Monthly Archives: December 2009

Paparazzo: Episode Four

Announcing Episode Four of Paparazzo, a radio show about culture broadcasting from Paris, France. Endless, undiminished apologies all around. The “caucasian skin” reference, along with this entire enterprise, is weird and bad and sounds wrong. I continue to be unable and/or refuse to to learn to edit audio, or myself. I also continue to use this blog as a clearinghouse for my psychic daemons, thanks for stopping by, “all rights reserved / all wrongs reversed”!

[Listen to Episodes One, Two, or Three.]

(Photo harvested from the Flickr collection of “chrisainsworth“)

Paparazzo: Episode Three

Announcing Episode Three of Paparazzo, a radio show about culture broadcasting from Paris, France. I don’t know how to edit audio. I know that Mogadishu is in Somalia. I have permanently damaged my brain.

[Previously: Episode One, Episode Two.]

Blogfarm, blogfuture, blogheart, blogtown, blogtrain, blogcap, blogcane, blogclone, blogclown, blogstop, blogpound, blogtrap, blogcork, blogcow, blogcrown

…anyway, this morning as I was walking into the office, I am Jewish, I am “all traveled out,” not going anywhere for the holidays, what about you, skeleton-crew people in the office are doing LOTS of shouting stuff out to each other, feeling their oats, it’s OK, it’s kind of bugging me, I do it as much as anyone, I am a hypocrite, but please stop talking to me, I am trying to write about my life on a free website that I maintain, please do not speak to me (Nota Bene: I am not talking about you, McMüller, everything you have said today and every day is perfect, seriously, please do not stop talking) (everyone else, you must stop talking)

anyway, as I was walking into the office, there was a young woman posed semi-confrontationally on her bike, gazing self-consciously into the closed hipster Design Beyond Reach store next-door, we did not make eye contact, her face was poised in a self-conscious semi-angry mask of seriousness, the one that says “I am feeling confused and I know a total stranger is regarding me  in a public space; I need a shield of total seriousness to protect me from embarrassment as I gaze into this twee, shuttered shop.”

Her expression was overwhelmingly serious, which is why I came close to laughing out loud when, with terrible concentration and gravity, she removed something from her bag, which could only have been a cell phone, but in fact, as I sauntered by with perfect posture and generous love in my heart, I recognized her removing from her bag a pack of———-Dentyne Ice! She was self-consciously producing a stick of gum! This woman was a rookie undercover cop. My heart went out to her. It stays out with her. Except somewhere, by now, I know she’s speaking out loud, and, despite myself, only because I’m trying to concentrate, I want her to stop.


I want to conduct a roundtable discussion that I’ll title “Slapstick on a Pig: New Feminist Humo(u)r(s)” with Lisa Hanawalt and Lauren Bans. I will moderate, but my “moderation” will just be Hanawalt and Bans mocking me. I will “sell” the interview to an online magazine.


I have been meaning to say HEY THANK YOU to everyone who laughed politely and didn’t throw acid/beer/vodka-tonic in my face at the Make-Out Room earlier this month. In particular: I couldn’t have asked for better volunteers from the audience. Total-stranger hilarious woman with empanada, I’m looking at you. KUDOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

I have a cold, this is a blog,

there’s work I’m supposed to be doing but I’m home sick, I have a cold, I’ve been clicking on lots of things, maybe I will go back to sleep soon, it’s 8 p.m., but rill quick just wanted to say

via @magicmolly I discovered the internet writing of Lauren Bans, who it seems like if I went home sick with my laptop more often I would have been a fan of hers for much much longer, instead of just tonight.

Two encounters with pop culture I’d  had and forgotten about that Bans wrote about and made me happy to have encountered if only to appreciate her take more fully (I have a cold):

  1. I watched three-quarters of 200 Summers I mean 500 Days of Summer (approx. 375 Days of Summer, I guess) on a plane recently. We landed before it finished. Bans’s quick take (“emosogyny“) on the movie is awesome (but I wish she’d mentioned the Garden State/Shins scene, maybe it’s not as relevant as I want it to be)
  2. I was sitting in Atlas cafe the other morning with Gerhard Richter’s Daughters, Atlas has a weird selection of old magazines, and we were idly checking out GQ‘s profile of January Jones and I made a half-coherent unfunny observation  that Bans makes doublecoherently and funnierly here, I am grateful, I have a cold


If one travels deep enough into the interior of an inside joke, its limits dissolve. The joke’s boundaries recede and become as distant and penetrable as the atmosphere of the Earth. Alfe liberates its viewers and launches them into an untethered and euphoric inner space.

—Quailty Norwheast,
The Emotional’s Guide to the Internet Videos
(forthcoming from Garabedian Books, Spring 2012)

Cornea Lucida (Orange Julius)

SUPER FAT DUDE IN A HUGE RUSH: I don’t have time for this conversation, what do you want

DIMINUTIVE FEMININE IMP: I just wanted to know how you felt today

SFDIAHR: I couldn’t really say

DFI: What about now?

SFD: Nothing has changed. I’m the same. Less busy now

DFI: Does “bumble-bee tuna” have real bumblebee meat in it?

S: Yes

DFI: What’d you do last night?

S: I was at the Miami Bart Fare

D: In New York?

S: Yeah, A-town

D: What does A-Town stand for again?

S: Nothing. That’s just the name: “A-Town”

D: It doesn’t stand for “Ass-Town” or “Andrew-Town” or something like that?

S: Nope. A = A.

D: OK… Ready to eat?

S: I ate already

D: What? We had plans!

S: And I—had Unbearable Urges.

D: Well, come sit with me and have a whiskey while I eat. I’m starving.

S: OK. Did you read Dwight Garner’s review of the Larry McMurtry’s new memoir? He quotes McMurtry’s “long held belief that age doesn’t favor the novelist.”

D: That means you should write your novel immediately. Tonight.

S: Yes. Otherwise I will get old and my “fiction” will grow pallid

D: who knows, maybe it’ll grow “pellucid”

S: Unlikely.