I'm a 23-year-old literature nerd living on Long Island. In my professional life, I act as some sort of expert on matters of grammar and style. The English and Spanish languages, prolific songwriters, auteur filmmakers, and Apple are my key obsessions. 
I never got comfortable with Tumblr, so I’m out. Using Wordpress here—maybe. If I do I will be feeding it to my Twitter: @_aliciadk Beyond 140 characters and the profanity/politics-free blog that I keep for professional purposes, I just might have nothing to say.
…now I definitely will have things to say.
It’s been pretty weird. Later, guys.
When someone is very drunk while arguing and says, “I can out-hipster you,” it reveals that that person consciously strives for hipsterdom. It gets worse when that person’s friend defends her with faux-gangsta speak. Why don’t I live in Brooklyn again?
Regardless, I had a sweet time at Edwin’s art show swigging rum with my blood relations, though I also got too ridiculous. It happens!
I love everyone/everything.
(BTW: Those texts are between me and my cousin mocking said people.)
He immediately pressed delete, and once again the page was blank—virginal, thought Borgini. He also thought about Goethe and Carver and Capote—his favorite—intensely staring at the whitish, static page.
Beads of sweat slipped down his forehead. It was possible that he was suffering from a fever, a result of the anxiety with which he was working. He took a deep breath and expelled a profound sigh that surprised him like a sudden change of wind. He stood up and went out onto the balcony. He watched men and women dressed in white come and go through a door of wood and stone, certainly ancient like most of the architecture in M. From this vantage, the world looked small and distant. He went back to his desk and stared at the screen, which stared back at him like a luminous eye revealing nothing. He typed a word before leaning back in his chair, fixing his gaze on the ceiling. In this position, he fell asleep.
A release due out Tuesday, “13 Most Beautiful … Songs for Andy Warhol’s Screen Tests,” issued by Plexifilm in conjunction with the Andy Warhol Museum, is the first authorized DVD of Warhol films.
The 13 tests contained here span a representative range of subjects, from celebrities ( Lou Reed, Dennis Hopper) to Warhol-created stars (Edie Sedgwick, Baby Jane Holzer) and unknowns. Each is scored to new music by Dean Wareham and Britta Phillips, formerly of the band Luna; a few songs are covers, most are originals, and all are conducive to languid reverie. The tests also can be played without music.
Islands Apart: JUNOT DÍAZ (Unabridged) :: Stop Smiling Magazine
SS: From one angle, Oscar Wao is a severe horror story. What are the elements of a horror story?
JD: A horror story is identified classically as an intrusion narrative on the present or the normative reality. That’s how it’s technically defined. For me, there might be horror elements but the intrusion element of this book was the horrific violence that was brought on by the European incursion into the Americas and how the violence, the horror, the disorientation, the dislocation and the trauma continues to resonate in the present.
SS: The first person thanked at the end of Oscar Wao is your grandfather, Osterman Sanchez. If you could have your grandfather back for one day, what would you take him to do in your Washington Heights neighborhood?
JD: I don’t know. I’m one of those people who tends not to play too much with the dead. A day with anyone we’ve lost is a fantasy that the living should try never to entertain.
Of course, this is in the intro:
A New Jersey homeboy at heart, he will spark a conversation about the latest rap radio singles then suddenly launch into a lecture on postcolonial identity theory. Of course to Díaz there is no difference between the two. Like Oscar Wao, he is the proud personification of contradiction.
What contradiction? Seems there’s only one if you think people who know about rap singles can’t know about postcolonial identity theory unless they’re some craaaaazy freakish hybrid person.
