“If work is going shitty, I try to make sure that at least a couple hours in the morning are carved out for this disciplined thing called Work. If it’s going well, I often work in the p.m. too, although of course if it’s going well it doesn’t feel disciplined or like uppercase Work because it’s what I want to be doing anyway. What often happens is that when work goes well all my routines and disciplines go out the window simply because I don’t need them, and then when it starts not going well I flounder around trying to reconstruct disciplines I can enforce and habits I can stick to.”
“You know how like, there’s a state-bird? “It’s Iowa! Our state-bird is the one-eyed caviling corn grackle!” Well, if the state of Writerdom had a state-bird, it would be the whiskey-sodden rum-warbler.”
In honor of our Social Media Manager, who is going sober for the month of May, here’s an extensive list of reasons that writers drink.
Excerpts from anonymous or anonymised comments I got while working on today’s Pitchfork piece. If you made one of them and want it credited or removed, tell me and I’ll do either ASAP.
They’re quite long so I’ve put them under a cut. Please do click through if you enjoyed or related to the piece, though - there’s a lot of insight here I think.
I’ll do a collected post of song mentions/recommendations (funny word in this context!) later on.
Thanks, again, to everyone who replied.
In reference to this.
“Apples to Apples 4D” (The audience is pummelled with apples at the end of the movie.)
“Sharks vs. Volcanoes”
“King Tut vs. King Kong”
“Streptococcus vs. Candidiasis” (Strep Throat vs. Yeast Infection)
“Street Stupid” (“Street Smart” sequel)
“The Untitled Liam Neeson Vendetta Project”
“Human Quilt” (horror movie)
“The Cute Bear from Those Toilet-Paper Ads Movie”
Mindy Kaling’s list of likely upcoming film titles from her hilarious and insightful piece in the New Yorker.
“I know I’m only marginally qualified to be giving advice. I’m not married, I frequently use my debit card to buy things that cost less than three dollars, and my bedroom is so untidy it looks like vandals ransacked the Anthropologie sale section. I’m kind of a mess. I did, however, fulfill a childhood dream of writing, producing and acting in television and movies. Armed with that confidence, alongside a lifelong love of the sound of my own voice, I’m giving you this bit of wisdom: When you turn 30—maybe even before—a fun thing to try is dating men. It’ll be like freshly ground peanut butter, times a million.”
three cheers for Mindy Kaling: The Office’s Mindy Kaling on Why You Need a Man, Not a Boy
The entrancement of film is that the reading protocols are invisible. You give yourself to a film, ideally, in a gigantic darkened auditorium: and it washes over you. It makes its own reality inevitable. And you don’t have to ever think about your efforts in reading or constructing it. You can’t slow or speed up that experience (I mean, now technically you can, but you don’t want to, you want to succumb). It masters you totally.
The seduction of a comic is secretly the exact opposite. People don’t think about it, but you learn to read a comic book. It’s a very complicated reading protocol. A very active one. It’s like you’re in a damp world and you have to keep striking matches to light it up. You’re constantly working to decide—do I read the words in the panel, do I read the word in the box at the top, do I look at the picture, do I skip ahead and look at where the pictures are going to go later on, do I do it fast, do I do it slow, do I read every word, do I mainly see it? What am I doing here? You’re always deciding how to make the narrative come alive. It’s actually a much more complicated form of reading than reading text! Because you’re making these switches from the visual to the verbal. So one is a completely globally active reading protocol, and the other is this sublime, passive dreamlike surrender. And I don’t think you can ever get from one to the other. They’re almost opposite ends of the aesthetic experience.