Not literary enough for my, uh, blog
You guys, I am SICK. This weekend saw me stewing in my pajamas squirting zinc up my nose and plumbing the dusty depths of Hulu. Last night B and I, both big Bill Murray fans, got ourselves excited to watch 'What About Bob.' We sat quietly for the first 10 minutes until I uneasily shifted my glance over to B - "Is this stressing you out?" he asked. I nodded. Bill Murray's crippling anxiety and public freakouts were putting me on edge. He let loose a big sigh of relief and we shut it off.
I just found out the NY Times City Section only has four issues left before it's being killed. Too bad for Connie Rosenblum, the apple-cheeked, smiley section editor I met in class a few weeks ago. And too bad for me, sad little freelancer, who was planning with great hopes pinned to my lapel to pitch her a story in a few weeks. God, just when you think the publishing industry couldn't get any worse, it crumples down another notch. Whump. Did I mention I'm still toying with the idea of J-School? Oh ho! Soooo funny. You so funny Meggie!
Well, I figured I'd wrap this up with another anecdote, but I got nothing! Dry as a wishbone. You know, I never realized before how perfect that analogy is. That the thing you wish upon is just a carcass, all the marrow calcified. That when you're completely tapped out, you're just like that dead piece of bone. Wish on that.
I just found out the NY Times City Section only has four issues left before it's being killed. Too bad for Connie Rosenblum, the apple-cheeked, smiley section editor I met in class a few weeks ago. And too bad for me, sad little freelancer, who was planning with great hopes pinned to my lapel to pitch her a story in a few weeks. God, just when you think the publishing industry couldn't get any worse, it crumples down another notch. Whump. Did I mention I'm still toying with the idea of J-School? Oh ho! Soooo funny. You so funny Meggie!
Well, I figured I'd wrap this up with another anecdote, but I got nothing! Dry as a wishbone. You know, I never realized before how perfect that analogy is. That the thing you wish upon is just a carcass, all the marrow calcified. That when you're completely tapped out, you're just like that dead piece of bone. Wish on that.