Dear 12apostrophes readers and writers: Is there a literary version of IMDB? If not, what’s the most thorough site you know to look up books and authors? (Don’t say Amazon). I’m particularly interested in a database that lists an author’s works chronologically, as opposed to one that compiles reviews of their works. Both would be great though.
You’re all literary types—would you mind using the comments section to make some suggestions?
No one cares how I came to be in possession of a fortune cookie today, especially since the important part was the message inside:
Pure pleasure is found in
my own imagination running wild about what the rest of that fortune was meant to have said?
Conjectures welcome. Happy Friday.
Today, for an hour or so still, is my wife and I’s second four-years-of-marriage anniversary.
Not that we’ve been married 8 years, just that we were married twice. Three times, actually. To each other. Not that we were divorced.
Hmmm . . .
It’s really very simple. It was important to my parents and grandmother that Maddy and I be married in the Catholic Church. Sure, we said. We weren’t any more Catholic than anybody else (and very much less Catholic than Catholics), but we were flexible.
The priest was flexible, too, but not that flexible. “Will you promise to . . .
I’ve been reading a lot about the ‘people powered’ election of Ned Lamont in Connecticut – how for once an election wasn’t decided by the special interested, well-moneyed, over-lobbied joecumbent, but instead a grassroots, collective, power-of-the-people, wisdom of crowds type effort by the voters in Connecticut.
And what strikes me about it is that I resonate so strongly with that idea. Politics is so disturbing lately because it feels so out of touch from everyday life (even if it always has been, it feels decidedly more out of touch in the past decade). And it feels so combative, without any . . .
I hate cooking. It’s the whole organizational aspect of it–you have to have the green pepper chopped up and ready to go once the garlic has softened, you have to stir-fry it for five minutes (God help you if you skip out to pee and come back a minute late), and when you’re done you have to clean up the mess. Pass. For our first few months together my roommate thought I was a druggie because I hardly ate anything–until she discovered I think cooking takes too much work.
So why did I think it would be a good idea . . .
By Anirban on April 8th, 2010 in caption contest, India, mass transit
This one’s from Mumbai… y’ know the city in the country famous for its snake charmers and…