August 2011
5 posts
Lower Manhattan. →
I want to go home.
“Tous les hommes sont menteurs, inconstants, faux, bavards, hypocrites,...”
– Alfred de Musset, Perdican, II, 5, On ne badine pas avec l’amour
“All our ingenuity is lavished on getting into danger legitimately so that we may...”
– Robert Frost
“Work is its own cure. You have to
like it better than being loved.”
– For the Young Who Want To, Marge Piercy
To Read
Crush, Richard Siken
July 2011
11 posts
Prop List, Locations, Extras
Two cities, not interchangeable. Several (eventually too many to count, but at least two per scene) gin and tonics, most with limes, house gin Two orders of ramen noodles (one vegetable, one pork) One antique man’s watch, gold, with a story Two matching cell phones, checked every so often No less than three stories of childhood adventures, each One trip to the bathroom, each Many...
“Pain, or damage, don’t end the world. Or despair. Or fuckin’...”
– Al Swearengen, Deadwood
“But I gotta tell you… I’m exhausted by my own self-righteousness. I...”
– What started out as an Emmy rant by SOA creator Kurt Sutter but actually ended up being something else. http://sutterink.blogspot.com/2011/06/season-4-update-and-some-cuntless-emmy.html
Rumour Has It, Adele.
Early morning obnoxious behavior
Pamela: have you watched willard or wilfred yet?
me: nope, i can’t decide if i’m cool with the conceit
Pamela: get off it seriously, liz? just give it a go and don’t think too much about conceit
Me: meh, we’ll see i probably will
Pamela: if kafka can write about living as a roach i think you can do this
Me: just for frodo uh i hate the metamorphosis
Pamela:...
“God preserve us from writers who regurgitate what they have learnt from books!...”
– August Strindberg, playwright
“At heart, most of us are Sam Spade in “The Maltese Falcon,” when he is about to...”
– The Writer As Detective, Roger Rosenblatt.
Finishing Books In Public
Late at night on the train, I finish my book, and there isn’t much else to do except look at the other passengers. I flip back once to check the page number on the story the author indicated was the first one he wrote in his postscript notes. Page 77. I read the first lines again. It wasn’t one of the stories I’d actually liked, but I’d enjoyed some of the others so at least I think he’s...
Scrambled
I.
Josh is talking to me but I’m not looking at him. I’m looking up at the loft, the light shining up there connected to the orange extension cord that I know snakes down to the electrical outlet on the side of the barn. Harry had wanted to keep the eggs (chicks, he called them, even though they weren’t hatched yet) in the house but Mom said absolutely not, they’ll do just as fine out here. ...