill me in. Sometimes, caught in a dream, I'll audibly freak out over something on old teacher "said" to me or express concern that some editor hates my latest story on sand dollars. I don't know, generally nonsense. So to have responded in a way that my awake-self might've, in a way that wasn't literal but not illogical--this was unusual. And fun. Chocolate's fun!
Plus, the experience made for a good omen, as hours later I learned that I'd inexplicably beat out several other applicants for a divine (and affordable! if barely!) studio in the heart of the heart of the heart of Park Slope goodness. If this means anything to you, it's on Sackett between 4th and 5th avenues, putting me a whole half-block from the R (local train) and a seven-minute walk from the N (express). The place is HUGE for a P.S. studio, and the design is just really clean, w/ a sort of railroad thing going on (two large alcoves connected by a long hallway that's wide enough to accommodate a sizable kitchen nook outfitted w/ all new applicances). Doubly great is the fact that the vacating tenant is selling me, at very affordable cost, several items, including a free-standing A/C unit, a sprawling desk that she had custom-built for the space, and a bed frame. Triply great is the fact that it's a mere two train stops/20-minute walk from our current place, pretty much forcing Pea and I spend time together. :) I move in April 1.
Ouch--my forehead hurts, still. Friday at work I filled in for the office manager who was out getting her wisdoms yanked. I sat in her actual office and took care of her actual boss, which under other circumstances might've been A-OK, exciting even ('what's that? oh, yes, this is in fact my office, these are, believe it, my impeccable views of that terribly interesting corporate building over yonder'), but the way it was handed me, well, there was only pain. Pain that came as I smacked into a glass wall. Twice. Now before you start tearing up, know that the particulars of this office are no good. The door is not where it intuitively should be, and anyway, the glass is just too clean, too see-through. When a person--say she's moving w/ urgency, rushing to get Mr. Mister a Very Important Message--goes to exit one such office w/ no prior experience under her tasteful secretary's belt, impact is, I'm gonna say it: inevitable. You'd do the same! There were no witnesses, by the way. That's nice.
Another thing: I was on the R yesterday afternoon, heading to the gym for a certain strength-training class that has done brilliant things for my feeble quadriceps (zero knee pain in weeks! whoa!), when I spied a familiar book cover across the way. This nice-looking middle-aged lady was 20-odd pages into The Brooklyn Follies, which by itself is hardly worth noting. But, BUT, when you consider that the book cracked on my lap was this one, well then you've got a story. Because Auster and Davis were at one time married. As I hovered in the 60s of a 240-page novel, not blown away but enjoying myself enough to keep at it, I would glance over at that other cover, and it would occur to me that Auster and Davis were interacting through their respective texts. Speaking to each other, maybe arguing, through their respective narrators. It was a cool thought.
Also, we watched the Knicks lose to the Hornets on Friday night (see above), and from only like 15 rows back. The CEO of the company that my company shares floor space w/ was parading around two $100 tickets at the final hour, and while I haven't seriously followed basketball since 12-ounce cups of crap beer were $5 (not that I could, uh, partake back then), I couldn't very well turn down such an offer. Fun times, loss and all.
This is turning into another catch-all post, but hey. I'll finish w/ a few targeted links.
For Susan: http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/lists/16ChrisSteck.html [Oh my god! I'm just now realizing, in noting the url, that this is the work of none other than Mr. Steck! Of Ma/Pa/Na Steck! How could I have missed? Anyway, nice one, Pa.]
For my fellow Nordmen: http://www.artthreat.net/2007/03/88
For Petey, who is such a devoted reader of this blog that he has his pager set to alert him whenever a new post is up: http://www.flickr.com/photos/22778235@N00/336010621/
Friday, March 16, 2007
Here's it
Spineless
Perfect, nauseating photo, eh? Heaping thanks to Steven N. Severinghaus at http://severinghaus.org for coming through last minute, granting me permish to run his fantastic shot alongside my story. (Check out his gallery--the guy can shoot.) Initially, I was counting on ol' Ma to snap & send me a few images of the nasties back home (Port Angeles), but damn if it isn't too early/cold for them yet. All she was able to find was a tiny, shriveled, dead thing, which she rightly assumed I'd pass on. So again, thanks Steven!
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Next up: margaritas
Do you have to ask what it's about?
A narrative of mine was accepted for publication here. It'll run as soon as tomorrow, even. And, get this: They pay! That's right--a beautiful, personal story-driven, Web-based publication that PAYS. Not to say this is at the root of my excitement; really I'm just honored that my little story was favored over "a large number of submissions."
I needed this, you know? I also needed, arguably more so, what I got yesterday. Details to come.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Can't trust that day
I took the R. I took the N. I took the R. I took the Q. I took the R!
Lesson learned: No matter how long the delay ("please be patient, we're being held by train traffic up ahead"/"please be patient, we're being held by the supervisor"/"please be patient, we're being held by an investigation at 57th Street"), DO NOT GET OFF THE TRAIN.
It's like this:
I have this superstition, a fear that a crappy Monday morning commute will produce an equally crappy week. At least it's sunny out.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Cakehenge
Wow! Wow!
(Thanks, BB, yet again.)
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Bits
For to-watch list: clipping courtesy of coworker, K. 
For signature at a future Paul Auster reading: cover of a blank book/journal I picked up at the neatest little Park Slope store. Atop the stack of journals for sale is a notecard printed w/ 'blue Portugese notebooks, props to anyone who gets the Paul Auster reference.' (Got it!) Turns out the owner's a big fan, too.
For playtime: Scandinavian Sticker Book, courtesy of the ever-thoughtful E. Brilliant!
