
2.18.2010
Does Anyone Want to Go to Orlando With Me This Spring?

2.17.2010
Another Reason to Love Vonnegut

In an extraordinary, lengthy typed letter Vonnegut discussed the plight of the immigrant to the U.S. ("I would never urge anyone to come here, unless he were a world figure or multi-millionaire like Sozhenitzen") and the fiction writer in contemporary America: "the best books earn nothing, usually. There are supposedly, at any given time, no more than 300 people in this whole country who make their livings as self-employed writers. America has more admirals on active duty than that." Then, miraculously, Vonnegut agreed to read the proffered short stories. Further, in an act of profound kindness, Vonnegut enclosed an unsolicited check for the poverty-stricken Bulgarian with the "hope that you and your wife will spend it on a good supper and a bottle of wine. The America you find yourselves in is the America I have tried to describe in my books. It makes no sense. Nobody knows what it is. Anything can happen. Cheers, Kurt Vonnegut."
1.25.2010
Quotables: Hannah Miet
I bet your heart smells like pleather and sweat.
There are mysterious cookie crumbs in my coat pocket. It's miraculous that I've survived almost 23 years of existence.
I would punch a bum to spend the morning inside of Fiona Apple's voice. Naked, except for a Snuggie.
I have never worn a Snuggie, but I own a Slap Chop. Pointless thought or existential crisis?
I would never really punch a bum.
Coffee somehow got in my nose. I snorted coffee. Brain: take notice.
This couple reeks of the best hangover cure known to man, and I wonder if I am only switching crutches, hobbling through the pages of this book. I need another coffee before work.
Logistically, and statistically, I have a few more years to be a complete and utter fool and get away with it. Or ten years, if I play my cards right. I really don't want to play my cards right.
I hope I didn't blow it.
I miss the times before I would drink away hangovers. The earnest "I will never drink again!"s yelled to the heavens. Self-honesty is a wench.
Ow.
"We would like to have sex with you" deadpan: mixed results.
"I want to stab my stiletto into your soul." Too forward?
"I want to be the icepick in your wedding cake."
I'd like to taste your lips again, but I feel like I should be embarrassed about something. Should I be embarrassed about something?
All's well as long as you're sort-of alive.
1.14.2010
To Read or Not To Read

1.04.2010
My Non-Existant Tabula Rasa

12.27.2009
Quotables: Chuck Palahniuk

12.11.2009
Books I Want for Christmas





12.08.2009
Yet Another Reason To Love Audrey Niffenegger

I am not opposed to the existence of e-books; I know lots of people are wildly enthusiastic about them. But I have spent my life working with books as an art form and I am devoted to physical books. E-books in their current incarnations are still imperfect and they threaten the arts of book design and typography. As a book conservator I am also nervous about the digitization of books: will they be readable one hundred years from now? Or will thousands of books simply vanish as platforms and programs change?
E-books have certain advantages (they are searchable) and disadvantages (they are not beautiful objects in themselves and don’t display images very well). I’m sure they will improve over time, though. I don’t know when or if my books will become e-books. Writing me hostile e-mail about this will not hasten my desire.