Posted on December 18, 2013 by betsylerner
August 10 1931 – December 17, 2013
Can’t sleep. It’s been like this for days. How are you guys doing? Does this season produce a special entropy? All the enforced good cheer. People whistling Christmas songs in the subway. Stuffing money into envelopes. While your writing is under ice, or perhaps stuck in the middle of the pond where mallards come to die. I can’t sleep. I want to hold a man I no longer remember except as a husk. I want to adopt a boy named Dante who plays the piano. I want to see Berlin though I don’t know why. Does all the writing add up to a great river, can it carry us to a cornfield in Connecticut where stalks look like a man’s beard against the snow? This is the glass pipe. The serrated knife. You are and are not Walter White. I always wanted to write column called a day late and a dollar short, reviewing books and movies long after they released, long after anyone cared.
Who are you?
Filed under: Uncategorized | 38 Comments »
Posted on November 17, 2013 by betsylerner
The bottom line is no one cares if you don’t write. No one asked you to. No one will die. There are chipmunks who work harder than you. You didn’t need to buy that Moleskin. You forgot you had one anyway. No one said: a poem please. No cried out when you sat down, mid-poem, because you couldn’t bleat another line, a lifetime ago on Minetta Lane. Do not ask what your writing can do for you. Do not got to therapy and crawl inside your inner ear. Did you ever think it was a gift from god? To stop? You won’t have to eat. You need not sing. You don’t have to be anything. When you remember those pages rocking out to sea, remember how good it felt to not reach for a simile. My face and your ass. Is like.
Do you ever think of quitting? Please be as negative as possible.
Filed under: Freak Flag, self-loathing, Uncategorized, Undead, Writers, Writing | Tagged: chipmunks, grandiosity, self-loathing, writers block | 52 Comments »
Posted on October 31, 2013 by betsylerner
When I was in college, I had a friend whose father was a dry cleaner. He referred to his work as “pressing the piss out of other men’s pants.”
Filed under: The End of the World as We Know It | Tagged: dry cleaning, ennui, existentialism, Halloween | 30 Comments »
Posted on October 7, 2013 by betsylerner
CONGRATULATIONS To my most G client, William Todd Schultz on the publication of his new biography of Elliott Smith, TORMENT SAINT.
Here’s a spotify list: http://open.spotify.com/user/meg.ernst/playlist/6fpTyvd96SC2ZZ4pXUtYnk
Please tell every Elliott Smith fan you know. Or people interested in the Portland indie music scene. Or understanding the tragic lives of young, gifted artists who didn’t make it. Todd has also written books about two of my favorite artists, Diane Arbus and Truman Capote. Brilliant psychological portraits that don’t attempt to explain a person’s life or choices, but brings you in as close as possible to understanding the forces and obsessions that compelled each artist to do their work, and how their work failed to save them.
October 3, 2013,
Randall Roberts, Los Angeles Times
Ten years ago this November singer-songwriter Elliott Smith, then 34, died in an Echo Park bungalow from two knife stabs to the chest. According to William Todd Schultz’s “Torment Saint: The Life of Elliott Smith,” a clear-eyed and devastating new biography of the gifted and troubled artist, his death, likely a suicide, was inevitable. The only questions were how and when. read more…
What’s the saddest song you know?
Filed under: Client, Publicity, The End of the World as We Know It, Uncategorized | Tagged: biography, Elliott Smith, Indie music, Portland, William Todd Schultz | 38 Comments »