Two Cool People

May 23, 2012

As I mentioned before, I am reading some books put out by London’s The School of Life, and by skimming this latest, How to FInd Fulfilling Work, I have been introduced to two bombass guys whose lives and careers I would like to have.  First up, the author, Roman Krznaric:

Roman Krznaric is an author, cultural thinker, and founding faculty member of The School of Life, where he teaches courses about work.  He has been named by the Observer as one of Britain’s leading lifestyle thinkers, and advises organizations including Oxfam and United Nations on using empathy and conversation to create social change.

Next, Krznaric’s pal, Iain King:

“Iain King has never been conventional.  When he left secondary school, he spent a year busking around Europe –– playing the guitar standing on his head.  One summer while at college in the early 1990s, he and a friend crossed into northern Iraq from Turkey, where they befriended a group of Kurdish freedom fighters, travelled around with them in a Jeep full of machine guns and hand-held missile launchers, and narrowly escaped being kidnapped.  Later, Iain started up a national student newspaper, which folded after half a dozen issues, then volunteered as a researcher for a political party.  Never having had much of a career plan, he ended up as a an expert on peace-building for the United Nations and other international organizations.  He helped introduce a new currency in Kosovo and has worked alongside soldiers on the battlefront in Afghanistan.  He has also found time to write a philosophy book, and to spend a year as a househusband and Syria, the lone father at baby groups in the Damascus expatriate community.”

It goes on to say that Iain’s current job, as a civil servant advising the British government on their overseas humanitarian work, is less-than-fulfilling, but for now, I’m content to imagine Iain as a happy, physically flexible do-gooder with a sweet Syrian bride.

Nonfiction/Theory-Based/Guidebooks/Manifestos/Expositional Texts to Make Into Movies

May 22, 2012

… a la What to Expect When You’re Expecting:

DSM-IV

The Anti-Internet Asifa Brochure

Society of the Spectacle

Dianetics

The Elements of Style

Totem and Taboo (almost any work by Freud, really)

The Anarchist’s Cookbook

Mao’s Little Red Book

The Birth of the Clinic

French Women Don’t Get Fat

Captioning Cindy Sherman

May 21, 2012

My boyfriend and I went to the MoMA yesterday to see the Cindy Sherman show, and I decided to spend my time making up captions in my head for the pictures.  This could be its own Tumblr, but I’m in the mood to keep things simple.

When Myrna awoke from her alcohol-induced coma, she had only vague memories of stumbling into the basement in search of snacks.

Krystal was beginning to get worried –– could she continue to pass off her new spare tire as the result of “too many Twinkies?”

Even though Marina packed to leave him six times a week, Richard never worried. She was such a drama queen.

Yes, Tanya was happy her annulment went through, but somehow she wasn’t quite as light in her step as she had anticipated.

Olga was done cleaning kitchens for rich housewives who took naps with cucumbers on their eyes while she scrubbed. She was going to be an ACTRESS.

After her relationship with the tattoo artist Joe “Psych Ward” Jones ended, Melissa really went off the deep end.

Inez always did the dishes while Todd watched basketball, but that was going to stop.

Jamie didn’t care what her friends said –– she loved partying with her daughter in Boca!

Right at 37th Street, Amy realized that the man had been following her for a good seven minutes.

Some day Rae-Lynn would gather the courage she needed to leave that podunk Nebraska town. Some day…

Annabelle had reigned Meriwether Estate with an iron first, even as the rest of her family left for the city and the house began to crumble around her. Her heart was as hard as the Italian marble used for the steps to the mansion, but a mysterious stranger would soon arrive at the Estate and change it, and Annabelle, forever.

Dammit! Jennifer was always trying to destroy Monica’s buzz!

Lola wanted her love interest, who worked at the docks next door, to notice her, but she didn’t want to seem OBVIOUS.

Esther was afraid to die, and she covered her fear in cashmere.

Misty really turned it on for the Asics people. She just couldn’t understand why her winning smile and her 4th place at the 1976 Olympics didn’t seal the endorsement!

Meredith was just hoping none of the other library patrons would see her reaching for FEAR OF FLYING.

The sex was raunchy and satisfying, but somehow, back at home, it all seemed meaningless to Lara.

Trying to Work on a Piece About Fiona

May 18, 2012

Is it coalescing?  I can’t tell.  (After some thought, the answer is “no.”)

Also, why don’t my GIFs move naturally?  If you click on it, she’ll lick her lips.

An Open Letter To Gmail

May 17, 2012

Dear Gmail,

I do appreciate that you are trying to help me out, but the fact that you claim that you know which emails are “important” based solely on “words that appear in the conversation” is totally audacious.  *Maury Povich Finger Snap*

Step off,

ID

All Recent Posts Have Been of Eerily Similar Lengths

May 16, 2012

From the New Books section of Harper’s Magazine, this one authored by Joshua Cohen and regarding Nabokov’s Selected Poems;

“Wilson is Edmund, of course, who presumed to question Nabokov’s faithful but faithfully unreadable translation of Eugene Onegin.  Levin, Harry, was a Harvard comparative-literature professor so awed by Nabokov’s alighting in Cambridge that he later plucked him from the butterfly cabinet of the zoology department and pinned him as a humanities professor.  In gratitude, Nabokov once spent an entire evening expounding on the life and work of a nineteenth-century novelist he’d just invented, only because he knew Levin would never admit he hadn’t read him.”

I Need Trow Now

May 15, 2012

I’ve been at work for all of an hour and I’ve already seen five Internet things that make me kind of want to die (“13 Pictures of Writers in Funny Outfits,” “Babies in Car Seats Sing Hipster Song,” “Umpteenth Photographic Montage of Pretty Designers in Their Pretty House”) and to help me NOT want to die, here’s a little GWST, which gives me strength to brush aside my distaste for trivial information (trinfo.)

THE AESTHETIC OF THE HIT

The comfort was in agreement, the easy exercise of the modes of choice and preference. It was attractive and, as it was presented, not difficult. But, once interfered with, the processes of choice and preference began to take on an uncomfortable aspect. Choice in respect to important matters became more and more difficult; people found it troublesome to settle on a mode of work, for instance, or a partner. Choice in respect to trivial matters, on the other hand, assumed an importance that no one could have thought to predict. So what happened then was that important forces that had not been used, because they fell outside the new scale of national life (which was the life of television), began to find a home in the exercise of preference concerning trivial matters, so that attention, aspiration, even affection came to adhere to shimmers thrown up by the demography in trivial matters. The attraction of inappropriate attention, aspiration, and affection to a shimmer spins out, in its operation, a little mist of energy which is rather like love, but trivial, rather like a sense of home, but apt to disappear. In this mist exists the Aesthetic of the Hit.

 

 

Unintentionally Hilarious Headline

May 11, 2012

“Obese Moms Give Birth to Dumber Babies”

Happy weekend, o svelte ones!

Now THIS Is Helpful

May 10, 2012

We got a packet of books here at my office that we’re thinking of publishing –– very quirkily designed self-help books put out by Alain de Botton’s School of Life, located in London.  I’m a fan of de Botton (despite never having read any book of his) and of the SoL, but I don’t have much use for most self-help as I was in therapy long enough to be bestowed an honorary PhD.  Usually, if I need help, I just listen to the air, or read The Tao or Within the Context of No Context for the umpteenth time (both.)  So for work, I was assigned to read Philippa Perry’s How to Stay Sane, one of a series (which includes How to Think More About Sex and How to Find Fulfilling Work) and while it was well-written, most of it just wasn’t unknown to me.  There was, however, one extremely funny and soothing sentence about 3/4 of the way through:

“I sometimes look at a busy street and think: in a hundred years, we will all be dead.”

I think maybe we ought to establish a type of therapy called Radical Acceptance of Death.  In this practice, the patient comes in, begins to speak about his/her dilemmas, a la CBT, and the therapist just responds to every single concern with, “What does it matter?  You’ll be dead soon, anyway.”  Eventually the patient will succumb to the inevitability of his/her demise and things will just seem less important, overall.

Another One Bites the Dust

May 9, 2012

Did I ever tell you my best friend ever told me in elementary school that she uncontrollably sang the eponymous song in her head at funerals? That’s still one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard, and it’s been 20 years, and that… is kind of sad, if you think about it.

N E Way, after my Lagerfeld’s Sandbox post, my friend LB sent me this curt little email:

Subject: sorry to burst your bubble

Body: unless this one has already been busted. but i was reading itinerant daughter, and wanted her to know that this already exists:

http://childrenwithswag.tumblr.com/

I responded with a, “It figures, but at least my captions are funny.”  And they are.

One for the road:

Somebody forgot to tell Esme that yes, she looked cute, but feet-less leggings are so 2003.