At work when things are slow, we entertain ourselves by choosing personal catchwords (indeed, arguably), bus stop personas, hip hop names, and so on. I won't bore you with the details because inside jokes are pretty much only funny to those on the inside, but I will note that I'm a Francesca, and that my hip hop name so scandalized a co-worker that she refused to even pronounce it.
The catchword I was handed is: indubitably. At first I didn't care for it and have actually never used it in conversation but it's the word that came to mind when I was looking at this collection of New Yorker covers. Yes yes, I can hear the sighs and I agree that the magazine deserves some of of its rep for smugness and insufferability. I don't get the Ian Frazier humor pieces either (sorry dude, I bet you're funny in real life but those "humorous" one-pagers are as wooden and tired as last year's Christmas tree). I skip the architecture and theatre articles, figuring they're about people I haven't heard of and wouldn't care about if I had.
The covers though. The covers are genius. Just the past few weeks have featured a luscious Thiebaud pie, and a soft-focus light show. I saved the Obama covers--the White House at night, illuminated with a softly glowing O. The Prez as Abe Lincoln. Even the one that generated all the controversy. The covers are where The New Yorker comes through. Indubitably.
Check out this don hertzfeldt contribution to The Simpsons couch gag. I can't stop watching. Check out more of his work here .
Ever wondered what it takes to get a piece of fiction published? I'm not talking New Yorker type of prose. That's a rarefied world ...
Check out my new video, a brief reading from a story published this past spring in Opossum.
Today's soundtrack: I'm not familiar with Bobrisky but I love east African beats and this beat is sweet. For context, read Oka...