archives for August 2005
overheard from production, vol. 1, no. 7
Tuesday 30 August 2005 | I like a cookie
[NB that this week's issue is briefer than usual, owing to the recent placement of a large partition in between your editor and the production department.] • “Don’t you want lunch?” “Nah, I’ve been munching. I’m kind of a muncher.” “You are a muncher.” “I am a muncher!” “You’re a muncher. I’m a grazer!” • [...]
read ‘overheard from production, vol. 1, no. 7’
junebug versus hurricane
Tuesday 30 August 2005 | I like a cookie
I just killed a gnat unintentionally by brushing at, as I thought, a speck of dirt on the screen. But didn’t I know inside it was a gnat, and just not care? Certainly there was a nanosecond when I had just begun to crush and smudge its tiny body across the monitor when I realized, [...]
read ‘junebug versus hurricane’
the boy
Friday 26 August 2005 | I like a cookie
I met N. in the Zen monastery where Mandarin and her British spouse lived for two years (before Mandarin was diagnosed with celiac disease and started a clinical social work graduate program, before her Brit ran off with a she to whom Mandarin long disdainfully, furiously, desperately referred as “the Succubus”). I’d been in shock [...]
the girl
Thursday 25 August 2005 | I like a cookie
Often when I reckon, in the dawn, it up, I’ve known Mandarin at least a decade. We just had our ten-year college reunion (but didn’t go); we attended what she would call a schmantzy-ass women’s college together, on lots of scholarships and loans. Both only daughters, both poor, both with Elgin-marble-sized chips on our shoulders [...]
boys who like girls who like girls who like boys
Wednesday 24 August 2005 | I like a cookie
In Albertsons tonight (where is that son of Albert, the brave, the shining-helmeted one, the bright spear-carrier?) I walked into the door and stopped before an enormous heap of brown burlap bags, and inhaled deeply the smoky-sweet smell of freshly roasted Hatch green chili. This they don’t have in other supermarkets in other states. I [...]
read ‘boys who like girls who like girls who like boys’
overheard from production, vol. 1, no. 6
Tuesday 23 August 2005 | I like a cookie
“This cat was unfazed by the vacuum cleaner, or any loud noise for that matter—I mean, you could vacuum this cat.” • “And, you can bounce on it, right?” “Yeah! Yeah! That’s the other good thing about it!” “Okay, let’s just calm down now.” • “You’re going to be cannibalized, you bastard! Parts are going [...]
read ‘overheard from production, vol. 1, no. 6’
gainful employ
Tuesday 23 August 2005 | I like a cookie
Well, so maybe it’s not that gainful in terms of chill penury. But it’s gainful in the sense that I love it, love it, love it. After an abortive initial attempt, I’m now a freelance writer, most often found at Santa Fe’s alterrnative weekly as their film critic. I love this job, love it love [...]
person, place…miss thing
Monday 22 August 2005 | I like a cookie
As if on cue Eloise enters, dragging her old yellow washcloth between her forelegs, and commences to maul it before my very eyes; for some reason she prefers it to all the other five-bucks-a-pop toys from the Rhinestone Pet Boutique—maybe the texture? Or maybe she hates it. She only does this to the yellow ones, [...]
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adobe :: piñon :: cielo
Sunday 21 August 2005 | I like a cookie
As film critics love to say about location in a film, “The sense of place is so distinctive and important in this filmmaker’s work that It Practically Becomes a Character in Its Own Right.” But actually in the case of this place it really is true. Really. For example, I just opened a yogurt container—one [...]
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the unreliable narrator: an introduction
Saturday 20 August 2005 | I like a cookie
It’s a lightly overcast day in Santa Fe, Saturday, smack in the middle of Indian Market weekend. I’m sitting on the living room carpet eating tiny violet Champagne grapes, which weirdly enough were the cheapest fruit at Whole Foods this week; and I’m not at all sure where to begin. I want a fresh start—like [...]
