Her Comely Twin Kidneys

...where human-writer-person Katrina Gray combats worldsuck with awesome, one post at a time

“Rocks come at us from all places — from a boy at a birthday party, from those close to us and from strangers, from our city, our country, the world and sometimes from a place within ourselves. They are the difficulties that hurtle through the air. The writer’s job is to pick them up, examine them and use them. This use is a small gesture of control — and generosity. While we can’t throw them back, we can consider their weight, and feel on them the singular imprint of our hands.”

“This, friends, is the way book events are supposed to be: inspiring, creative, collaborative, and celebratory. They’re supposed to be about community and what it means to share art and a love of the arts. They’re supposed to be fun. More like this, please.”

LORRIE MOORE’S MOVING TO NASHVILLE! LORRIE MOORE’S MOVING TO NASHVILLE!

…which is proof of what I’ve been saying for the past couple of years: Nashville’s writing scene is gaining some serious street cred.

I mean, holy mo-fo: LORRIE MOORE IS MOVING TO NASHVILLE!

It’s totally true, you guys: she’ll be teaching in Vanderbilt’s MFA program beginning fall 2013. Which means we’ll see each other in line for coffee at Bongo Java, exchange polite smiles as we pass on the sidewalk in front of Ben & Jerry’s, and drunkenly nod to each other at the Yazoo brewery some lonely, balmy autumn eve. She could move to our block, borrow eggs for a pie, pet my fat pug, compliment us on our herb garden.

And the whole time, I would stand there, slack-jawed and mute. Probably not unlike when a tween spots Taylor Swift buying bubble gum and slap bracelets in an airport gift shop. Because OMG LORRIE MOORE.

It could happen. It could really, seriously happen.

braidedhate:

bought this today. read the back on the train ride home and almost started crying. also i got on the wrong train and ended up at lake merritt.

braidedhate:

bought this today. read the back on the train ride home and almost started crying. also i got on the wrong train and ended up at lake merritt.

powells:

ecantwell:

nprfreshair:

This one goes out to all you anagram nerds. We know you’re out there.
via Electric Literature and Today and Tomorrow

Can’t resist reblogging Christian Bök. 

This is perfect.

powells:

ecantwell:

nprfreshair:

This one goes out to all you anagram nerds. We know you’re out there.

via Electric Literature and Today and Tomorrow

Can’t resist reblogging Christian Bök. 

This is perfect.

“I saw the peculiar way America creeps up on you if you don’t have anything,” he told me. “It’s never rude. It’s just, Yes, you do have to work 14 hours. And yes, you do have to ride the bus home. You’re now the father of two and you will work in that cubicle or you will be dishonored. Suddenly the universe was laden with moral import, and I could intensely feel the limits of my own power. We didn’t have the money, and I could see that in order for me to get this much money, I would have to work for this many more years. It was all laid out in front of me, and suddenly absurdism wasn’t an intellectual abstraction, it was actually realism. You could see the way that wealth was begetting wealth, wealth was begetting comfort — and that the cumulative effect of an absence of wealth was the erosion of grace.”

theparisreview:

Author Etgar Keret and journalist and editor Dov Alfon have started a new intiative called storyvid, an attempt to create the literary equivalent of a music video. We bring you storyvid’s first production, a four-minute pilot based on Keret’s story “What Do We Have In Our Pockets?” Goran Dukić of Wristcutters: A Love Story (also based on a Keret story) directs. The short was selected to screen in the 2013 Sundance Film Festival, which runs through the end of this week.

retrogasm:

Zappa

retrogasm:

Zappa

“Break a vase, and the love that reassembles the fragments is stronger than that love which took its symmetry for granted when it was whole.”

—   

― Derek Walcott

Happy Birthday Derek Walcott!

(via thetinhouse)