journalism


Listening to: “Another World” – Antony & the Johnsons

Greetings from the heart of the Northeastern Seaboard’s Neverending Blizzard ’08! It’s already put me on postpone for 2 plays this weekend–luckily rescheduling is set to occur. Can’t afford to miss out on writing assignments this month. You know that old carol “Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, etc. etc.”? Yeah, I’m the one who hasn’t got a ha’penny and needs some god-blessing.

Still, I think I’ll always have a Pavlovian joy response to snow days, even when I’ve got no work or school from which to play hooky. Last night Tuck and I holed up at Ryan and Rog’s and watched Mad Men and had Schnapps-spiked hot cocoa, while the snow piled up in drifts over Brookline. The mutt definitely digs the snow–sometimes it even makes him forget his debilitating fear of the Green Line–all old smells covered up, fluffy whiteness belly-high, and the whole world fresh and up for grabs. He leap-runs through deep snow in winter the same way he does through the tide in the summer when I bring him to the beach. I wonder what the beaches must look like now–totally surreal, no doubt. You never really see the image of snow falling on ocean waves.

Today out my bedroom window I saw a scrawny guy standing in a full Santa suit on the sidewalk, just chillin’. A girl walks up to him and–I shit you not–sticks her hand down his woolly red pants. And we’re talking deep–like, grab-the-dude’s-dick-and-flail-it-around-a-bit deep. Santa didn’t seem particularly aroused, but it was hard to read the eyes buried between the beard and hat. I’m telling you man, only in Allston.

Alright, time to go dig out the ol’ car so I can get to Cafenation and get some actual productive freaking writing done. I’ll leave you with an image of what I wish I were doing this fine, snowy evening:

Advertisements

So apparently, now journalism = making incredibly painfully obvious statements and calling it news.

On page 2 of the Herald today:

“ABC Family’s new drama “The Secret Life of The American Teenager” (premiering tonight at 8pm) suggests sex is on the brain of the average adolescent.”

Wait, wait, wait… what? Teenagers are horny? They think about sex? NO WAY. No way. That’s… groundbreaking, that’s Pulitzer-worthy.

JEEESSUUUSSS FUUUUUUCKING CHRIIIIIIST! You might as well say, “A new study shows that life can often end in death.”

Apparently the New York Times is worried that it isn’t pretentious enough:

“William F. Buckley Jr., who marshaled polysyllabic exuberance, famously arched eyebrows and a refined, perspicacious mind to elevate conservatism to the center of American political discourse, died Wednesday at his home in Stamford, Conn.”

No offense to the memory of the guy who Ferguson named his cat after on Clarissa Explains It All, but could you put more stupid big words into one sentence? A borderline run-on sentence? And in a lede, no less. Jeeesus.

In the same blow, the Times has won back my wayward heart with this geeky, wonderful article about the oft-forgotten semicolon.

A beautiful bit of punctuation. Please accept from me (apologies to Salinger) this unpretentious bouquet of late-blooming semicolons:
;;;;;;; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ;

Listening to: “The Time of Times” – Badly Drawn Boy

Haven’t written in the past few days, cause I’ve been angry and ranting at people a lot. And frustration doesn’t make for very good blog posts.

buffy401_385.jpg

XANDER: ‘Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to anger.’ No wait, hold on. ‘Fear leads to hate. Hate leads to the Dark Side.’ Hold on, no, umm, ‘First you get the women, then you get the money, then you…’ Okay, can we forget that?

BUFFY: Thanks for the Dadaist pep talk, I feel much more abstract now.

Oh, Joss Whedon. How dearly we need you to swoop in and save television from itself. But I digress, as I so often do. I’m blogging again because, well, I have a deadline. And I’m procrastinating. That’s why I started this damnable thing in the first place.

I’ve seen five plays this week, and interviewed an actor, and I’m seeing five more next week, and interviewing a director. And an artist. And the beat goes on…

Basically I’m busy lately, for super-cereal. And I’m, to be politic about it, very dissatisfied–with the state of Boston journalism at the moment. But like I said, the beat goes on…

Saving graces = light substance abuse, bitching to friends, and Flight of the Conchords. God, that show is funny.

I tried playing basketball yesterday. That was funny, too.

Blech. Okay. *Steels self* Time for another round of article-writing and another cup of coffee. Or a beer, maybe. Maybe both.