mcnallyjackson:
Every Person in New York: Lydia Davis at McNally Jackson Edition
I stood behind him as he drew it. I didn’t know it was That Guy Jason Polan! I thought it was a Jason Polan acolyte at best. Also, insider info: this is second draft.
And wasn’t that reading THE WEIRDEST? Everyone was edge of their seats / so eager to laugh and support her that they laughed at things that were Lydia Davis funny but not really funny-funny, ya know? They were very supportive. More than I was even though I support her unconditionally and also think her author photo does her no justice whatsoever. But I swear when she said she was going to read the entire chapbook my knees buckled (not in a good way).
3:41 pm • 1 July 2011 • 32 notes
“
Publishers can benefit from bookstore events, which are frequently covered in local media as news events, giving book sales a boost.
But privately, some publishers said they were skeptical. “We pay for the author to travel and come to the bookstore, and then the store makes money from it?” one said.
”
—
Oh. And by bookstore you mean an entity that is promoting and accommodating what is effectually the publicity campaign for your product, the expenses of which you’re just barely underwriting (if you even are)?
Honestly if you compare this to other businesses, the publisher should be paying the bookstore for the event space.
Also if I have to pay $10 and buy two drinks at all of Halle’s damn improv shows, I will pay $5 to go listen to Nicole Krauss talk about dying or whatever.
1:59 pm • 24 June 2011 • 28 notes
how to argue when you are the worst people in the world.
Part of loving you means that I just want to squeeze you and crush you into me until we are stuck together—
Like in the Inferno?
Not really.
What?
You’ve said this before but they weren’t actually stuck together, they were just caught in a wind tunnel together, like a mini-tornado.
Well I did read the Inferno in it’s original Italian dialect, so maybe something was lost.
BOOOOOOM!
11:11 am • 24 June 2011 • 65 notes
cosmopsis:
Pickle University
Ashley stuck around the teacher while we were supposed to be shopping and I could hear her asking him questions like, “So — what actually happens if you do this wrong? How sick would you get?”
Lindsay and I ran over from the pizza stone shelf and we all talked about botulism and I asked him* how many pickle-related deaths he is personally responsible for. It was a risky question to ask but he said zero.
*turns out Mr. McClure is actually an adorable baseball-capped guy in what I’m guessing to be his early 30s. NB: with a wedding ring.
4:50 pm • 21 June 2011 • 95 notes
You guys. This is on the wall of the women’s dressing room in the lingerie section at Bloomingdale’s.
10:41 am • 17 June 2011 • 50 notes
So that was funny, kind of.
Remind me to tell you about the time (this morning) when my sweet boyfriend decided to walk me to work at the last minute, without saying anything, and I just got off the L train and started walking down to Avenue A without looking back, except I could feel someone walking way too close to me, and caught him in the corner of my eye, in the reflections of car windows, and I sped up and panicked and wondered what this person was doing at 10 o’clock in the morning, all sidling up way too close on a big, open sidewalk. I wondered if it was just a coincidence or if someone was really being a creep, and then I decided to stop on the corner and let him pass except then he took the opportunity to slow down, too, and then grab my arm, which is when I REALLY freaked, until I actually looked at him and realized it was my sweet boyfriend just trying to walk me to work, which is when I had to stop and catch my breath and also cry, out of both relief and the realization that this is how things are: that before I had cried he’d thought it was kind of funny, walking behind me without saying anything, being a weirdo, not realizing that we live with — we being women, I guess — the anxiety that someone could be coming up behind us, waiting to grab our hand. And not in some prince charming fantasy way, even though that’s what this was!
So I’m moving to Antarctica, is what I’m saying.
12:02 pm • 16 June 2011 • 96 notes
things i learned on the bus today
i was riding the b62 on my way to work and there was a bus-driver-in-training and he was shooting the shit with the real bus driver and I got to hear it all, and it felt like very privileged information.
- the B24 is the absolute best route, but “you will never touch it.” Only the guys who have been driving for “fifteen, twenty years” get that one, and they never change, except in 2008 when the buses switched to 24 hours (is this true?) and all these old guys that had been driving that route all those years straight up retired because they couldn’t handle the “24/360” lifestyle (I guess maybe 5 days are accounted for snow days, parade routes, etc).
- Everyone hates the b60 because of all the wheelchairs (never considered how much bus drivers must resent wheelchairs, which is sad but real) but this new guy said he’d rather take the b60 over the b47 any day, as the b47 is full of people shopping on fulton st all excited to “tell you how to do your job.” Oof!
- the b48 and the b62 are “sweet rides.”
11:16 am • 7 June 2011 • 98 notes
“Why do your pictures look so retro and amazing?!”
—
the best reply ever.
ha, per digitalfaun’s “but isn’t instagram the worst?”
it really is The Worst but it is also fun. And it is where i have a private account and Share Things With The Internet I Trust rather than blog them, so I really like it.
11:11 am • 7 June 2011 • 9 notes
A good day for bridgewalking. (Taken with instagram)
7:47 pm • 6 June 2011 • 45 notes
