I’m still trying to find someone who recalls this movie I saw as a very young...– Lorrie Moore.
It’s 2010 and I’m starting up my second round of sending out physical written correspondence to anyone who emails me to do so in my ceaseless pursuit of the most anachronistic and expensive way to communicate with people. If you asked for one the last time and I didn’t have time to write you a letter (and I know there was more than one of you, ack), you get first dibs, so tell...
The cows walk around like dogs here and wander in the streets. We are spending...– True postcard from my momma. She is in India making palates whole again, and filing the best motherly dispatches one could ask for from there.
Last night at a party I met the leading man of the New York Times’ “Cavemen” story (home meat lockers, mastodon-outrunning workout regimes, fasting to simulate time between hunts). He says that he has a book deal in the works about paleo-lithic eating, and he was wearing a shirt with a skull on it that said “Evolution” and foot-shaped rubber shoes, so as to...
No matter how unfashionable the party, fashionable music was always playing. The fashion then was silly and sepulchral at once, with hopping, skipping beats playing off a funereal overlay. Somebody sang, “This kiss will never fade away,” his voice like an oily black machine operating a merry-go-round of music flying on grossly painted wings. “It’s about the bombing of...