278. With love and squalor, both Joanna Newsom and Salinger liked the name Esme I guess
February 26th, 2010 § 17 Comments
I want to show you all something but I’m afraid of being scorned. Upon seeing it most people’s reactions are, “Oh my god, that’s sick,” or “Make it stop,” or “Disgusting!” Even my best friends have blurted out, “Oh my god, you are a freak,” after seeing it. I guess I’ll show you the least impressive version of this to ease you in:
I’m sorry if my double-jointed arms gross you out. (Do they?) One of my friends once suggested buying a meter stick and taping it to my arms to straighten them, à la a scary scoliosis brace for the arms (and in middle school, I totally had scoliosis and needed a brace but because of Judy Blume and that one book about the girl who had a back brace and was mocked viciously and only felt good when she was at home, in bed, touching her SAFE PLACE, I somehow got sinful masturbation and crooked spines and bad posture and metal things to make you look good one day even if it means social alienation first all confused and mixed up, so the thought of straightness as an ideal to aspire to scares me.)
Anyway, this isn’t even how far my arms can bend and if you like, I can show you how far they can truly go.
(60′s ruffle dress from Etsy, pink belt from local boutique, headband from Revivals, and Zara booties)
I often end up changing my outfit several times a day, not because I think I’m some kind of fashion diva, but because my brain wants me to fail at life by spending all of my time being indecisive and changing my mind. Yesterday, in the late afternoon, I wore this yellow ruffle dress from the 1960′s, which I bought from the wonderful Etsy seller, Carmelized Vintage, ages ago. It used to have long sleeves with big, dopey Austin Powersesque ruffles at the wrist and after wearing it once, the zipper broke. I decided to get the zipper fixed and chop off the sleeves. Thanks to the best tailor ever, (if you live in Iowa City, please please please go to Alterations for all of your tailoring needs,) I now love this dress like I love a chocolate dipped soft serve, which is to say when I take it out into the sun, I instantly feel cuter and happier.
Earlier in the day, Michael and I went to Oxford to get Cajun brunch from this super cool place, Augusta Cafe, run by a New Orleans couple who came to Iowa City after Hurricane Katrina. I think they might only serve brunch on the weekends, but lunch was just as delicious.
I got a catfish Po’ boy with hand-cut fries, and Michael got a Po’ boy with sweet potato chips. And coffee for both of us, of course.
Red coat (Kimchi & Blue); sweater dress (H&M); scarf (gift from India); ruby ring (gift from Istanbul); green ring (gift from my BFF Sarah); vintage belt; Frye boots.
I want to tell you more but I have to go!
Love, Jenny
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
REPLIES (from Jenny)
DIMA: I’d love to know what you think of Wild Strawberries. It may not be his best film, but it’s still a beauty. How did you comport yourself when that woman came up to you in DC? I would have probably been too stunned to say anything remarkable back.
Eline/Flufffox: Oh yes I love love love Fanny and Alexander (Fanny och Alexander!) The whole movie wavers between reverie and reality perfectly, and I also love Scenes from a Marriage even if it’s gut-wrenchingly depressing, and its the truest film about love and marriage that I’ve ever seen. Not to mention, it’s nearly impossible to watch it unscathed and not think of ways in which that movie is directly speaking to you and all of your love problems. Yeesh. I’m going to have to watch Fanny and Alexander again for sure–I don’t even remember the outfits at all, except I remember wondering how do they stay warm in their pretty Christmas dresses and how come no one sleeps even though they are drinking drowsy drinks?
Rhiannon: Haha, Tron. I’ve never seen it and I still don’t know if it’s one of those so bad it’s good movies? Or is it just so bad it’s bad? I feel like people in college, who wanted to make sure everyone knew they were super counterculture and quirky, would list TRON as one of their favorite movies, so I don’t know. And yes! It’s so wonderful to be approached, even if I feel like a fool with a blabbermouth afterward.
Fleshmadeword: Are you kidding me! I felt like a dingbag due to lack of sleep, the 100 degrees that is North Hall, and general haggardness. All I know is that I was blathering on and on about how I need to get into the building after 10. I’m just glad you don’t think I’m a total weirdo.
Districofchic: I’m almost tempted to say you should watch Fanny and Alexander first. Or Scenes from a Marriage, except not with a loved one–too much potential for lovers’ quarrels!
Sabine: What Bergman films have you seen? I know that Cries and Whispers is adamantly sad, but I’ve never seen it. I thought Wild Strawberries was sort of uplifting, although not entirely.
Starr Crow: You’re too sweet, lady. And I envy your visual eye and your photography skills and your video skills! I’ll never even come close to having a knack for visual things, which is a little sad when I consider that I’m 1/2 of a fashion blog. Thank goodness Meggy is the best photographer and has mad design skills.
Cath: In fact, it is!
Gina: You are the greatest. I won’t say any more.
277. Wild strawberries, but Ingmar Bergman is only one of several marvelous people in this world
February 24th, 2010 § 10 Comments
Have you seen Wild Strawberries by Ingmar Bergman yet? It has so much of classic Bergman, the neverending dialogue, family members speaking so frankly and so directly to each other and with such speed and lack of hesitancy that I can’t help but savor and marvel at both how much and how little his dialogue corresponds to the way we speak to each other. And the clothes! Simple stripes and square neck collars collars and perfect curls and tons of light colored dresses, shorts rolled up mid-thigh, lace and illusion lace, bratty twins in sailor dresses, and the big, sure-footed matriarchs in some damn fine prairie ruffle dresses.
Screencaps taken by me(!)
Two extraordinary things happened recently. The first is that I met a reader of this blog and maybe such a happening is just a trifle for those lucky bloggers who have tons of readers and get approached all the time, but it just so happened to be one of my favorite readers/commenters and the encounter warmed my sour, Iowa frost-bitten heart. Hi Fleshmadeword! I’m so badly brainwired that I already forgot your name, but I’m so happy we ran into each other outside the bookbinding studio! I’m going to hole up in there this weekend so maybe we’ll get to have more run-ins.
The second most extraordinary thing is that I received a mindblowing package in the mail from the inimitable Gina from So Silky, So Round. I think it might be the most spectacular package I’ve ever received! Gina is so sweet that I secretly think candy hearts fall from her fingertips and I bet when she speaks, little puffs of flowers (sans pollen) are released into the air to sweeten this dank world. I’ll post some pictures and more details about this astounding package, but right now I’m too astounded to do anything but be astounded so off I go to be astounded and to feel so so grateful.
Love, Jenny
276. Charms, what comes next, how are these ladybugs/Japanese beetles getting into my house, Daniil Kharms and night frights
February 22nd, 2010 § 3 Comments
I’m reading–well, rereading– a lot of Lydia Davis, Daniil Kharms, George Saunders, Thomas Bernhard, Robert Walser, and finally dipping back into the Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao (ps: Meggy, I’m curious to know your unrestrained thoughts on Junot Diaz!) the latter of which is helping a little to break up the gutting, nightmarish feeling of reading too much Saunders/Kharms/Davis/Walser/Bernhard, the holy-unholy quinqumvirate of authors who are so good at creating a “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, oh wait a second, that’s pretty depressing,” effect on their readers.
There’s some lovely websites out there with links to Daniil Kharm’s stories, like this one, and this one, and here is a selection of his writing on Octopus magazine, translated by the great Matvei Yankelevich who translated and edited Today I Wrote Nothing: The Selected Writings of Daniil Kharms. Some excerpts from The Blue Notebook:
1.
My opinion of traveling is succinct: when traveling, do not go too far or else you might see something that will even be impossible to forget. And if anything settles in the memory too stubbornly, a person first starts to feel uneasy, and then it gets quite difficult to keep up the vivacity of the soul.4.
Since ancient times, people have wondered about what was smart and what was stupid. In that regard, I remember this incident: when my aunt gave me a writing desk as a gift, I said to myself: “Well now I’ll sit down at this desk and the first thought I come up with at this desk will be especially smart.” But I could not come up with an especially smart thought. Then I said to myself: “Okay. I wasn’t able to come up with an especially smart thought, so I’ll come up with an especially stupid one.” But I couldn’t come up with an especially stupid thought either.
There’s one story by Kharms that ends with this dude with a long, thin neck concluding, “That means life defeated death by a method unknown to me.” That scares me and repetition, something I am prone to, also scares me, which is why I decided to act in accordance with the fears that rule over me and repost pictures of my ‘If I had gone to Meggy’s reading’ dress from this weekend. It has a lovely sheer overlay that I sometimes put over my face when I feel sheepish. Once, someone told me I looked like a cupcake in the dress and I was grateful for that comment. I think I like this dress because it reminds me of how my grandmother in Shanghai always puts a little lace umbrella over our lunch leftovers and only removes the umbrella when it’s time to heat up everything for dinner.
I have so much going on this week, I could burst into tears, or maybe just hole up and rewatch all five seasons of The Wire and forget about my hopes and dreams, but maybe I should instead strive at least a little. If I succeed at all, then you might not see much of me for the next few days. It feels silly to announce that, because then I wonder who in their right mind would care a lick about my internet absence? No one, I think.
Love, Jenny
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REPLIES (from Jenny)
Marla Singer: Thank you!
Catherine: Actually, the polka dots part is attached to the floral dress. It’s kind of a nutso, bizarro 90′s dress, but in the best way.
Starr: I wish the dress was in my size too. Why are the cutest dresses always the tiniest things?
Nancy Josephine: How wonderful that you are studying classical music! I played the piano (horribly, of course) for nine years and I wish I had taken it more seriously at the time. Do you compose music? I will check out your blog for sure.
275. If Jenny Came to Meggy’s Reading
February 21st, 2010 § 5 Comments
I wore a cocktail dress with three tiers of black (ostrich?) feathers that got everywhere. But it was totally worth it! And I wore my little convenience-store cloche and F21 necklace, too.
xo, mw
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Had I been lucky enough to make it out to Ann Arbor for Meggy’s reading, which I believe was surely a stupendous success and knocked many socks/tights/heavy winter boots off, I would have worn my Betsey Johnson dress that I bought years ago from Ambiance boutique in San Francisco back when I was organizing for homeless rights and working 14 hour unpaid workdays. This dress used to have a flower pin smack dab between the boobs but the pin fell out and I furiously went back to the store to demand a new boob pin and was told politely: No freakin way. I’ve come to accept that this dress looks better without the boob pin.
Readings are strange affairs. You know that part in the beginning when everyone is fussing around and making polite or excited conversation with their neighbors? Usually, I’m late to everything, which thankfully prevents me from having to bore other people with my awkward jokes.
And yep, that’s my OH MY GOSH YOUR READING ROCKED AND I’M SO LUCKY TO KNOW YOU face (seconds before big hugs and possible sloppy kiss on the cheek.) Congratulations Meggy!
love, Jenny
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REPLIES (from Meggy)
Sabine: The concept of what? MFA programs?
Gina: Thank you so much for your support — and yes, I’ve been killing all of my darlings forever and ever these days. Jenny and I are finding this reply format challenging because we alternate posting, but I’ve always loved this style of replies, so we’ll see if it works out.
Diane: Wow, what a coincidence! Thanks for your feedback about the program. You’re right that it takes a lot of decompression; I’m already starting to decompress and I haven’t even finished the program yet. And I really like that Junot Diaz interview, even if I don’t love Junot Diaz, because so much of it is about persistence.
Julia: How is studying painting at Skidmore?
274. keeping it safe
February 18th, 2010 § 8 Comments
I don’t know how many writers or former MFA students or prospective MFA students are reading this blog, but today’s post is going to be me thinking and processing some thoughts about keeping writing under wraps.
MFA programs, and in particular, in this particular week — for me — are all about sharing the work. Dissecting it. Learning how it works by taking it apart. You do this by showing your professors. You do this by meeting once a week with your cohort and critiquing, for three hours, stories and novels-in-progress. When you’re not taking the work apart, you’re worrying about the work because it’s about to be shared. I’m meeting with an agent in March, having my reading on Friday, meeting with Yiyun Li in a private workshop in a few weeks, and having my three-hour thesis workshop this coming Monday. I’ve been revising and submitting to fellowships, grants, and residencies, and along the way I’ve been writing with these potential Readers in my mind.
“William, 1974″ is the 100-paged section of my novel that makes up my thesis, and right now I’m working on “David, 1968,” which is the section that comes immediately before it. It’s the first piece of writing that I’ve worked on in a long time that I’m not immediately meant to share. Yes, it will end up being part of my thesis, if only because “William, 1974″ is not quite long enough to make the required page count (unless I use the font Didot, which I have done before). But I’m so aware of the Readers in my life as I write this new section that I wonder what it would be like if I just wrote it for myself, without all of those Readers looking over my shoulder. (After I read How Fiction Works, I had James Wood looking over my shoulder, which was incredibly uncomfortable; I don’t recommend it.)
This new section is a tiny bit bizarre. There’s no discernible arc. Things happen without explanation. People do things that may or may not be real. I don’t know if it’s “working,” and I probably won’t know until I email it to my Reader(s) and get their feedback. One piece of advice that I’ve gotten about novel writing is to just plow through until the end — the thing about MFA programs is that writing a novel in a environment of incessant critique is that it’s so tempting to just revise and revise and revise until you don’t make it to the other parts of the novel. And “William, 1974″ might be completely junked in the end. You never know.
So right now I’m trying to keep my writing “safe.” I don’t mean that I’m not taking risks; I mean that I’m keeping it to myself for now, and pretending that no one is going to read it but myself. I’m trying to write something that I want to read.
That’s what I’ve been thinking about lately. I’m having lunch with Ron Carlson in half an hour and feeling dejected because I just got a “no thanks” email about a job prospect that I was feeling really excited about. But in other news, Chris and Dominique are showing up today for my reading, and it’s going to be really good to see them. I’ll try to take a lot of pictures.
xo, mw
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Hi everyone, it’s Jenny. Meggy & I have decided to try something new (surprise!) We’ve decided to take inspiration from the way marvelous Tommy from This is Naive and Anabela from Fieldguided reply to comments, and append our replies to our beautiful readers and commenters at the bottom of the next day’s post. Does that make sense? Here are my replies from my last two blog posts. (270 & 272.)
Jen: Honestly, the movie wasn’t terrible. It was more disappointing because I had high hopes. Let me know if you do see it–we can compare notes!
Nostalgicwardrobe: Thank you for sharing your thoughts on the film (and so smartly and respectfully!) You make a good case for the film, and I did enjoy the sixties shift dresses, and Carey Mulligan’s Hepburn hair, and Sarsgaard’s unabashed creepiness, and I love Alfred Molina with great abandon no matter what he does.
PixelHazard: It’s one of the greatest Prince posters in the world! I wish I could make fifty copies and give them out to all of my friends and Prince lovers.
Eline: I know! PRINCE LOVE ALWAYS. And remember that one album where he’s riding bareback on a unicorn? A UNICORN.
Fleshmadeword: It was odd how the show was so early! When I got out at ten, Michael and I were shocked that the entire night still laid ahead of us. Did I use lay/laid/layed right? I think not. What workshop do you take here?
273. Tiny update
February 17th, 2010 § 4 Comments
Hi! I just wanted to let you know that I’ve finally updated my shop with lots of spring dresses like this one, which you’ve seen before:
and more at Unhappybarber Vintage.
Love, Jenny
