Remember the art I left on the roof of my old apartment in the East Village? I just found old pictures of Jen H and me in college when I was right in the thick of this project. Riva must have taken these.
Currently, I'm working on a story that is working against me. Nothing happens. Everything has to be conveyed through conversation over dinner. My inspiration is the short story, "Mermaids" by Deborah Eisenberg. When do I get to be as brilliant as Debbie?
Let's take a look at the genius in action: "Because when people got angry, they were angry and then they stopped being angry, and it was something that went from them to you. But when people were disappointed in you, it was something that went from you to them. It was as if you had made a hole in them, or had gotten a spot on them that could never be taken away."
Um, hello! Is anyone witnessing this?! When do I get my Eisenberg brain transplant?
*getting me through: coconut tea from The Chocolate Bar and Now Professional Care E-Oil
*reading: Saul Bellow's The Actual (so far, a little worried Bellow's a bit of a racist. will keep you posted.)
