Dorothy Parker, Toni Morrison, and Raymond Carver belong to a group of ambidextrous authors who have the facility to place both hands at the sides of their respective cheeks simultaneously. During photo shoots, they are keen on demonstrating this ability. Their adroit use of two hands at the keyboard have led to prolific and sprawling careers. Their contracts stipulate that they are “paid by the palm,” which means more gin n’ tonic for all (some pills too). Some have suggested that they misinterpret the phrase “turn the other cheek,” and are struggling to turn both at once. Jesus has nothing to do with this business; Zion is crowded as it is. The ambidextrous are witty, black, and depressed — but never at the same time.
2009/10/29 at 12:28pm i feel offended by this, this seems wrong and counter-productive
2009/10/29 at 12:38pm man this post is so dumb, i am so done with this site
2009/10/29 at 12:41pm i hate all of you i am never coming back here again
2009/10/29 at 12:43pm what does this mean? you are such a douchebag i can’t even believe it
2009/10/29 at 12:55pm i saw her read one time, it was OK, i was kind of bored, i like her book it’s OK
2009/10/30 at 2:38pm lol
2009/10/30 at 2:38pm this is stupid, boring
2009/10/31 at 8:38am i am never coming back here again
2009/10/31 at 9:38am this is dumb, why are all of you so dumb
Would I accept several thousand dollars in exchange for shooting
myself in the kneecap? Yes, and when the bald man asks for my head on
a stake, hand it to him. He didn’t earn his vulgarity, so we had to
mark him a B+. You can blame the 70s, but it was really the 60s. Much
besides your life depends on exhibiting your best behavior in that
brothel. I myself prefer polite mediocrity to rude talent, but there
are plenty of nice restaurants in this city. He’s not a great chef,
he’s a good chef who shined a great chef’s shoes for years. What’s
funny is when they release those studies that show they are reading
less. Wasn’t the first thing we learned in school the fact that
they’re mostly a silly bunch of guys? He must be stopped before I get
slapped with a health-code violation. Mother, may I have a second can
of soda today? No, it will rot your syntax. I feel lonely when I look
in the mirror but not as lonely as I feel when you are here, so just
stretch your toes into the sea. If it demonstrates form, some people
will take an axe to it. Style is the ultimate weapon, and if you can
combine it with authenticity, you’ve got a great scam going. Welcome
to my femininity, and let me tell you about the dental plan. Two
Californians walk into a bar, and a Mississippian tells them their
problem is that they didn’t first love apple pie. I construct
narrative arks, that’s what I do. The crucial hour begins at three in
the morning. He failed to turn his neck as they were coming out of the
shade, so now they’re stuck with each other. I’m sorry about your
baby. The scandal will be good for your health. Look forward to a
cleansing effect. I feel unable to connect with it, so let’s just play
it up really big and make it sell. Hold the center or it will hold
you. Summer’s surprise was a feeling of generalized hatred, like a man
standing over you and threatening your life, or someone who thanks you
for your attention and cites it as a valuable service to the
community. I called it nihilism, and he called it several forms of
negation. You like to say it’s complicated, but actually it’s simple
to the point of crudity. It’s all right, but I wish it was as big as
my ego, which will now take off his shirt. That winter, the worst ever,
all the snowflakes were identical. I gave myself to you but never got
a receipt. Now for the worst moment of your career. Go away, go away.
This may be weak for mean week, but of late, after catching up with an old friend, I’ve been thinking about college majors and their relationship to what we write. Most people I meet now assume I was an English major, but I was history. Here’s the mildly mean part–I sometimes feel slightly, unjustifiably superior to writers who were English majors–it’s as if I mastered (or, I guess, bachelored) a whole nuther thing first, and they didn’t.
I know that college majors rarely relate directly to future career choice. But four years is a long time to think about something in a serious way. My history coursework was far more rigorous than my MFA work, and my history thesis was much more grueling as well. Somehow, knowing a lot about torture during the Algerian War must inform my writing. All of it does even more for my reading, probably. Context!
So, what did y’all major in? What relationship do you think it has to your writing, if any? If you were in English major, do you think that helps or hurts you, or neither?
The recent “Bubble Boy” hoax may be read as an example of how people are, or wish to be, famous for being famous. Think of “New York” (person) from Flavor of Love who got her own show for being an awesome ho, or Octomom, or those bitches from The Hills or The Kardashians. People work on being famous instead of just working. These examples are “lowbrow,” but we are not exempt.
I have a hard time commenting on someone’s blog, or even this website, telling so and so I really liked their post or their story or whatever. If my feelings are very strong, I email them. If I can’t find their email, I say to myself: “This person will do fine in life without getting an email from me,” or “it should not matter to this person if I like their story — they should be writing on behalf of the story, not its reception.” And it all fits perfect in my head: 1) writers write, 2) readers read, and 3) everybody lives a nice modest life, 4) in relative obscurity, and 5) maybe one day, if applicable, a writer may be recognized, however mildly, for their contribution to literature.
And it isn’t even MEAN WEEK at the Rumpus! Click through anywhere to read the whole sick amazing thing.
The Rumpus received a press release for a new book today, along with a kind personal note. Unfortunately, we can’t cover every book that gets released. But since a lot of people who read this site have blogs of their own we thought we would share this press release with you. Feel free to contact the publicist directly.
TOPIC: Pets bring us joy and companionship. However, as with all living things, there comes a time when we have to say goodbye to our furry friends. Have you ever wondered where your pet goes after it passes from this place? Animal lover and rescuer Susi Pittman, who is often referred to as “Susi of Assisi,” explores this question in her new book, Animals in Heaven? Catholics Want to Know!
If you are the among the best at something, who can blame you for wanting to associate with other people who are among the best at things, too? Like, if you’ve got the best tits, why shouldn’t you want to date whoever has the best hoodies, or become best friends with whoever’s got the best pepperoni? Why, at HTMLGiant, is elitism such a dirty word–and not the good kind that gets you cred in the comments section?
“Elite” means the choice part. The cream. The fruit. It seems as if among certain cohorts of writers and thinking people, this one included, some kind of stigma is attached to being, doing, or having the best, even if that superiority is hard-won and merit-based. And it’s even worse to demonstrate an affinity for others who you deem to be the best. Editors are called elitist if they publish the same writers over and over again or send form rejections. But an editor by definition must be selective, and choosy. Maybe we would choose differently than they would, but that’s why we all must figure out which publications we trust.
When someone cries elitist, to me it just sounds like envy at not feeling like a part of the elite. The envy is understandable! It’s nice here in the creamy, fruity elite. Wish I could extend an invitation.