Archive for June, 2010

“Don’t Publish Your Juvenilia”

June 29, 2010


The longer the poem I’ve written

The grander and more dangerous the lie.

Twenty Mini-Poems

June 24, 2010

I am at a fucking PANERA BREAD in NEW JERSEY. What else do I have to do besides write mini-poems? (A few are old, unearthed from a crumbling notebook.)
1. I want to be one of those crazy writers
who burns all her unfinished work
before she dies

2. This is not a haiku
fuck off

3. The little bluebird inside Charles Bukowski
would make an interesting pet

4. No words are as perfect as
holding the hand of your beloved
ergo, my life is hopeless

5. glass eggs
wet young skin
kissing babies’ heads
that was phatic
how do you feel now?

6. I wish I could show you
how deeply I feel
and I’m willing to bet
you feel the same way

7. I decided to like a boy
but he’s dating a model
oh well

8. I have nothing to say
but G-d, it feels good to wield this pen

9. Sometimes when I watch Intervention
and the addict bolts
I root for him
Like it’s a race

10. fat homeless people
one of life’s many mysteries

11. Congratulations!
The tests came back negative

12. I am in love
as blissful as
a newly indoctrinated cult member

13. I hear myself wail in my head, “I can’t do this!
I’m only a child!”
and then I realize
I’m forty-six years old

14. Sometimes we all feel a little
like Joseph K.

15. All I want in life right now
is a blank, letter-size envelope

16. Being the host of a TV show
seems like a great, easy job
how do I apply?

17. In my next life
I’d like to be a fat black lady who can sing
But can’t they all?

18. Psalms
Comfort me
This is a plea
Not a statement

19. Sometimes
Alzheimer’s seems like
The greatest gift

20. I will eat my pudding
Even though I haven’t had my meat


June 23, 2010

I’m stuck in a Hasidic enclave of New Jersey with very little access to internet!  G-d help me!

This is a cool room.

List of New Jobs/Gigs I Want

June 21, 2010

1. Reading the audiobook of Infinite Jest

2. Karl Lagerfeld’s letter delivery girl

3. Gwen Stefani and Gavin Rossdale’s nanny

4. Shelving books at the New York Public Library

5. Cleaning the oil off baby animals in New Orleans like in that Dawn Soap commercial

We’re In Public

June 17, 2010

even when we are alone.

Stamped and Mailed YESTERDAY

June 16, 2010

Now all there is to do is wait for a reply!
Dear Ms. Nadell,

This is somewhat of an unusual query letter.  I promise.
I’m sure that over the course of David Foster Wallace’s life and death, you received numerous fan letters c/o.  I’m sure, too, that many of them were breathtaking declarations of love, painstaking exegeses, or manifestos concerning Why DFW and I Are Spiritual/Literary Soulmates.  (Don’t you think “soul mate” should be one word?  I’m staging a one woman protest.)  I will try not to bore you with the litany of reasons I love Wallace’s work so dearly.  If I were to make an argument for the depth of my affection, I would perhaps just send you a picture of my copy of Infinite Jest, which has been dog-eared and underlined and fondled until the cover has nearly disintegrated (the whole operation is now held together by electrical tape.)  My goal here is not to convince you that I’m a phenom just like he was, or that I am attune to this contemporary universe in a way similar to the way he was.  I, in fact, have one simple question followed by one simple plea: has anyone ever brought up the possibility of making an Audiobook of Infinite Jest?  If this has been considered, well, may I audition to read it?  It would be a monumental task that will most likely end in a flawed result, as we cannot ask his clarification for pronunciations and how to handle footnotes and how to verbalize “…” and such, but nonetheless a job for which I would like to volunteer.
My desire to write, to be A Writer, I sometimes think, is really just born out of my desire to read, specifically to read aloud.  And this skill of mine, I will admit, is pretty f*$&ing honed.  I’ve spent a bulk of the past four years reading aloud in various professional capacities (I can provide references.)  The first reading gig I had was to an esteemed blind writer here in New York City who lived aloof and untouchable in an apartment filled with Sotheby’s antiques and expensive Oriental rugs.  I was intimidated by his crisp demands and very *ahem* robust ego, but at the end of my first day of reading various Times articles at a rapid pace, the writer proclaimed, “You read beautifully.”  These past three years I worked for a true crime author stricken with Lou Gehrig’s Disease and, because he has lost the ability to hold up even a sheet of paper, I had to read most of his work back to him.  I’ve always been a slightly dramatic imp and slip easily into accents or characters.  My enunciation is perfect without sounding forced or farcical.  I don’t even really need to get PAID, per se.  We can pretend someone else read it, in fact, put his or her picture on the box or on the iTunes home page.  The reason I want to do this is because I love this book, I love Foster Wallace, and I especially love Foster Wallace’s idea of love itself, a miraculous thing that you strive to feel and experience without agenda all the time.  “The art’s heart’s purpose,” he said, unabashedly.  I seek that constantly, i.e. now, in this odd proposition.
I may be in the Los Angeles area from around the 13th of July through the 20th, but please email or call me (we can TALK) for any reason you deem appropriate.
Thank you for your time!


Online Shopping

June 4, 2010

I have maybe five clothing websites I peruse when I’m bored, mostly to fantasize about certain articles and then revisit them and tell them that I love them even though I haven’t/will not purchase them (one of  my New Year’s resolutions for 2010 was not to buy any new clothing ALL YEAR.  Intense, I know.)

Anyway, one of the websites I look at is…totally reasonably priced, cute, faux-vintage hipster dresses and dinky jewelry and home goods, but dear Lord, whoever is in charge of giving the pieces of clothing/accessories titles ought to be slapped upside the head with a flyswatter shaped like a cute cottage complete with trellis, because it’s the cheesiest shit I ever done saw!

Some examples:

Cherry Oh Dress

How Do You Dew? Dress

De Florista Dress

Frankly, I Don’t Give a Dress

Don’t Leaf Without Us Earrings

Welcome to the Club Sandwich Coasters

Boho-ken, New Jersey Dress (in Rail or Ferry, which are supposed to be the colors?)

Top of the Chic Chain Tee

Love is a Bag-lefield

I’m With the Band-eau (in Coral)

Halter, Who Goes There Dress (in White)

Don’t Shoe Want Me Wedge

I can’t do this anymore, I feel ill…

RIP Little Louise

June 2, 2010

[Distinction] (Thanks to PS)

From “Sunday Afternoons,” an interview with artist Louise bourgeois, in Uncontrollable Beauty: Toward a New Aesthetics, a collection of essays and interview edited by Bill Beckley and published by Allworth Press.
Bill Beckley: You were born in France, but you have lived a long time in the United States. What is the difference between the aesthetics of the two countries?
Louise Bourgeois: I’ll tell you a story about my mother. When I was a little girl growing up in France, my mother worked sewing tapestries. Some of the tapestries were exported to America. The only problem was that many of the images on the tapestries were of naked people. My mother’s job was to cut out the–what do you call it?
Beckley: The genitals?
Bourgeois: Yes, the genitals of the men and women, and replace these parts with pictures of flowers so they could be sold to Americans. My mother saved all the pictures of the genitals over the years, and one day she sewed them together as a quilt, and then she gave the quilt to me. That’s the difference between French and American aesthetics.

Young Louise Makin' Art

One out of her vast library of whimsical but slightly evil prints.