david newman: the interview

It is Thanksgiving day, 3:42 pm. At 5:00, twenty-some guests will be arriving for dinner. My brother David, unshowered, in sweats and a pit-stained undershit, lies on the couch watching football, Green Bay versus Detroit. Detroit is winning, 13 to 7. In the other room, my mother is yelling for us both to come in and help set the table.

Me: Dave, mom’s yelling for you.

David: [silence]

Me: Okay. In that case, let me interview you for my website.

David: Nope.

Me: You realize I’m going to write about this either way.

David: [silence]

Me: So, basically, I should just say that you spend all day lying here, watching TV with your hand in your pants?

David: [turns to look towards me for the first time since I’ve come in. Winks. Goes back to watching TV.]

Fin.


Figure 1. Subject in Natural Habitat

transmogrification

Over the next week, self-aggrandizement will be transforming. Not just physically, but philosophically as well. In short, for better or worse, s-a will cease being a weblog, returning (in a retro-chic move) to a more static, hierarchical structure.

As bloggers go, I’m sort of an old hand; I’ve been maintaining a weblog (in one form or another) for about four years. And over that time, I’ve come to realize the medium often leads me to write less than my best. I don’t edit sufficiently, and (worse) often end up posting short, crappy entries for fear of falling too far behind a regular posting schedule.

Which is why I’m switching back to a format that places more lasting value on content. Content that will still be updated and added to regularly, but hopefully content that’s a bit more substantial. Ideally, content that’s funnier and better written. Articles, essays, interviews. And, yes, more from-the-trenches tales of NYC dating exploits and misadventures.

Trust me. It should be good.

listen here

“People are always telling me their life stories and they always tell me they have done so because I am a good listener. In fact I am a terrible listener, I don

like, dig

“Finally Monk said to him, ‘You know, that note is wrong.’ [Tenor saxophonist Paul] Jeffrey said, ‘Monk, why didn

glad that’s over

With the HKMoCD fully digitized, self-aggrandizement returns to its usual drudgery.

Two items I would have blogged about, but didn’t as the site was museumified, though it was probably just as well since they aren’t actually all that interesting anyway:

1. While washing dishes, it occurred to me suddenly that Diagon Alley, Harry Potter’s stomping ground and the home of such fine purveyors as Flourish & Blotts and Gringott’s Wizarding Bank, was a play on the word “diagonally”. About five years to figure that out; yes, I’m a quick one.

2. Also after having neglected to head to the dentist (due to moving, starting Cyan, etc.) for about 18 months, and, frankly, having taken rather poor care of my teeth during that time in general, I finally hit the dentist, fully expecting the worst. Miraculously, I walked away not only cavity-free, but having been praised for my obviously careful and diligent dental hygiene habits. Out of guilt, I have resolved to start flossing regularly. (Or, at least, to purchase dental floss.)

triptych

My roommates and I, dressed as the dead professor curators of the Hell’s Kitchen Museum of Curious Deaths (the Halloween night alter-ego of our apartment):

[Ed. note: In answer to confused emails, Colin (right) has been burned to death, James (center) has been hung, and I’ve been decapitated (apparently by an angry caterer?).]

Us in costumes

A few of the museum exhibits:

Some stuff on the wall

And, finally, a bit of the wreckage the roughly 150 guests left over the course of the evening:

A mess