An Idea

June 8, 2014

Has anyone done this yet?  I’m willing to bet yes, but if not, who wants a co-authorship?

“Joyce moved out of the house in March 1904 and rented a room close to the Dublin docks.  He declined the university’s offer to teach French (he suspected it was the priests’ way of controlling him) and cast about for other options.  He wanted to start a newspaper called The Goblin with one of his friends––all they needed was 2,000 pounds.  Joyce and Gogarty talked excitedly about compiling an anthology of poetry and witticisms gathered from public toilets.  Joyce thought of turning himself into a joint-stock company and selling shares.  He imagined that the prices woudl go up for his lucky investors as soon as his publications began to change Western civilization, and his lucky 1904 investors could get him at a bargain.”

~The Most Dangerous Book: The Battle for James Joyce’s Ulysses by Kevin Birmingham

End of Days

June 6, 2014

Book of Revelations:

When when they shall have finished their testimony, the beast that ascendeth out of the bottomless pit shall make war against them, and shall overcome them, and kill them.

And their dead bodies shall lie in the street of the great city, which spiritually is called Sodom and Egypt, where also our Lord was crucified.

And they of the people and kindreds and tongues and nations shall see their dead bodies three days and an half, and shall not suffer their dead bodies to be put in graves.

And they that dwell upon the earth shall rejoice over them, and make merry, and shall send gifts one to another; because these two prophets tormented them that dwelt on earth.

And after three days and an half the Spirit of life from God entered into them, and they stood upon their feet; and great fear fell upon them which saw them.

And they heard a great voice from heaven saying unto them, Come up hither.  And they ascended up to heaven in a cloud; and their enemies beheld them.

And the same hour was there a great earthquake, and the tenth part of the city fell, and in the earthquake were slain of men seven thousand: and the remnant were affrighted and gave glory to the God of heaven.

The second woe is past; and, behold, the third woe cometh quickly.

VERSUS

Anne Sexton:

“The Risk

When a daughter tries suicide

and the chimney falls down like a drunk

and the dog chews her tail off

and the kitchen blows up its shiny kettle

and the vacuum cleaner swallows its bag

and the toilet washes itself in tears

and the bathroom scales weigh in the ghost

of the grandmother and the windows,

those sky pieces, ride out like boats

and the grass rolls down the driveway

and the mother lies down on her marriage bed

and eats up her heart like two eggs.

Hobbies

June 5, 2014

Email from ID to AL: my friend and I are going to explore an abandoned psych ward this weekend, and last night I had a VERY elaborate dream that I went and that you came with me.  We got kicked out of the children’s ward when they realized we weren’t actually visiting patients.  It was awesome.

Response from AL to ID: ummm that would have been my JAM in high school. my friend charlie was a security guard at mclean and we used to drive around the abandoned buildings at night when he was on duty and scare the shit out of ourselves. so fun.

Response from ID to AL: WHAT THAT IS SO AMAZING WHY HAVE YOU NEVER TOLD ME THAT STORY BEFORE


AL: great question. that’s probably the first thing i should have told you about myself.

How You Can Figure Out If You Have Serious Problems Without a Psychiatric Evaluation

June 4, 2014

When you find the Wikipedia page for “yubitsume” and start hysterically laughing.

Homesick, Part II*

June 4, 2014

*Number may be incorrect

I recently pubbed a little piece about my time at Shakespeare & Co., and the e-mag used this picture (I don’t know where it came from) to illustrate it.  It made me homesick all over again!

"I cannot sleep unless I am surrounded by books."

“I cannot sleep unless I am surrounded by books.”

Kinder Trauma

June 3, 2014

I contributed to my most favorite website EVER!  (And yes, if you follow the link, you will see my real name.)

Traumafession:: Itinerant D. on Murder of Innocence (1993)

Here’s what I wrote:

Hello,

I am obsessed with this site.  As a child, I was a bona fide televisual masochist, and remain so to this day.  I could submit any number of things, from the fear that lingered after one look at the cover of the Dolls VHS to my fervent child hood belief that Chuckie lived under my bed with Talking Tina from The Twilight Zone.  But instead, I’ll focus on one viewing experience that left haunted me through my childhood until well into my twenties: viewing a Lifetime movie starring Valerie Bertinelli titled Murder of Innocence.  You’re probably thinking, “Lifetime?!”  But this is one fucked up tale.  Valerie Bertinelli is a perky young waitress who catches the eye of a handsome young man.  They marry before he realizes that she is batshit crazy.  Sure, he knew she was a little nervous and indecisive, but when he returns home one day to find the refrigerator full of make-up and the walls covered in lipstick drawings, he realizes some serious shit is about to go down.  They get divorced and she goes completely off the wall––making hang-up phone calls to her ex-sister-in-law, crushing dead flowers with gloved hands, stealing cuts of raw meat from the grocery store.  The thing that freaked me out the most––I was already a very astute student of psychology as a child––was that her symptoms made no sense.  She obsessively washed her hands, but then hoarded and fondled raw meat; she loves kids but feeds them drugged rice krispie treats.  Of course, it all ends terribly: she buys a gun and shoots a couple of kids in a classroom, retreats to a nearby house and then kills herself.  It haunted me for years, until eventually I found it on HuluPlus.  And then it haunted me all over again.  YOU’RE WELCOME.
I just realized now that the site’s administrator wrote a glowing comment underneath in which he says he has now become obsessed.  MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

A Tweet

June 2, 2014

Apparently in my dream last night I screamed out, “SRIRAM AND ANSUN!”  For the uninitiated, they are the co-champions of this year’s Scripps Spelling Bee.

Someone Make This

June 2, 2014

Years ago––probably six or seven?––I was walking by the Society of Illustrators on the Upper East Side when I saw some very charming drawings posted outside.  One of them was of a girl wearing a snake as a scarf.  I tried to recreate it.  It’s only kind of terrible.

Screen shot 2014-06-02 at 8.55.54 AM

Ever since, I’ve been obsessed with the idea of someone making scarves in the shape of a snake.  I’ve done some mock-up designs (you’re welcome!) but I think the prints could most certainly be improved upon.  If you’d like to buy the design for me (oh, it’s copyrighted, bitches) please contact Siobhan.

Tongue and pocket optional

Tongue and pocket optional

Poor Boyfriend

June 2, 2014

is a corporate lawyer, stuck in his office on a beautiful Sunday evening.  I’m holding out hope he’ll come home and watch Robert Altman movies with me soon.

ID: What do you want for dinner?

ML: Kick everyone in the balls

Oldie But Goodie

June 1, 2014

While cleaning out my desk, I found an index card on which I had written a bunch of random phrases, the origins of which I could not remember.  My favorite of the bunch was “I’ve said a hundred prayers to her knees.”  I knew it wasn’t Roethke, but it made me feel like Roethke, which was a good thing, so I went in search of it.  Google came up with nothing until I added in the quotation marks.  Apparently it’s from a poem by Major Jackson (good name, eh?) that was in issue ten of Memorius, a journal of fiction and poetry.  Enjoy!

 
“Even Strangers Are Not Strangers”

Winter’s early evening, and I pull two duvets like clouds

of moonlight above our shoulders. Our bodies fall into formation.

Even the lamps are spellbound. I’ve said a hundred prayers

to her knees, and now, I’m at work beating drums for our future,

making a ceremony of my dark, firm hands.

Outside, thick skeins of black branches sway woozily.

I’m thinking of the last orange red apple I bit into, thorn bushes,

and wooden scented vineyards in Sardinia, charms beneath

fingernails. What color is that cry trickling from her mouth?

In our sacred grove, we leave melodies singing on each other’s skin.