Listen, I know you all hate me. But just subscribe to my Twitter feed and I'll try and be a better person and stop posting so many music articles here and just keep this page to food and negative feelings.
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Results tagged “writing”
So I've clearly been having a very difficult time updating this site. This is mainly because I've finally surfaced from a major depressive episode that's lasted the last 15 years or so. This means I have a lot of ground to cover, and quickly, before everything comes crashing down on me again. So I've been writing and cleaning and putting together Ikea furniture and shopping and trying to get everything in order as quickly as possible. Because of course this will all result in an epic fail. If we're making predictions, I'd say it will probably be at the hands of some semi-literate dude that I didn't mean to get involved with and who breaks my heart. If the past is any indicator of the future, anyway.
I've been writing about music all over the place lately and am in the process of writing a bunch of articles right now, including one about the Egyptian Lover. I'm really excited about this one because he's so fat and amazing. Writing articles is a lot easier than editing my novel, which is basically just like flossing. I'm sure in the long run it's worthwhile but it just seems really tedious and bloody whenever I try it. I really hate editing which is why I like blogging. This is basically because I'm a lazy, slovenly person at heart. I'd signed up to take a food journalism class because my other big hobby lately, other than music writing, has been gaining weight. Over the last two days I've made bahn mi every two hours or so because I got an entire loaf of bread and didn't want it to go stale. Sigh.
All I want to do with my life is travel around Asia and get fatter and fatter. But what am I supposed to do when the money runs out? Haven't figured that one out, so am staying put for the summer, I guess. I guess I can handle one summer here if I at least get to go to Malaysia and eat a boatload of laksa at some point in the middle.
In other news, I moved out of my last flat. So I am on my fourth flat in six months. This time, I'm living with my favorite person. Me. I will never live with another human being as long as I live. Granted, moving in with a failed child star and a failed model was destined to, well, fail, but it was seriously demoralizing. I guess I'll have to give a whole post over to the two of them, but I'm still too exhausted by the ordeal. At least I'm alone again.
I'm not only dead sexy, I'm also prolific.
Check out my interview with Speculator on Infinite State Machine.
Speculator's an interesting dude who is working on a lot of music projects that you probably haven't heard of yet. But there's no time like the present, eh?
Check out my latest piece on Splice Today: West Coast Knows How to Party: In search of italo disco in Holland, the contemporary mecca of European dance music.
My mom found this in a letter she had written to my grandmother in 1985.
"Tonight Lina and I were talking about the old, old days when girls weren't taught to read, and she said, 'I'd die if I couldn't read! Reading's the best thing there is! If there weren't any books in the world I'd write a thousand pages!'"
I've been trying (mostly unsuccessfully) to add category listings to shutitdown. This has forced me to go through all of my posts in order to label them. This was, initially, a very painful experience. Being confronted with one's own horrific grammar mistakes and webcam abuse is not easy, by any means. There was very little good about this experience, with the exception of a few things.
What do you do for fun?
The time where I tried to get in shape: what a workout and what a workout part 2
Summary of my life so far: I go from one extreme to another
The heat of the meat
One bad-ass mofo
I found some posts that I had forgotten about, but that still amuse me to no end.
Additionally, I've realized that in spite of all of my self-hatred and cable TV, I'm becoming a better writer. At least, better than I was four years ago. Maybe those 9 years of college did make a difference, after all.
In the news lately, there have been a number of articles about young writers who have duped the public in some way. JT Leroy is one, James Frey is another. The literary fraud angle is interesting, certainly. Are memoirs held to the same standard as news? Is one allowed to play with the truth when writing about herself? Am I committing a crime when I paraphrase my mother? (If so, cuff me because boy, am I guilty!)
Intriguing questions, especially for a blogger such as myself.
In light of these articles, I've been spending more time thinking about young authors as well. Yesterday, my friend Pam and I were talking about the Debbie Gibson song "Foolish Beat." She wrote, produced and sang it at the age of 15, and it was a #1 hit. Pam remembers listening to the song when she was 8 and thinking she was already a failure because Debbie Gibson had started her songwriting career at the age of 5. I can relate, because every time I see a book by someone who is 22, I die a little bit.
And although I know that if I had to pick a career to survive off of, I'd still have a better chance with stripping than with writing, I take solace in the fact that I'm getting (slightly) better. Maybe by the time I'm 70 my blog will be really good.
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