“Hello It’s Me” – Lou Reed & John Cale
This is the final song on the album Lou Reed wrote for Andy Warhol after Andy Warhol died. It’s heartbreaking; full of guilt, longing and regret. “Andy it’s me/I haven’t seen you in a while…” begins a chastened voice. Near the end of my stay in that dismal apartment, I played this song often. It so perfectly captures the state that follows the high, dizziness and shock of loss – its simple truth, its bland finality; loss’s most humble stage. “I wish I’d talked to you more when you’re alive.” I thought about all I could have done and said in my marriage, to make things a little better, or maybe save it. “I really miss you / I really miss your mind…” (cue tears) “I’m sorry if I doubted your good heart / things always seem to end before they start…”"
My entire 10-song playlist appears on Largehearted Boy.
Thanks, Joshua Heineman!
In 2006, Margaux Williamson and I started working on new projects; we didn’t know what they were going to be. In the end, I wrote How Should a Person Be? and she made the movie Teenager Hamlet. She starred in my book and I starred in her film. We talked about the creation of both incessantly over the years. Her movie premiered at TIFF in 2010 and now it’s on the best repository of stuff on the web, Ubuweb. So happy it’s here on the internet for anyone to see! Thanks, Kenny Goldsmith, for putting it up, and for keeping Ubuweb alive.
Sitting in the second-floor study of her stone farmhouse in the village of Moncourt, France, her body hunched in front of her scrolled, roll-top desk like a snail confronting its shell, the fifty-one-year-old Patricia Highsmith picked up her favorite Parker fountain pen on a summer’s day in 1972 and confided her feelings about families to her notebook:
One situation—one alone, could drive me to murder: family life, togetherness.
—Biographer Joan Schenkar on becoming partners in crime with America’s great expatriate noir novelist Patricia Highsmith.
The Paris Review has a series about writers’ windows. Here is the drawing of mine, by Matteo Pericoli. And this is what I wrote about it:
Can you see that beautiful shrub? It has no bald patch, right? That’s because the shy, moustached, Portuguese man, who seems to live in that house alone, has spent the last six years standing in front of the hedge, where there was, for so many years, a bald patch. He’d stand before that patch, staring down at it for hours every day, even in the wintertime. When I’d come home from my errands and lock my bike to the pole, he would be there. When I went outside to check my mail, or if I looked up over my laptop, he would still be there.
At first I thought he was crazy. Then I began to think of him as more profound than other men. Why should we look at everything all around us? There is enough in a shrub.
This summer, the patch filled itself in. I guess he knew all along that it was not lacking water or fertilizer or chemicals or conversation. All it wanted was his attention. Now he stands at another empty patch.
I sit in a room lined with books, at a round, teak dining table, on the second (top) floor of a Victorian house. He stares at his shrub as I stare at my computer. His body faces me and mine faces him. Our bodies are opposite each other every day, and we stare at things, and wait for the emptiness to fill in.
I am getting a kick out of Leanne Shapton’s new blog, which seems to be a collection of source material for her marvelous new book, Swimming Studies.
This is just… just… just unbelievable. It was made by Andrew Leland and Ross Simonini, my fellows at The Believer and just, uh, incredible guys.
amyohconnor asked: Finished "How Should A Person Be" at 2AM this morning. I adored it and you are amazing. That is all.
Thank you so much*!*
When a person starts crying and then stops, still you can easily start and stop four or five more times.
In my dream last night, Julia Child cut my hair with a large knife and showed me my new haircut using the mirror on this book. When I marveled that the mirror worked, she proceeded to reveal to me all sorts of secrets, a peek into the world of espionage.