My favorite five E & D posts, of the 150 that managed to come about this year.
Now that I think about it, what are you listening to lately? I’ll go first, no pressure for new stuff here. I’ve included suggested playing times and tasting notes.
Happy beach party (maybe involving drugs), definitely delighted.
Cigarettes, dive bars, banjos, Tom Waits minus the “please stop making that noise.”
Loads of guitar playing, storybook lyrics, amazing voice carrying everything.
Cheer Up/Instant Ambiance Up From Zero, Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zereos
group sing, hands clapping, goofily grandiose mixed instruments.
Photo from Kate Spade Valentines.
Do you all use google alerts? I think they are awfully handy to make sure you’re not missing things around the web–like people referencing you, your job, your mom, etc. And they make it so easy!
“Once burned, twice shy” is an old saying about learning from your mistakes. In fact, sayings —a term used to describe any current or habitual expression of wisdom or truth—are a dime a dozen. Proverbs —sayings that are well known and often repeated, usually expressing metaphorically a truth based on common sense or practical experience—are just as plentiful (her favorite proverb was “A stitch in time saves nine”).
An adage is a time-honored and widely known proverb, such as “Where’s there’s smoke, there’s fire.” A maxim offers a rule of conduct or action in the form of a proverb, such as “Neither a borrower nor a lender be.” Epigram and epigraph are often confused, but their meanings are quite separate. An epigram is a terse, witty, or satirical statement that often relies on a paradox for its effect (Oscar Wilde’s well-known epigram that “The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it”). An epigraph, on the other hand, is a brief quotation used to introduce a piece of writing (he used a quote from T. S. Eliot as the epigraph to his new novel).
An aphorism requires a little more thought than an epigram, since it aims to be profound rather than witty (she’d just finished reading a book of Mark Twain’s aphorisms). An apothegm is a pointed and often startling aphorism, such as Samuel Johnson’s remark that “Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel.”
Now you’ve got it!
Take from the “Choosing the Right Word” section of my dashboard’s Dictionary.
Good news! Our shower drain is backed up and we haven’t showered for days!
Oops, wrong post. Save that good news for the new-ways-to-avoid-shampoo post.
The other good news: I am delighted to announce that the Market now has its own website! No more leeching off my website, no sir. I’ve been fiddling with it for far too long to have any objective opinion anymore, so check it out and give me your thoughts! We are headed to Nantucket officially in about two weeks, at which point we will really have some news and photos to post, so officially add the Market blog to your subscriptions! Customer profiles, ocean photos, cocktail recipes, island gossip, and oh-so humorous anecdotes are sure to follow!
Something I’m particularly excited about is our newsletter. I am a big fan of email-newsletters, they make me feel marginally better about the demise of print. (My favorites are from Zingerman’s and Present & Correct.) If you like to receive well designed, nicely written newsletters with curios, tidbits, and the occasional small cartoon, sign up here! After we have collected enough email addresses, not only will we send out a newsletter, but we will sell all the addresses to a struggling pharmaceutical company looking for a few friendly supporters!
Okay friends, I’m off to lure an innocent plumber into our apartment. xoxo.
are seriously the only thing getting me through some days. I can’t think of another example of an obviously very witty writer who’s not ashamed to flaunt glamor, lipstick, sillyness, and serious vocabulary on the same page. Add her to your daily readings!
As someone who is always ready to share my opinions, I clicked through the survey the ever quizzical New York Times had recently. They said:
As you know, the New York Times announced it would begin charging for online services in 2010.
No I did not know that. Or I had decided to not remember that. Anyway, the plan they pitched to me, their self-nominated-reader-authority, was this:
- You get to read 10 articles a month for free, and then you get a dismal screen that looks like the above image.
- You can then pay $5 to get even more Bill Cunningham in your life (of course they know we’re completely addicted to his weekly cheerful fashion proclamations).
- Any article that is linked to within another service, i.e. facebook and google reader, is free for reading, thereby (I think) multiplying your free 10 articles by the number of literate and generous friends that you have.
Here were my suggestions, that I’m sure went straight to the top:
1. Start offering classy “I’m a subscriber” in Helvetica t-shirts to feed the hungry multitude looking for a portable status symbol in this consumer opportunity.
2. Offer an online subscription & Weekender pairing. If I’m already going to pay $5 (not to mention having to enter my credit card information, oh the drudgery) for more articles, I would just as well choose to pay $22 and get the paper every Sunday and my free t-shirt.
What do you guys think? Any body else share their opinions with the NYT?
What do you do with your goodreads account? I like it best used as a clickable and searchable record of what I’ve read. I hate forgetting if I’ve read a book. What could possibly be the use of reading a book when I can’t remember, two years later, if I’ve read it? Yikes! There’s also an incentive to write something true about what you thought of the book, for your friends to read. (I don’t have very many friends on goodreads. Friend me here if you are an active participant.) It is a good feeling when you finish a book and you loved every minute of it, and you want to tell everyone, but the only person in the room is Joe, and you already told him three times, and you can rush on to goodreads and write up a sensible review and tell yourself that everyone is reading it as soon as you’ve sent it off. This, I think to myself, is the life of a book reviewer. Ah yes