Monthly Archives of: August 2012

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Friday Links

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“What is this?  A school for ANTS?”

 

little BANGALORE from 1st December Studios on Vimeo.

 

 

  1. Once Upon a time in Karachi
  2. What does it feel like to work on an oil rig?
  3. Condescending corporate brand page likes you
  4. “I started decorating the bathroom in 2000 when I moved in to this house. The tins of paint are still on display 12 years later and the work awaits completion.” Stories of procrastination.
  5. More on designing book jackets
  6. The history of dubstep
  7. The little things I’ll miss about Israel (almost made me cry)
  8. My bestie Regina
  9. Does money make writers bettter?
  10. My new favorite site.  Just has essays. Tons of essays.
  11. Dat Russia.  ”For example, almost two years ago, the roof almost crashed on the people.”
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My first and last massage

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For my birthday this year, Mr. B gave me a gift certificate to a massage at a Fancy Spa because he knew that I’d been stressed out. He knew this because he’s been married to me for almost four years now and there is not really a time when I’m not stressed.

I was really excited, because a massage is one of those things that you would never buy for yourself, but that you will gladly enjoy if someone else does. I am starting classes today, so I really needed a massage. But, I have a spotty history with both relaxing and the service industry.  Also, during lunch last week when I told my friend I was getting a massage, he said, “Oh.  I had one a couple of weeks ago. It was kind of weird. They tell you to take off your clothes. It felt a little like amateur porn, to be honest.”   Opposing feelings battled inside of me for the better half of two weeks before I finally sucked it up and made an appointment for this Saturday.

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Judging a book by its cover

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I need to make a confession.

I judge books by their covers.

A good writer wouldn’t do that; a good writer would give every book a fair shake, knowing how much sweat goes into each word. Just yesterday, for example, I wrote 300 words.  But it took me an hour. They weren’t even 300 good words. The good ones take longer.  Multiply that by ten million times if you’re a full-time author.