Notes from the Under...stimulated

Mangled Idiom #163

"Some quick thoughts for food..."

ALSO: these are more like typos, but they were written out by hand at the place we got lunch today:

1. Matzo booll soup.
2. Salad with tomato and gout cheese. (normally i ask people to hold the uric-acid metabolic disease that causes inflamation in joints, but WHAT THE HECK, i'm going to live it up!)

Sunday March 7th's "new word" on The Word Spy

broccoflower (BRAWK.uh.flow.ur) n. A cross between broccoli and cauliflower. Also: brocco-flower.
Today, along with white cauliflower in markets, you'll find broccoflower (less expensive than white) and occasionally purple cauliflower. Broccoflower originated with a green cauliflower grown in Italy and has heads ranging from lime-green to yellow-green and a taste more like cauliflower (but a little sweeter) than broccoli. Most are smaller, lighter in weight, and less crisp and dense than white cauliflower.
—Natalie Haughton, "Cauliflower; It's the new potato," The Daily News of Los Angeles, March 3, 2004

let me just say, you heard it here first (see link left) but only because i heard it from ALW. apparently, it's a very stress-inducing hybrid vegetable...

One-writer, two-writer, three-writer, do... We're gonna read all night to you.

Last night I went to this McSweeney's Fundraiser event for their writing-tutoring center in Brooklyn (826NYC).

Dave Eggers read. So did Nick Hornby. And Jonathon Safran Foer. And Roddy Doyle. He read and read and read, in fact. They talked about the tutoring center (which sounds like a good way to be altruistic and enjoy yourself if you have some free time in NYC). i'm trying to think why the night wasn't Fantastic. it's liiiiiiiiiiiiiike it was all pretty good, but not great. part of me thinks it's because i've gotten used to them (all except JSF, who i actually think is the freshest of the bunch). when i read A Heart Breaking Work of Staggering Genius, i thought it was like the greatest thing, ever. but that was a while ago, you know? everything's tired (from the Oscars to this...); everyone is mimicing/repeating themselves. smile it up jack nicholson, write another cleverly titled short story Dave Eggers, dance billy crystal dance!-- and they're great, but let's get some new blood and new ideas in there!

Fuck. i guess what the writing center is for.

It's hard to believe that I didn't know about this. I am sitting at my desk, enveloped by the hum of flourescent lights and computer monitors. My leg is tucked up under me; the circulation is cut off.

I am in here.

But I still didn't know. There was a whole competition out there to parody David Foster Wallace and i missed it. I push my hair behind my right ear and think I should probably get a hair cut. My hair's too long and the ends are kind of dead. Just like this contest that I missed. It's dead to me now. Maybe that's a bit dramatic. There will be other contests, and i wouldn't have won anyway. I haven't read any David Foster Wallace in a while. Well, that's not true entirely, just the other night i found this scrap of paper that had something written down on it. But so, on this paper, scrawled, almost illegibly, was a quote that looked something like this, but not exactly (i've never been good at remembering quotes verbatim): "It was less like they were resisting the urge to fidget and more like they appeared to have lost whatever hopes or expectations that cause real people to fidget in the first place." I guess that's a pretty depressing excerpt, but for some reason when i read it i guess i thought it Spoke To Me. Whenever I read something by DFW that I particularly like, it's less because of what he's saying and more from a how-come-i-am-never-don't-even-entertain-the-notion-it's-offensive-going-to-be-able-to-write-like this guy. And it's like, i'm not even semi-adequately parodying him right now*, i'm distracted by the work that needs to be done, and the fact that when i used to read DFW a lot i'd parody him without even know i was doing it, not in some creepy bullshit way, but more reverent-like. and now i can't summon it if i try.

it must have been something i ate.

*if i were, there'd be a lot more footnotes.

Ev'rybody was Kung Fu Fighting...

no reason for that except that it's in my head. it's amazing what a friday'll do for your mood. even if it is another one of those days when the somber sky is hocking up frozen bits of phlem and spitting them down on you*. i saw American Splendor last night-- with a talk from the writing/directing duo afterwards. it lived up to the hype. and hey, harvey pekar had it pretty grim. makes my daily grind *kind of* look like a tropical vacation.

ALSO: return to my newest obsession the Literary Conversation Heart (i'm going to keep beating this one like a dead horse. line from the book i started reading yesterday "dead horses are very heavy.")

I Love You, Skinny Legs and All!
When You're Around Everything is Illuminated!
Master of Love, Here's a Margarita! (it's a stretch. i know)

*sorry for that visual. yesterday pickles kept *chhhhcccchhoooock*-ing up these big, nasty throat gobs. when i complained, my co-worker in london said that chinese men are apt to do that, no problem. "in beijing, you need umbrellas for your shoes, mate." ick.

Ok. and because i'm slightly obsessed, more Literary Conversation Hearts...

The Corrections: I Don't DO Love You!
Before Night Falls, You Will Be Mine!
In the Name of the Dozen Roses!

and some less tasteful ones:
You have a Beautiful Mind, But a Better Ass!
and
Uh-Oh, I Wapshot My Chronicle Over You!

It's getting lighter in the morning!
It just goes to show you that even from the darkest depths, after shortest days, on the greyest dawns... you'll still have to get up at 6am and come to work.

heh. i'm just kidding. i totally don't get up at 6:00am. i snooze till 6:30 and then get to work late every day. even when the days start getting longer.

Something else that's cheered me up (marginally, and for the time being) is this list of Literary Conversation Hearts that my new friend MT sent in [thanks!].
The Valenteen Rabbit
You've Captured My Heart of Darkness
The Jungle Book of Love
Great Sexpectations
The Scarlet Loveletter
The Golden Bowl of Valentine Candy
The Portrait of My Beautiful Lady
The Call of the Wild Night with Me
The Adventures of Heartleberry Finn
The Picture of Dorian Pink and Red
Journey to the Center of My Heart
Choose Me Over Those Two Gentlemen of Verona
Paradise Not Lost With You
The Bell Jar of Sweet Tarts
The French Lieutenant's Woman Has Nothing on You
For Whom My Heart Tolls
A Sweetheart named Desire

EVERYONE ELSE BETTER GET THEIR CONFECTIONARY/LIT HATS ON. i mean it.

I'm not letting this die.

More Literary Conversation Hearts

Don't Be The Stranger!
For Esme, With Love!
Karass Me!

don't worry. there will be more tomorrow. OH YES. INDEED. and you'll like the sickly sweet taste too!

So. What do you get when you cross candy and biotech [and literature]?
You get a Swiss Biotech Company moving into the old Necco Factory on Mass. Ave in Cambridge.... studying sugars. For real.

now. i'm like one of three people globally who likes those Necco Valentine's Day Hearts. (no wonder the factory closed down...) but it got me to thinking what if for some reason there were "literature-ically engineered" hearts? Like (stay with me) instead of "Kiss Me!" or "You Rock!" on these hearts we upped the intellectual quota a bit and they were a tad more literary?

I'm thinking a la...
Sophie, ch-ch-choose me!
or
Be My Sputnik Sweetheart!
Goodbye Columbus, Hello Love!
Catch-22 Kisses From Me!
(the Graham Greene section...)
You're The Heart of the Matter!
Don't Make this the End of the Affair!

LITERARY HEARTS... con't
We're a pair, Girl with the Curious Hair!
Living Without You Is A Crime [and a Punishment]
Call me Ishmael, Just Call Me!
Don't put me through a Trial, K?
Help Jim Get Lucky!

i need more...

His Titles Are Predictable Or, Dave Eggers Writes for Salon
Salon Premium Has Ads! You Can Still Read it For Free!

Salon serializes Dave Eggers' novel about the American Political Circus.

what i want to know is: where the hell does he find the time?