Sunday, January 21, 2007
Cheesy Lou
It's the end of an era. A couple of weeks ago, my parents closed their last restaurant. They hadn't wanted stuff from the place to go to waste, so my mother took it upon herself to arrange a gift basket of the most eclectic variety. It is for this reason that she showed up at my doorstep with an enormous box, packed with the weirdest assortment of items ever, including martini glasses, kosher salt, a bucket of crab meat, two bottles of gin, decaf espresso, and a dick-shaped tube of goat cheese.
Annie took Louis to the vet a few days ago, and it turns out he has a sinus infection. This means he must take pills three times a day, "with something like peanut butter on them so he'll eat them." He's a crafty little beast, and has been known to lick the peanut butter off whatever pill he's been prescribed in the past, so we've learned to place the peanut butter-encrusted pill at the back of his tongue so he has no choice but to swallow.
Problem is, I have no peanut butter. So when my eyes landed on the goat cheese, perched against the wall of my refrigerator, I figured it would suffice. I took a capsule out of the bottle and balled it up into a little clump of cheese. Then I sat down on the floor near Louis.
He eyed me suspiciously, looking from the cheese to me, then back to the cheese. He sauntered over and sniffed it. Then he tried to lick it.
I pulled him into my lap and then pried his mouth open. Just as I brought the pill up to his mouth, he jerked his face to the side, smearing cheese all over his cheek, nose and eyebrow, and eyelashes in the process. Then he started frantically lapping away at his own face, delighted that he had somehow duped me. I got some more cheese, molded a new ball, and tried again. Same thing, only this time, worse. It was as if someone had thrown a cream pie in his face, only it was goat cheese, and it smelled like ass. But as I gazed down at my beloved with a face covered in stank-ass dairy and a little gleam in his gremblin-esque eye, I was overwhelmed by how much I love him. My God do I love this strange little creature who sleeps in my bed and snorts in my ear all night long. It's like a lullaby, only not melodic and far more soothing.
Annie took Louis to the vet a few days ago, and it turns out he has a sinus infection. This means he must take pills three times a day, "with something like peanut butter on them so he'll eat them." He's a crafty little beast, and has been known to lick the peanut butter off whatever pill he's been prescribed in the past, so we've learned to place the peanut butter-encrusted pill at the back of his tongue so he has no choice but to swallow.
Problem is, I have no peanut butter. So when my eyes landed on the goat cheese, perched against the wall of my refrigerator, I figured it would suffice. I took a capsule out of the bottle and balled it up into a little clump of cheese. Then I sat down on the floor near Louis.
He eyed me suspiciously, looking from the cheese to me, then back to the cheese. He sauntered over and sniffed it. Then he tried to lick it.
I pulled him into my lap and then pried his mouth open. Just as I brought the pill up to his mouth, he jerked his face to the side, smearing cheese all over his cheek, nose and eyebrow, and eyelashes in the process. Then he started frantically lapping away at his own face, delighted that he had somehow duped me. I got some more cheese, molded a new ball, and tried again. Same thing, only this time, worse. It was as if someone had thrown a cream pie in his face, only it was goat cheese, and it smelled like ass. But as I gazed down at my beloved with a face covered in stank-ass dairy and a little gleam in his gremblin-esque eye, I was overwhelmed by how much I love him. My God do I love this strange little creature who sleeps in my bed and snorts in my ear all night long. It's like a lullaby, only not melodic and far more soothing.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Report Card
I see no reason as to why I shouldn't post my grades for the first semester of grad school. Owen Wilson sent his college grades to the Tenenbaum parents in The Royal Tenenbaums, hoping to impress them and in turn, win Margot Tenenbaum's heart. Perhaps I should write "Tenenbaum" one last time. Tenenbaum. There. He failed in his attempts, but whatever. My nose isn't quite as phallic as his, so maybe I would have had a better shot. Here they are (my school has no formal grades, only "evaluations"):
1. Graduate Seminar in Nonfiction:
"Katie did this semester exactly what she should have. She grew as a writer by leaps and bounds. Her exercises and her first large piece were at times successful, at times incipient. Her final piece was a stunning embodiment of the personal essay at its best--beautifully balanced compositionally, stylishly written, exquisitely paced, humorous, believable, and profound. I found her to be an eager, ardent student. She should have spoken more in class, and she should broaden her reading from the sectarian booklists of her generation into the broad, endless landscape of canonical literature. But she has the talent and the will to make beautiful work, which I suspect she will continue to do."
2. Craft of Nonfiction:
"Katie was a great presence in the class. Although she seemed to have a lot going on in her personal life, she was conscientious about her assignments and was intelligent and on-target when speaking about the readings. She can be a very witty and also very emotional writer; I'm always feeling her bravado but also an underlying sadness. She can do description and dialogue well, whether she's talking about playing dodgeball in grade school--here she can sound as mean as young girls are--or walking down her block in New York and greeting all her friends on the street, like the firemen who are including her as a judge in their mustache-growing contest. I do sometimes have the feeling she's not too cozy with herself, and that she wants to shut off the writing too fast--maybe it's kind of painful?--so my only advice would be to try to stay in these pieces a bit longer, push the descriptions and the characters further to give us more intimacy. If she did that she could be a powerful writer."
3. Individualism Reconsidered (Psychology elective):
"In her self-evaluation Katie writes: "My reflection papers have always been very thorough and honest. I take my time with them, making sure to write them only after I have synthesized the information gleaned from reviewing my class notes and the reading. After having re-read them for work on my final paper, I am surprised by how much personal information I disclosed as well. I hope it was relevant in the context of the material."
Katie's reflection papers numbered 30 pages and it would have been more if she did not miss a class. For other students, the average number of pages for this particular task is about 14. Moreover, and much more to the point, Katie's reflection papers delve deeply into the material in an analytic, and yet as she declares, in a personal way. However, her fears that the papers are too personal and perhaps off the conceptual mark are not warranted. The personal is always illustrative of a major issue. I never fail to miss her presence when I read her pieces. She writes in an easy conversational style that is free of pretense and affectation. The depth and comprehensiveness of these reflection papers can easily substitute for a conference paper. I do wish our conferences had been longer since I always had the distinct feeling that we were just getting started when the knock on the door by another student stopped us mid-sentence. Perhaps next semester we will be able to arrange for more time. Katie opted to do a year long non-fiction piece on the impact of the courses on students. This will involve in-depth interviews with each student. Katie has provided me with an in-depth outline of this project and I am looking forward to working with her on this project. If I could use a single word to frame her work next semester it would be -- RELAX -- and if I added another sentence it would be: "Trust your sensibility.""
1. Graduate Seminar in Nonfiction:
"Katie did this semester exactly what she should have. She grew as a writer by leaps and bounds. Her exercises and her first large piece were at times successful, at times incipient. Her final piece was a stunning embodiment of the personal essay at its best--beautifully balanced compositionally, stylishly written, exquisitely paced, humorous, believable, and profound. I found her to be an eager, ardent student. She should have spoken more in class, and she should broaden her reading from the sectarian booklists of her generation into the broad, endless landscape of canonical literature. But she has the talent and the will to make beautiful work, which I suspect she will continue to do."
2. Craft of Nonfiction:
"Katie was a great presence in the class. Although she seemed to have a lot going on in her personal life, she was conscientious about her assignments and was intelligent and on-target when speaking about the readings. She can be a very witty and also very emotional writer; I'm always feeling her bravado but also an underlying sadness. She can do description and dialogue well, whether she's talking about playing dodgeball in grade school--here she can sound as mean as young girls are--or walking down her block in New York and greeting all her friends on the street, like the firemen who are including her as a judge in their mustache-growing contest. I do sometimes have the feeling she's not too cozy with herself, and that she wants to shut off the writing too fast--maybe it's kind of painful?--so my only advice would be to try to stay in these pieces a bit longer, push the descriptions and the characters further to give us more intimacy. If she did that she could be a powerful writer."
3. Individualism Reconsidered (Psychology elective):
"In her self-evaluation Katie writes: "My reflection papers have always been very thorough and honest. I take my time with them, making sure to write them only after I have synthesized the information gleaned from reviewing my class notes and the reading. After having re-read them for work on my final paper, I am surprised by how much personal information I disclosed as well. I hope it was relevant in the context of the material."
Katie's reflection papers numbered 30 pages and it would have been more if she did not miss a class. For other students, the average number of pages for this particular task is about 14. Moreover, and much more to the point, Katie's reflection papers delve deeply into the material in an analytic, and yet as she declares, in a personal way. However, her fears that the papers are too personal and perhaps off the conceptual mark are not warranted. The personal is always illustrative of a major issue. I never fail to miss her presence when I read her pieces. She writes in an easy conversational style that is free of pretense and affectation. The depth and comprehensiveness of these reflection papers can easily substitute for a conference paper. I do wish our conferences had been longer since I always had the distinct feeling that we were just getting started when the knock on the door by another student stopped us mid-sentence. Perhaps next semester we will be able to arrange for more time. Katie opted to do a year long non-fiction piece on the impact of the courses on students. This will involve in-depth interviews with each student. Katie has provided me with an in-depth outline of this project and I am looking forward to working with her on this project. If I could use a single word to frame her work next semester it would be -- RELAX -- and if I added another sentence it would be: "Trust your sensibility.""
Friday, January 12, 2007
2 Extreme Lyricists
Sometimes, when I'm feeling extra dykey and my hair is acting extra Jewish, I put it back and then wear the hood of my sweatshirt up over my head. Tonight, on a leisurely walk with Louis, I stopped by the firehouse and talked to one of the firemen as he fed him a bone. Then the phone rang, so he disappeared into the back to get it. Just then, a mother and her young daughter strolled by. "Look!" exclaimed the mother, smiling at me and then the dog. "Look at that nice fireman's dog!" Her kid started petting Louis furiously, and he sat there, indifferent, as always.
"Hello," I said, assuming my voice would set her straight.
"Hello! Mercedes, say hi to the nice fireman who's letting you pet his dog!"
The little girl looked up at me and grinned. "Hello fireman!" she exclaimed enthusiastically.
"His name is Louis!" I informed her, raising my voice an octave to see if it would warrant any kind of a correction or response from the mother. Nothing. She simply looked me straight in the eye one last time, and smiled. It's good to know that a hay-like mane of matted blonde hair is all that keeps people from thinking that I am a dude.
Today I did a phone interview with 2XL, and it was amazing. "Royal" and "Laze" are 16 year old twin brothers whose debut album, "Neighborhood Rapstar," is coming out this spring on Tommy Boy Records. Scott Storch produced a track and they collaborated with E-40, both impressive feats considering that this is their first album and they were born in like 2001. I read all the interviews they had already done for other publications, and they were boring as fuck. All of their answered sounded canned, safe, well-rehearsed. After being instructed by the features editor to "ask them about things other than their music," I took it upon myself to ask them about everything BUT music. I assumed they'd be self-absorbed little assholes, cause most child stars are, but I was pleasantly surprised. What's more, they were seriously into the interview, which was good. They kept saying, "MAN, these are good questions. This shit is funny!"
Because I spent more time talking to them about Kobe Bryant, ping pong, John Mayer, the Olsen twins (whom they said they'd date "if the ladies brought their checkbooks"), stamp collections, being famous at the tender young age of zero, and what their mom thought of their song "Kitty Kat" (in which they made reference to the tissues they need after blowing their loads on groupies), I gathered that the interview proved to be more exciting than most. They were articulate, modest, and good-humored. I love them. The interview was only supposed to be 20 to 30 minutes, but it ran closer to an hour. Basically, we're bff. I won't be blogging anymore, cause I'm going on tour with them, where I will subsist for months on their sloppy seconds. Cause I'm sure that screaming 16-yr. old Dominican girls want a piece of this nice fireman.
"Hello," I said, assuming my voice would set her straight.
"Hello! Mercedes, say hi to the nice fireman who's letting you pet his dog!"
The little girl looked up at me and grinned. "Hello fireman!" she exclaimed enthusiastically.
"His name is Louis!" I informed her, raising my voice an octave to see if it would warrant any kind of a correction or response from the mother. Nothing. She simply looked me straight in the eye one last time, and smiled. It's good to know that a hay-like mane of matted blonde hair is all that keeps people from thinking that I am a dude.
Today I did a phone interview with 2XL, and it was amazing. "Royal" and "Laze" are 16 year old twin brothers whose debut album, "Neighborhood Rapstar," is coming out this spring on Tommy Boy Records. Scott Storch produced a track and they collaborated with E-40, both impressive feats considering that this is their first album and they were born in like 2001. I read all the interviews they had already done for other publications, and they were boring as fuck. All of their answered sounded canned, safe, well-rehearsed. After being instructed by the features editor to "ask them about things other than their music," I took it upon myself to ask them about everything BUT music. I assumed they'd be self-absorbed little assholes, cause most child stars are, but I was pleasantly surprised. What's more, they were seriously into the interview, which was good. They kept saying, "MAN, these are good questions. This shit is funny!"
Because I spent more time talking to them about Kobe Bryant, ping pong, John Mayer, the Olsen twins (whom they said they'd date "if the ladies brought their checkbooks"), stamp collections, being famous at the tender young age of zero, and what their mom thought of their song "Kitty Kat" (in which they made reference to the tissues they need after blowing their loads on groupies), I gathered that the interview proved to be more exciting than most. They were articulate, modest, and good-humored. I love them. The interview was only supposed to be 20 to 30 minutes, but it ran closer to an hour. Basically, we're bff. I won't be blogging anymore, cause I'm going on tour with them, where I will subsist for months on their sloppy seconds. Cause I'm sure that screaming 16-yr. old Dominican girls want a piece of this nice fireman.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Office space
Today was my first day at the web mag, and it was weird. Everyone was very nice, I had just forgotten how strange office life is. In the orientation meeting this morning, it was explained to me that it is important to keep the fridge stocked with 2%, skim, and soy milk at all times, cause the staff members are "serious coffee drinkers." Already I was laden with serious responsibility! Then I received my first assignment, which was to prowl for noteworthy sex scenes in a couple of books for the section of the site that honors noteworthy literary sex scenes. I prowled, I found some, I returned the books with pages marked. Then I realized that the weird smell emanating from what I thought was the back of my desk chair was actually my vest, and that my dog had somehow pissed on it, it had dried, and I had worn it to work on the first day of a new job. That's what you get for wearing something that you found in a heap on the floor. Feeling queasy and under the weather, I walked home. Another day, another dollar. Or something like that.
