Alison Brie, one of my favorite actors on Mad Men (she plays Trudy, Pete’s wife) has a graphic and hilariously cheerful sex essay on Nerve. Wow, she’s… nothing like her character on the show.
Leszek (Lech) Jankowski wrote the music for the Brother’s Quay film “The Street of Crocodiles.” Here is a short blog post that includes a link to an mp3 of that soundtrack. Here’s his website. Right now, my head sounds like this guy’s music. If you need me, I’ll be in bed.
At We Who Are About to Die, Daniel Nester has compiled 13 lessons about doing a book (writing, promoting, etc). Really worthwhile stuff, from the funny “Don’t read more than 15 minutes [at a reading]. Any longer than that is a hostage situation.” to a point that I needed to hear at this exact moment: “Remember the times you were writing the book and had rushes of joy from putting words and sentences together. “
InDigest has a new issue, including 7 broadsides from the new poems that will appear in the rereleased edition of CAConrad’s incredible The Book of Frank, coming out in expansion this year from Wave. Love.
It was my own mother, incidentally, whom I can scarcely recall ever seeing with a book in her hand, who told me one day when I was reading The Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World that she had read that book years ago herself–in the toilet. I was flabbergasted. Not that she had admitted to reading in the toilet, but it should have been that book, of all books, which she read there.
That’s Henry Miller, in his fantastic nonfic, The Books in My Life.
Shome Dasgupta has a similar thing going on over at his blog, The Laughing Yeti. A bunch of people talking about their reading habits, including Mike Young, Roxane Gay, Stephen Eliot (oh, and me).
Should a SS collection be all winners? Or is it OK to be like (most) albums. A couple hits, a few so-sos (with redeemable aspects, though), and, oh, a dud or two.
The winners of the weird words for Words contest are Sabra Embury & Sean K. Their entries, respectively:
A fall, it takes, eats–mother crams him, burnt and opaque; her glimpses diamond heavy, dog tired dead, yes–their wall runs blood.
&
Her fall: a tired mother glimpses their dead dog’s burnt, opaque blood, “Diamond, yes!” wall-runs and takes him, eats, crams it.
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