Dreams
I had a dream in which I was having a conversation with T.C. Boyle. Maybe I’ve been reading too much of Brokentype lately.
I had a dream in which I was having a conversation with T.C. Boyle. Maybe I’ve been reading too much of Brokentype lately.
So far I’ve resisted Old Hag‘s call for the crybaby list, but what the hell. Here it goes. Eric Clapton’s Tears in Heaven. Babe. Yes. I know. Anything by Oum Kalthoum. Pretty much every scene in the Pianist.
Sorry for the lack of posts yesterday. I was having a panic attack about the Great Novel Project ™, but hopefully things should improve today.
I must sign off on the early side today as I’m heading out to Portland for the weekend and have to edit a story for a mag before the mail carrier stops by. But check out Dave Koch of LCGR, who’s guesting over at Maud. And if I lived a hundred years I couldn’t be as funny or witty as the Old Hag.
Many thanks to the guy who sent in a copy of Ten Thousand Lovers by Edeet Ravel. Best we can tell, it is a reader from a U.S. army base in Europe. Add this to MG’s long list of goals: to entertain our troops abroad. And if others feel equally generous, may I direct you to the wish list?
The reader who wrote in to complain about MG’s domain name and who claims “I KNOW THAT YOU PEOPLE ARE NOT OF THE TRUE MOORISH BLOOD,” among other niceties is kindly directed to this entry.
So Alex and I have outgrown our house a while ago and recently decided to take the plunge and list it “just to see.” Well, it sold pretty quickly and now we’re contemplating the thought of a move and no place on the horizon. If you know of a decently priced home in L.A., and if said home could be in the South Bay or Westside or anywhere else where it’s actually possible to breathe, do let me know. Otherwise, Portland is starting to look really good to us now. And it’s got Powell’s.