Yes! My search is finally over. I can now get back to reading. Man, this takes me back in the same way that old Mouseketeers episodes take my mom back.
The Bacon Song, from The State
February 16, 2009
February 8, 2009
Wait, some people don't want to be interviewed?
I just got my hopes for a rather high profile interview at the Phoenix dashed by the potential interviewee himself, who is just avoiding the media spotlight. It's understandable I suppose. I wouldn't want to talk to a journalist after my name has been thrown into the Hollywood shitstorm of the last few weeks. Apparently he agreed to talk with me because we share the same college, Emerson. He graduated in the 80s and assumed I wanted to ask about the movie business. Obviously the alumni person I used to track him down didn't convey that I wanted to write a profile...
Still, it sends me into this flurry of self-doubt. Maybe I came off the wrong way--too professional? Too curious? Maybe I should have asked questions first and said who I was later. Or maybe I should have just tried harder to get his number instead of email. But I realize I probably would have gotten the same rejection over the phone.
The thing is, I really wasn't trying to be a paparazzi. I really was interested, genuinely, in the full picture. Oh well. Next time. After the editor briefly said, "Good work," I have to come back and say that it's not gonna happen. A lesson learned.
In other news, I have temporarily but indefinitely disconnected from Facebook, and already I'm feeling some strange withdrawal symptoms. Perhaps because I am simultaneously quitting smoking, again.
On the one hand, it's good having more free time to do other stuff, not hunched in front of a computer screen (except now, clearly). Right now the sun is out and for the first time in months, enough snow has melted to show a few blades of grass. It's almost as if the white witch is growing weaker and Aslan has returned.
But on the other hand, I'm unsure of what to do with myself sometimes. Like when I don't get any exciting e-mails and there are no more status updates, picture albums, pokes or event invitations. I guess it's forcing me to really miss people instead of distracting myself by looking at their electronic versions. And those are a lot of people to miss.
Well, that's all for now, Pilgrim.
Still, it sends me into this flurry of self-doubt. Maybe I came off the wrong way--too professional? Too curious? Maybe I should have asked questions first and said who I was later. Or maybe I should have just tried harder to get his number instead of email. But I realize I probably would have gotten the same rejection over the phone.
The thing is, I really wasn't trying to be a paparazzi. I really was interested, genuinely, in the full picture. Oh well. Next time. After the editor briefly said, "Good work," I have to come back and say that it's not gonna happen. A lesson learned.
In other news, I have temporarily but indefinitely disconnected from Facebook, and already I'm feeling some strange withdrawal symptoms. Perhaps because I am simultaneously quitting smoking, again.
On the one hand, it's good having more free time to do other stuff, not hunched in front of a computer screen (except now, clearly). Right now the sun is out and for the first time in months, enough snow has melted to show a few blades of grass. It's almost as if the white witch is growing weaker and Aslan has returned.
But on the other hand, I'm unsure of what to do with myself sometimes. Like when I don't get any exciting e-mails and there are no more status updates, picture albums, pokes or event invitations. I guess it's forcing me to really miss people instead of distracting myself by looking at their electronic versions. And those are a lot of people to miss.
Well, that's all for now, Pilgrim.
February 3, 2009
January 28, 2009
Farewell Bill Kristol, Hello Sunshine
The New York Times finally fired their own personal Sean-Hannity-with-a-comb-over, Bill Kristol. And as I was looking back on all the glittering gems of wisdom this man turned out week after week, I had to wonder... how on earth could the NYT have been so short-sighted? Don't they know what they're throwing AWAY?
I mean, who couldn't love this toad-like face?
And how about all of that insight into things like putting the right in right-wing? Anyone? Eh?
So, to honor the departing starlet, I thought I'd share this excerpt from an utterly insightful piece about... well, I forget. Because it was overshadowed by this poisonous, random rant about MAYA ANGELOU.
I know why the caged turd sings, Bill. Because Harvard gave you a PhD. in self-righteous nonsense!
"Obama has selected Yale’s Elizabeth Alexander to compose and read a poem. I still remember watching Maya Angelou read “On the Pulse of Morning” at Bill Clinton’s inauguration in 1993 — and thinking that American culture really was in a state of irreversible decline, as she indulged in that multicultural cataloguing of “the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew, / The African and Native American, the Sioux, / The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek, / The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh, / The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher, / The privileged, the homeless, the teacher.”
I’ve looked at some of Alexander’s poetry, and am confident she’ll be a big improvement on Angelou. It makes me think our culture isn’t necessarily getting worse. It may even be getting better."
-12.28.08
Yes, Bill Kristol, things are getting better. Better indeed.
I mean, who couldn't love this toad-like face?
And how about all of that insight into things like putting the right in right-wing? Anyone? Eh?
So, to honor the departing starlet, I thought I'd share this excerpt from an utterly insightful piece about... well, I forget. Because it was overshadowed by this poisonous, random rant about MAYA ANGELOU.
I know why the caged turd sings, Bill. Because Harvard gave you a PhD. in self-righteous nonsense!
"Obama has selected Yale’s Elizabeth Alexander to compose and read a poem. I still remember watching Maya Angelou read “On the Pulse of Morning” at Bill Clinton’s inauguration in 1993 — and thinking that American culture really was in a state of irreversible decline, as she indulged in that multicultural cataloguing of “the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew, / The African and Native American, the Sioux, / The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek, / The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh, / The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher, / The privileged, the homeless, the teacher.”
I’ve looked at some of Alexander’s poetry, and am confident she’ll be a big improvement on Angelou. It makes me think our culture isn’t necessarily getting worse. It may even be getting better."
-12.28.08
Yes, Bill Kristol, things are getting better. Better indeed.
January 25, 2009
A Few of My Favorite Things (Part 1)
In an effort to update my blog more regularly (so that my aversion to newfangled technology isn't quite as obvious), I will give a weekly roundup of the things in life that make snow piles taller than me and below-freezing "highs" worth it.
This week, we have:
1) Novak Djokovic, "Nole," who beat Marcos Baghdatis this morning to proceed to the Quarterfinal of the Australian Open. What a Serbian fox.
2) Petsi Pies, a shop down the road from me that sells nothing but PIE. Savory, sweet, you name it. And for the swearing in of Barack Obama, they had inauguration day pies, filled with mixed berries and, I'm guessing, a little hope and a little change. Proceeds donated to Amnesty International
Have a "peace" of my pie
3) Thanks to the New York Times' excellent reporting, I have an exciting travel destination in mind for my next vacation. That's right--CRAPSTONE, England.
4) The Atlanta Hawks are currently #2 in the Southeast. Paul Pierce is scared.
5) On Thursday night, I got to meet Bob Herbert, who was interviewing Gwen Ifill about her new book at the JFK Library. While that basically amounted to me mumbling something ridiculous as I tremblingly shook his hand, it was encouraging to see how gracious and, well, non-frightened he was in the face of an overly enthusiastic fan. He mentioned the event here (though for some reason, our encounter was omitted... can't imagine why).
HERBERT ROCKS IT ON OUT!
This week, we have:
1) Novak Djokovic, "Nole," who beat Marcos Baghdatis this morning to proceed to the Quarterfinal of the Australian Open. What a Serbian fox.
2) Petsi Pies, a shop down the road from me that sells nothing but PIE. Savory, sweet, you name it. And for the swearing in of Barack Obama, they had inauguration day pies, filled with mixed berries and, I'm guessing, a little hope and a little change. Proceeds donated to Amnesty International
Have a "peace" of my pie
3) Thanks to the New York Times' excellent reporting, I have an exciting travel destination in mind for my next vacation. That's right--CRAPSTONE, England.
4) The Atlanta Hawks are currently #2 in the Southeast. Paul Pierce is scared.
5) On Thursday night, I got to meet Bob Herbert, who was interviewing Gwen Ifill about her new book at the JFK Library. While that basically amounted to me mumbling something ridiculous as I tremblingly shook his hand, it was encouraging to see how gracious and, well, non-frightened he was in the face of an overly enthusiastic fan. He mentioned the event here (though for some reason, our encounter was omitted... can't imagine why).
HERBERT ROCKS IT ON OUT!
Oscar Picks
In lieu of anything better to do, I have decided to share my selections for that illustrious golden naked Ken doll.
BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ENGLISH BULLDOG POSING AS BRAD PITT, as seen in "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button":
BEST UNCREDITED CAMEO BY 80s MICHAEL JACKSON in an Indian fairytale directed by a Scottish zombie lover:
"Oldest Salim"
"Middle Salim"
And last, but not least, the award for MOST OVER-FREAKING-NOMINATED DIRECTOR of all time, for pete's sake: RON HOWARD (Frost/Nixon -- really?)
Sorry, Ope!
Let the Hollywood frenzy begin. Jai ho!
BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ENGLISH BULLDOG POSING AS BRAD PITT, as seen in "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button":
BEST UNCREDITED CAMEO BY 80s MICHAEL JACKSON in an Indian fairytale directed by a Scottish zombie lover:
"Oldest Salim"
"Middle Salim"
And last, but not least, the award for MOST OVER-FREAKING-NOMINATED DIRECTOR of all time, for pete's sake: RON HOWARD (Frost/Nixon -- really?)
Sorry, Ope!
Let the Hollywood frenzy begin. Jai ho!
January 23, 2009
How to walk on the icy streets
On the Globe's website, they have a rather patronizing instructional cartoon about how to walk on the icy streets. Those "penguins," by the way, are actually Irish and Italian mobsters. We contend with those here, too.
Learn How to Walk Right, Ya Jerk
If only it was truly this simple...
Learn How to Walk Right, Ya Jerk
If only it was truly this simple...
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