Thursday, December 29, 2011

Monday, December 19, 2011


hello metaphor.

the ocean at night is so enthralling and terrifying. i can barely understand what i'm seeing when i stand on a beach anyway, but at night, it's like anything you think you know is not only suddenly missing, but meaningless. there is only this eternal black maw, occasionally shining, and roaring dully, slapping at your feet. like a dare. the only thing i've felt certain of while standing on a wet black beach is that it's not just water out there.
My brother just finished another master's degree. Here we are looking super happy about it:


I'm excited to see what he'll do with it. Library science!

Speaking of happy face photos...Thanks, Mom. Not sure if this is brat-pouting or existential angst, probably both. What's the difference?


This photo pretty much says it all.  ALL.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Truer Words

The Better Book Titles tumblr generally fails with me because I think most of the submissions are lazy and lame. This one killed me, however:


(Inherit the Wind) CMAN. That's good.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Next Elizabeth Gilbert

The best writing reviews namedrop Oscar Wilde in some way. Why do I know this? Because I got one!

On...Yelp. In response to an angry review of a horrible Tempe landlord that I rented from three years ago.

Whatever! That shit is going on the back or inside flap of my first book, a hard-hitting, poignant biography of Stonewall Jackson's favorite Civil War horse, Little Sorrel.*

Or I'll probably just use it as the tagline for anything I may do in the future:

"Oscar Wilde once said, 'Anybody can make history. Only a great man can write it.' You my friend, are this (wo)man."

Thanks, anonymous person with a picture of a cat for an icon!

--
* Nah, I'm sure Little Sorrel has too many biographies already. He's too famous. He even has his own episode on Dr. James Robertson's Civil War Podcast.

ETA: Yeah, I'm definitely not writing about a hero war horse. This guy already did, and he has it handled. "120 years ago today, at 6 o'clock in the morning, a great warrior passed to his reward."

The Internet: Still Weird

Every so often, I check out the search terms that bring people to this blog. They're often strange and hilarious, sometimes creepy, and there are a ton of people out there who want to know all about Evan Michelson.

I had to laugh at this one. Someone searched "conservative woman" and got a picture of Jane Seymour Tudor. Too true, mon! Someone using the network at a Catholic boarding school in Canada found my blog (and a picture of Jonathan Rhys Meyers) while googling "transvestites". Also very correct.

I've also learned that people are very interested in taxidermied Italian Greyhounds, and that they think Bette Davis was in Beetlejuice. Fools. That was Sylvia Sidney. Oh, and Bob from La Bamba. Everybody loves Bob, but mostly me.

Other favorites:

"ghost great grandmother died childbirth" - came to the right place, buddy.
"my grandma - how did she look like"
"the initials bb as message from god in a dream?"
"tudor grammar" - wow, we should meet.
"gay construction workers tumblr"
"where them girls at blyth barrymore was buried" the fuck
"mid-century unicorn"

I have heard you, internet. I will continue to provide content about gay construction workers, creepy death stories, and 1950s unicorns. Also the Tudors. You're welcome.

Friday, December 9, 2011

Godfrey!

Oh shaith! December is Bill Powell month on TCM.

You can probably tell a lot about what old actors people prefer. In fact, I'm sure there is a personality test about it online. Example: I hate Clark Gable. He was an excellent actor, but was only able to play a charming alpha rake. He was a douchebag loser in real life and it shows in every frame - you can't trust him, even when he's the good guy. It's in his face and fake teeth. You just know.

Conversely, there is William Powell, who seems to inspire the truest love in everyone, not excluding me. I am often surprised by how many people know who he is, but people really love The Thin Man.

He is urbane and charming, yet the best at understated wry comedy.

He was briefly married to Carole Lombard, my other favorite. She went on to marry Gable - not advised. I believe I've already covered this twice. Powell & Lombard remained best friends for the rest of her life, and she (charmingly, in her way) would later refer to him as "That son of a bitch," who "Never stopped acting, even in bed."

What, you don't keep a framed publicity shot of Bill Powell on your desk? That's too bad.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Kevin O'Hare: Last year at this time, you injured yourself when you fell from the tree house on your property that you like to sleep in sometimes. Have you been back up there since the injury?

Joan Baez: Of course I have.