Before mercury, my blood used to fill thermometers.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Another odd feature of the parallel universe.


I have passed what used to be Eckles' Pharmacy and is presently Olde Towne Books & Brew an improbably high number of times. I finally went in a few weeks ago.

These image are from their Facebook and website. I tried to take pictures. I went through a brief phase in the last of my teens when I practiced regularly taking pictures. I also got fixed on the idea that if I never let anyone take my picture - which was the case and persists in being - when I was old I wouldn't remember what I looked like. So I took pictures of myself almost every day, and that was enough. I'm barren of the desire to photograph.

The significance of this place, besides being authentically period and stunning, is that this is where a cast member in Girl, Interrupted screamed "peppermint clit." Girl, Interrupted was filmed all over the Harrisburg area because, until the wee aughts, we had an authentically period psychiatric facility once known as the Pennsylvania State Lunatic Hospital as well as - more euphemistically - the City on the Hill. Harrisburg State Hospital (which is its proper, search engine optimized name) is a Kirkbride building, the plan of which is affectionately explained in Session 9, not filmed in Harrisburg but in another Kirkbride building in Danvers, Massachusetts. All places should be so stately. From what I understand Harrisburg is on the fence about what to do with it. Since the Scholar is expanding, I think that would be the next logical place to pump full of culture.


I want to shout it from the rooftops: Sadie Stein is blogging! She is someone I admire intensely for having used platforms like Jezebel to address - in a way that isn't heavyhanded - factors like depression within the context of girls having lives. Also, I love the tension inspired by print versus digital publishing. Not only does the Paris Review, where she is the Deputy Editor, capitalize on this in the best way - their issues send me to their site for want of more material; their blog sates ably but keeps me ravenous for the coming issue - but Ms. Stein's contributions in particular make me pine to the marrow for a strapping, gilded-and-bound volume of her adventures and observations. I am grateful in the meantime that so much of her memoirishness - Ways and Means, Dressings, a Week in Culture, Fair Game, and My Manticore - is right here on the internet.


MY BIRTHDAY. But seriously. In May, Moonrise Kingdom premieres at Cannes, and will probably not come around here until late summer, if that. My birthday is also in May, and I will still celebrate this release like the tremendous gift that it seems to be. I am not all about Wes Anderson but this looks stunning to me.


My review of Tiny Furniture was PULLED from the Rumpus. The managing editor did not like my tone. It was profoundly frustrating for that to be the manner in which I was rejected - I welcome being left out on the doorstep - because Anisse Gross, who also alerted me very graciously and in a timely fashion, was kind and accommodating and incredible to work with, and we spent all day the Friday before last polishing it. I'm disappointed that her time was taken like that. I'm going to continue shaping the review and I have her to thank for its development as a legible piece of criticism.

This is the second situation I've experienced like this with the Rumpus - an acceptance and then a rejection. The previous time I was not even told the piece I'd submitted was axed - I had to inquire after a long silence post-acceptance. I have never had this experience anywhere else. I wonder if this has been anyone else's experience there, or if anyone has had this experience elsewhere.


I can't be dour. My family got some amazing news last week, and my new job has turned my quality of life to eleven. Today was a personal triumph: I have shown my boss the light and we are getting Adobe products! Someday, maybe, in the glimmering distance: Macs. The office is all Windows right now and my job is very design-intense. Everything looks so grim, almost as bad as the Gateway I had as a teenager. No wonder I used to be so depressed.

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