“The tragedy of Les, as well as his greatest virtue, lay in his absolutely uncompromising stance on art and life: the world of commerce and the world of Absolute Art is a Venn diagram with a very small overlap.”—Janet Fitch remembers Les Plesko. (via millionsmillions)
“…my husband and I do kind of the same job. A little bit. Not long ago we both had one of those magical days, we call it a junket, where we both attended these lovely events where people come in every four minutes, they ask the same questions over and over again — you know the drill. We got home at night and compared notes," she continued. "I told him, ‘Every single person who interviewed me, and I mean every single one — and this is true of the red carpet here tonight Elle — asked me, ‘How do you balance work and family?’ And, he said the only thing anyone asked him repeatedly was about the tits on the "Blurred Lines" girl — which, just for the record, if we’re talking about them, they are real and they are fabulous, so everyone should take a look and enjoy — but as for a work-life balance, he said that no one asked him about it that day, as a matter of fact, no one had ever asked him about it. Not once. And we do share the same family. Isn’t it kind of time to change that conversation?”—
I did this audio interview with audio book website Downpour.com. It’s notable because:
1. The interviewer has an amazing and amazingly fake, old timey sports announcer radio voice. We were Skyping but without the camera so I’m still suspicious he was pulling my leg with his gravel-caramel sounds.
2. I discuss how I collected magazine subscription cards when I was a little girl. Important!
Funny Things Bean has said this week (The Oedipal edition!)
At 4 am, after a nightmare, he came into my bed to sleep (Patrick’s out of town). He kept inching closer and closer until he was sharing my pillow, and I kept making him move away. “But, Mama,” he said, “I am thinking about you.”
Me:”What do you want for breakfast?” Bean: “I think just a milkshake.”
A few days ago, out of nowhere, “Mama, I’m your wife, right?”
Me: “I already told you, I don’t feel well, Beanie, I have my period.” Bean: “Is it a Jurassic period, Mama?”
My friend Tanya used this phrase in our phone conversation yesterday. It was about CALIFORNIA (I can’t remember how) but it seems useful to me as I flail about with my new book, which is about, among other things, human stupidity.
The other night I dreamed I was gathering up tiny Legos, organizing them into little piles. In the dream I knew it was insignificant work and the insignificance of the work was the message of the dream, the whole reason I was dreaming it. I can’t explain it but this dream is very meaningful to me. Maybe it’s telling me to ignore the noise. Maybe it’s telling me that I am the noise. Maybe it’s telling me that writing is nothing more than organizing Legos—shifting around little stupid piles of words. Maybe the dream was just deep mockery of human stupidity.
Mike Uva is a musician in Cleveland. He wrote me to say he was reading my book and that he had a song called California that’s really about Cleveland, which is where my main character Cal is from. Give it a listen—it’s beautiful.