Writer's Digest blog - This Writer's Life by Kevin Alexander

Shameless Cross-Promotional Plug: My friend Sarah Walker's book, Really You’ve Done Enough: A Parents’ Guide to Stop Parenting Their Adult Child Who Still Needs Their Money But Not Their Advice has been released from Tow books. It's very funny. If you're interested, Google it, then hit one-click purchase on Amazon to buy it and the
Fantastic Four - Rise of the Silver Surfer (The Power Cosmic Edition, 2-Disc Set) DVD. Or off of the Tow books website at www.towbooks.com. Get some.

Today is Columbus Day (or, as they've called it in Venezuela since 2002, the "Day of Indigenous Resistance"). So in honor of the holiday celebrating the discovery of The Bahamas by a guy that was kind of a self-promotional (fill in your own four-letter word here), I too am going to offer my own form of discovery under the guise of 25-42 word anecdotes re: 5 books that forever altered my mental landscape and the reasoning behind said alterations.

1. The Great Brain Series by John Dennis Fitzgerald: Tom Sawyer-esque stories revolving around the escapades of the narrator's mischievous older brother "T.D." in late 19th century Utah, these books taught me valuable lessons about small town culture, religious tolerance, and water closets. They were scary, climatic, and prescient: In The Great Brain is Back, for example, T.D. breaks up a Michael Vick style dogfighting ring.

2. The Kid Who Only Hit Homers by Matt Christopher: Matt Christopher writes about heavy topics (divorce, death, immigration) under the veil of books about kids playing sports. As a kid, I thought I loved them because I, too, loved sports, but I found out much later--upon revisiting a Matt Christopher book in my mother's basement during a spell of acute boredom-- that helped me deal with stuff going on in my own life. Plus, who hasn't wanted Babe Ruth's ghost to inhabit their body while playing little league?

3. A Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger: Wait... you can write funny, haunting, stream of conscious prose with a semi-clueless cocky narrator and have it be considered American Literature? Seriously? The book that probably ruined any chance I had to go into a money making profession, I was stereotypically obsessed with Catcher, read it (on my own!!!) six or seven times in high school, and used one of its most obnoxious lines as my senior quote: "It's really hard to be roommates with someone when your suitcases are much better than theirs." Not. Cool.

4. A Prayer for the City by Buzz Bissinger: Before he wrote the book that became the Greatest Non-Cable Television Show of Our Era, Friday Night Lights, Bissinger wrote this classic chronicle of city life and politics through the eyes of (then mayor of Philly now governor of Penn) Ed Rendell. After reading this book for an Urban Politics class in college, I immediately turned around and read it again then applied for an internship at a free city paper, hoping to write the exact same type of stories about Hartford. Unfortunately, college life, access and talent intervened, but the book remains an indelible mark on my writing conscious.

5. On Writing Well by William Zinsser: Nothing has done more to influence and create my own voice and literary aspirations than this man and his simple, elegant, how-to guide to writing. Post reading this, writing became significantly less scary and increasingly simple and his term "to commit an act of literature" remains one of my favorite phrases of all time.

Anyway, I'm off to commit several acts of literature amongst the hippies at Espresso Royale. Enjoy your Day of Indigenous Resistance. And be sure and drop your own stories of mind altering literature in the Comments.

All Out of Love,

Air,
Supply

10/9/2007 8:23:54 AM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [6]

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

(Meta) Life Changingly Awesome Query Letter Part 5: Tiger Beat

(In order to allow you, the reader, to play along at home and fully
utilize the time-tested, mother-approved formula that make LCAQ's so,
so damn successful, I'm going to walk you through the steps I take
when crafting these timeless phenomenon's of top shelf journalism.)

(First: always find the name of the editor of the section you're pitching,
unless you know for a fact that they don't like you because you
accidentally got drunk at a writing conference and called them an
"ugly faced sellout", at which point it's probably better to stick to
the editor-in-chief)

Dear Editor-in-Chief Whose Name I Couldn't Find Online,

(The lede's got to hook them in right away and show off some of your
writing skillz. Sidenote: Don't make a habit of replacing s's with
z's) Oh, Tiger Beat, sweet, sweet Tiger Beat, ye olde beacon of
puberty-past. How you must long to dramatize the alarming effects
that teen idols have on 13 year old girl psyches. How perfect your
pictures were for the collages girls used to give to their BFFs with
ransom-esque words like "Boy Krazy" and "Hottie" juxtaposed over
pictures of Justin Timberlake and that guy who played AC Slater. Do
you not pine for the pre-Facebook days when kids still read things
that weren't posted on their friends "walls"? Don't you wish you knew
what a "wall" was?

(Ok. Although this is sort of an advanced concept, I recommend that--
while displaying your intimate knowledge of the magazine you're
pitching-- you feel free to speculate philosophically about the
meaning of said magazine's name) Well, fear not. Your magazine is
called Tiger Beat for a reason, although that reason isn't all that
clear to me. It is neither about Tigers nor about musical beats and
none of your reporters seem to have local ties to zoos, which--while
puzzling-- is unimportant. I think too many people overlook the
subtlety of a name like Tiger Beat. Perhaps you're giving a subtle
homage to Colin Farrell's American movie debut in "Tigerland", which
also had nothing to do with tigers but did have several hotties who'd
look above average on collages.

(Now that they know where you're coming from and what you know, drop
the full idea on them in a short, interesting paragraph. Be very specific and try
to identify where you will place it in the mag so that editors will feel like you
actually read the magazine and didn't just hear someone talking about it while browsing
Forever 21 in the mall.)

Moving on, my idea is simple. I wish to spend an entire day participating in
various athletic/intellectual/social-emotional contests of the body/
mind/soul with Kevin Alexander Clark--the former teen heart throb
from School of Rock and a mutual bearer of the Kevin Alexander name/
stamp. Although the details are still "iffy", let's just say there
will be a Slip N' Slide off, a You've Got Served style dance off, and
some sort of left handed arm wrestling contest. I assume you have a
legal department in case sh*t gets real. The piece will consist of
several sections detailing these athletic feats coupled with the
Juiciest (random capitalization? So in right now!!) of details re: KAC's lady
friends, haircuts, and turbulent trip through puberty. And just because
I like you,if you give me 24 hours, I can probably deliver 3600 words
and several pull quotes from Raven Symone Pearman, gratis.
(Oooohhh. Here's a teaching point: Always use words that you understand.
For example, I didn't realize that gratis meant free, and now I've
potentially screwed myself out of my rent money for the month of
October)

(Now that you've unleashed your idea it's time to throw down your credentials so
they know why you're the one who should be writing the article)
But maybe Sweet Tiger Beat, you still remain on the proverbial fence. Maybe you still
doubt that someone can penetrate the soul of a method actor like KAC.
Well to help assuage said fears, here are a two FAQ's about my life
as a professional writer to help get you all aboard the Kevin
Alexander writing train express.

1. In your estimation, how many articles have you, Kevin Alexander,
published?
Answer: First of all, I never estimate. Never! I just know. And the
answer is roughly 70.

2. Why should you write this article? I don't think you've ever read
a Tiger Beat.
Answer: You don't have to "open" a Tiger Beat to know that they're
dropping the hottest celebrity journalism outside of Eastern Europe.
And to answer your first question, I have to believe that God and at
least one of my parents put me on this earth to do two things: 1. Get
arrested for "disturbing the peace" at a Third Eye Blind Concert and
2. Win Tiger Beat a National Magazine Award and--as the magistrate at
the Hartford Civil Court can attest-- I'm already halfway there.

(Now that you've wrapped your query in such a tightly constructed,
finely tuned package of words, it's time to bring it home. I
recommend a pithy little comment about how busy you are so they
realize you're the real thing and then some sort of pop culture
reference sign off incorporating the title of the magazine. Editors
LOVE this.)

Alright TG, I've got to be off. It seems Facebook has alerted me that
someone has both "poked" me and written on my wall and I need to
update my Myspace page to include a blazin' Justin Timberlake remix I
just encountered on the Internet 2.0. You know where to find me (Oh
yeah. Include your contact info at the bottom). I feel like I've
known you forever.

(Tiger) Beat it,

Kevin Alexander

10/2/2007 11:01:05 AM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [10]

Friday, September 28, 2007

The Two Question Novel Quiz Part 1: Conflict

Everybody knows that-- much like the plot lines in the Wesley Snipes
vehicle Passenger 57-- a good novel needs to have conflict. My novel,
for example, has so much conflict that my thesis advisor actually
wants me to call it either Conflict(ed) or Hot Damn!!: A Novel. But
today we're focusing on you. And if you're reading this, you're more
than likely writing a novel, or at least a thinly veiled memoir. So
DVR "The View", sit down and answer these two simple questions and
let's find out if your novels got beef.

1. Which description most aptly describes your antagonist's
relationship with your protagonist?

A. My protagonist Casey likes Romantic Comedies whereas my antagonist
Drew only kind of likes Romantic Comedies.

B. My protagonist is a 15 year old boy named Casey interested in
seeing an R rated Romantic Comedy starring Michael Cera, but standing in his way is the ticket
collector, a 17 year old boy named Drew who's a stickler for the
rules. It's kind of a short book.

C. My protagonist Casey wants nothing more than to write the greatest
Romantic Comedy of all time but standing in her way is the
antagonist, Drew, who has made it his life mission to preserve
Failure to Launch as the greatest romantic comedy of all time, and
will stop at nothing (Nothing!!) to keep it that way. Plus they're
married.

D. My protagonist Casey is at Blockbuster with his antagonist Drew.
Casey wants to get a Failure To Launch because he heard it's the
greatest Romantic Comedy of all time. Drew kills him with a longbow.

2. In How To Write a Damn Good Novel, James N. Frey discusses the
importance of keeping your characters in a "crucible", which he
describes as "the container that holds the character's together as
things heat up...or the bond that keeps them in conflict with each
other". Pick the letter that best corresponds to the crucible your
characters are in.

A. Drew dislikes Casey's views on politics and they both live in the
same city so they could, like, totally run into each other at Trader
Joe's and it would be awkward. The city is their crucible.

B. Drew hates Casey but Casey is his driving ed instructor. If Drew
doesn't pass Driver's Ed, he has to take it again, which is a total
waste of a summer. The class is their crucible.

C. Drew hates Casey but Casey is his sergeant in the army during the
Mexican-American war of 1846. And they're forced to share a tent. And
Casey is married to his sister, Taylor, who's a pretty good singer.
The army, marriage, and shared space are their crucibles.

D. Drew hates Casey because Casey started to walk across the street
when the Don't Walk sign was blinking. F*ck a crucible, Drew kills
Casey with a longbow.

Key:
Mostly A's: Um, no, this isn't going to work. I've seen more conflict
on "Dora the Explorer". In fact, go watch it.

Mostly B's and C's: Now we're talking. Or maybe fighting. But in a
good way. You've got all the right ingredients to have a potentially
interesting and novel length conflict. And that Mexican-American war
story seems like a surefire blockbuster. You're welcome.

Mostly D's: Unfortunately, you've got a case of what the pros like to
call "jumping conflict". Things accelerate without building up and
don't really add up. You're like the Jerry Springer contestant of
novel writing. Put down that longbow.

Let me know how you fare in the Comments. Have a great weekend.

Get Crunk,

KA

9/28/2007 1:55:08 PM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [7]

Monday, September 24, 2007

In the Marketplace of (Really Good) Ideas

I had an informal meeting the other day with a few of the editors at Boston Magazine to discuss stories for the Fall/Winter. I say informal because we didn't schedule the meeting (I just sort of wandered over to one of the editor's cubes, and the other editor happened to walk by and decided to join the fray --the Fray?--) and I was (probably) wearing a ring spun cotton distressed t-shirt with some sort of clever saying on it. Point being, sh*t was casual.

The start of the meeting went something like this:
"Kev, you need to write some sweet stories."
"Yeah, but I don't want to do something standard. I want to, like, infiltrate a sub-culture or something."
"Fine, yeah. I'm with you. What did you have in mind?"
"...Something edgy."
"Ok. Be specific."
"I dunno, but i bet some sh*t goes on in Cambridge."
"What type of sh*t?"
"Uh... edgy, counter-culture type sh*t."
"Yeah. That's not a story idea."

Eventually, joined by the other editor, things got more specific. The editors tried to convince me to do stories that required investigative journalism and phone calls and I tried to convince them that I should do (hilarious!!) essays with little to no reporting. (Note: story ideas have been changed to protect their awesomeness and ensure that someone else doesn't pitch them, sign the contracts and get the money that I need to pay for the It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia DVD I just purchased off Amazon)

"What about you trying to take down this major Boston institution? I mean, that's the type of story that makes a writer's career."
"Hmmmm. What about if I write a 'Where is He Now' profile of Rick Astley? But not even like a profile, more like an essay about where I think he is now..."
"Rick Astley? The singer from the 80s? Is he even from Boston?"
"I'm sure he's been to Boston."
"No."

This back and forth is a central part of the story-creation process. When I was younger I was so happy just to be getting paid to write that I would feign enthusiasm for pretty much anything, and come away with contracts for stories that I not only wasn't very amped up about, but also didn't really understand. Of course, unless you're named Mitch Albom or working part-time for a hedge fund, the reality of the situation is you probably need money, and sometimes you have to do things strictly to keep your electricity/DVR working. But--as I've said repeatedly-- one of my only strengths (aside from being devastatingly modest) is that I am now very aware of my limitations as a writer and no longer feel that familiar Catholic-tinged guilt of my youth when I turn down an idea that I know I wouldn't be best for anyway.

Anyway, we did eventually come up with several story ideas to pursue that sated both parties and I left feeling productive and principled. Plus, being hypothetically flush with cash from my new contracts, I spent the rest of the day on iTunes, downloading the remaining eight Rick Astley tracks I had yet to purchase and poking people on Facebook. Win-f-ing-Win.

Stay tuned later on this week for a sweet very short but completely essential writing quiz.

Crank Dat,

Soulja,
Boy

9/24/2007 3:45:06 PM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [4]

Monday, September 17, 2007

Reviews of Books I Was Forced To Read in High School, Part 1: Ethan Frome

By all accounts, Edith Wharton is not a sadist. Although she did marry a man twelve years her senior who happened to go insane and intentionally chose to spend most of her life in France, she was an influential taste-maker, a friend of Teddy Roosevelt, and somewhat embarrassed by boozehound F. Scott Fitzgerald's social awkwardness. According to Wikipedia, she was damn prolific, and I'm even willing to admit that I read (most of) The Age of Innocence and I really liked it. But her novel Ethan Frome almost ruined me on American Lit....4...eva:(.

I was a sophomore in high school when Frome was assigned. We'd just read A Catcher in the Rye, which might have been the first school book that I'd actually read, and I was still wired from the energy and vitality of Salinger's language.To quote Tracy Morgan in "30 Rock", I liked A Catcher in the Rye so much, I wanted to (figuratively speaking) take it behind the middle school and get it pregnant. Literature, I thought, (but of course never said aloud for fear of social ostracizing) wasn't boring. Literature was the sh*t. Eat it, Natural Sciences.

And then came along Ethan and Zeena and Mattie and Starkfield, MA. Now to be fair, I can say now that I understand what Wharton was doing in the book. I get that it was some sort of commentary on a life unfulfilled, on the human ability to endure, and the longing to be free. I get that it's pretty damn similar to what she had going on in her own life at the time, and her therapist encouraged her to write about her problems. But just because I've taken a bunch of MFA courses, which have enabled me to separate things I get from things I don't get, doesn't mean that I have to like it. And I, friends, do not like Ethan Frome. Aggressively.

For a 15-16 year old kid (even as highly sophisticated as I imagine myself to have been), the book was the ultimate tease. I kept waiting for Ethan to make a move. Make any move. Kill Zeena. Tongue kiss Mattie. Learn to do the foxtrot. Invent the Internet. Anything. But Ethan couldn't ever pull the trigger. Speaking of which, if I was trying to commit some sort of symbolic suicidal act that would forever link me to my unrequited lover, sledding down a hill into a big tree wouldn't even be in my top 10. (#6: Hang glide into Plymouth Rock while both dressed in period garb) Finishing the book didn't even make me feel satisfied, it just made me want to sit on my lime green beanbag chair and listen to the Reality Bites soundtrack on repeat. Psychology books might describe this as "not awesome".

Although I usually have a soft spot for the books I didn't understand in high school, I haven't read Ethan Frome since. In fact, I saw it in the bookstore yesterday and I could barely look at the title. It fills me with a deep, hollow sadness, much like witnessing Britney Spears' performance at the VMA's.

And Wharton--despite her prodigious talents and the fact that she unironically named her estate in Lenox, MA, "The Mount"-- will forever remain the woman who took away my appreciation for American Literature in high school and gave it to Matt Brady (Class of 99, WHS), who somehow managed to get an A on the paper even though he didn't run spell check.

Join me on my next 'review of books I was forced to read in high school' when I tell you 3 things you already knew about Great Expectations. And feel free to share your own worst book high school experiences, or nominate books you'd like to see reviewed. Don't be ashamed, just think of my blog as a nest in a tree of trust and understanding.

Check Up On It,

Bey,
once

PS- Pictured below: The author, posing for the cover of the 1910 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue: Literary Ladies Edition and an approximation of Ethan and Mattie post unsuccessful sled suicide. Ouch.

9/17/2007 4:36:55 PM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [14]

Monday, September 10, 2007

Back and Even Better

Hello, friends. First of all, I'd like to offer a quick apology for the lack of communication via the blog lately. You see, we at WD have been doing some thinking and talking and general housekeeping regarding just how we can bring you the best blog possible, and these things take time, manpower and cinnamon raisin bagels. But now we're back and I'm pleased to announce that the blog is going to become a new, exciting and potentially uber-hip place to be. As the hep cats say, it'll be off the chain.

Two Sweet New Additions:

1. Consistency. A Brand Spanking New Blog Entry will be up every monday. Some weeks there will be more than one entry, but--at the very least-- you'll be able to set your Brookstone Digital SmartSet Clock Radio to the fact that Monday will offer something new. And there will be no more wondering if Kevin sold his computer and rights to access the Internet 2.0 for a guided tour of Elizabeth Hasselbeck's dressing room.

2. New Stuff. Aside from following the trials, tribulations, and treachery of my writing life, there will be more recurring entries in the vein of the Life Changingly Awesome Queries including, but not limited to: Reviews of Books I was Forced To Read in High School, Incredibly Awkward Author Pics, and Extremely Brief But Scarily Accurate Writing Quizzes, all designed to help me help you help yourself be the best damn writer, like, EVER.

So there, friends. And this is all happening, starting now. So feel free to take full advantage of the new edition of the this Writer's Life blog as you see fit.

Once again, I look forward to our many future interactions. Our love knows no (technological) bounds.

KA

9/10/2007 1:47:44 PM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [3]

Friday, August 24, 2007

No Seriously, Someone Interviewed Me

Friends, up today on the Novel Journey website is a Q and A with yours truly.

The link is here: http://noveljourney.blogspot.com/

Try to avoid asking yourself the obvious question of why someone would want to do a Q and A with me and just go with it.

Have a fantastic weekend.

KA

8/24/2007 2:32:43 PM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [5]

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Two People I Love... just not like that.

The SoCal Experiment ends tomorrow, friends, when I fly back to Boston. Rumor has it that Beantown's weather is somewhere in the vicinity of not sweet, which is unsurprising. No word on whether the hippies have vacated the Espresso Royale by my apartment in favor of their home turf ~~probably~~ in Burlington, VT, but I'll be sure and keep you updated. Anyway, as promised here are two literary people I love, my reasoning for why you should love them as well.

1. I discovered Roddy Doyle years ago when I read a short story he wrote for a collection put together by Nick Hornby, but it wasn't until I went to Europe for several months that I started reading his books and, my God, he is absolutely fantastic. His Henry Smart series (which, as of now, include A Star Called Henry and Oh Play That Thing) is an incredible mix of spot on dialogue, Irish and American history, beautiful wordplay, humor, and jealously inducing phraseology. Even the Big Cat is into his sh*t, and--outside of reading the credits to Jim Carrey films-- I'd previously assumed he was illiterate. I think if I didn't love him so much, I might hate him. Roddy Doyle that is, not the Big Cat, although that's probably true as well.

2. I've never seen New Yorker pop music critic Sasha Frere-Jones but--between his/her (?) sweet name and his/her absurd music writing talent--she/he almost has to be attractive. Or a composite of several insanely skilled music writers ghostwriting under one name (much like Nancy Drew's "author" Carolyn Keene). I've been a fan of the understated humor on his/her blog (www.sashafrerejones.com), his/her verbal dexterity, seemingly limitless knowledge of hip hop and subtle skill in describing to highbrow lit, pop culturally challenged New Yorker audiences why Lil Wayne is culturally relevant or The Clipse's cocaine raps are actually quite complicated, for several years now. She/he has that rare ability to take what is good and important and relevant about music and put it into words. And not only do these words make sense, but they make you feel smarter, cooler and physically stronger when you pawn them off as your own scattered thoughts at grad school parties. I just wish I knew whether or not he/she was a dude.

And I'm spent. I'll see you at the Espresso Royale, hippies.

Who's Gonna Drive You Home,
Tonight

The,
Cars

8/21/2007 4:29:53 AM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [3]

Friday, August 17, 2007

Navigation Links, Column Secrets Revealed and, of course... the Disney Afternoon

If you'll kindly look to your left, you will find a link to my one of my columns from WD under the heading "The Road More or Less Traveled". If you've never read said column, this is your chance to see what happens when my work gets edited, and if you have read it before, this is your chance to re-visit it time and time again while having it handy to liberally quote from in holiday cards to ~~Elizabeth Hasselbeck~~ loved ones.

But to really celebrate the occasion, here are 6 director's commentary-style behind-the-scenes anecdotes from the making of the column:

1. I wrote said column longhand on four journal pages using a sh*tty Czech-brand pen in the Bohemian Bagel cafe in Prague, Czech Republic while eating a Turkey Club on a sesame bagel. Bohemian Bagel is an ex-pat joint, which is French for where the Americans hang out. As I recall, I asked for no mayo on said club sandwich but--being in the Czech Republic-- they took this to mean "slightly less mayo".

2. I'd say that this was one of the easiest of all of my columns to write because I was very much feeling the burden and guilt from not having taken on as many travel writing projects while I was away, which I promptly and frequently took out on my friend Casey ~~The Big Cat~~. The entire (unedited) first draft took only 3 hours to write, which is a short time period for me to do, really, anything.

3. I really thought Bill Bryson was British. Or at least Canadian.

4. Other characters I'd considered wishing I'd seen while hallucinating on absinthe: Baloo from Talespin, that Cajun dude from the animated X-Men (Gambit?), Raven Symone.

5. Word I was using too much at the time of writing: "organically".

6. (Not?) Awesome Mental Image: A "Pants-less Tom Wolfe"

Anyway, just wanted to give you the 411 so you could enjoy the column gratis in all its column glory. Now I'm going back to sleep.

Take On Me,

A,
Ha

PS- pictured below: The opening credits and theme song from The Disney Afternoon's Talespin as everyone remembers it...in Hungarian.

8/17/2007 9:48:45 AM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [4]

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

SoCal Part Deux: An Anecdote is told, albeit poorly. Writing Stalls. Music Still Awesome.

Brief Awkward, Hard-to-Follow Personal Anecdote: Today my friend sent out a group email detailing how his cell phone had gotten "really wet", subsequently died and now he needed everyone's numbers again. Surprisingly, that isn't the best part of the story. Being narcisstic and easily (self)amused, I thought it would be ~~gnarly~~clever to respond to his number request with my own email to the entire group saying this:
"If it's cool, I'm going to pass. I guess I never felt comfortable with you having my # in your phone after the "incident".
Oops. Did I unintentionally hit reply all?"

You're a clever little devil, I whispered to myself after sending it, and slapped myself five, then went about figuring out what accoutrements to put on my Boar's Head Sausalitio turkey sandwich at lunch. But in the brief time that I'd gone out of my room to study the contents of the fridge (I drink f***ing one % milk, Dad, not two!!!), I received five emails, all from people who'd assumed they were responding solely to my friend, but were, in fact, responding just to me; asking questions about me, making comments about my (alleged) sexual proclivities, telling my friend I was weird, and/or relaying intimate personal details about their own lives in the coded, specific way that only makes sense between friends.

Although none of the emails I unintentionally received were that bad, I was horrified that someone would send another email to me detailing their Kevin Alexander hatred or worse, sending a link to my Facebook photo album. I thought about sending out another group email warning people about what was happening, but that seemed confusing and lame and Boy Cries Wolf-esque, so instead I've done nothing but bitch about it on my blog in a story that--now that i read it again--isn't all that sweet . Lesson: re-read your blog entries before posting.

New website I'm unhealthily obsessed with: Nikeid.nike.com

Old Instant Messenger Screen name, which created some confusion as to my gender: kevina9

How, friends, does anyone do any work in SoCal? The weather is offensively good, the people are "sun kissed", even people walking around the (outdoor!) malls are vaguely athletic. Today, for example, I tried to write several times but Frank kept asking me to do "activities" because he's my "guest" and he's "sick of watching me sift through Youtube videos from the 80s all day pretending to work on my novel". Not to mention, he was in a bad mood because Fed Ex tried to steal the flat screen TV he just purchased. It's a longer and more complicated story than that, but after the skill and hilarity of my email anecdote, what would be the point? So instead of writing, I went outside and spent several hours in the hot tub complaining about how hard my life is, which was annoying in itself because you can barely hear anything over the tub jets.

Fear ye not, though. Frank only has one more day of visitation rights and then I will have no excuse but to resume my writing routine. This will give us something to talk about. And thank God, because things are getting awkward, huh? But until that time I guess I have no choice but to continue in my quest to bring you the most musical of diamonds in the proverbial rough. Todays edition comes straight from 1985, the year that brought us the creation of the Internet's Domain Name System, that movie where Harrison Ford pretends to be Amish and the release of New Coke. Coincidence? Yes.

Join me next when I find my father easily filling in the answer to a crossword puzzle clue involving the Spice Girls.

These Dreams go on when I close my eyes,
every second of the night

Heart

PS- pictured below: Heart's Nancy Wilson wins a David Bowie-in-Labyrinth look-alike contest while falling in then out of water, electric guitar in hand.

8/14/2007 4:24:13 AM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [4]

Saturday, August 11, 2007

SoCal is So..Cal. A Jackson is possibly sighted. Hyperbole returns.

By Far the Best Search That Got to My Blog Today: Why do babydoll tops make me look pregnant?

SoCal Vanity License Plate of the Day: "One Nub"...?

Underrated Haribo Gummi Bear Color: Clear

It's Friday night in SoCal. The clubs, as I imagine, are jumping jumping. The tide is high or, possibly, low. And somewhere in SoCal someone with semi-long blondish hair is drunk saying, "Dude, today I caught this sweet crest down into the blue room" while Jack Johnson's 'Bubbletoes' plays softly in the background.

I just got back from dinner with my brother, my father, and my friend Frank, who has come out to spend his final week before returning to law school out in the sunny SoCal weather. I had soft shell crab. My father asked me three times when I'm going back to Boston, which I skillfully avoided answering by picking and choosing my eye contact. Anyway, I'm currently watching Frank download Michael Bolton songs because, as he put it, "do you f***ing need a reason to download Michael Bolton? Sorry it's not Akon, loser".

I have yet to start writing and don't really have anything of value to add other than these 5 observations:
1. Every guy in San Diego looks like some version of Dane Cook.
2. The plastic surgery industry in SoCal is still alive and very much thriving.
3. My brother is flat lying when he says he can both stand up and "turn" on a surfboard.
4. We may or may not have seen Latoya Jackson tonight and--if it wasn't her-- that's almost more terrifying bc then it was a woman who actively sought to look like Latoya Jackson.
5. Even with vicodin, foot surgery is never awesome.

Like I said before, friends, I've got absolutely nothing valuable to add to the literary, intellectual, or social-emotional world. So instead I'm going to leave you with quite possibly the. GREATEST. MUSIC. VIDEO. OF. ALL. TIME. courtesy of our friends at Youtube and my favorite year, 1987. The dancing is top notch, the outfits are uber-trendy and it just goes to show that if a man in America wants to jump into a chain link fence for no apparent reason, he can do that. Eat it, Communism.

Join me next time, when my father finds out I've "lost" my ATM card.

Never gonna give you up,
Never gonna let you down

Rick,
Astley

8/11/2007 1:12:16 PM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [11]

Thursday, August 09, 2007

Re-emergence via Poetry. A Trip is Announced. And Malibu does SoCal

Best Search That Found It's Way to My Blog Today: Clever Sayings When Congratulating a Pregnancy

Example of a Clever Saying When Congratulating a Pregnancy: Oh gross, he/she's not always going to look like that, right?

Best New Yogurt Brand/Flavor: Rachel's Exotic Mango Pineapple Passionfruit

Underrated Dance Move: The Shower

Oh, hello, friends. Look, I've been wanting to talk to you. I'm sorry about our time apart. I know you're mad at me, and you probably don't know if you're ready to talk yet, but maybe giving each other space was good, because it allowed us to look within and decide what we really want out of this relationship, like Posh and David Beckham, or that other couple with all the adopted international babies.

But now that we're back together, I'm really bringing it with a Diehard-esque vengeance. See, for the past few weeks i've been drowning in deadlines. An entire pre-school package for Boston Magazine, papers for my lit poetry class, a column for WD, this thing my mom wanted me to do in her garage, a 21st b-day extravanganza for a best family friend that involved PF Changs and something called a Buttery Nipple, etc. And that was driving me mad. But, fear not--as of today-- everything has been completed and I am once again heading back to my father's So-So Cal hacienda for some R and R, ~~awkward questions regarding just what i'm going to do with my life when i finally stop going to school~~ quiet time with the fam, soul searching, iron pumping, free dinner scrubbing and, of course, some serious noveling. This time it's all about the re-~~mix~~write. And to celebrate the occasion, please enjoy this poem I wrote about traveling entitled "Dad, Get me at the airport", which has Ashberrian influences and is probably slated for publication in the Paris Review sometime next Spring:

Dad, Get me at the airport
words by Kevin Alexander

It's your
firstborn son.
No, not
Brian. Kevin.
My flight gets in
around 9-
ish.

Yeah, wow, as you may be able to tell, my poetry class is obviously paying dividends. Anyway, in honor of my second trip to So Cal I will be dropping entries every couple of days detailing my writing progress, the gentle way I order my In N Out Burgers, what obscure Scottish Mystery Novelist my father is now reading, and hilarious highlights of conversations I get myself into when I pretend like I know about surfing.

I'm so happy we're back together. Let's never fight again.

I get knocked down,
but i get up again

Chumba,
wamba

PS- As an appetizer, something to get you in the SoCal mood and fluent in the SoCal lifestyle, I will let my man Malibu from American Gladiators expound on Burrough's existentialism in postmodern lit, China's role in the 21st century global market and "brewski's".

8/9/2007 2:23:14 AM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [4]

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Life Changingly Awesome Query Letters Part 4: Maxim Magazine

To: Gene Newman
Editor-in-Chief/Programming Director
Maxim Magazine

From: Kevin "Kevlar" Alexander

Re: A Chill Feature Query

Dear Mr. Newman,

'Sup, bro. First up, allow me to drop some serious props. For more than ten(ish) years now, you've been at the forefront of magazines deemed socially acceptable for college-age guys to leave in their dorm, fraternity, and secret ~~literary~~ society bathroom. More tasteful with the 'rents than Playboy and less socially alienating than Dance Magazine, you bring the ~~Miami~~ editorial heat with your risque layouts of Israeli Defense Force Women, features on Micheal Chiklis and bar fights, and links to online videos where you can watch yogurt explode in slo-mo (suck it, Dannon Activia Strawberry!). But maybe it's time we take that medium level editorial heat, and "FLAME ON". (Hah! As you probably guessed from one of your myraid interviews with Jessica Alba, that was a line from The Fantastic Four's Johnny Storm as played by Chris Evans, who, by the way--not that I'm gay or anything because i'm like so totally aggressively not-- is pretty f-ing jacked in that film.)

Now that I've set your table Gene, allow me to serve you the features idea that has the potential to turn Maxim into Maxim-um Magazine or, at least, you know, Stuff. But first, here's a little background appetizer. Lately, all I've been hearing about on my T-Mobile Sidekick is the enchanting magic and wizardry of JK Rowling's final tome in the imaginative and delightful Harry Potter series. Now, G-man, you can bet your ironic T-shirt collection that I've never read any of those stupid kid witch books; or really any books for that matter, unless they were about scantily clad hot chicks shooting guns and, like, punking people. But, despite my girlfriend being really, really good looking, she's all about young English wizards, spells and ~~Sex and the City reruns on TBS~~ the like. So much so that she's even dragged me to a few Harry Potter ~~themed dress up parties~~ movies, which gave me this idea. I know you guys have done "Hometown Hotties" and "Top Ten Bollywood Babes" (editorial note: Kareena Kapoor at #9 over Bipasha Basu?? Are you crazy?), but what about this special spread: "Harry Potter's Hogwarts Hotties Who've--For Legal Reasons-- Hopefully Had Their Fictional 18th Birthdays?"

Think about it, Genie: we get an edgy cartoonist like Bill Keane or whoever draws Ziggy to illustrate the Potter Hotties and I'll write up sassy and clever captions to accompany the spread in the standard Maxim vernacular. Here's a tiny taste from my spoon of sass: Cho Chang: A former Ravenclaw Quidditch Seeker, this Raven haired Eastern beauty doesn't need high speeds, weird winged ball type things and a broomstick to get our hearts pumping! Yowza!
Or:
Petunia Dursley: Harry's aunt may seem like a nosy bitch, but behind closed doors this long-legged Muggle MILF surely knows a few spells of her own...sex spells, that is!

Although it appears to be literally perfect already (I mean, honestly, what beats yowza!?), that's just the tip of the proverbial idea iceberg that sunk the f*cking Titanic. I've got millions of ideas for your mag; from "B*tchslapping Student Loans" to "Things You Can Say to Your Girlfriend When You Kind of Want to Watch A Devil Wears Prada But Don't Want To Seem Like You Do In Front of Your Girlfriend's Friend's Boyfriend Who--While No Chris Evans--Still Appears Pretty Strong".

I know a thing or two about how the editorial process works, Geno, so I know this is not going to make it straight into your no-doubt well-groomed hands without first being read by someone lower on the food chain, most likely Assistant Online Editor Amelia McDonnell-Parry. So Amelia, babe, here is a quick glimpse at my ~~street~~ creds to let you know just who you're dealing with: I went pro in writing 3 years ago with the smash success of a story about 13 year olds, I've met people who've written for ~~Dance Magazine~~ Esquire and GQ, I imagine I'd be good at windsurfing, I've gotten numerous tickets for speeding and once even "got smart" with ~~5-0~~ the Cop, which is probably why the ticket was $380, and despite being allergic to freshly cut grass, I played ~~Division Three~~ soccer...in college!! If that doesn't scream Maxim material then maybe I accidentally sent this to the wrong magazine, in which case I'd totes appreciate it if you could forward it on.

It's your turn to pick who's coming to the dance, Gene-Gene. Is it going to be the guy with infinity ideas that may or may not be good at windsurfing or some other hack who pitches you with actual "clips" and probably was never in a fraternity? The choice is yours...or maybe Amelia's.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to do some pushups in front of my vanity mirror.

FLAME O--sh*t, I already said that.

Circus Maxim-us,

Kevin Alexander

Ps- Pictured Below: A less socially acceptable college bathroom reading option and a taste of what Billy Keane can do with swimwear.

7/25/2007 12:10:47 PM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [9]

Friday, July 20, 2007

Hyperbole, Wolves, and a Brief Foray into Poetry

Best Question-Based Searches That Found Their Way To My Blog Today: "What's Raven Symone's cell phone number" and "who makes the reading glasses that Donny Deutsch wears?"

Helpful Answers to Above Questions: 1. 818-734-7891 (ask for Rave) 2. Prada, obvi.

Not Brief(ish) Pop Culture Rant: Admittedly, friends, I am a man of hyperbole. Several times a day I announce things like, "this is the single greatest magazine article of all time" and "there's never been a greater BLT sandwich than this BLT sandwich in all of the history of time" to little or no fanfare. After all, people eventually stopped listening to The Boy Who Cried Wolf even when that Wolf was all up in his ~~shit~~ sheep. With that said, I'm going to try and hold back on the hyperbole here, but...I just...ah, f*ck it. The television series Friday Night Lights is the greatest non-HBO television drama of all time. There. I said it. Now, I don't watch much TV in real time. I get Netflix and do the whole Sunday HBO shows thing (Flight of the Conchords, anyone?), and that's about it.

But then, after finding YouTube on the Internet 2.0, I next discovered that you could watch entire seasons of tv shows online. It was like Christmas morning combined with the worst thing ever for someone who already has trouble self-motivating/grooming. So first I watched all of 30 Rock, which might be the funniest... nevermind. And then I moved onto Friday Night Lights for two reasons: 1. I was obsessed with the book, mostly because I spent my formative years in a football crazy town in Texas and 2. My dear friend Ramsey (who just moved to NYC as part of his 2 step plan to slowly work his way back into my life) spends a large portion of the time he isn't talking about the Chicago Bears or marinades for skirt steaks yelling about how unbelieveable Friday Night Lights is. "BEST. SHOW. EVER." he said last weekend, for example.

And--the worst part is--he's totally right. There's the caring but demanding coach and his attractive but totally-with-it wife. There's the stupid but grossly handsome fullback who day drinks and sleeps with all of the pretty girls. There's the former All-State QB who is now paralyzed and kind of a dick, understandably. There's a dude named Smash who talks in the third person. And best of all, there is the QB 1 Matt Saracen, who is so socially awkward on the show that he's either the greatest actor of all time (hyperbole?) at portraying a 16 yr old, or actually super socially awkward. The show tackles big themes (racism, drug abuse, Iraq), small themes (what to buy your GF when you were photographed in a hot tub with three rally girls), and medium(ish) themes (is your mom sleeping with Lyla Garrity's dad?) with a grace and skill not seen on the NBC network since Joey. It's the only show that--when it goes to commercial-- I actively say aloud to my computer, "No, don't be over" and then pretend to be talking on my cell when my roommate walks by. So go to NBC.com and watch that sh*t because clearly you and I are running out of things to talk about.

Anyway, the original main point, before I lost myself in the music of Friday Night Lights the moment I owned it, was that I'm in a poetry Lit class right now, and I don't hate it, and, in fact, kind of like it. But I have to catch a plane and put on my make up and exfoliate so instead of that essay I will leave you with a brief poem by Joe Wenderoth from a collection called "Letter's to Wendy's" and then I will sign off and enjoy the weekend activties I have planned.

Letters to Wendy's

August 26, 1996

Very high on marijuana brownies, I could not speak today at the reg-
ister. I kept stepping aside for other customers and staring hard at the
menu. I was overwhelmed by the chicken sanwich pictured there,
but had no words for it. I kept saying, "there, that one...the man
dressed like a woman." It's hard to get served when one understands
the signifier as a process.

This is how you remind me,

Nickel,
back

ps- pictured below: The most terrifying boy/cried/wolf children's book picture. Ever. And a question: correct me if i'm wrong but isn't that boy actually Link from the Zelda video games? And if so, where's his Noble Sword?

7/20/2007 12:08:30 PM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [6]

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

A Conversation I'm Currently Having With Myself

"Dude."
"What?"
"Stop. Seriously."
"Stop what?"
"Stop f-ing around online, pack up your computer and go finish your work. You're on deadline. Today!"
"No, I know. I totally know. I'm going in one sec--it's just--have you seen Slate today? There's this article by Witold Rybczynski about how to make environmentally friendly buildings that aren't ugly. It's really interesting sounding."
"But you don't even like architecture. And Witold Rybczynski sounds like a made up name."
"I know, it totally sounds made up. I think that's what originally interested me in the article."
"Well, yeah, I mean funny names are kind a--no, wait. Stop this. Get your stuff and go to Espresso Royale and finish this draft of the Best Pre-Schools package for Boston Mag. Your editor is going to kill you."
(Whiny voice)"But if I go to Espresso Royale, I'm going to smell like coffee for the rest of the day. And plus sometimes there are hippies there, and they seem like the judging-type of hippies."
"Then stop asking them for patchouli oil and incense. Now c'mon. Pack up. You really need to go now."
"Okay, fine. Let me turn off my--oh, just got an email. It seems Ramsey has sent me a link to a blog that talks about drinking and watching football, but apparently--according to Ramsey-- does so hilariously and in a way that only guys can appreciate. Being that I'm a guy and sometimes I watch football that sounds like something I'd be interested in reading about, so let me just click on that li--"
"Are you serious? What the f**k is your problem? Ramsey sends links from this blog everyday. And I'm pretty sure he doesn't even read it."
"What's your problem with Ramsey?"
"I don't have a problem with Ramsey. I just want you to stop procrastinating so you're not in such a bad mood later when you realize you have to pull an all-nighter."
"Okay, you're right. Let me check one thing, ok? I just need to do this quick search."
(Typing)
"Um, are you Googling yourself?"
"...No."
"Yes, you are. You're doing it right now. I'm watching you."
"Dude, have you ever thought about what happens when you Google Google? That would be crazy. Doesn't that just melt your face? That's like some postmodern-outside-the-Matrix type sh*t."

"No, it's not, you'd just get sent to Google.com--anyway, stop changing the subject!! You're the worst most self obsessed procrastinator ever. Maybe if you didn't spend so much time online looking at stupid Youtube videos of bears eating moose and reading pointless links and Googling yourself, you'd actually get things accomplished!"

(Quietly) "It's meese."
"What!?"
"The plural for moose is meese."
"No, it's not."
"Yeah, man, I read Ranger Rick. It is."
"Google that shite."
"Ok, but first I'm just going to watch a quick episode of Friday Night Lights on NBC.com. I'm nearly halfway through the first season, and the Dillon Panthers just found out they made the playoffs!!"
"Dude, you really do need to go. But now that you mention Friday Night Lights, I was sort of wondering: What's going on with Lyla Garrity and her tumultuous relationship with Jason Street?"
"Only one way to find out, friend!!"

PS- To whet (wet?) your appetite, here's a preview of the show I'm obsessed with that critics are calling "better than Ezra" and "like Notting Hill with football players". And now, seriously, I'm going to leave to go Espresso Royale. The hippies don't like to stay after 5 PM anyway.

7/17/2007 5:29:47 PM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [4]

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Life Changingly Awesome Query Letters Part 3: Cosmopolitan Magazine

Introductory Apology: Last week was the nation's bday, and a holiday week for me from the stress and grind of sitting in front of my computer sans pants. So apologies on the lapse. If it makes you feel any better, America liked most of its presents.

To: Kate White,
Editor in Chief
Cosmopolitan Magazine

From: Kevin Alexander

Dear Ms. White,

Heyyyy Girl!!:) Kate, can I totally confess something? I’ve been Cosmo Crazy on and off since I was 13, mostly depending on my older sister’s diligence in renewing her subscription. And although not as sexually explicit as Redbook--the full figured women's mag of the 90s--you did and continue to answer many questions I hadn't even thought of about sex positions every Cosmo Girl should know and abdominal moves needed to get a bikini bod for summer. But telling you I'm Cosmolicious isn't the only point of my letter. It is the main point, of course, so I kind of regret putting it in the lede. But it does lead (LOL!) me nicely to a ~~boxer-~~brief story:

While spending several days at my mother's house commenting on Elizabeth Hasselbeck’s outfit choices on a View blog I ~~edit~~ frequent (enough with the babydoll tops, Lizzie!), I came across a piece of information. Apparently the dude who was writing your "Ask A Guy" column is leaving. Or left. Or maybe he wrote for Glamour. Honestly, I can't remember. But either way, I want to take this opportunity to avail myself for the allegedly vacated position. Here's why: I am a guy. And I tell it like it is. Sometimes, I even tell it like it isn’t, but should be, which is probably refreshing. And believe you me, Katy, I have qualifications: I’ve owned a semi-cute cat, I like romantic comedies starring either Taye Diggs, Vin Diesel or Josh Hartnett, I use face lotion, I like to dance like no one’s watching even when people are watching and kind of embarrassed, I own more than one pair of distressed status jeans, and, finally, I've had two separate dreams where I thought I was Drew Barrymore. Now if that doesn't shout CosmoGuy, well, I dunno. I guess it's probably not a good thing for me.

But Katie, despite my Cosmolifications, I realize that you probably can’t just hire me sight unseen to write this column. First you need to know if I can handle the position and write in a girl-friendly way while giving your readership “straight talk” about how guyz “really” think. I get it. You need to proverbially taste the proverbial cocaine before serving it to your guests at your proverbial orgiastic “key” party. And because I understand ladies, Kathy, that’s totally fab with me. Relatedly, I just read on Wikipedia that ladies love poetry. So in that spirit, here’s a sample of what you would get if you bring me on, in the form of a poem I wrote for an ex-girlfriend in college after she ~~dumped me~~ and I mutually separated. This poem is entitled "You Know Who You Are, And If You Don't, I'm Talking About You, Kate ~~Boardman~~" and although I haven't got official notification, it'll probably be published in the Kenyon Review sometime later this Fall:

You Know Who You Are, And If You Don't, I'm Talking About You, Kate ~~Boardman~~
(words by Kevin Alexander)

Darkness. Your Soul is
Dark Since
You Won’t Return
My Call(s).
Did You Change
Your Num-
Ber Again? Not
Cool

Wow, I just got goose bumps. And if you can believe it, Kathryn--I wasn't even an English major!!! I know. I guess it's genetic. Anyway, my time at this Internet Cafe is drawing to a close. I'm going to be on vacay in a few weeks, but you can email my friend Casey (it's BigCatMeow@hotmail.com) when you decide on a salary and he'll spread the good word. I look forward to our continued work relationship and good personal friendship. And if you need any more poems, don't worry: the well is nowhere near close to dry, Kit Kat.

Cosmo' Money, Mo' problems,

Kevin Alexander
Future Co~~smo~~lumnist

PS- Pictured Below: Drew Barrymore minutes before she was told she didn't get the role in Million Dollar Baby and the only poets in the US that can hold a candle to yours truly.

7/10/2007 1:19:17 AM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [10]

Thursday, June 28, 2007

Put a Fork in Said Lit Paper Bc Said Lit Paper is, um...Completed

5400 words, seven or eight random extra hits on the return button, some shifting around of the title, 4 or 7 block quotes and we've got ourselves a lit analysis, friends. A not so coherent, rambling, discursive, and potentially misleading lit analysis, but one all the same. And anyway, it's f-ing done. So we never have to talk about it again. Never!

I don't have anything left to share, because I'm mentally, physically, academically, socially and emotionally spent so i'll leave you with two things:

First, since I can't quite escape him, I'm dropping my favorite short, short David Foster Wallace-ism and then stick around after the commercial break for a special music video one of my friends just showed me that's absolutely burning up the charts in the UK.

Finally, tune in later this week as I drop the third installment of Life Changingly Awesome Queries.

So I guess technically that was three things. I'm sorry.

Please stop yelling.

Here we go.

1. David Foster Wallace (from Brief Interviews with Hideous Men):

A Radically Condensed History of Postindustrial Life:

"When they were introduced, he made a witticism, hoping to be liked. She laughed extremely hard, hoping to be liked. Then each drove home alone, staring straight ahead, with the very same twist to their faces.

The man who'd introduced them didn't much like either of them, though he acted as if he did, anxious as he was to preserve good relations at all times. One never knew, after all, now did one now did one now did one."

Mmmm. Deep, huh?

2. And finally, as promised, here's baller Garth Marenghi's "I'm a One Track Lover". Note the undie-skins he rocks. So Raven.

6/28/2007 2:28:03 AM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [2]

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Lit Paper Watch 2: No, seriously. It's on.

Top Internet Searches That Brought People to My Blog Today: "kevin alexander clark's girlfriend" and "alexander emo boy"

Best Phrase Overheard in a Starbucks between two college-age boys wearing sleeveless Dri-Fit athletic tops and drinking Vanilla Creme Frappuccinos (no whip): "Yeah, dude, I know. But it's not like I meant to step on her head."

Word Count: 3116

Words Needed: Like 2300 or so, depending on my character spacing and font choice.

New Best Line in the Paper: "Foster Wallace may be a verbal magician, but at least, in the end, he lets you see how he does the trick."

New Worst Line in the Paper, especially out of context: "He's just very compulsive about avoiding mosquitos."

Fear: My best argument in the paper is a based around actual lines of dialogue from the movie "The Prestige" starring whoever wasn't in that other magician movie.

I spent the entire day at a Starbucks near my apt, focusing almost exclusively on this paper, not allowing myself to eat, shoot or leave until I wrote 2000 words. It was truly a painful experience, not just mentally, but physically, as my butt muscles managed to tighten, then numb and then possibly atrophy. What can I say: Academia is an ugly, unathletic world. The good news is I did manage to get those words written, and can sort of see the finish line. The bad news is, yeah, no sh*t I better see the finish line, because the paper is due tomorrow, plus I have to make an in class presentation about Ishmael Reed, and the only thing I know about him is that he may have been born in Tennessee. So, in honor of my having to pull a college-style All Nighter, I'm including a ~~radical~~ fitting Lionel Richie music video complete with Richie in leather pants and a multi-cultural crowd of men in fluorescent tank tops doing the robot.

I know, I know, I spoil you.

Oh, and one more thing: Haven't there been several times when you're like, "All I want to do right now is quit my job and spend my day(s) reading old (but still culturally relevant) posts by Kevin Alexander, much like his father does?" And then you went to my site, scrolled down, and realized that that sort of thing just wasn't possible? Wasn't that a terrible time in your life? Well now, thanks to more technological geniusocity by Karen Lapthorn, I actually have an archives section so you can relive all the drama of the past six months, like when that guy yelled at me in the comments section for not teaching him anything or the time I posted a picture of a pantless hippie I found via the Web. It's all there. For you, friends.

Until tomorrow, when I inevitably arrive unshowered and unshaven to class without my works cited.
We Will Still Be Friends Forever,
Vitamin,
C

6/27/2007 12:10:56 AM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [6]

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Lit Paper Watch 1: Oh, it's on. Kind of.

Randomest Search Term That Brought Someone To My Blog: "party fun stuff"

My New, New Thing That Everyone Else Has Known About for At Least Six Months: 30 Rock. Tina Fey, you go ~~grrl~~ girl!!!

Word Count on the Paper: 873

Words to Go: Something like 3.4 million.

Best line in the paper: "Foster Wallace's use of irony, while more blatant than Vollman's, also features a Burroughs-like transgressive quality."

Worst Line in the paper, which may rhyme and could also be a fragment: "But is that irony merely an illusion, or is its meaning more elusive?"

Fear/Question: Why can't I think of anything that A) is insightful but not lyrics to a Cranberries song B) isn't the most obvious way to look at whatever it is i'm looking at or C) hasn't been said at some point in the oeuvre of Mitch Albom?

I need to go to bed so I can wake up and dedicate the next 24 hours to getting inside Umberto Eco's mind but I'll leave you with a classic "30 Rock" clip thanks to our friends at YouTube and all those who participate in the Web 2.0. And if you still haven't downloaded the Whitney videos yet, well... I guess only one of us will truly know whether she wants to dance with somebody or whether she just wants to feel the heat with somebody (somebody who loves her). Your motherf***ing loss.

"Yeah, suck it, i do read the paper!"

6/26/2007 2:10:17 AM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

Comments [2]

Monday, June 25, 2007

On Literature Papers, Stephen King, and...Wait. Not Stephen King

I'm taking a class now on Contemporary Postmodern Lit that ends this week. The class has been great, the professor is illuminating and cool, the style of the class is engaging despite being almost 4 hours long twice a week, and the readings are, for the most part, thought provoking. We've read stuff by Delilo, Vollman, Pynchon, Barthelme, Laurie Anderson, Mark Leyner, and David Foster Wallace, among others. But now I have to write a 20 page lit paper. Due this Wednesday. Which I haven't started.

I have my topic, sort of: An analysis of three Foster Wallace short stories through the lens of Umberto Eco's take on Irony in Postmodern works. (Life Note: any time you say "through the lens" of someone obscurely Italian, you sound smart)

I have my sources: 4 analyses of Foster Wallace in lit journals, a few of the more highbrow Foster Wallace book reviews, an interview with him, some sheet I printed off a website with "Fun Facts", some stuff i can't cite from Wikipedia, a fake Foster Wallace MySpace page, and a print out of what the American Apparel store in Second Life looks like.

I've read the stories I'm going to use. I've made an outline, kind of, which more or less is a flow chart in which I've written down things like, "make insightful analysis here" next to an arrow and then made well stenciled smiley faces around the arrow to provide motivation/excitement.

But I can't write the paper. I have no thesis. And this, friends, is not, as the Digable Planets would say, cool like dat.

Fortunately, this has not stopped me before. I have written several papers without actual theses, most of which used complicated words to obfuscate the glaring point that I didn't have a thesis and tried to jazz up the fact that, for the most part, I was giving a well-written book report using words like obfuscate. Other times I have a thesis that sounds money but when i really dig through my material, I find that the stuff doesn't quite match up to my money thesis, so then I end up really, really stretching for quotes and using parts of parts of phrases to strenghen my argument, making the paper sound like an Associated Press newspaper story with misplaced, ironic quotation marks: Sherman Alexie's "use" of "Native American" dream stories is not at all "like" the classic adaptation "of Stephen" King's Dreamcatcher, even though both involve "multiple usages" of the word "dream" and two or more "references" to Morgan "Freeman" (Bell Hooks, "624").

And now I really, really need to go write this. Like I need to stop trying to come up with "clever" places to put quotation marks in fake examples of past lit papers and just leave my apartment, walk down to the Espresso Royale on the corner, order something with caffeine in it and maybe one of those ~~delightful, cutesy, little~~ pastry things with the jam, and get this party going. And i need to do it soon because I have class at 6. Till 9:45. Wait. Ssshhhh. Listen: If you put your ear up to the computer and mute "L.O.V.E." by Ashlee Simpson that's "accidentally" on repeat on your iTunes, you can almost hear the violins playing my pity party. Woe is me.

If anyone has the time and extensive educational background, I'm open to any sort of thesis ideas involving Foster Wallace, irony and ~~Stephen King films~~, you know, something else smart sounding. And just because this is more entertaining than writing a lit paper, I'll drop back in later on tonight to give you a real word count and the ~~worst~~ best quote from said paper. Because who doesn't like reading succinct, well-thought out totally non-b.s. literature analyses via the Web 2.0?

That's right. ~~Chuck Sambuchino.~~ No one.

Until later on tonight, friends.

I'll Make it Rain on Them (remix),

Fat,
Joe

PS- Pictured Below: Actor Damian Lewis of Dreamcatcher gives a sidelong glance to his competition after placing third in the "hurt dog carry" in the 2003 Lumberjack Games at Colby College and rapper Fat Joe "ironically" snacking on KFC minutes after coming out against trans fats on The Big Idea with Donny Deutsch.

6/25/2007 1:31:58 PM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

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