traveling
And to be honest, that isn't all. Certain shades of limelight wreck a girl's complexion. Even if a jury gave me the Purple Heart, this neighborhood holds no future: they'd still have a rope up from LaRue to Persona's Bar and Grill - take my word, I'd be about as welcome as Mrs. Frank E. Campell. And if you lived off my particular talents, Cookie, you'd understand the kind of bankruptcy I'm describing. Uh, uh, I don't just fancy a fade out that finds me belly-bumping around Roseland with a pack of West Side hillbillies. While the excellent Madame Trawler sashayes her twat in and out of Tiffany's. I couldn't take it. Give me the fat woman any day.
Aaron Whyte-Reiss doesn't really believe I love the word twat, but I do. And this is why.
If I post at all in the next month, it will be from foreign ports. I'll have to buy my New Yorkers off the newsstand. Maybe I'll read the newspaper, or bring along some out of date NYRB to review . . .
Aaron Whyte-Reiss doesn't really believe I love the word twat, but I do. And this is why.
If I post at all in the next month, it will be from foreign ports. I'll have to buy my New Yorkers off the newsstand. Maybe I'll read the newspaper, or bring along some out of date NYRB to review . . .
posted by zoe p. at 9:56 AM
5 Comments:
for gezunt un kum gezunt (Travel in good health and come back in good health)
I thought that the issue of December 4 was a keeper. Toobin on Specter was workmanlike. Auletta on Dobbs a bit crazy, prudish in defense of journalistic objectivity, but a great little detail in there about lunch at the Four Seasons with a $56 piece of fish. Kolbert on children's books was incisive, and I liked the conceptual distinction between old and new styles of kidlit. The last few sentences were trying too hard to be profound, though. Fisher on alternative radio was an excellent profile, sympathetic without being wistful. Talbot on Bratz dolls served to reintroduce "sassy" to my active vocabulary. (Emdashes liked it too.) The only thing I didn't care for was Saunders on Borat, which I have seen praised in a dozen blogs. I found it smug and I cannot muster sympathy for Pam Anderson. (Needless to say, I am with the Borat backlash backlash.)
I'm keeping in good health, thanks to lots of small yogurt cups, V8, cashews, dried fruit and those bizarro protein bars. And vitamin pills. Supplemented by restaurant food, delicious but less than nutritious.
And I had a chance to read Talbot's "Little Hotties." I'd have to give it a big rousing Eh since I sort of felt like if you couldn't tell all of that from looking at the dolls then you probably wouldn't care. Her "research" didn't tell you anything you probably didn't already know . . .
Also read Somalis of Lewiston.
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