In the August 9, 2004 issue of New York Magazine, John Buffalo Mailer...

...interviewed his father, Norman Mailer. The elder Mailer makes the most salient point I've read re the RNC convention:

"Do the activists really know what they're going into? That's my concern. Or do they assume that expressing their rage is equal to getting Kerry elected? It could have exactly the opposite effect. The better mode may be to frustrate the Republicans by coming up with orderly demonstrations. Now, when I was young, the suggestion to be moderate was like a stink bomb to me. An orderly demonstration? What were we, cattle? You have to speak out with your rage. Well, I'm trying to say, we would do well to realize that on this occassion, there are more important things than a good outburst. I wish we could remind everyone who goes out to march of the old Italian saying, 'Revenge is a dish that people of taste eat cold.' Instead of expressing yourself at the end of August, think of how nicely you will be able to keep expressing yourself over the four years to come if we win. Just keep thinking how much the Republicans want anarchy on the street. I say, don't march right into their trap."

Norman Mailer and John Buffalo Mailer Discuss Protests at the Republican National Convention

Happy stuff:

My Black Table interview with Augusten Burroughs is here! This is the second time I've interviewed Burroughs and each time he was unfailingly polite, refreshingly grounded, and instinctively hilarious. We spoke last month on the phone:

AUGUSTEN BURROUGHS' MAGICAL WAY OF THINKING.

Come back to the five and dime, Fran Lebowitz, Fran Lebowitz:

I'm on deadline now--more on that once everything is turned in and published and/or posted--so instead of concocting my own Slippery Fish bon mots this afternoon, I thought I'd share my two fave quotes from "The Fran Lebowitz Reader", which I recently finished reading. (For the uninitiated: before she was a judge on "Law and Order"--a role she got by calling the producers and asking--Lebowitz was one of the country's premiere essayists.)

"To put it rather bluntly, I am not the type who wants to go back to the land--I am the type who wants to go back to the hotel."

"A great many people in Los Angeles are on special diets that restrict their intake of synthetic foods. The reason for this appears to be a widely held belief that organically grown fruits and vegetables make the cocaine work faster."

Now, if anyone wants to bring me dinner--say, phad thai with barbequed pork, two stars--that'd be supercool. Back to work.

Socket wrench...seeks nuts to crack:

First, I click on my Nerve account and discover the worst tag line ever and possibly the most horrifying metaphor in recorded human history:

"Shovel...seeks butter clam for harvest."

Then I look up and discover (my husband) Jon Stewart interviewing (talented lunatic) Burt Reynolds. But Reynolds' visage now resembles that of a burn survivor: taut skin and features askew. And it's heartbreaking, really, because he *chose* to mangle his face.

Some nights I think the only things standing between me and a felony are four bunnies, Green and Black's Chocolate Mint Bar, and a delightful array of shoes.

P.S. My writing group kicks ass.

At least it wasn't a blood relative:

The letter writer (see previous post) revealed himself yesterday. Turns out--for reasons I won't go into--that he was neither sweet nor creepy. Harmless, though, so no worries.

I'd really prefer not to discuss this again. Thanks.

Sweet or creepy?

I received the following missive (see below) in my Nerve mailbox yesterday and I'm stumped. The sender left his entire profile blank, except to say he's 32 and "gainfully employed". I acknowledged the kind sentiments and thanked him for taking the time to write them. I explained that his anonymity was more frustrating than beguiling, though, and if I could put my picture out there, he could reveal himself.

Nothing.

Late last night--I couldn't sleep for a bunch of reasons--I replied again and explained that I'm already on the brink of getting an anti-harassment order against one of my neighbors and that the anonymous thing was disconcerting.

Zip.

He obviously knows me, but he doesn't know me well. All of the guys with whom I'm close are either: 1) platonic, or 2) exes w/ whom I'm now friends. Also, anyone who knows me at all knows that gutless men get on my nerves. I've asked out guys and taken the initiative a whole bunch of times: I know what it's like to risk your heart. But life is short--cliched but true--and (mixed metaphor alert!) sometimes ya gotta dive right in.

He's probably a friend of a friend, at which point it could be anyone. I have a few hunches, but if you've got a hypothesis, please let me know:

chrysalis_stage

32 | Seattle, Washington
Butterfly? or Moth?
To: writerstrumpet
Subject: Just wanted to tell you...

Hi Litsa,

I know it's a little strange being greeted by your first name in a response to a personal ad. When I saw it, though, I realized it could only be you.

We know each other in real life, and I have admired you since the day I met you. However, these are things I don't think I'd have the courage to tell you in person. Honestly, I've been debating writing this note since I saw your profile. So, allow me to whisper to you from the only cover of darkness I have.

From what I know of you, I think you're a talented writer, amazingly well read, stylish, wicked smart, and yes, quite lovely both in person and in spirit. (you picked a great picture, it really highlights your amazing smile). I have thought, at times, about asking for a chance to get to know you better. But, in the end, I doubt I'm the sort of man you're looking for.

Still, I wanted to drop you a note to wish you luck in your search, and in life. I sincerely hope you find the person you seek. Any man who earns your love would be lucky indeed.

Best regards,
- C

Summer's almost over. May your Winters be Long:

I was at Seattle's Easy Street Records on Sunday night when the most luscious rock/pop --notice I didn't phrase it the other way around--burst from their speakers and changed everything. That's how I discovered The Long Winters. Their second CD, "When I Pretend to Fall", is magnetic: I didn't return someone's call last night because I wanted to keep listening uninterrupted. Today I bought three more copies for friends who have upcoming birthdays and tomorrow morning I tear the cellophane off their first disc, "The Worst You Can Do is Harm".

If you don't hear from me by the weekend, please send mochas:

The Long Winters | Seattle, WA

In a perfect universe:

Bill Clinton would still be president.

There would be a BLT w/ thinly sliced avacodo and a side order of hash browns on my bedside table tomorrow morning.

War, poverty, disease, illiteracy, religious fanaticism, overpopulation and global warming would disappear faster than paychecks at casinos.

Most men wouldn't be easily threatened.

I'd have *all the clothes.*

My parents would be healthy and I'd be living in New York, right this second.

Love--and bunnies--would last forever.

If Armistead Maupin doesn't write about this, I will:

Gay Porn Star Serves Moguls

New York Post Online Edition: gossip

If inclined, please disseminate this post from Salon's War Room '04 column:

Salon.com Politics

Hersh: Children sodomized at Abu Ghraib, on tape

After Donald Rumsfeld testified on the Hill about Abu Ghraib in May, there was talk of more photos and video in the Pentagon's custody more horrific than anything made public so far. "If these are released to the public, obviously it's going to make matters worse," Rumsfeld said. Since then, the Washington Post has disclosed some new details and images of abuse at the prison. But if Seymour Hersh is right, it all gets much worse.

Hersh gave a speech last week to the ACLU making the charge that children were sodomized in front of women in the prison, and the Pentagon has tape of it. The speech was first reported in a New York Sun story last week, which was in turn posted on Jim Romenesko's media blog, and now EdCone.com and other blogs are linking to the video. We transcribed the critical section here (it starts at about 1:31:00 into the ACLU video.) At the start of the transcript here, you can see how Hersh was struggling over what he should say:

"Debating about it, ummm ... Some of the worst things that happened you don't know about, okay? Videos, um, there are women there. Some of you may have read that they were passing letters out, communications out to their men. This is at Abu Ghraib ... The women were passing messages out saying 'Please come and kill me, because of what's happened' and basically what happened is that those women who were arrested with young boys, children in cases that have been recorded. The boys were sodomized with the cameras rolling. And the worst above all of that is the soundtrack of the boys shrieking that your government has. They are in total terror. It's going to come out."

"It's impossible to say to yourself how did we get there? Who are we? Who are these people that sent us there? When I did My Lai I was very troubled like anybody in his right mind would be about what happened. I ended up in something I wrote saying in the end I said that the people who did the killing were as much victims as the people they killed because of the scars they had, I can tell you some of the personal stories by some of the people who were in these units witnessed this. I can also tell you written complaints were made to the highest officers and so we're dealing with a enormous massive amount of criminal wrongdoing that was covered up at the highest command out there and higher, and we have to get to it and we will. We will. You know there's enough out there, they can't (Applause). .... So it's going to be an interesting election year."

Notes from a similar speech Hersh gave in Chicago in June were posted on Brad DeLong's blog. Rick Pearlstein, who watched the speech, wrote: "[Hersh] said that after he broke Abu Ghraib people are coming out of the woodwork to tell him this stuff. He said he had seen all the Abu Ghraib pictures. He said, 'You haven't begun to see evil...' then trailed off. He said, 'horrible things done to children of women prisoners, as the cameras run.' He looked frightened."

So, there are several questions here: Has Hersh actually seen the video he described to the ACLU, and why hasn't he written about it yet? Will he be forced to elaborate in more public venues now that these two speeches are getting so much attention, at least in the blogosphere? And who else has seen the video, if it exists -- will journalists see and report on it? did senators see these images when they had their closed-door sessions with the Abu Ghraib evidence? -- and what is being done about it?

-- Geraldine Sealey

[09:26 PDT, July 15, 2004]

And then Dave Eggers and I went shopping for pants in SoHo...

...and grabbed coffee at Dean and DeLuca. (You know, the one in my mind):

My first piece for McSweeney's is here!

McSweeney's Internet Tendency: If Charles Bukowski Had Written Children's Books.

Six strangers have linked it to their blogs, so I thought I'd do the same. It ran on McSweeney's front page for three days--I have a screenshot--but I don't know how to hyperlink it, so y'all are going to have to take my word for it.

My mom likes to say, "Life shits on everyone eventually. Enjoy the good times while they're here."

I agree and I'm enjoying.

(Not now, Dave. I'm on deadline.)

Lou Reed's late-eighties Honda scooter ads came dangerously close:

When Stephen Dorff played proto-Beatle Stuart Sutcliffe in the film, "Backbeat", he embodied the hushed, aching loveliness of the doomed bassist. A decade later, Dorff portrays some wanged-out jealous boyfriend in the new Britney Spears video.

Has there ever been a more precipitous decline in rock 'n' coolness?

Late Night Confessions:

1) I don't like yoga.

2) I have a subscription to US Magazine.

3) My brother and my two first cousins all married virgins, making me--by default--the family whore.

4) One of my exes married a woman whose IQ rivals that of the average cobb salad.

5) I made up two words this week, "awesomeosity" and "dicklicker":

"I got accepted into McSweeney's! *Awesomeosity!*"

"Nice lane change, *dicklicker!*"

6) When I see people wearing fleece pullovers and Tevas, I sometimes want to kick them.

7) Other times, I want to trip them.

8) I'm always thinking of you, New York.

Handi-Wipes Might Be Good, Too:

The past six weeks have been surreal. I haven't divulged most details to even my closest friends and I'm not ready to spill them here, either.

I need a distraction. If Amazon let you compile a life wish list, mine would read:

#1 Courtney Taylor's penis
#2 32 oz. of Kahlua
#3 A clean, flat surface

I've got #3 locked and it's only Monday. Think I'll slip into my fishnets. Just in case.

I'm also the Henry Miller of shoes:

My theater friends used to say that I'm the Bukowski of desserts, so I know whereof I speak when I vociferously recommend the new line of chocolates, Cocoa Pete's. The flavors, textures, packaging, and price comprise the perfect dessert, or PMS dinner.

If only writers landed endorsement deals.

Cocoa Pete's Chocolate Adventures

Buckingham's Chalice:

A few months ago, I wrote that Lindsey Buckingham now looks like a haggard English professor.

A retraction of sorts: I'm watching the Fleetwood Mac documentary on VH1 and next to Mick Fleetwood and John McVie, Buckingham's visage is positively dewy. In addition to the bongwater, Buckingham clearly drank from the cup of life, too.

[Note: Dear Stevie, your cracked gravel voice still breaks my heart.]

The Blair Bitch Project:

I'm really ill and missed most of my friend's birthday party tonight. (By the time I got there, I had to leave. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to drive home safely.) I was looking forward to toasting her on her big night and I'm bummed.

I've got awful chills so I've changed into flannel pajamas, my robe with the puppy dogs on it, and thick wool socks. (The latter comprise the only garments I own from that style-chomping black hole, REI.)

It is in this mood and under these circumstances that I've turned on the television and inadvertantly encountered Katie Couric's interview with Jayson Blair. I loathe Blair for all the obvious reasons, but here's the truly absurd thing: he's explaining to Couric that his bipolar disorder played a role in the grotesque deception he perpetrated at The New York Times. A manic depressive New York writer: that's *historically unprecedented.* He must feel like a two-headed baby. With fins. If mood disorders gave writers permission not to do their jobs, homo sapiens would still be scrawling in the dirt with sticks.

This day is over. I'm going to sleep.

Millions have died in the past four years. Nader still draws breath:

Question for the gods: Why?

Salon.com News | Ralph Nader announces run for presidency

And now, [expletive] stuff I'm not at all grateful for and loathe in the very core of my being:

1) These goddamned fucking chills.
2) This cocksucking fever.
3) Whatever the hell is making my lymph nodes feel like rocks.
4) This ass-sucking, motherfucking nausea.
5) Apparently having pissed off gravity.
6) Running out of profanity, not symptoms.

Or anyone else's kids, either:

Re John Kerry and the buzz that he might--or might not--have nailed someone else while married to Teresa (DRUDGE REPORT 2004?), could we all just agree that as long as the candidates aren't fucking their own kids, *it just doesn't matter?*