War Is Kind By Stephen Crane

A man said to the universe:
"Sir, I exist!"
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."

Résumé By Dorothy Parker

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

A Playlist of a Road Trip By Logan Davis

Fingers dance across the keys, trying to find the music
To make the endeavor magical, but believable.
There's a certain feeling in the sound waves
When you can hardly distinguish the bass from the engine's rumble.

You raise your head to see over the hill;
And the sunrise warms you without blinding you,
As your driver, your friend, your everything for this journey
Smiles and taps the steering wheel to the beat.

Time stands still at 6574,
And you feel free from pattern, from worry, from schedule.
Even finding a place to settle down for the night
Becomes an exhilarating choice.

Neon blends with sunrise as you awake
With that comfortable unfamiliarity of where you are,
But the delicious smell of a continental breakfast
Instantly reminds you that you are far from home,

And loving it.

Resources:

R.S. Gwynn "Poetry A Pocket Anthology Third Edition"

Logan Davis "10:30"

David Duchovny out of sex rehab

"Californication" star David Duchovny has checked out of a rehabilitation center for sex addiction, according to his lawyer, Stanton "Larry" Stein.

"David has successfully completed his rehabilitation," Stein said in a statement Monday. "He is out of rehab and will be starting a movie soon."

Today's poem:

Bohemia
by Dorothy Parker

Authors and actors and artists and such
Never know nothing, and never know much.
Sculptors and singers and those of their kidney
Tell their affairs from Seattle to Sydney.
Playwrights and poets and such horses' necks
Start off from anywhere, end up at sex.
Diarists, critics, and similar roe
Never say nothing, and never say no.
People Who Do Things exceed my endurance;
God, for a man that solicits insurance!

"if i did not care for fun and such,

i'd probably amount to much,

but i shall stay the way i am

because i do not give a damn."

- dorothy parker (a personal favorite)

first printed in new york world,

   aug. 16, 1925

No nosso teatro abundam as memórias amargas. Não se fala muito disso.

Dorothy Parker juntou à crítica do espectáculo doses de pessimismo e humor, uma mistura que pode levar à melhor ironia (uma figura do discurso, e, acima de tudo, do pensamento, que, entre nós, muito poucos alcançam e muitos confundem com a inversão de sentido caricatural; mas essa é toda uma outra história).

"No intervalo depois do primeiro acto, acordei com a cessação da conversa, e fui fumar um cigarro para a rua. Por qualquer razão, uma vez à solta, não voltei para o segundo acto de Getting Married. (Ao Diabo. Agora já não tenho nada a perder. Este é o meu último compromisso, mais vale dizer-vos que não lhe fui fiel). (...)

E com esta peça, senhoras e senhores, acabam os meus labores. Os adeuses saem bem ditos depressa. Portanto agradeço-vos a todos muitíssimo, e, sendo certo que passei um tempo miserável, tenho muita pena de deixar-vos."

--------------------------------------

Dorothy Parker. Último artigo de crítica teatral para The New Yorker, 11 de Abril de 1931.

Con le parole è la stessa cosa: oggi le mie  sono troppo ingarbugliate, così prendo a prestito quelle di altri. Come chiedere a un amico un salvagente prima del naufragio. Che, date le tempeste di questi giorni, arriverà quanto prima.

I'm going to skip the classic "Welcome to my blog" or "This is my blog about..." crap. It takes too long, and if you'd like to know what my blog is about, perhaps you could read it.

Today, I slept in, which is abnormal for me. I usually wake up around 7 AM, but today I woke up at 11 AM.

Recently, my life kind of seems like the song "I'm No Superman" by Lazlo Bane. "I can't do this all on my own; I'm no Superman." My best friend has been lashing out lately, my brothers won't look at me, and my dad seems kind of distant (figuratively). I've been asking them what the matter is, and all have told me that I should know already. I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to make of that.

I'd like for a moment to analyze the phrase, "Why buy the cow when you can have the milk for free?". I think that's implying that we shouldn't have to work for what we get. It causes my mind to drift to spoiled children. Most of them think they don't have to earn what they get. I am not spoiled, and I am a strong believer that everyone needs to get off their lazy asses and work for what they want, because it won't come to them if they're just sitting around waiting. I don't know...What do you think?

"If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people He gave it to." - Dorothy Parker (American Writer)

How true is that? I mean, sure, most celebrities use their money to save the children of Africa or some noble cause like that. I'd like you to think about that for a moment, though. Do those celebrities really do those "good deeds" for the sake of helping others, or are they simply fishing for more recognition? I believe that Jesus Christ Superstar (A.K.A. Angelina Jolie) isn't doing it for the recognition, but Bono is. I don't care for Bono...

One more thing that I'd like you to ask you all: Would you be scared if you became pregnant without any sort of plan?

I've got to go for now; Thanks for reading!

Grace

She wrote 'The New Yorker' and then made her way out to Hollywood to become a screen writer. Here she was famously on the McCarthy blacklist due to left wing tendencies- but not before she had won 2 Acadmy Awards.

She was married three times, twice to the same man and not surprisingly, in the footsteps of many a famous writer, attempted suicide on a few occasions. She later, with life imitating art, turned to alcohol.

She had a sad childhood, with her mother dying when she was 5. Thereafter, her father married again, but Dorothy accused him of being abusive and refused to refer to the 'stepmother' as anything other than 'the housekeeper'.......Parker published her first volume of poetry, Enough Rope, a collection of previously published work along with new material in 1926. The collection sold 47,000 copies and garnered impressive reviews. The Nation described her verse as "caked with a salty humor, rough with splinters of disillusion, and tarred with a bright black authenticity."

^{Here is 'Epitaph for a Darling Lady''}

These were no ordinary forgeries: Israel may have been a criminal, but she was a genius, too. And very dedicated to her work. Her approach was something akin to method acting; She would become the person whose life she was stealing, effectively writing new, but entirely plausible, chapters to personal histories. This she did by immersing herself in the smallest details of a life, reading diligently the biographies of her subjects, but also channelling their psyches while reading or viewing or imagining the inner personas of the likes of [Noel] Coward and [Dorothy] Parker.

Did Israel achieve a level of certainty and authority over her-"self" in her adopted lives that most of us never quite achieve in our real lives? Goldstein continues:

That the real thing is so hard to produce -- authenticity and originality are such rare commodities -- makes what Lee Israel did all the more impressive. She extended reality in a believable way. Like a well-schooled actor, she was herself and someone else at the same time. The results of her carefully controlled multiple personalities might very well be a greater achievement than the often banal bits of art society life -- recountings of dinner parties and the like-- she imitated.

Humor is just an ingredient.  It's one of the humours if you will of the human spirit, as well as grief and loneliness and whatever other emotional notes we are able to flag on ourselves. I don't see why it needs to be questioned. You could just as easily ask why is there so much seriousness in poetry?   --Billy Collins 

Billy Collins (1941- ) - bio

The Revenant

I Chop Some Parsley While Listening to Art Blakey's Version of "Three Blind Mice"

Roger McGough (1937- ) - bio

Survivor

Ogden Nash (1902-1971) - bio

A Word to Husbands

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) - bio

I'm Nobody! Who Are You?

John Hollander (1929 - ) - bio

Being Stung by a Bee on the Lexington Avenue Local

Edward Lear (1812-1888) - bio

[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="320" caption="The Owl and the Pussycat"][/caption]

Dog Haiku

Ogden Nash

The Cow

The Ostrich

The Turtle

The Parent

The Fly

The Termite

Song of the Open Road

The Panther (audio)

The Eel

The Hippopotamus

The Dog

Shel Silverstein (1930-1999) - bio

Anteater

Messy Room

Dorothy Parker (1893-1967) - bio

Resume - audio

Commonly used in conjunction with the word "wit" or in a "wit-like" context.  The word shows up in discussions of politics a lot, too.  Some famous personalities who have been described as having acerbic wit include:

Mark Twain

Dorothy Parker

Lewis Black

We'll be well read if nothing else.  A reading program(me) gapes before us no matter how we travel.

If you don't know DP, you must get to. Girls in glasses etc.

The New Yorker:  visit.

When I was young, here in NZ, I had a TV in my bedroom.  Unusual for the pre-mid 60s.  Or maybe 1965.  Anyway, one show I watched religiously was Family affair.  Sebastian Cabot set something of a style standard for one.  Fifth Avenue, we do have to stand on it.  Boy, I knew apartment living b4 we had apartments.

Gosh, what can I say?

You know, over the years notable journalists have become infamous for their deplorable reviews; indeed, on occasion their words have come back to haunt them.

For example, when the great Katherine Hepburn first sauntered onto the stage in New York a well-known critic quipped that,

Of course, that quote was penned by the infamous Dorothy Parker, a reviewer known for her caustic wit.

Originally, Ms. Parker's career was launched when she began writing Theatre pieces for popular Vanity Fair.

The celebrated writer was a member of the Algonguin Round Table - a group of New York writers, critics, actors, and philosophers of the day - who met from 1919 to approximately 1929 to discuss matters pressing and those more importantly pertaining to artistic expression in all its myriad forms.

The illustrious group met for lunch every day at a round table at the Algonquin Hotel. More-often-than-not, the stellar literary giants traded biting and insightful quips which echo through the hallowed halls inhabited by literary pundits today.

There was no formal membership at the Roundtable,  so people came and went at will; but, the primary members included such luminaries as: Robert Benchley, Alexander Woollcott, Harpo Marx, Franklin P. Adams (known as the father of the group), Harold Ross, George S. Kaufman, Edna Ferber, and Heywood Broun.

Parker was well-known for having said,

"Men never make passes at girls with glasses."

And this little ditty,

"Take care of the luxuries and the necessities will take care of themselves."

Her best known critique is also the shortest review ever written in the history of the Theatre.

After attending a preview of a play - "The House Beautiful" - she quipped,

"The House Beautiful is the play lousy."

With a nod to Ms. Parker, I hand in my assignment to the editor.

"Chuck & Larry is a film gay, but not funny."

Sorry, Adam!

Footnote Queries
(1) Was that Lance Bass playing one of the "Boys in the Band" at the gay wedding? (2) Was that Dr. Kildare in the role of the commissioner? (3) Was a body-double hired for the scene where one of the lead characters bent over to pluck up a bar of soap on the shower-room floor? (4) Was there any tasteless gay joke in the history of mankind that was not offered up on a silver platter in this film?

- 'Interview', Dorothy Parker

4.
Noel Coward was once approached by a reporter for the London Star, who asked,” Mr. Coward, would you like to say something to the Star?”
“Certainly,”replied the playwright,”Twinkle.”

5.
The first US Presidential Press Conference was granted by John Quincy Adams, but unwillingly. The President was swimming in the Potomac river when a newspaper woman Anne Royall surprised him. She sat on his clothes and vowed that she wouldn’t budge until he gave her an interview.
The Potomac was chilly and Adams finally granted her request.

6.
As a rookie reporter for the New York World, young Heywood Brown was told to interview Utah senator Reed Smart.
“I have nothing to say,”Smart told him.
“I know,”replied Brown,”Now let’s get down to the interview.”

•    Heywood Brown, one of the kindliest newspaperman ever, wasn’t much of an executive. While running a publication called The Connecticut Nutmeg, its managing board gave him discretionary powers to hire hands at $35 a week. He could go up to $50 maximum.
On the appointed day the job- seekers were called in and Brown queried,”Which would you prefer- $35 a week or $50?”
compiler:benny

Dear Reader,

I'm not sure if you're following PVPonline, but something very curious is happening over there.

Suddenly there's a break in the normal story arc, and we're in the middle of a LOLbat adventure.

LOLbat's arch nemeses are grouping together to defeat him so that they can continue to, you know, sell crack.

The archnemeses are calling themselves the Algonquin Hate Table.

Now, if you've ever read my About page, you'll know the close affinity this blog has with Dorothy Parker.

So imagine my glee upon finding that one of the supervillains is, quite clearly, Aunty Dot!

Right down to the bob haircut.

It's curious, but this is the second reference to the Algonquin Round Table that i've happened upon this week.

The other was in the The Age's Good Weekend magazine. They asked Maggie Fitzpatrick (or Kirkpatrick... whatever) alias The Freak from TV's Prisoner the one place in space and time she'd like to go.

You guessed it. The Vicious Circle.

Somehow i don't think that the freak would have fitted in at the Algonquin. But, then again, maybe it would have been a match made in heaven.

The best thing is that we'll never know.

Yours,
Gullybogan

I don't care what is written about me so long as it isn't true.© Дороти Паркер

Heterosexuality is not normal, it's just common.© Дороти Паркер

Lately I've realized that I'm the literary equivalent of a survivalist who has a cellar full of tinned Vienna sausages and sauerkraut just in case there's an enemy attack. I'm dog-sitting for a week for a couple whose house resembles a Barnes and Noble annex: She's led several book clubs and he’s a reporter covering the Democratic National Convention.

Still, I must be prepared. What if none of my friends’ books is exactly what I need to survive the week? So before leaving home I spent days thinking about which books to pack until a dozen or so went into my suitcase, including these five:

The Portable Dorothy Parker: Revised and Enlarged Edition (Viking, 1973), by Dorothy Parker with an introduction by Brendan Gill. I try always to take a good book of literary criticism on vacation, and this one has some of Parker’s best Constant Reader columns for The New Yorker plus a selection of her poems, articles and short stories. A favorite line: Parker writes in a review of a book by the wife of a British prime minister: “The affair between Margot Asquith and Margot Asquith will live as one of the prettiest in all of literature." dorothyparker.com

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (Dial, 2008), by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows. Based on the reviews and word-of-mouth, I just sent this epistolary novel as an 85th birthday present to an aunt in Peoria (along with a cherry-red tin of thistle-shaped Walker's shortbread as a substitute for potato peel pie). Need to read the book to find out if Aunt Lois is still speaking to me. www.guernseyliterary.com

The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher A Shocking Murder and the Undoing of a Great Victorian Detective (Walker, 2008) by Kate Summerscale. An easy call. This is one of year’s most highly praised books of historical true crime. I read a few chapters earlier this month and had to force myself to stop and save the book for this week. I also have a soft spot for books in which the body turns up in an outhouse for reasons perhaps best saved for another post. www.katesummerscale.com and www.walkerbooks.com

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (Persephone Classics, 2008), by Winifred Watson with an introduction by Henrietta Twycross-Martin. English journalists have called the London–based Persephone Books is “the new Virago,” a defunct imprint that specialized in neglected minor classics by women, so I’ve been looking forward to getting to know its list. The dust jacket says of this book says, “Miss Pettigrew is a down-on-her-luck, middle-aged governess sent by her employment agency to work for a nightclub singer rather than a household of unruly children. Over a period of 24 hours her life is changed – forever.” And a Guardian reviewer wrote: “Why has it taken more than half a century for this wonderful flight of humor to be rediscovered? Pure Cinderella fantasy farce with beaus, bounders, negligees and nightclubs – Miss Pettigrews’s blossoming is a delight to observe." Frances McDormand starred in a 2008 movie version movies.yahoo.com/movie/1809874771/video of the novel www.persephonebooks.co.uk.

Sports Stories (Kingfisher, 2000, ages 9 and up), chosen by Alan Durant and illustrated by David Kearney. For a long time I’ve been looking for a good book of short stories about sports for middle-school and older students. This one caught my eye at the library because it includes new and classic writing on a variety of girls’ or boys sports, including soccer, tennis, baseball, basketball, hockey, swimming and running. The quality of writing in anthologies tends to be uneven, and I’m hoping to find out this week if Sports Stories achieves enough consistency to recommend it. www.fantasticfiction.co.uk/d/alan-durant/sports-stories.htm

© 2008 Janice Harayda. All rights reserved.
www.janiceharayda.com

FAUTE DE MIEUX

Travel, trouble, music, art,
A kiss, a frock, a rhyme-
I never said they feed my heart,
But still they pass my time.

--Dorothy Parker (b. 22 August 1893)

Authors and actors and artists and such
Never know nothing, and never know much.
Sculptors and singers and those of their kidney
Tell their affairs from Seattle to Sydney.
Playwrights and poets and such horses’ necks
Start off from anywhere, end up at sex.
Diarists, critics, and similar roe
Never say nothing, and never say no.
People Who Do Things exceed my endurance;
God, for a man that solicits insurance!

- 'Bohemia', Dorothy Parker

still getting married. still want to be married. the process of becoming married could be more fun. i plan on being piss drunk most of my wedding day so i'm sure i'll enjoy it. that and i'll have mad libs. maybe lawn bowling. how could it not be fun?

nope still haven't gone to wal-mart, still can't find any damn good fish around here, i want fish tacos really, really bad and alas no fish to be had, i must post pictures of the garden as it is quite jungle-like, rather sick of the pumpkins but those slow food folks seem to think they're the best pumpkins ever and so they're allowed to grow even though they can get up to 75 pounds!! oh dear. i used to like mario batali but i hate him now. i had a small grease fire due to him and his stupid cookbook. although the food tasted damn good. i can't remember the recipe but it was something like shitloads of garlic in olive oil and then wine and saute it for ages. apparently i promised garden pictures last year and they never materialized. i'm one stop ahead of last year, i've actually taken pictures! david took some from on top the barn, i do hope they come out well.

Cezanne is still right - "The day is coming when a single carrot, freshley observed, will set off a revolution". I had a carrot worthy of just such a revolution, grown by the amish as i'm incapable of growing carrots. they amish also sold me raw, unpasteurized honey, i was about out so i need not worry for awhile. they say people are something like 9 meals from a revolution. i'm thinking those 9 meals really should be up by now. instead i have my own little mini revolution at home. i also give people strokes at work when they smell what i cook and they wonder why my food is good and theirs is bad. my food is real and fresh and their food is icky and comes from boxes and jars and factories. yuck poo.

what else, yah pretty sure god still hates me. he probably hates you too. i listened to this dude the other day who was speaking at princeton talk about how martin luther was a terribly depressed person because he realized for god to be real he must really be fucking evil. at least i'm not complaining about a lack of rain this year.

i haven't heard about people issuing death threats against the hedge funds anymore. they really should. if they were pissed a year ago, holy crap what are they now? oh yeah but the dollar is getting all better now magically right?!! at least people did lower their consumption of gas this year, although they only way to get them to change that behavior is to make them hurt. they won't do it out of the good of their hearts and concern for the fucking planet that they keep insisting they have the right to overpopulate.

oh and i really need to return the god delusion, wow. i know right where it is. i kinda hated it. the guy was full of himself. couldn't get through it. dawkins schmawkins.

the pretty picture i made in 5/07 is gone. sniff.

apparently many many many americans still don't believe in evolution. why i live here i wonder. i think the only thing keeping me around is the fact that my house is paid for and i have great dirt. of course that great dirt makes some great tomatoes.

jerry falwell is luckily still dead.

i still love me some http://www.karmabanque.com/ and yeasty lesbians http://yeastradio.com/ and as terrible as this podcast is i love it too http://www.keithandthegirl.com/ even though it insults the greatness of the other two podcasts. something about those morons...

i don't care to log on to myspace to find out if they brought the gay back.

i honestly haven't bought pants in like a year. how weird is that? i do really want a pair of overalls though. i wanna be all farmery. plus you can wear overalls and like a sports bra and totally be set, no more clothes needed and you're all airy and not confined and maybe not so sweaty.

still love this poem:

Razors pain you; Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful; Nooses give;
Gas smells awful; You might as well live.

-Dorothy Parker

the people that were dead a year ago are still dead now. then more people died too. it happens, like everyday even.

and i'm still not saying anything that anyone else isn't saying. but more need to be saying it so that the morons can be drowned out.

the secret is still a pile of horseshit and apparently now people with whom i work even believe in it. people i like. i think they got the misguided belief that i like it, but maybe that is okay. i don't need to tell everyone that they believe in horseshit, i could try to be nicer. it is so hard sometimes though.

i still love my geek, a lot. we started a blog together and we seriously cannot remember the name of the blog. at all. dunno where it went. probably for the best. i hate correcting his spelling. i love him, not his spelling. he knows that.

still a public radio member. can barely pay bills, i just wrote out a check for $800 for propane for the winter, but um yay i give money away to an organization that has a gazillion dollar endowment and probably doesn't need the money.

rachel ray is still i cunt i hear, i haven't had tv in a couple years so i haven't seen her lately. i hope she's getting fat.

i still don't sew any of my own clothes. i started a purse, didn't like it, quit. i still sew quilts! though how many quilts can one human being use really? still haven't donated any. i'm a terrible person. what's new. just as selfish as the rest of the country. we did donate stuff to the salvation army. i did also sell some crap on ebay. i think i might also be more patient with the boy, although who really uses 3 q-tips after a shower? i know they're cheap, but 3??? wow.

oh i'm graduating! this week! about fucking time. someome gimme a social worker job that actually pays a bit more than i make now. please.

still havent' fixed up spare room. but i have an excuse. spare room had a leak in the roof above it. so spare room had to wait til i could guarantee leak was fixed. spare room ain't gettin fixed now til after wedding and gardening season are over.

i had this goal to find ways to support myself that don't include working. honestly i've found a lot of ways that i could support myself pretty well i think, if only i didn't feel as if i absolutely have to have insurance. i cannot responsibly live without it. with how things are, i can't quit my job and lose my health insurance. no way. so i don't follow my bliss. sucks don't it? of course it doesn't suck as much as people have it in say the sex slavery trade, people living in borneo (maybe, i dunno i have never been to borneo), i met people in paris that would give their right and left nuts to come to america (of course the french hate the africans, the africans are confused and think george bush really is going to save the world, the man better hurry up as he doesn't have much time left).

oh and i still believe that sex cures all ills, be it physical or societal. however don't share the details with your children. pleeeeeease. kthx.

i'm sad to report that 1/8/07 i found a new sexual position apparently and as of today, a year and a half later, i have no fucking clue what i was talking about. i also can't believe some of the stuff i put on the interwebs. yeesh.

the fairmont sentinel seriously needs to get permalinks for stories and keep em there. i don't think they get the idea of the internet. boo.

i actually got 5 comments on a post! wow.

yah myspace still hasn't deleted the account. they deleted david's for inactivity, but not mine. they just love my even jesus hates you picture i'm sure.

still haven't gotten to norway to see the gay animal exhibition. boo.

i *still* don't have the cone. i do have this plug in thing though, wow. maybe i don't need a cone.

my underwear still means i'm bad apparently.

and i don't have my own universe. really? boo. we're so gonna fall behind the chinese. then they're going to cut us up alive for organs to sell to the russians. i don't like that picture. though we may all be too fat for that, the russians might not want our organs. hmm.

Scoopit!

Katharine Hepburn delivered a striking performance that ran the gamut of emotions, from A to B

Attributed to Dorothy Parker, by Alexander Woollcott

Dorothy Parker (August 22, 1893–June 7, 1967) was an American writer and poet, best known for her caustic wit, wisecracks, and sharp eye for 20th century urban foibles.

From a conflicted and unhappy childhood, Parker rose to acclaim, both for her literary output in such venues as The New Yorker and as a founding member of the Algonquin Round Table, a group she would later disdain. Following the breakup of that circle, Parker traveled to Hollywood to pursue screenwriting. Her successes there, including two Academy Award nominations, would eventually be curtailed, as her involvement in left-wing politics would lead to a place on the infamous Hollywood blacklist.

Wikipedia

[caption id="attachment_3637" align="aligncenter" width="342" caption="Dorothy Parker - 1930s"][/caption]

MerLibra Trading Card Originally uploaded by merlibra

I've created several variations of the MerLibra trading card... but this is the only one you'll ever see online.

My favorite one was me sitting and reading in a bathtub (clothed, mind you! with tank top and shorts!) with books lining the baseline of the tub, but seeing my bare arm and a bare knee bent up, well... while still done in good taste, it was still somewhat boudoir reminiscent, leading minds to where they need not go.

So here I am relaxing in my artroom, reading the Almighty Dorothy Parker.

I'm sooooo going to have to make a card of my SigOth!

Drink and dance and laugh and lie

Love, the reeling midnight through,

For tomorrow we shall die!

(But, alas, we never do.)

- Dorothy Parker

-'Experience', Dorothy Parker