Time to vote for BOB.
Both Amy Ambulette and I are in the running. If you read us, vote!
Friday, March 30, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Doppelganger has a nice batch of reviews of books about food. MKF Fisher getting more props is always a good thing. I am still working through Gastronomical Me. It is a slow journey and totally worth taking. Thanks Big D for reminding me...
Fisher knew a few things about sadness, some kind of weight leeches through some of her essays. Perhaps I should pull it off the shelf. I just ate some pasta with red sauce that I made myself and the saltiness somehow balanced me for a moment. The time it took me to make it was time I was doing something positive and nuturing for myself and my family (B) and not being eaten alive by external circumstances.
Got any good receipes?
Fisher knew a few things about sadness, some kind of weight leeches through some of her essays. Perhaps I should pull it off the shelf. I just ate some pasta with red sauce that I made myself and the saltiness somehow balanced me for a moment. The time it took me to make it was time I was doing something positive and nuturing for myself and my family (B) and not being eaten alive by external circumstances.
Got any good receipes?
Dear Christian,
Today would have been your 23rd birthday. It was really hard to figure that out. The numbers seem so unreliable.
Perhaps you would have taken the day off of work today. I can’t really imagine where you would be living now. My powers of imagination regarding you are battered and raw, probably since I have to push so hard to get you to appear at all in any detail in my mind. Dreams don’t count, especially since you never show up your whole self. When I conjure you up for people who never knew you, I don’t think I do a very good job. Sorry. You have been gone so long.
I often ask myself what you would think about the things that have happened with me (and Mom & Dad) since you died. Truthfully, I can’t imagine. I think you would still be an amazing brother and we would be very close, but I bet there would be a lot of things we didn’t talk about. Even so, would you still be my soul twin, the lighter half to my dark? Or would I have had to save your life like you did mine? I think you would have shared any darkness with me even though we rarely talked about the way we felt. We just cried (well I did), and fought and hugged so tight. Our hands were always all over each other when we were together. When we walked around Philly, even when you were a teenager, we held hands when we felt like it. Sometimes you were holding me up. Did you know? Did it matter?
There were so many things I wanted to tell you and to ask you. Now there are even more. They pile up as each week goes on. I can imagine being crushed under the weight of not knowing so much. I can’t think about it too hard or I lose myself. I can’t think about you too hard, even when I want to. I hate that. I will always hate it.
Each day I leave you further behind. Thoughts of you are painful and I need to move beyond that pain to new pain, or (ha ha) no pain. That’s just the way it is baby boy. I am a grown up now, I can’t start crying every time I see children playing together, maybe sisters and brothers. In order to enjoy fine B cinema in all its glory, I can’t be flinching, stomach lurching, every time a car crashes during a chase scene. I can’t not do things I need to do, meet people I need to meet or fully love those I love, just because I am afraid of losing more. I hate that the world has no space for grief, that life has made me lose you in moments, but I hate more that you did this to me, even though it was by accident. I want to yell at you so bad!
As I keep saying to people who ask, and even more who don’t: it doesn’t get better, it just gets different.
Love always,
Carrie
Today would have been your 23rd birthday. It was really hard to figure that out. The numbers seem so unreliable.
Perhaps you would have taken the day off of work today. I can’t really imagine where you would be living now. My powers of imagination regarding you are battered and raw, probably since I have to push so hard to get you to appear at all in any detail in my mind. Dreams don’t count, especially since you never show up your whole self. When I conjure you up for people who never knew you, I don’t think I do a very good job. Sorry. You have been gone so long.
I often ask myself what you would think about the things that have happened with me (and Mom & Dad) since you died. Truthfully, I can’t imagine. I think you would still be an amazing brother and we would be very close, but I bet there would be a lot of things we didn’t talk about. Even so, would you still be my soul twin, the lighter half to my dark? Or would I have had to save your life like you did mine? I think you would have shared any darkness with me even though we rarely talked about the way we felt. We just cried (well I did), and fought and hugged so tight. Our hands were always all over each other when we were together. When we walked around Philly, even when you were a teenager, we held hands when we felt like it. Sometimes you were holding me up. Did you know? Did it matter?
There were so many things I wanted to tell you and to ask you. Now there are even more. They pile up as each week goes on. I can imagine being crushed under the weight of not knowing so much. I can’t think about it too hard or I lose myself. I can’t think about you too hard, even when I want to. I hate that. I will always hate it.
Each day I leave you further behind. Thoughts of you are painful and I need to move beyond that pain to new pain, or (ha ha) no pain. That’s just the way it is baby boy. I am a grown up now, I can’t start crying every time I see children playing together, maybe sisters and brothers. In order to enjoy fine B cinema in all its glory, I can’t be flinching, stomach lurching, every time a car crashes during a chase scene. I can’t not do things I need to do, meet people I need to meet or fully love those I love, just because I am afraid of losing more. I hate that the world has no space for grief, that life has made me lose you in moments, but I hate more that you did this to me, even though it was by accident. I want to yell at you so bad!
As I keep saying to people who ask, and even more who don’t: it doesn’t get better, it just gets different.
Love always,
Carrie
Just like a real blog
My new obsession. Via Plantive Wail. Fuck you stee for bringing this into my life.
*
Last week I stepped up as Managing Web Editor for Topic Magazine. Day before yesterday, I went to Midtown Comics and bought RADIO, a comic collaboration between Jessica Abel and the This American Life Crew. Inside the 1999 book (besides great drawings and lettering) there are tips on how to do a great radio interview. Since Topic has a similar obsession as TAM with people, their storis and how those stories relate to larger issues, I found all the information to be quite helpful. I may even reserve it as an intern text. I wish someone gave me a comic the last time I interned. See, my new initatives are coming together already!
*
I also got Raisin Pie #4. I need to know who burned down that library! When I met Ariel Bordeaux this winter as she curated the comics parts of the Grace Reading Series, I totally forgot that I had emailed with her before about Raisin Pie. Another chance to harass cartoonists I like wasted.
*
I also bought Honey Talks, a comic collection by the Stripburger/ Forum Ljubljana folks. The collection is a box of minicomics based on Slovenian folk art called "beehive panels." The design is so simple and beautiful that I couldn't not buy it. Take a look and see if you feel the same:
If you don't feel like squinting, go here.
*
News from the past: A few weeks ago I went to the Small Press Month reading at Mo Pitkins. I missed all the readers I wanted to see, but I did manage to hear some good poetry from Belladonna's readers. I don't usually go in for that sort of thing but these gals were making poetry that felt relevant and strong. Even so, I decided to venture out into th ice storm where I met a nice girl and went to a bar with her. Though we did manage to discuss books and films and other things with each other and other fine, fine people, the night ended up a bit of a travesty. Free drinks do not always end up being free my friends.
*
Last week I stepped up as Managing Web Editor for Topic Magazine. Day before yesterday, I went to Midtown Comics and bought RADIO, a comic collaboration between Jessica Abel and the This American Life Crew. Inside the 1999 book (besides great drawings and lettering) there are tips on how to do a great radio interview. Since Topic has a similar obsession as TAM with people, their storis and how those stories relate to larger issues, I found all the information to be quite helpful. I may even reserve it as an intern text. I wish someone gave me a comic the last time I interned. See, my new initatives are coming together already!
*
I also got Raisin Pie #4. I need to know who burned down that library! When I met Ariel Bordeaux this winter as she curated the comics parts of the Grace Reading Series, I totally forgot that I had emailed with her before about Raisin Pie. Another chance to harass cartoonists I like wasted.
*
I also bought Honey Talks, a comic collection by the Stripburger/ Forum Ljubljana folks. The collection is a box of minicomics based on Slovenian folk art called "beehive panels." The design is so simple and beautiful that I couldn't not buy it. Take a look and see if you feel the same:
If you don't feel like squinting, go here.*
News from the past: A few weeks ago I went to the Small Press Month reading at Mo Pitkins. I missed all the readers I wanted to see, but I did manage to hear some good poetry from Belladonna's readers. I don't usually go in for that sort of thing but these gals were making poetry that felt relevant and strong. Even so, I decided to venture out into th ice storm where I met a nice girl and went to a bar with her. Though we did manage to discuss books and films and other things with each other and other fine, fine people, the night ended up a bit of a travesty. Free drinks do not always end up being free my friends.
Monday, March 26, 2007
lowercase
it is so many days from the last time I posted. this is an obvious fact and yet i felt the need to point it out. i think it is blogger reflux, kind of like that permanment heartburn that people on TV get all the time, except this time it is the need to point out obvious facts about frequency/quality of posts.
now that i have diagnosed myself I can move onto the bookish chatter that i attempt to produce regularly. As you can see I have read the whole Matthew Sharpe catalogue. His new book, Jamestown, I have also read. Be patient, a review of that will appear on another internet site soon. I must say that The Sleeping Father was amazing and I hope I figure out more precisely why before I write it up. I enjoyed being immersed in Sharpe's view of things for the past two weeks or so.
i thought that my comment about girly book titles would have aroused more commenting. Sigh. I thought we all hated the same stuff...
now that i have diagnosed myself I can move onto the bookish chatter that i attempt to produce regularly. As you can see I have read the whole Matthew Sharpe catalogue. His new book, Jamestown, I have also read. Be patient, a review of that will appear on another internet site soon. I must say that The Sleeping Father was amazing and I hope I figure out more precisely why before I write it up. I enjoyed being immersed in Sharpe's view of things for the past two weeks or so.
i thought that my comment about girly book titles would have aroused more commenting. Sigh. I thought we all hated the same stuff...
Thursday, March 15, 2007
ARGHHH!!!
* Lesson learned: Don't tell an interviewer your future plans outside the industry thinking it will make you seem a more fascintating candidate. It won't. It will make them think you don't want the job, therefore providing a great excuse for them to not give you the job. Do not do the above especially if you are jinxed regarding employment.
*Book title formulas that need to be banished forever from the pool:
______ Girl(s)
______'s Girl
The _____'s Daughter
____ Daughter(s)
The Girls of _____
_____ for Girls
A Girl's _____ to ______
*Book title formulas that need to be banished forever from the pool:
______ Girl(s)
______'s Girl
The _____'s Daughter
____ Daughter(s)
The Girls of _____
_____ for Girls
A Girl's _____ to ______
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Vacation is Over
And now the blogging must begin again.
Sadly, I have no new reviews for you, just the news that I am writing some stuff and reading even more. I wish that I had not left San Francisco (again), but I heard spring was coming and I just had to feel the sunlight come through my front window in that special New York way.
My bulbs are making green fronds and short, fat spears. I spent a period of this, my last vacation day, blasting them with budding beams. Don't those crocuses know that mommy needs a little sugar? Maybe if I got out there and stirred my compost pile it would show that I am committed to the development of their beauty. I figure two weeks more...
Doppelganger has a new list about books she's lied about reading. I want to wallow in the shame bath with her, but no books come to mind. When someone is all like "Don't you just think 100 Years of Solitude was the most beautiful book ever written" I just stare at their neck until they go away.
Sadly, I have no new reviews for you, just the news that I am writing some stuff and reading even more. I wish that I had not left San Francisco (again), but I heard spring was coming and I just had to feel the sunlight come through my front window in that special New York way.
My bulbs are making green fronds and short, fat spears. I spent a period of this, my last vacation day, blasting them with budding beams. Don't those crocuses know that mommy needs a little sugar? Maybe if I got out there and stirred my compost pile it would show that I am committed to the development of their beauty. I figure two weeks more...
Doppelganger has a new list about books she's lied about reading. I want to wallow in the shame bath with her, but no books come to mind. When someone is all like "Don't you just think 100 Years of Solitude was the most beautiful book ever written" I just stare at their neck until they go away.
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