Mel Bosworth reads things on YouTube. I've been watching his channel for a while, and enjoying it a lot. Today, I get to say that he did a fantastic job with a very short story of mine, "Tribal Tattoo."
Fun fact about this story: I have a tattoo, but it's not tribal. If I ever meet you, I'll show it to you. I promise you won't be grossed out by the content, or the location.
I feel like I do when I'm going about things the wrong way. I'm pacing. I'm acutely aware of the ink level in my pen. I'm doodling too much and labeling everything. I keep thinking about baking cookies. When things are going well, I don't notice my fingernails at all. My fingernails are emerald green.
So. It's not working, being away from everything. I'm annoyed that doing something difficult didn't fix things. That tactic is usually reliable. Tomorrow, I'm resorting to downright cheats. Grace Paley. Blowdry instead of airdry. Motley Crue. Everything bagels with plain cream cheese. Smithwick's.
The writer as conversationalist.
I picked this up tonight. Just as I am finishing Brian Evenson's Fugue State. Really liked it and am excited to add a writer to my OMG AWESOME list. That said, I keep thinking: Just as I would not want Franz Kafka to work the counter at the DMV, I would not want Brian Evenson to be a neurologist.
Remember, remember the 6th of November.
I watched Sex Rehab with Dr. Drew over the weekend. You can watch it here. I kinda want to punch the surfer guy, and not in a sexual way. Is it bad that I saw Steven Adler and Jeff Conaway in the opening montage, and wished they were back?
Howie's honesty is thought provoking.
My daughter was a finalist in a coloring contest this week. She got $20, and was pretty pumped about that. She bought a little gumball machine with some of it. We went to the bargain bookstore, too. She asked me for this book, so I got it for her. Someday, I'm going to write a post about her favorite books.
Rick Moody on the Merritt Parkway. Photo much less menacing than actual parkway.
The cable company keeps calling me because my TV package is old as dirt -- if I even think about changing anything, they stand to make some big bucks. I like to tell them that I'm not home. I imagine where I am, but I don't tell them.
I hope it doesn't ruin any hipster days to learn that I like Jookabox.
Things people might think I care about, and I don't: Whether Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart are dating or not. The Gosselins. Dancing with the Stars. That John Cusack 2012 movie.
Things people might think I don't care about, and I do: All that petty and/or paranoid writer crap, times ten. Maybe a hundred.
I hope these will be in the left column soon.
I always forget that Butterfingers are tasty until Hallowe'en rolls around again.
And finally: This just made me laugh my face off.
Linkbucket entries are returning to the center column. The left hand column of this website will now feature poetry, fiction and other online literary work that I've enjoyed.
If you visit this site via an RSS reader and want to know what I like to read besides cereal boxes and Entertainment Weekly? You're not going to see it anymore unless you add this feed to your list: http://feeds.delicious.com/v2/rss/rarelylikable?count=15
I made this decision because there are lots of literary magazines that don't offer RSS feeds. My previous link-keeping system was biased strongly in favor of those that do. As much as I think that editorial attitudes should change, I've been missing out. I don't like missing out, particularly as a reader.
I should grandfather in entries from before today, but I'm not that ambitious. Instead, I look forward to filling up the column. It won't take long.
One concept embedded in NaNoWriMo that I've always liked: It's only one month out of an entire life.
My goal is to spend more time this month writing and reading (online and offline) fiction, and less time writing and especially reading Internet stuff that isn't fiction.
Three exceptions to that last part: IMs, emails, and anything pertaining to The Northville Review.
All of that means minimal Twitter and Facebook reading and updates. It means very little Google Reader.
I'm always reluctant to contact people via IM and email because I'm worried it will be a nuisance. That's not the case with me, though. Ever. And honestly? I'm afraid November is going to get claustrophobic.
Here goes.
Dear NaNoWriMo:
You've probably figured it out by now, let's make it official: I'm just not that into you this year.
We've had a long, storied relationship. Most of the time it didn't work out the way we would have liked, but it was still very much worth the effort. Over the years, you've given me plenty to think about. Even more important, you've given me specific and sometimes even attainable goals that (bonus!) made sense to the people around me.
But these days? I'm just not feeling it. I'm sure you've noticed I've been hanging out with short fiction lately. Short fiction's always been a very good friend, and lately our Blackjack Taco lunches have been exactly what I need to get through the day. Flash fiction usually shows up in time for a Choco Taco dessert, and that's been good too. I have a big fat notebook, and this November I'm going to fill it up completely with lots of different stuff. I'm excited, and I know I wouldn't try this without having met you first.
I'm sorry you overheard me say that you are getting a little too Claire's Boutique for my taste. Sometimes I say cruel things when I don't want to think about my own issues. I do that fairly often, actually. To be honest, you haven't changed much at all. And being less Claire's Boutique probably does this uncute writer no favors, but as every reality star who has to deny a suitor their token says? That's how it is sometimes.
You don't need me. You do just fine with writers who are completely faithful to you. I'd wish you a fantastic November, but you will have one anyway.
Caffeinatedly yours,
Erin
...I am really looking forward to Aaron Burch's HOW TO TAKE YOURSELF APART, HOW TO MAKE YOURSELF ANEW: notes and instructions from/for a father.
I hope the runners up* find good homes**, because I want to read them too.
*That said, I have read one of them. It has ABBA in it. God help us all.
**Hopefully in time for AWP, because buying stuff there is where I'm a Viking!
"Graduation Afternoon" is supposedly one of the best stories in Just after Sunset. Problem is, it's a story that's heavily reliant on geography...and the geography here is totally wrong.
(You can read what I've read here. Spoiler alert: I'm told the Google Books edition is missing two key pages of AWESOME.)
Those not familiar with Connecticut, like Stephen King apparently, should refer to my customized and bitchy Google Map.
View Graduation Afternoon = Shenanigans in a larger map
1. At one point, it is implied that the story takes place within the vicinity of New London. At another, it's implied that the story takes place near "Route 219". Connecticut may be the nation's second smallest state, but these two landmarks are not near each other...and Route 219 is nowhere near the all-important-to-the-story Long Island Sound. Different towns, different Stop and Shops, different school districts, different newspapers, different counties.
2. New London is absolutely not close enough to Manhattan to be seen from a patio, much less for office windows to be visible. I'm not sure it's visible from Westport, CT, which is a hell of a lot closer. I know it's sometimes visible from the Tappan Zee Bridge. The map above gives that point of reference.
3. While Janice can technically "go to State," no one would refer to it that way. If she means the University of Connecticut, that is simply UConn. If she is referring to a school in the Connecticut State University system, she would think of it by the popular abbreviation of its name. The only school in the system with a program in journalism is Southern Connecticut State University, which is referred to as "Southern." I could see that sounding a little off in a story about Connecticut, where very little is Southern, but changing Janice's aspirations to fit WestConn is small potatoes.
4. No matter where you live in Connecticut, even if it's Hartford or New Haven, New York City is "the city." Not "NYC." No, no, no.
Now I need to go read the rest of the story so that I can get Connecticut-apocalypicky on that, too.