The graveyard of personal literary ambition.
There is only one of me, but I am Legion.
(lazy dot reviewer at gmail)
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
To recap: Don’s real name is Dick Whitman. His prostitute mother died in childbirth; his dad, her john, beat him. His fundamentalist stepmother called him a “whore’s child.” Then his father got kicked in the head by a horse, and the stepmother moved in with her sister, herself a prostitute, living in a brothel. The stepmother, heavily pregnant with Don’s half brother, prostituted herself to her brother-in-law, as the teen-age Don knelt outside her door. He watched them, through the keyhole, have sex. C’mon, now. This is no longer the backstory of a serial adulterer; it’s the backstory of a serial killer.
This perfect piece by Emily Nussbaum is the correct way to understand Mad Men. It only gets better after that.
This is from a year ago, and The Lazindustrious Baby’s YA Library has probably quadrupled since.
The Last Thing I Will Say About the New Rob Sheffield Memoir
Because it’s not even OUT yet, so you can’t read it, and that’s unbelievably frustrating.
But it had just been good, until I got to the chapter about the Beatles. And I care more about the Beatles than basically anyone else (and have Paul tix for June, after many years of not admitting I loved Paul, and being a grouchy John person instead) except my bestie, because that is why she is my bestie, because we have NO SENSE OF PROPORTION about the Beatles and our love for them.
So I’ve read all the things, and I’ve thought the thoughts, and to find, as I did in “Turn Around Bright Eyes,” a new and correct thought about the Beatles, is satisfying beyond words. And I’m working on getting permission to excerpt it on the new site (The Toast, coming July 1st), so I don’t want to spoil it for you, but it is about mothers, and women, and how Paul is one of the few songwriters to “listen to girls, even after they go away.”
Rob Sheffield, and I think this is why his books have done so well, honestly, genuinely loves and values and is interested in women. And you can’t fake it, and it radiates off the page.
So, anyway, pre-order it, and if you haven’t, buy Love Is a Mix Tape.
A slut is merely a human female that is constantly in heat, yet has no interest in reproducing, thus causing a disruption in society that threatens the very structure of the family organizational unit. This website and many others, are vectors of intellectual warfare against the strength of the family institution and ultimately the individual’s soul and if you cannot see that then you are blind!
This is pretty much the Platonic Ideal of the Salon comment.
Okay, here’s the baby and I fighting over the new Rob Sheffield memoir. Did you read “Love Is a Mix Tape”? Terrible title, great book. Well, the new one is “Turn Around Bright Eyes,” and I’m enjoying it. Not as much as “Love Is a Mix Tape,” because that book is crazy, crazy good, but this one is also great, and he describes the experience of being miserable really well.
Also, seriously, this is a really high-quality baby video.
On Street Harassment
I feel shitty about how I deal with street harassment. Which is, generally, to smile and say apologetically, “I’m married!”
I’ve found this is the best way to ensure no one calls me a cunt in public, but, obviously, it’s also doing a disservice to the community. The implication being, of course, that were I not married, I would absolutely give my number to random men who have offered speculations about what my pussy looks or tastes or feels like (pretty great, by the way! You’ll never know!) Which just makes it more likely that they’ll try it on the next girl who walks by.
So, then, when I’m all nice about it, I’m only prioritizing myself. Because I also want to be liked, always, by everyone, and saying I’m married works.
Ignoring is not great. Ignoring gets you a pretty definite “STUCK UP BIIIITCH,” which will take its toll on you, after a time, if you feed off the approval of strangers to the extent I do.
And I think that ignoring goes as badly as it does because these men already feel invisible. I’m not SYMPATHETIC, or anything, to the fact that street harassers feel invisible, I am just theorizing that ignoring them pushes a very profound invisibility button and they respond with explosive anger and rage.
What other men, normal men who you might date or be friends with, tend not to understand about street harassment, is that when you live in a big city, and you get one comment on your way to the subway and one comment on the way back, that’s what’s going to color your day, at least if you’re me. Men you are friends with will say “literally no man I know would ask a strange woman about her pussy on the street,” and they are probably right about that. But, you know, when I go home and get in the shower, I’m not thinking “God bless the three million men in Manhattan who didn’t say something gross to me today,” I’m thinking about the two who did.
So, I don’t know. This doesn’t really have a point. What I do doesn’t work, and is bad for other women, but it keeps me safe. It’s not enough.
…at this point in my life I’m powerfully aware that there isn’t an unlimited amount of time ahead, that if you don’t please yourself, then you please nobody, and that nobody will ever care more about what I write than I do.
Raising a child is like taking care of someone who’s on way too many shrooms, while you yourself are on a moderate amount of shrooms. I am not confident in my decisions, but I know you should not be eating a mousepad.
Ron Funches
My Game of Thrones Male Hotness Analysis
tl;dr, they can all get it.
The author explored Brooklyn, which is now a byword for cool from Paris to the Middle East.
Really? I mean, I like Brooklyn, but I seriously do not think there are people in Beirut right now thinking “man, Red Hook is really where it’s happening.”
Bitches Gotta Eat is Incredible
1 you can watch whatever you want on television. i watched that ass-eating episode of GIRLS in real time at full volume. you know why? because i didn’t have to wait for my seven-year-old to stop faking like he was asleep before sneaking out of his room to watch his mom look at some titties.
By popular request, the rest of the Lazindustrious family on the ski tour.
Mountain Goats on the headphones, baby on Industrious’s back in a Kelty carrier = perfection.
Ran Into a Puppy in the Park Yesterday
A thirteen-week-old German Shepherd, which is totally my Kryptonite. And, of course, the baby’s. Her first word was “doggie,” and she is completely obsessed with dogs, and kisses them on the mouth if allowed, and when our friend’s massive golden came over, she wrapped her little body around his and wouldn’t let go.
So when we met Foster, the aforementioned GS puppy, it was a classic love connection. We asked if she could meet Foster, and then they just melted into each other in a haze of kisses and licks and hugs, and then she insisted we follow him to his car and watch sadly as he was driven away.
And, you know, our sweet boy Denali, who you may remember from earlier days here on Lazy, finally passed away at 14 this winter, in Industrious’ arms, and she loved him so much.
We were flipping through our wedding album, which is 40% pictures of us with Denali, and when she saw it, after he’d been gone for three months, she went up in a light saying “DOGGIE DOGGIE DOGGIE” and pointing at him.
And as we walked away from where the puppy had been, I said to Industrious: “what the actual fuck are we going to do when she finds out that you can just go to a shelter and take home a dog?”
My Cat Is Getting…Nicer
She’s about…hm…four years old now? And she’s always been kind of an asshole, but recently she’s been really friendly and snuggly, and, to be honest, it’s freaking me out.
What is she planning?
