When someone asks, “How’s it going?” answer, “As the necessary consequence of previous actions!” While they attain satori, make your escape.

If someone asks, “What’s new?” spread apart your hands and answer, “Everything!” with a creepy grin. If the creepy grin doesn’t work, try adding, “And also, nothing!” and tapping them on the nose.

If someone asks, “How’s it going?” answer, “How isn’t it going?” (cf: “What isn’t new,” “What time isn’t it,” “How isn’t it hanging,” etc.)

If someone asks, “What’s going on?” say, “What, indeed,” and then deliver a full and complete lecture on the doctrine of dependent origination.  read more »

The music on the subway has improved dramatically, don’t you think? Recently, I saw Floyd Lee, an electric blues musician, in the 34th Street station (at Sixth Avenue), backed by two extremely thin Japanese musicians: a bass player and a drummer. Mr. Lee is an up-tempo showman. After one blistering solo, he took off his hat and fanned the strings, to “cool off” the guitar. His version of Ray Charles’ “What’d I Say” was so infectious, three generations of music lovers gathered, smiling. Mr. Lee, who was sitting in a chair, stood up, spurred by the crowd’s delight. He also slightly altered the lyrics:

Baby, what’d I say?

Baby, what’d I say?

It’s all right—

Let’s party tonight!

 read more »

“For a long time, Robert Jordan was the man I admired above almost all others in life and fiction,” John McCain wrote a few years ago about the doomed guerrilla hero of his favorite novel, Ernest Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls. Last month, in an interview with Rolling Stone, Barack Obama, when asked to name “Three books that have really inspired you,” cited the same epic Spanish Civil War tale, alongside Shakespeare’s tragedies and Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon.

Besides revealing an unusual area of bipartisan agreement, Mr. Obama’s choice signaled the end of a curious, idiosyncratic reading trend among politicians that began two summers ago with George W.  read more »

July 28, 2008

Slideshow: Roll
Over, Tom Edison!

   read more »

Apparently, there are some pet owners who like to read aloud to their pets as a way of spending time together.]]> http://origin.observermediagroup.com/2008/arts-culture/roll-over-tom-edison#comments Arts & Culture Style Tue, 22 Jul 2008 12:18:28 -0400 Micah Kelber 72212 at http://origin.observermediagroup.com http://origin.observermediagroup.com/2008/style/i-m-talent-now-thanks-law-order

I was sitting at a warped card table in a church basement on a cold Monday morning last December, surrounded by guys dressed like homeless people, trying to make small talk with Vincent D’Onofrio. He’d called in sick on Thursday and Friday, and the shoot had to be pushed back. He looked uncomfortable in his rumpled suit and tie, his giant frame heaped onto a metal folding chair.

“You feeling better?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Good.”

He looked at me as if it was still my turn to speak.

“At least you had the weekend to recuperate.”

“That’s true.  read more »

Truth is I don’t cheat, don’t get laid extracurricularly, ever. Against the rules.

Fine with it! It’s been many years since I said good riddance to the occasional late-night hookup and the once-in-a-blue-moon, drug-fueled marathon bang sessions. Three hours nonstop one late night circa 2000. No nonsense. Non. Stop. Sting kind of stamina. Not bragging, just sayin’. Provided her with 9 to 14 orgasms. Me: zero. Downside of Viagra.

Those days are gone, R.I.P., don’t miss it, don’t look back.

Of course, I can draw on those experiences and say, “That happened, I did all that, sowed my wild oats and now I can be dignified, altruistic, focus on lofty ideals, convert to Catholicism.  read more »

“You shouldn’t get too attached. Don’t you want to date around? I was with so many people in my 20s.”

My parents have been nervous about my relationship with my Ivy League-educated, hardworking, literary-minded boyfriend from the beginning. They’d always been intrigued by the idea of my having a serious romance, but once it happened about a year ago, when we met at college, it was a whole other story.

The legacy of the feminist movement has made my free-love-promoting, baby boomer parents excited about my promiscuity and nervous about long-term relationships. I remember the summer after my freshman year at college, their eyes glittering with delight around the kitchen table as I told them about my escapades post all-girls high school.  read more »

GEORGE: This a new couch?

DR. SELMAN: So what brings you back?

GEORGE: Well, it’s been six months.

HILLY: Well—

GEORGE: I’m a little groggy, I have to admit, because I had to work last night. Went to this benefit at the Central Park Zoo. What animal did you like best?

HILLY: This huge porcupine and the little fox and an owl that was just gorgeous.

GEORGE: And Al Gore was there.

HILLY: Whatever.

DR. SELMAN: Personally, I’ll leave the petting of wild animals to other people, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

GEORGE: And then as usual, I started getting a little rambunctious, didn’t want to go home, so I put Hilly in a cab round midnight, and ended up in some apartment sitting around with kids half my age playing this game I invented.  read more »

Morgan Freeman and his wife, Myrna Colley-Lee, were the first to arrive. They stepped out of a town car in front of the French restaurant Tocqueville on East 15th Street and made their way to the empty bar area. Neither knew what to expect; the hostess, Ruda Dauphin, had called it a “salon.” They were offered flutes of Ruinart champagne; the Oscar winner asked for vodka on ice.

Ms. Dauphin is a petite, stylish but tough lady who grew up in Brooklyn. Her father was in the shmatte business. She wanted to be an actress, and she married the director Claude Dauphin and they moved to Paris.  read more »

This is how I found out a good friend of mine—we’ll call her Lauren—was engaged: I was at her birthday party, and I ran into this other girl I know through mutual friends, and when I asked her how she knew Lauren, she said, “I’m a talent manager and her fiancé is my client.”

I nodded and pretended I knew what she was talking about. When she walked away, I asked the guy I’d been talking to—we’ll call him Max—if he had heard the news. He looked wide-eyed. “Did you see a ring on Lauren’s finger? I didn’t even look.”

I went over to Lauren and smacked her on the arm with a paper plate. “You know how I found out you were engaged? From Brian’s manager!” She giggled and showed us her left hand. “It just happened yesterday! I was going to tell you guys, I swear.”  read more »