are where literary pets live.
I have to be honest. I’m not much of a petition signer, but when I saw that the inevitable Save Paris Hilton one had been started, I rushed to add my name. After all, if Paris goes to jail, think of the pop culture domino effect. She does 45 days, then Lionel Ritchie’s daughter’s gonna want to do 50, mostly just to fast so she can fit into her toddler-sized mumus. Lohan will be in for at least 70, long enough for her to fine tune her acting skillz. Spears will have to up the ante, easily able to handle 90 just so she can make sure that the prison tattoo takes. Plus the Cheetos are damn tasty in the joint.
Of course some of you may think that it’s all fine and dandy that all of these divas will be locked up, but be careful what you wish for. I’m not sure Fox News can handle all of the excitement.
Or think of it this way: how many memoirs about prison life will come out of this if you don’t sign that petition NOW?
So we have to put a stop to this while we can. The basement needs you to be a hero!
Oh, and save the book reviews! Rah!
Karen Long, first, poked her bookediting head into the creaking carriage and, entering deftly, seated herself. Mr. Litblogger, disheveled and unnamed, stepped in after her, curving his metacarpals with care.
– Come on, Litblogger.
– After you, Mr. Litblogger said.
Mr. Reader covered himself from the spume and venom and got in, saying:
– I like to read.
– I know but isn’t Mr. Litblogger gleeful? Karen Long asked. Come along, Reader. I promise long-term.
Mr. Reader entered and sat in the vacant place, all printed and blogged for his perusal. He flipped the laptop open and fired wi-fi to find offerings and, seeing nary a difference, looked seriously from the open carriage window at the lowered blinds reminding him of divide between Long and Litblogger. Outside another reader aside: an old woman weeping. Books section flattened, no winners. Thanking her stars she was passed over. Extraordinary the interest they take in a needless corpse when there was time for resurgent vivacity.
– Gleeful how? asked Mr. Litblogger. Examples?
– Never you mind, said Long.
– I like to read.
Mr. Reader saw fists fly between Litblogger and Long and, having not anticipated violence, asked the carriage to stop. Reader wanted book recs, not strings of resentment.
– You two duke it out, said Reader. I’ll travel elsewhere.
FOR those who think of poets as pondering away the day, this would definitely not be Ms. Garrison. Few work as obsessively at balancing career, children and marriage….The family has a live-in baby sitter and a part-time housekeeper to anchor the household. On this evening, while Ms. Garrison met Georgia and Walter at home, Mr. Garrison picked up Daisy at her hip-hop dance class.–The New York Times (New Jersey Section), May 6, 2007
Few work as obsessively at balancing the insurance business with poetry as Mr. Wallace Stevens…. His Hartford office is well stocked with lackeys, secretaries, flunkeys, and junior associates who cover for him while he ponders jars on hills and his uncle’s monocle.
Most creative writing professors struggle to balance the demands of teaching with the time to continue as poets, but Theodore Roethke has struck a pragmatic balance… With a small stable of graduate students running workshops and grading papers for him and a part-time errand running filling his liquor cabinet, he manages to juggle the many demands on his time.
For those who think of surgeons as spending their days operating on people, this would definitely not be Dr. Johnson….Not, in fact a medical doctor at all, the wit and writer is constantly trailed by a companion, one Boswell, who does most of his writing for him.
For those who think of playwrights as spending their days writing plays, this would definitely not be Will…. Commuting between his family home (which he shares with Ann Shakespeare, née Hathaway), the lodgings of a certain “dark lady,” and the apartments Mr. W.– H.–, Will leaves most of his playwriting to Beaumont, Fletcher and Sir Francis Bacon.
Few struggle as mightily to run the free world and maintain an active life in the on-line fantasy baseball league world as Mr. Bush….But, with Condi and her advisors managing both passionate interests, Mr. Bush has struck the kind of enviable balance that allows him to sleep at night without worry.
this is what a basement in Terra Haute looks like. I begin to wonder: Does Richard Ford have a basement of his own?
The above picture was taken from our Save the Blogs! rally, held yesterday morning at the Terre Haute Hampton Inn. Alas, nobody showed up. Not even the organizers. And this was after we offered everybody free pizza and beer and paid a few people to show up. Alas, it’s hard to find good help these days.
But WE WILL NOT REST until the litblogs are saved! Where else can you find such nonsensical nomens as “herringbone plot structure?” Where else can you find over-the-top diatribes and, above all, THIRD-HAND LITERARY NEWS about today’s contemporary literature?
You may not have attended yesterday’s rally. But the bloggers may very will be coming to your basement very soon!
We now plan to picket the Terre Haute Hampton Inn in the forthcoming months. For one thing, the Terre Haute Hampton Inn does not have a basement, therefore making it a hostile edifice for our blogging purposes. We have also learned from a litblogger, who heard from another blogger, who in turn heard from a man claiming to be Richard Ford’s accountant, that Richard Ford stayed at this very hotel!
So look out, Hampton Inn! You’ve messed with the litbloggers! And some of us forgot to shave!
The New York Times on books and blogging, May 2, 2007:
Of course literary bloggers argue that they do provide a multiplicity of voices. But some authors distrust those voices. Mr. Ford, who has never looked at a literary blog, said he wanted the judgment and filter that he believed a newspaper book editor could provide. “Newspapers, by having institutional backing, have a responsible relationship not only to their publisher but to their readership,” Mr. Ford said, “in a way that some guy sitting in his basement in Terre Haute maybe doesn’t.”