"The desire to link art to life, beauty to truth, justice to goodness, almost infallibly leads criticism to utter a host of stupidities; a critic who ignores or represses this concern and contents himself with being no more than an amateur or an historian of art avoids covering himself with ridicule, but at what cost. No one reads him.
"Judging a work of art is virtually the same mental operation as judging human beings, and requires the same aptitudes: first, a real love of works of art, an inclination to praise rather than blame, and regret when a complete rejection is required; second, a vast experience of all artistic activities; and last, an awareness, openly and happily accepted, of one’s own prejudices. Some critics fail because they are pedants whose ideal of perfection is always offended by a concrete realization. Others fail because they are insular and hostile to what is alien to them; these critics, yielding to their prejudices without knowing they have them and sincerely offering judgments they believe to be objective, are more excusable than those who, aware of their prejudices, lack the courage to enter the lists to defend their personal tastes.
"The best literary critic is not the one whose judgments are always right but the one whose essays compel you to read and reread the works he discusses; even when he is hostile, you feel that the work attacked is important enough to be worth the effort. There are other critics who, even when they praise a book, cancel any desire you might have to read it."
-- from “De Droite et de Gauche" by W.H. Auden, reprinted in the December 2007 Issue of Harper's
Not sure why I can't stop watching this...
Is it because it's SO GODDAMN ADORABLE that she thinks the monster is going to come out of the movie to get her? OR is it that she thinks she can actually take the monster on? Or that she keeps saying "ask" instead of ass?
Or is it because I've been on hold with Apple customer service for fifty-three fucking minutes and have nothing better to do with my goddamn time while I wait to hear some sucker tell me there's nothing I can do about a) my mouse that keeps fucking freezing and b) my computer that won't goddamn stay asleep?
Hey Apple, you have shitty taste in hold music, you fucking fartbags. I wish you'd come through the phone so I could kick your goddamn askes.
Vital Signs New Works Festival
presents an evening of 4 short plays
featuring
AYRAVANA FLIES, OR A PRETTY DISH
By Sheila Callaghan
Directed by David A. Miller
with Fletcher McTaggart*
& Lauren Walsh Singerman*
December 12-16 @ 7pm
The McGinn/Cazale Theatre
2162 Broadway, 4th floor (at 76th Street )
FREE Invited Dress on Wednesday the 12th
$18 Thursday through Sunday
"What in this world is real and not seeming? Love, which seems the realest thing, is really nothing at all; A simple gray rock is a thousand times more tangible than love is; And the earth is such a rock, and love only a breeze that dreams over its surface, weightless and traceless. And yet love's more mineral, more dense, more veined with gold and corrupted with lead, more bitter and more weighty than the earth's profoundest matter. Love is a sea of desire stretched between shores -- only the shores are real, but how much more compelling is the sea. Love is the world's infinite mutability; lies, hatred, murder even are all knit up in it; it is the inevitable blossoming of its opposites, a magnificent rose smelling faintly of blood. A dream which makes the world seem... an illusion. The art of illusion is the art of love, and the art of love is the blood-red heart of the world. At times I think there's nothing else."
--from Tony Kushner's adaptation of Pierre Corneille's The ILLUSION
Lobsters! Lobsters for everyone!
Thanks to my new grant, my friends and acquaintances sup on nothing but the finest foodstuffs and libations. If you come out with me for drinks, you will probably leave shitfaced. When the dinner check arrives, don't even pretend to reach for your wallet. LET MY RED HOT GUILT BE YOUR ETERNAL BOON!
Seriously, folks. The dough should have come with a pamphlet of useful tips on How Not To Feel Ashamed Of Going Up One Tax Bracket For A Year.
In other news... I dreamed of you last night. Your parents were rich and your sister was in love with you. I sat next to you in church and dragged a small white feather across my bottom lip. You stopped breathing for a second. Later, in your room, you told me something quietly about my ear, my hip. We never touched.
The weekend before I went to prison, Dr. Simone Freakbag announced to a Friendly's full of strangers that we were hosting a robot party at our place the following night. We weren't, but it was so splenetic an idea that it became clear we had to. So we did.
The Freakbags are nipple aficionados, so they were in charge of providing the Theraflu.
It was a timorous gathering, because your mother is very expensive and our friends are high.
We ate half the sofa before anyone even farted.
And the loofahs were these tiny novelty morons that President William Howard Taft made fun of me for sucking.
But great sex was had by all!
(You're gay.)
The weekend before I went to LA, The Daisey announced to a bar full of our friends that we were hosting a lobster and keg party at our place the following night. We weren't, but it was so weird an idea that it became clear we had to. So we did.
The Daiseys are lobster aficionados, so they were in charge of providing the livestock.
It was a small gathering, because lobster is very expensive and our friends are broke.
We ate half the lobsters before anyone even showed up.
And the kegs were these tiny novelty barrels that Kip made fun of me for buying.
But great fun was had by all!
And I have to tell you... I found it dangerously satisfying to murder a harmless, flailing crustacean by shoving him head-first into a pot of boiling water. Granted, the first time I did it I burst into tears. But by the third time I was heaving the dude above my head and screaming like a bloodthirsty Spartan.
I'll spare you the photos from that.
(You're welcome.)
a recorded excerpt from my play KATE CRACKERNUTS (unrelated to the production at Fordham University Dec. 8-11, go here for details)...
The clip was sent to me by John Zalewski. He did the sound design for the premiere of the show in LA a few years ago... a heartbreaking show for many reasons.
The voice is Ashley West Leonard, who played Kate. She was wonderful.
So was Kellie.
