Didn’t Follow This Story

January 18, 2013

Although I think, upon reading the update, that it would be hilarious if Dunham’s comment set the citizens of Detroit into a hot rage:

Typically brash Howard Stern surprised both fans and critics alike by issuing a public apology to Lena Dunham on his radio show Monday, Jan. 14, so the Girls creator did what any gracious Hollywood starlet would do: She called in.

The 26-year-old director/actress/writer dropped a line during Stern’s SiriusXM Radio show Wednesday, Jan. 16, to reassure Stern that his comments were water under the bridge — and call him out on one comment in particular.

“I don’t even know where to begin with all of this,” an apologetic Stern began. “The reason I felt so awful was because when Perez Hilton wrote his article, he told half the story. …I started to compare you to Woody Allen … the whole thing came together for me.”

The shock jock, 59, continued with a declaration: “I realize: Not only am I addicted, but I totally get you… I’m in love with you and your character… I guess I just wanted to tell you I love you and I think you’re terrific.”

On Monday, Jan. 7, Stern caused an angry buzz online after he slammed both Dunham and her hit HBO show Girls.

“It’s a little fat girl who kinda looks like Jonah Hill and she keeps taking her clothes off and it kind of feels like rape. She seems — it’s like — I don’t want to see that,” he scoffed at the time.

Dunham admitted Wednesday that she first learned of his cruel comments after castmate Jemima Kirke, who is a huge fan of Stern’s show, tipped her off that the radio host was comparing her to the Superbad actor.

“I thought that was a good line, actually,” Stern chuckled, trying to make light of the situation.

Dunham responded gamely, but made sure to still get her point across.

But Stern wouldn’t take back his weight comments. “It’s not about apologizing, although I want to say I’m a fan of yours,”

“I’m not that fat, Howard,” she said. “I don’t mean to take major issue with you about this. I’m not super thin, but I’m thin for, like, Detroit.”

Stern agreed, explaining that he just meant that she often played up the “fat angle” on the show.

“You’re not obese or anything,” he allowed.

“Thank you. Another thing for my gravestone,” Dunham laughed, referring to comments she made on the Late Show last Thursday, Jan. 10. “Howard Stern says, ‘You’re not obese or anything.’”

Re: Wurtzel

January 17, 2013

“As for literature, studies indicate that an astonishing percentage, perhaps a vast majority, of serious writers are depressives. Researchers have speculated on the cause of that con-nection –– does depression put one in touch with important issues, of deterioration and loss? But no one has asked what it means for us as a culture or even as a species that our unacknowledged legislators suffer from mood disorders, or something like. If there is no inherent moral distinction between melancholy and sanguinity, then we will need to worry about the association between creativity and mood. What if there is a consistent bias in the intellectual assessment of the good life or the wise perspective on life, an inherent bias against sanguinity hidden (and apparent) in philosophy and art?

“An argument of this sort is worrisome –– more worrisome than the conundrum we began with. And yet can we in good faith ignore the question of who sets the values? I have been in effect proposing still another thought experiment: Imagine a medication that diminishes the extremes of emotional response to loss, imparting the resilience already enjoyed by those with an even, sunny disposition. What would be the central philosophical questions in a culture where the use of this medication is widespread?

“Aesthetic values do change in the light of changing views of health and illness. Elsewhere, I have asked why we are no longer charmed by suicidal melancholics –– Goethe’s Werther or Chateaubriand’s Rene or Chekov’s Ivanov. Because we see major depression and affectively driven personality disorders as medically pathologic, what once exemplified authenticity now looks like immaturity or illness –– as if the romantic writers had made a category error.

“A final thought experiment: Imagine that the association between melancholy and literary talent is based on a random commonality of cause: the genes for both cluster, say, side by side on a chromosome. And let us further imagine a culture in which melancholy, now clearly separate from creativity, is treated pharmacologically on a routine basis. In this culture, it is the melancholics manques who write, melancholics rendered sanguine –– so that the received notions of beauty and intimacy and nobility of character relate to bravado, decisiveness, and connections to social groups, not in the manner of false cheerleading, but au-thentically, from the creative well-springs of the optimistic.

“What would be the notion of authenticity under such conditions? Perhaps in such a culture “strong evaluation” would find psychic resilience superior to alienation. Even today, many a melancholic looks at Panurge or Tom Jones with admiration –– how marvelous to face the world with appetite! The notion of a sanguine culture horrifies those of us resonant with an aesthetics of melancholy, but morally, is such a culture inferior, assuming its art corresponds to the psychic reality? Is there a principled basis for linking melancholy to authenticity? Is there a moral hierarchy of temperaments?”

~ Peter D. Kramer, “The Valorization of Alienation and the Melancholic Temperament”

To Do

January 16, 2013

1. Create GIF of Irene’s “Slap Heard Round the World” from the Seattle Real World

2. Trade Tide detergent for crack cocaine

3. Contact ghost of Jon Benet Ramsay via Ouija board

Avoiding Match.Com

January 15, 2013

Although I’m supposed to be writing a piece about online dating right now, I am instead perusing the kitchen items made by the Fox Run company.  They make the most amazing things you never knew you needed, including an easy contraption that lets you spread butter on corn on the cob.  Fantastic!

My inner child is dying of joy right now.

My inner child is dying of joy right now.

Everybody Hurts Sometimes

January 13, 2013

So I got REAMED by some blogger for a piece I wrote that was published in two places, and I was really hurt by it despite the fact that I know intellectually that everyone goes for everyone’s jugular, particularly online.  I was hurt by it… until I read the post he wrote before he wrote the one in which he basically called me cruel, a bad writer, and a symbol of my narcissistic, silly generation.  Here it is, below.  It’s titled “Shopping in Working Class Neighborhoods,” and yes, it appears to be serious:

“I managed to sleep, albeit fitfully, for two hours. When I awoke at 8:30 it became rather swiftly apparent that the stomach cramping that woke me up at three in the morning was the first rumblings of the dread stomach flu that has just begin making the rounds in Southern California; since I frequently patronize commercial establishments in working class neighborhoods, not to mention discount stores like the 99 Cents Only chain and Shim’s in Fletcher Square, where the patrons are less likely to have medical insurance and, hence, more likely to be out and about while carrying a virus, it’s no surprise that I caught the bug, despite wearing gloves at all times while out in public.

“With that much said, I need the immediate help of someone, anyone, as soon as possible. I need to go to Ralph’s and purchase a pre-cooked broasted chicken ($6.90), saltines, and soup. White meat chicken and saltines always settles intestinal distress for me. Some 7-Up would help as well. There’s something else I need to pick up while out as well but I cannot recall at the moment what it is. In any event, the $4.60 current remaining balance on Paypal ain’t gonna cut it and I would like to get out and about and safely back home before I become too ill to go anywhere (and more viral, raising the possibility of infecting other shoppers — it’s the butler’s day off, you see).

“Anyone who can render some emergency financial aid, my Paypal is —–.

“And if you haven’t got your flu shot yet (which I kept delaying until it was too late this year) go do so ASAP because this, to quote Warren Zevon, just ain’t pretty at all.”

—

I will certainly be sending $5 to his Pay Pal with the accompanying note: “Dear Mr. X, Sorry to hear about your flu, and your stymied career writing porn.  Feel better!  One More Twenty-Odd-Year-Old Narcissist.”

BAHAHAHAHAHA

January 12, 2013

“While my wife was pregnant with our fourth child, she was called for jury duty.  Since her due date was looming, her doctor wrote a letter to the court, asking for an exemption.  When I went to the courthouse office to deliver the letter (my wife was at work), I was taken aback by how long the line was.  Everyone had a reason for trying to get out of jury duty.  When it was my turn to talk to the clerk, I proudly explained that we were expecting our fourth child, which was due at any moment.  I expected the clerk to coo with delight and maybe wish me mazel tov.  Instead, she berated me in front of everyone in the office.

“The angry clerk asked in a loud voice, ‘How can you have four children when the world is overpopulated?  You’re a drain on the planet!’

“I put up with her length lecture in silence –– and was rewarded with that exemption.  As I walked away, I overheard the next woman in line explaining her jury-duty excuse: she was a contestant on The Biggest Loser and couldn’t miss her only chance for reality television fame and fortune.  Not only did she get her exemption, but the clerk insisted on having her picture taken with the future celebrity.”

~ Simcha Weinstein, The Case for Children

Just Hungover Enough to Be Useless

January 10, 2013

I want this print of an ostrich egg.  The photographer is some chick named Sharon.  Find it yourself.

Order the framed version.

Order the framed version.

This Shit is SO Bergman

January 9, 2013

“They sink down into a far too soft sofa in the drawing room, with its high, heavily draped windows facing the dusk of the garden and the blossoming fruit trees.  They hold hands.  Well, now we’re far away.  So we’ve realized our dream.  Or is this the demons’ ingenious version of our dream?  Are we actually present, or has our boldness made us breathless and our faces pale?  What is happening to us?  Have we walked into a trap, approved with kindness and prudence by a dear friend?  Is this ridiculous?  Shall we laugh or is it already time to cry?”

~Ingy Bergman, Private Confessions

A New Gig for Me

January 9, 2013

My beloved and I went to see Ann Hamilton’s “The Event of a Thread” at the Park Avenue Armory last weekend, which was an art exhibit involving swings, a large curtain, pigeons, and –– hooray for me! –– people reading aloud, their words broadcast from radios tied up inside paper bags.  It was a pretty precious exhibit, but a fun one, nonetheless, and of course I was dying to find out how one gets a gig as a reader.  (They read excerpts from “Aristotle to Charles Darwin to the poet Ann Lauterbach.”)

Readers have pigeon friends.

Readers have pigeon friends.

A little bit more about Hamilton’s exhibit, from the Armory’s website:

“Visual artist Ann Hamilton combines the ephemeral presence of time with the material tactility for which she is best known to create a new large-scale installation for the Wade Thompson Drill Hall. Commissioned by the Armory, the event of a thread references the building’s architecture, as well as the individual encounters and congregational gatherings that have animated its rich social history. A multisensory affair, the work draws together readings, sound, and live events within a field of swings that together invite visitors to connect to the action of each other and the work itself, illuminating the experience of the singular and collective body, the relationship between the animal and the human. The address of the readers to the pigeons shifts at the end of each day, when a vocalist on the drill hall’s balcony serenades their release to flight. Each day’s song is cut with a record lathe, and the resulting recording is played back the next day.”

My post-visit research has indicated that unfortunately the readers were hired from SITI Company, which is an ACTING TROUPE.

“SITI Company is an ensemble-based theater company whose three ongoing components are the creation of new work, the training of young theater artists, and a commitment to international collaboration.

“SITI was founded in 1992 by Anne Bogart and Tadashi Suzuki to redefine and revitalize contemporary theater in the United States through an emphasis on international cultural exchange and collaboration.”

As I’m not particularly interested in pursuing acting, I think I would not have been in the running for this one.  Damn you, Ann Hamilton!

Swingin'

Swingin’

*There’s always Tino Seghal!

Alain de Botton’s New Idea for a Marriage Proposal

January 4, 2013

“I promise to be disappointed by you and you alone. I promise to make you the sole repository of my regrets, rather than distribute them widely through multiple affairs and a life of sexual Don Juanism. I have surveyed the different options for unhappiness, and it is you I have chosen to commit myself to.”

~ Alain de Botton, How to Think More About Sex