“i play right wing, like my politics.”
“my mom used to take away my hockey sticks. she made me steal them from canadian tire.”
“how are you, dear?”
so, it’s official. as of 5pm yesterday, the library is on strike, with 19 books left on my unfortunate pre-planning. call me cassandra. i’m listening to alain de botton talk at the philly free library about religion for atheists, and he’s blowing my mind right now with the connections he’s making between branding and religion. this brings me to a library initiative to sell ad space on the back of the date due slips-an idea that was simultaneously shot down and shows exactly how much thinking on its toes my favorite institution does. it reminds me of the teacher that was profiled in the age of persuasion who sold ad space on his exams to fundraise his own teaching costs. i mean, seriously-what world are we living in?
i could get lost in wallowing in the fact that i should just get a moustache and a sari and revel in my near eunuch-hood (hey, i was rejected from a drag musical). mrs. saga-you’re lucky you’re already married, because when it came time to find a wedding or other joyous party to ruin-i woulda been looking at you. instead, i choose to be happy that my earnest looks got lionel richie‘s attention in the dark, and that he grabbed my hand, looked into my eyes, and said, “how are you, dear?” take that, dl. but we can expect no less than the one that picked out clothes for mandela.
i’d be looking for the kind of deal that dan kennedy has-he gets an ongoing ad with each episode of the moth that he hosts that plugs this book. but then again, i guess i better write a book first.
“A sobering education, this reel of videos; feels like it could be part of a ‘Scared Straight’ outreach program to kids thinking about signing record contracts with major labels. They’re sort of like fashion knock-offs, these bands in the videos, made up to look like what was supposed to be the next big thing at the time. We’ve got young cute female rap trios that aren’t TLC, sultry divas who were born with only one name but aren’t Madonna, a gaggle of toned and chest-hairless boy-men who are not the Backstreet Boys. At the moment there’s a video on the screen that must be twenty-five years old. It’s an act that might as well have been named Also-a-Cute Female-Rap-Trio-with-Big-Loud-Colorful-Clothing. I can’t recognize them for anything. Jesus, one-hit wonder is one thing, but we are literally watching a no-hit wonder. Maybe even a no-album-was-actually-ever released-after-we-signed-them wonder.” (155-6)
here’s to a day of appreciating staying power. and making one’s dad jealous.