I walked into the theater where Sam was sitting and it was empty. No one else wanted to see On The Road in the West Village. The seats were old and they made squeaks when you took them back.
After a minute two girls walked in. They had good hair. They had no idea what they were walking into. It was a second after they sat coats-off a row behind me and Sam when I talked loud so they could hear.
"Christ keep shit in check."
"But Schlink it’s like, God, what if I bought a thing of whiskey."
"Hey, girls, if I bought a thing of whiskey, wanna split it."
The other two people in the auditorium, the two girls, giggled like they meant it. They said yes and moved next to us while I was dispatched to the nearest liquor store, and good luck it was just next door. The movie flickered on and I took the thing and undid it.
I loved the movie. As I’m no critic, of film or basically anything else, I feel right in taking On The Road as a thing to talk about. It is a mandate I have. From the place where I first read the book to now is miles. It takes time to get there. The title is, for once, literal. That’s nice. It is natural for me, too, seeing someone on the road observing, as I myself can’t drive. Here’s where I say that I too am Kerouac. He’s happy to get a cross-gearshift hand job from his best friend’s wife instead of taking the wheel. No explanation necessary as to why that’s in the movie. But maybe, here: taking the wheel actually is a different animal. I feel that.
As for the movie itself the scene is New Years Eve, going into 1949. Cassady had a dance with Marylou, Kristen Stewart, and Kristen Stewart is all hips and lips dancing to Charlie Parker’s “Salt Peanuts.”
I was outside after the movie ended. The two girls watched me have a smoke and then said they had work in the morning. Sam got on a subway. I was walking home when I remembered a nice bar, and I had a beer there not talking to the bartendress.
One of the more ridiculous types of news that seems to be prevalent in society these days is celebrity image. There was a time when movie stars and models were just movie stars and models. People saw beautiful people in movies and in magazines, and that was about it. Now, however, it seems we can’t go ten seconds without being presented with pictures of celebrities on tv screens, in magazines, on billboards, and on computer advertisements. Really, it’s a bit maddening-– a lot of men will tell you that the next time they see a Justin Bieber ad or a Brad and Angelina magazine cover, they’re going to tear their hair out. The only problem with this is that it would give Bieber and Brad more advantages-– great heads of hair.
Sometimes it seems as if it would be best for people to calm down about celebrity beauty and style. There are people out there who go to great lengths to imitate not only general celebrity style, but even particular looks from individual people. Of course, the problem with this is that it is not exactly possible to exactly imitate gorgeous celebrities. After all, one of the reasons that these people are famous is that they are so uniquely beautiful. Not everyone looks like Mila Kunis or Megan Fox! Not to say that talent didn’t play a role in their getting where they got in life— but beauty certainly helps.
It is also important to remember that many (perhaps even most) celebrities that people tend to idolize have had plastic surgery, and are not actually so naturally stunning. This is not to suggest, of course, that there is no natural beauty in Hollywood. However, it is to suggest that unless you’re prepared to look into some techniques at aboutplasticsurgery.com, you might not be able to become a clone of your favorite celebrity. And, do not be fooled when you hear some of these celebrities claiming that they haven’t ever had surgery…
One of the most popular rumors out there on this subject is that Kim Kardashian has had work done. However, the popular celebrity continues to insist that she has never had work done. Perhaps nobody told her, but there are a number of extremely telling before and after photos that certainly indicate that she has had no work done. There is no proof, of course, and for anyone to bother searching for it would be a criminal waste of time on a topic that doesn’t matter; but, do not be so sure that celebrity beauty is always attainable through natural means.
I read the New York Times in print and also subscribe to it on the web. I have professional reasons to do so and I’m not the typical subscriber on either basis.
So today, I get both versions, and the lead photo for the print version is a beautiful scarlet-saturated photo of bank notes destined for Libya. Here’s what it looks like: THIS HERE.
Because there’s no info in the print caption about why the photo is entirely red, I actually assumed that it might be a printing error. (Because why would Libyan currency and any associated lighting be red, categorically?)
HERE, in the web version, the paper explains that there are “red in-flight lights”—though there’s no explanation for why the in-flight lights are red, or if that detail has any significance. This is also not explained in the story. And in the print version, it’s not explained at all. You might rationally assume that the entire story takes place on an entirely different Mars-like planet with a very narrow—microscopic, even— color spectrum.
Aesthetics trump story in both situations but it’s most egregious in the print version. Not only does the story not explain, it blatantly misleads. Because it’s a prettier picture.
And really, I don’t care how prestigious the institution, it’s just bad journalism.
“After the lobster, the next animal to fall at his hands was a chicken. What’s next on this journey? He’s told people that he’s interested in going hunting.”—Winklevii season opens June 1 in California.
So, I’ve just stepped into the big, bad corporate world. It’s been about three months and guess what, I’m already craaaazy about my boss. It started out as a little crush, and now it’s this full blown romance-but-not-romance thing. Ahem! After one night of staying back a little too late, we ended up making out. A LOT. And, it was so good. I mean, the kind of mad kisses you see in movies. We talked about it and how I felt horrible (and not to mention, incredibly YAY, but I couldn’t tell him that) about doing this with my boss. He said he felt really guilty, and that we’d have to stop. Which … ummm, how do I say this, did not happen. At all. The making out hasn’t stopped. We’ve been going out to these cute little dinners and sharing our life stories. Also, we’ve been stealing kisses at work (which is SO wrong, but feels SO good!).
We’ve had a few of these it’s-wrong-to-do-it-we-need-to-stop conversations, but nothing seems to come out of it. Work-wise, he’s not been treating me any different than he does the others, which is something I appreciate. I don’t want any special favors because of the being-busy-with-each-other on the side bit. But, god, he is SO great. And intelligent and funny and all of those things. I have no idea where to go with this. Also, one tiny thing I left out, he’s 30 and I’m 21 … that seems to be an issue with him. Because apparently, I have a lot to see/learn/do/blah, and he doesn’t want to be the one coming in the way. I want to be with him, and in spite of confessing that we’re falling for each other, nothing seems to be coming out of it. What am I supposed to do?!
“The kids we’re talking to got out of college last summer, spent six months in training, entered the job in January, and have done exactly nothing since then,” the executive said. “So we’re asking them about their transaction experience, and they’re talking about what fraternity they were in.”—DealBook
Except what else would you call it? The Shape of My Heart: No. The Nudge of Thy Neighbor: This hasn’t arrived yet, it was only a dream. Your Face: You will see support for this one, as you would see support for yourself on an elementary school stage (but resist). The Book: No. The Night Hardly Anyone Came: A darkness beyond what we’re going for. Surfer Rosa by The Pixies: A New Years resolution for an evener keel. Saved By The Bell: Narrated by no one herself. On Your Sofa: Private lessons in reality television. Middle School: The Amazing Race. Young Tom Hanks: Paradoxes & oxymorons. Young Meg Ryan: All rhymes. America Online Instant Messenger: This is the way movies were meant to begin. The Gigantic Feet on My Shoulders: Somehow escaping the awe. Aquemini by Outkast: Divulged like a rumor. High School: Survivor. Saved By The Bell (The New Class): F-ck you so, so, so much. On Your Sofa: Conjugations of verbs cushioned into the ground. The Ocean as The Lake as The Pool as The Bath: At some point the islands cease to be newly discovered. Sex: An absence in which I’ve sprouted. The Summer of No Bed: Just motion, & tennis, & self-esteem. Kid A by Radiohead: No. Earth Science: Are you kidding me. College: The Real Housewives of New Jersey. Crowded Bar: A foreign-language credit I never received. Relationship Status: Sh-tty architecture of sugar. Blackout by Britney Spears: & that’s how, one night, I could dance. Old Tom Hanks: You’ve eaten your hair. Old Meg Ryan: Inevitable, & poorly postponed. X: No. Graduate School: The Bachelorette. A Chronology of Kisses: Warm & pointlessly diverse. The Summer of All Bed: What the body told. The Doctors: Each direction different & yet approximately the same. To What We Became: The mob as a virgin on a very plain level. To What We Wanted to Become: Each other. Religion: No. The Book: Though I like the way Heaven is painted. Fearless by Taylor Swift: There’s nothing to take back believe me. Social Network, Sofa Cushion: & let us have no regrets. My Regrets: Are mostly under-specific verbs. Social Network: I request you. On Your Sofa: I unfriend you, I confirm you, I confirm you again.
For a few months now I’ve been thinking about writing a post on/roundup of "absurd" blogs/tumblrs. Images, video, text, SummerofMegadeth, etc. You know, for our vinyl collection. I know there’s the "weird" directory, but I dunno, it’s not, like, the same? Maybe a #absurd tag going?
Since I never executed on this idea, I’ll give it to someone else: Go buy a similar domain, like TheDailyLinks.com or whatever, and then create a page that links to all of The Daily stories. Put ads around it, make money, piss people off, get David Carr to write about it.