David Denby's Apartment
Another reason to resent New Yorker film reviewer David Denby - his lovely Manhattan apartment. It's a beautiful HOUSE, Tiddly-pom. I wish it were MINE, Tiddly-pom. Here's the story, at least for now.
I also heard on the public radio show Marketplace that people are buying $50 dollar brownies in actual New York City. When the revolution comes . . . Marketplace is funny, they are always exposing the backside of capitalism in backhanded ways.
Categories: newyorker, food, film
Affects: distress/anguish, anger/rage, disgust
posted by zoe p. at 11:03 AM
5 Comments:
whatever, dude, my apartment kicks denby manor's ass, and if i lived in it for the rest of my life i'd never have to pour as much money into it as he's done with this place. and i have a YARD, tiddely-pom, with a vegetable GARDEN, tiddely-pom. i'll have to go on resenting him for his addled, baselessly disparaging, backwards, i-wasn't-really-paying-attention-so-i'll-just-make-some-reasonable-guesses review of broken flowers. granted, i don't have that lovely view of the cement sides of unsightly buildings, and there's all this blasted natural light… i guess there's a downside to everything.
maybe those are special brownies. those city folk aren't going to get their stuff on the corner and stir it into some betty crocker like the rest of us, they're going to do it up gourmet style. because they're bastards.
p.s. thank you for the pooh. what are you doing with a reference like that up your sleeve?
What is it about me that makes people assume I didn't read Winnie the Pooh? You are not the first person to be surprised by this . . .
In fact, it was the first book with chapters that I read myself, after having had it read to me for years. I think I might have been thinking of it recently because the chapter headings (like Tristram Shandy and, I think, Vanity Fair too) resemble those in Musil's Man Without Qualities. For example, "Chapter 1 Which, remarkably enough, does not get anyone anywhere" and so on . . .
I also think that Milne's capitalizations are an ironic jab at some period of modern British philosophy, or maybe at German philosphy in general. I had a theory about this, but I don't remeber which. I did know once, but I've forgotten.
i didn't assume you had never read it, i was simply surprised that any adult who did not have or routinely work with children, besides myself, would have lines from it surface unbidden in such a non-pooh-like setting.
you are my doppelganger, aren't you? *sigh* now you must be destroyed. and i was so enjoying our little chats…
adult? where?
oh! pardon me, i thought i had seen one between the bookshelf and the window, but it was only a nattily dressed coat rack. i was fooled, i think, by the light and its world-weary slouch.
i do want to talk about the other posts, but i got all wrapped up in werner heisenberg, and so i'm still fighting my way through the food issue. i'll come back and comment on these some time in march.
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