A few years ago (six to be exact), I read and enjoyed Pack of Two by Caroline Knapp. I recently found out that she died of lung cancer in 2002 at the age of 42. I'm currently reading a collection of her essays published posthumously.

• There is something so deeply satisfying about a long gab on the phone with a woman friend, something almost ( Read more... )

English Poet (and Librarian):
On leaving Oxford, Larkin found himself in a quandary. He wanted to write, but felt that he should get a job. He attempted, twice, to enter the civil service, but failed, perhaps because of his stammer, which persisted until he was thirty. Instead he secured a job as Librarian of the Wellington urban district council ( Read more... )

I can remember listening to this song and loving it in 1975; I can remember listening to this song and loving it almost as much quite recently, a few months ago. So I've loved this song for a quarter of a century now, and I've heard it more than anything else, with the possible exception of … Who am I kidding? There are no other contenders ( Read more... )

From a recent issue of The Omaha Pulp:

"It used to be enough to boost my self-esteem that I had a reason to buy condoms at all. I’d plop the Trojans down on the rotator hidden between my Ben & Jerry’s and a bundle of broccoli (a strategic sleight to let the hot cashier know that I was both sensible and dangerous). Then I’d walk away having been ( Read more... )

When the still sea conspires an armor
And her sullen and aborted
Currents breed tiny monsters
True sailing is dead
Awkward instant
And the first animal is jettisoned
Legs furiously pumping
Their stiff green gallop
And heads bob up
Poise
Delicate
Pause
Consent
In mute nostril agony
Carefully refined
And sealed over

( Jim Morrison 1967 )

oh god ( Read more... )