02/11/11

Kindle you don’t set on fire.

1. I bought myself a kindle with all the money I don’t have. First let me digress a second. Money. If you consider my debt, I literally have none. I have less than none. Every single thing I buy puts me more in debt. I am free falling, the same as everyone I know is. Graduate school, jobs that don’t pay, etc. We’re doomed! People should be more concerned. That’s my position.

2. But back to my kindle. For my first official purchase, I ordered Honored Guest, a short story collection by Joy Williams. I have to conclude that she is the greatest short story writer of all time. I have never loved anyone’s work as much as that crazy woman, forever clad in sunglasses I’ve heard. What a badass. She came to visit my school a year before I got here. What a cunt. Here are some of the lines that I “underlined” using my “kindle,” from her story “Congress.”

    a. Then the phone would ring and Jack would begin his daily business of reconstructing the lives of hair and teeth when they had been possessed by someone. A detective a thousand miles away would send him a box of pitted bones and within days Jack would be saying, “This is a white male between the ages of twenty-five and thirty who didn’t do drugs and who was tall, healthy, and trusting. Too crusting, clearly.”
    b. The taxidermist was a genius. He couldn’t make an animal look dead if he wanted to.
    c. “…so much better than a zoo. Zoos are so depressing. I hear the animals are committing suicide in Detroit. Hurling themselves into moats and drowning.”
    d. “Excuse me,” Miriam said quietly to Irene, “but why are you all here?”
    e. “I’m a poet,” a man with a shovel-shaped face said.

3. Believe it or not, I really don’t want to talk about this on my website, but since I have ventured into murky waters recently by mentioning my loneliness, I feel its my responsibility to tell you all that you can stop holding your breath, for I have found a boyfriend. He is a great man. We like to look into each other’s eyes and marvel at what wonderful taste we both have in books and movies. I know, I know. If I weren’t involved I would want to barf, too.

4. I wrote this thing about rejection letters on Thumbnail. And they’re publishing one of my stories next week. I’ll link you to it later! It’s funny how I’m wildly successful and still feel like a shithead all the time. HAHAHAHA

5. I have a superstition about evenly numbered lists. I should say more. I love you? I love twitter. Why do you hate twitter? It’s so good. Follow me on twitter or just go to my twitter page and read it sometimes.

01/2/11

Let’s not make a big thing about new years this year.

1. The appliance repairman that came to my mother’s house this week.

A spry, wily guy, he looked like a Milk Man more than anything. He was very enthusiastic about our particular dryer model, the one that wouldn’t shut off and apparently had caught fire several times internally. From inside the front panel he pulled out charred lint, a bunch of sewing needles, and about 10 dollars in change. He told me a needle pricked him and I said, “I’m so sorry” and he said, “It’s part of my job.” It was an easy repair, he assured me. “It’s the older models that last,” he said. I said what anyone in their right mind would have said, which was: “they don’t make them like they used to.” When it was over, he shook my hand and said, “It’s the best dryer ever made.” He loves his job so much!

2. My mother doesn’t understand anything about technology.

I might as well be a Sorceress in a hooded robe sent from the future to set up the wii fit. How does the TV know where the remote is pointing? I don’t understand the technology either, Mom, I just go with it! The flipside is that she has unreasonable expectations, like if the Internet acts up for a second then the whole thing is broken. “Let’s call a repair man over here,” she says, after about 9 seconds. She also doesn’t understand why they don’t make an 80’s shit metal version of Karaoke Revolution, which, fair enough. I’m not saying that wouldn’t be fun to play, just that market forces are not on her side.

3. There’s no place for me in this world.

You can’t go home again, and other truisms as well. My friends treat me like an over educated science experiment, like a floating brain in a jar that is radioactive. It might sound great, but really I dislike it.


4. I saw Black Swan twice already and I have to conclude

That I do not want to be a ballerina.

5. What I’ve read so far from the winter break reading list:

a. Alice Fulton, “If it’s Not too Much to Ask”
b. Ann Beattie “A Vintage Thunderbird”
c. Charles D’Ambrosio “The Point”
d. Thom Jones “Cold Snap”
e. Lydia Davis “Kafka Cooks Dinner”
f. in progress: Samuel Beckett’s novel, Molloy

And I’ll tell you what: they were all great. Every single one of them. And again, in reference to number 3 on this list, I can assure you that the general public couldn’t give a fuck. Nobody cares about literature outside of the university system. You knew it was bad, but I assure you, it’s worse than even that. I’m not saying that people don’t read, but they all read the same five authors. The Girl with The Fucking Airport Book Trilogy, David Sedaris, etc. We’re doomed. The world is doomed. All plants will die. All vegetation will die. Radiated men will eat the flesh of radiated men…

Sorry I snapped.

I just want to go back to my little mountain town where everybody is a pretentious fuckhead, instead of here in Waterford, Michigan, where it’s just me.

6. This New Year I resolve to be less narcissistic.

I told someone this and he reacted with genuine bafflement. He seemed to think it was a necessary feature of being a writer. Here at mollylaich.com, we respectfully disagree.

08/22/09

Michigan to Montana

THE DRIVE

My mother and I couldn’t get over it.  We were inside the patchwork landscape, entirely different from flying over it, and I for one was terrified.  ”Where do they buy things?” My mother wanted to know.  ”They must drive an hour each way to the store.”  

The Cows, numerous as they were, never failed to make my heart explode in my chest.  All in all, a boring three days.

ARRIVAL 

Missoula is completely unreal.  There are tiny bookstores and independently owned coffee shops all over the place.  People ride bicycles along paths designated for them.  There’s a river with some sort of summer time festival alongside it where children frolic with balloons tied around their wrists and people clap along to the music.  I’m suspicious that the girl in the flowing dress with flowers in her hair is a paid actress.  There’s no sales tax, so a 64$ pair of Birkenstocks actually cost 64$.  I think everyone’s phone number here starts with 555.  

Right now I’m an impostor, but for once, I feel like I’d like to fit in.   We’ll see how that goes.