Question, worth 64 cents.
anonymous
July 28 2004, 09:10:17 UTC
Dear sir: What will you do when your doppelganger leaves your large Southeastern city behind? You will be like a dreadful late Malevich--white on white on white walls. I am yours sincerely, An admirer.
Everytime you put in two cents you get changemaxoverlyJuly 28 2004, 13:41:18 UTC
Dear Columbia University Student:
I do not profess out loud the ethos of Art for Art's Sake because I believe it redundant and self-evident; but since you ask, I must say that I think self-indulgence really only reaches its rightful fruition when there is no longer any self to indulge. All art, eventually, is just white on white on white walls, if for no other reason than that all art is eventually a more and more transparent reflection of the self. The shade of white-the perception of the self-is the only thing that can be said to vary, and eventually even these distinctions become irrelevant.
I am yours sincerely, An enigma wrapped within a tortilla wrapped within several pages of bad situational comedy
Re: Everytime you put in two cents you get change
anonymous
July 28 2004, 14:45:06 UTC
Dear sir:
Does this purple prose poem relate to your dual spelling of la gamine (I'm disturbed by the meaning shift between the masculine and feminine, and I suspect the French may be fatally indulgent towards women) referenced throughout your work? If so, I do beg your gracious explanation.
Discussion of fourteen-year-olds, be they Virginian or Continental half-breeds, reminds me--oh, do avail yourself of this week's TLS!
Alas, I cannot consult this week's TLS, as the only reference books I have to hand are a Portugese-to-French dictionary and (of course) a copy of "Timon of Athens" in a forgotten Russian dialect. (I would say that there is a very loud traveling carnival outside my current lodging, but I rather suspect the carnival is within.)
As for the Annabel/Annabelle dichotomy, one would have to consult a more recent experiment in gerrymandering the borders between adjacent counties of fiction and reality. A recent Vintage paperback edition of a novel by Mr. "No, That's American Fiction" had a different title printed on the spine than that which was printed on the cover.
A pocket-sized _Timon of Athens_, I hope! How very lovely! Please excuse my exuberance; I have a weakness for has-beens.
Perhaps the _TLS_ article in question can be mimeographed and delivered by courier, if you would be so kind as to supply an address. I trust you will find it amusing, at worst.
Forgive me for chiming in-Max is sunk waist (waste?) deep in a depressive funk, and refuses to answer his phone. I suggest, R.-or shall I call you...Mrs. R.? (cue diminished chords)-that you hold on to this lovely Supplement until I have a chance to ingest it in person in less than two weeks. You can be sure that I'll convey the necessary information contained therein to Mr. Overly, who, as the old Writers-On-Writing cliché goes, "never reads reviews."
I'm assuming this can wait because the last time the TLS was timely, the internet had not yet been invented by that Saturday Night Live alumnus who spoke at the Democratic Convention the other night.
R is for Ardent
anonymous
July 29 2004, 13:37:31 UTC
Stine: All you ever do is spoil fun. You're also a fool; do you think I would offer Mr. Overly a _review_? It is most certainly not a review. And if you think I'd let a man who doesn't return sad little girls' phone calls (don't ask me how I know; you should know that bad news, like you, spreads quickly) read the most interesting piece of newsprint I've seen in weeks, nay, months, you are quite sadly and unfortunately mistaken. Please pass the phone back to Max. R
What will you do when your doppelganger leaves your large Southeastern city behind? You will be like a dreadful late Malevich--white on white on white walls.
I am yours sincerely,
An admirer.
Reply
I do not profess out loud the ethos of Art for Art's Sake because I believe it redundant and self-evident; but since you ask, I must say that I think self-indulgence really only reaches its rightful fruition when there is no longer any self to indulge. All art, eventually, is just white on white on white walls, if for no other reason than that all art is eventually a more and more transparent reflection of the self. The shade of white-the perception of the self-is the only thing that can be said to vary, and eventually even these distinctions become irrelevant.
I am yours sincerely,
An enigma wrapped within a tortilla wrapped within several pages of bad situational comedy
Reply
Does this purple prose poem relate to your dual spelling of la gamine (I'm disturbed by the meaning shift between the masculine and feminine, and I suspect the French may be fatally indulgent towards women) referenced throughout your work? If so, I do beg your gracious explanation.
Discussion of fourteen-year-olds, be they Virginian or Continental half-breeds, reminds me--oh, do avail yourself of this week's TLS!
I am respectfully
you ardent admirer.
Reply
Alas, I cannot consult this week's TLS, as the only reference books I have to hand are a Portugese-to-French dictionary and (of course) a copy of "Timon of Athens" in a forgotten Russian dialect. (I would say that there is a very loud traveling carnival outside my current lodging, but I rather suspect the carnival is within.)
As for the Annabel/Annabelle dichotomy, one would have to consult a more recent experiment in gerrymandering the borders between adjacent counties of fiction and reality. A recent Vintage paperback edition of a novel by Mr. "No, That's American Fiction" had a different title printed on the spine than that which was printed on the cover.
I am, your humble &c.,
M. Overly
Reply
A pocket-sized _Timon of Athens_, I hope! How very lovely! Please excuse my exuberance; I have a weakness for has-beens.
Perhaps the _TLS_ article in question can be mimeographed and delivered by courier, if you would be so kind as to supply an address. I trust you will find it amusing, at worst.
Yours very sincerely,
R
Reply
Forgive me for chiming in-Max is sunk waist (waste?) deep in a depressive funk, and refuses to answer his phone. I suggest, R.-or shall I call you...Mrs. R.? (cue diminished chords)-that you hold on to this lovely Supplement until I have a chance to ingest it in person in less than two weeks. You can be sure that I'll convey the necessary information contained therein to Mr. Overly, who, as the old Writers-On-Writing cliché goes, "never reads reviews."
I'm assuming this can wait because the last time the TLS was timely, the internet had not yet been invented by that Saturday Night Live alumnus who spoke at the Democratic Convention the other night.
Ciao,
COS
Reply
All you ever do is spoil fun. You're also a fool; do you think I would offer Mr. Overly a _review_? It is most certainly not a review. And if you think I'd let a man who doesn't return sad little girls' phone calls (don't ask me how I know; you should know that bad news, like you, spreads quickly) read the most interesting piece of newsprint I've seen in weeks, nay, months, you are quite sadly and unfortunately mistaken.
Please pass the phone back to Max.
R
Reply
I think the real reason I object to the TLS is that I do not like reading Supplements out of context. Send me the whole Times!
Max Overly-Literal
Reply
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