Aside from “writing about people who live alone,” “kids wax existential about love” seems to be another big one.
New Trends
February 24, 2012Spotted
February 24, 2012Why Women Are Better Than Men
February 23, 2012Reason #779:
” ‘Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes,’ though Levin about his wife, as he talked to her that night.
“Levin thought of the Gospel text not because he considered himself wise and prudent. He did not, but he could not help knowing that he was more intelligent than his wife and Agafya, and he could not help knowing that when he thought about death he thought with all his heart and soul. He knew, too, that many men of great intellect, whose thoughts on death he had read, had pondered deeply about it and did not know a hundredth part of what his wife and Agafya knew. Different as those two women were, Agafya and Katya, as his brother Nikolai called Kitty and as Levin particularly liked to call her now, were absolutely alike in this. Both knew without any doubt whatever what was life and what was death, and though they could not possibly have answered or even have understood the questions that presented themselves to Levin, neither of them had any doubts about the significance of these phenomena and both looked upon them in the same way, sharing this view with millions of other people. The proof that they knew firmly what death was lay in the fact that they never doubted for a moment how to deal with the dying and had no fear of death. Levin, however, and others like him, though they could say a great deal about death, quite obviously did not know, because they were afraid of death and had not the faintest idea what to do when people were dying. Had Levin now been alone with his brother Nikolai, he would have looked at him with terror and would have sat waiting there in still greater terror, and that would have been all he could do.”
~Guess
Me, Wishing I Were Dooce
February 22, 2012Ew, as IF!
But still:
Thinking…
Does the printed “New York’s Boldest” on the side of NYPD Correctional Facilities vans refer to the policemen or the convicts?
Another PEN Obsession
February 22, 2012Another thing I found in PEN America that I love:
IN THE BATHTUB WITH GERTRUDE STEIN
by Angelica Freitas
gertrude stein has a big ass slide over gertrude
stein and when she slides it makes a great noise
as though someone dragged a wet cloth across
the huge glass window of a public building
gertrude stein from here to there it’s you the washcloth
behind your ear’s all yours from here to there it’s me the rubber
duckie’s mine gertrude stein and thusly we’re pleased
but gertrude stein is a charlatan thinks it’s fine to let one
loose under the water not i gertrude stein? it’s impossible
that anyone could so enjoy making bubbles
and because it’s her tub she pulls the plug and steals
my towel
and runs out stark naked huge ass descending the
staircase onto the streets of saint-germain-des-pres
One-Liner Sunday
February 20, 2012“[Medieval sex] totally turns me on.”
Fuck You, Universe
February 18, 2012Instead of finishing Tolstoy, I’ve been watching old SVU’s, and TWICE in the past THREE episodes I’ve watched, someone has quoted Anna Karenina. Really? This is Xanadu all over again.
Cheer Up, Charlie
February 16, 2012So yesterday was weird –– got even weirder when I got home, made myself a whisky ginger ale, started munching on cold buttered popcorn, and realized I had written “Tay Sachs” on my hand as a reminder –– but today seems to have gotten a wee bit better, as I am off to Miami, my second home, just in time for something called KITE DAY!
I am feeling incredibly twee right now posting this, as if I’m a New York magazine writer who keeps a blog about her hipster husband and their precious dinner parties, or a Mormon print press designer from San Francisco who blogs about DIY confetti. Deep sigh… that bitchy aside made me feel a LOT better.
Is Whatever Wednesday Over Yet?
February 15, 2012Shit got weird today, and I all of sudden was washed over with a wave of DOOM, as if something really terrible was going to happen or had happened and I just hadn’t found out about it yet. I’m counting down the moments until I can go home and hide underneath my blanket with a wee flashlight and Anna Karenina. Don’t bother me –– I’m indulging in some at-least-I’m-not-_____ (basically, insert ANY CHARACTER from Russian literature here.)




