L to R: Melissa Kirsch, Michael Narducci, April Wilder, student moderator Josh Duke

“It’s what occupies the space of a literary life outside of New York,” wrote a wistful Richard Ford in the New Yorker in 1998, remembering neither Yaddo nor Shakespeare & Co., but the 1977 Southern Methodist University Literary Festival in Dallas. This was the glittering annual colloquium where Ford first met Raymond Carver—and where Carver first met his second wife, Tess Gallagher—where Cheever, Styron and Bellow headlined readings and their liquor-soaked afterparties. Alas, due to lack of funds and other bureaucratic hurdles, the Fest has lain dormant for over a decade.

Read the rest of the story at Galleycat.

I’ll be “appearing” (like a vision from heaven) at the SMU Literary Festival April 16-17. It’s going to be pretty fantastic, and it’s no secret how much I love Texas.

Here’s the schedule. You might consider getting a cheap flight to the Big D even if you’re not in town, because my brilliant comrade April Wilder will also be there and she’s nothing less than a rollicking good time.

Here’s the schedule:
Thursday, April 16th
2:00 pm: Student luncheon with the Writers (Dallas Hall Reading Room)
4:30 pm: Informal Panel Discussion with Melissa Kirsch, Michael Narducci, and April Wilder, Stanley Marcus Reading Room, DeGolyer Library

Friday, April 17th
5:00 pm: Reception, Texana Room, DeGolyer Library
6:00 pm: Tracy Winn reading, Stanley Marcus Reading Room, DeGolyer Library
7:00 pm: Intermission, Texana Room, DeGolyer Library
7:30 pm: Scott Blackwood reading, Stanley Marcus Reading Room, DeGolyer Library

I’ll be the one having a rib-eye for breakfast.

I stumbled across a cache of reviews of The Girl’s Guide to Absolutely Everything on the Goodreads website. I’m not terribly familiar with Goodreads as Facebook is about all the social networking I can tolerate (and I rarely log on to Facebook because once I get in I never get out and I kind of feel filthy and time-warpish and violated afterwards a lot of the time). Anyway, there’s something enlightening about reading reviews in a context where people post photos of themselves and seem much less rehearsed and more conversational than they do on Amazon. There’s something rather “I’m writing a review for public consumption” about posting on Amazon, whereas on Goodreads or I’m assuming Shelfari (which I have yet to scour) you’re writing for your friends.

Here’s the exchange that I found fascinating on Goodreads:

(For the record, there is no section on snapping gum in the book. I don’t even know how to snap gum. I was recently having a nostalgic conversation about Chewels, however, and its competitor Freshen Up gum. I noticed Trident is getting into the gums-with-fillings situation, and not a moment too soon. My favorite French gum is Hollywood Sweet Gum, with a crispy vanilla candy coating and mint surprise inside. I am sad that I have run out of my meager supply. I like anything with a secret filling. Which is why I am not ashamed to tell you I am always going to select the powdered donut that may be filled with jelly or maybe cream. Donuts. I only like them when they’re in a big box of many flavors and I get to choose. One solitary donut is not that fun.)

Yes, I know. Where have I been?

1. France

2. Greece

3. Thinking

Not doing much of 3 in 1 & 2 but today, jogging because it’s not cold, for four blessed days at least not cold, it is over 70 and the horrid grayness abated, while jogging I did think okay, Melissa, come on, you can post something short on the blog each day. We will get more involved as the weeks go on, because there’s a lot to talk about, but oh right:

4. Writing

That’s important, 4. 3 led to 4, as it does if you’re lucky. If I’m lucky.

Don’t call me “your friend,” I am not your friend. Don’t call me folks. Don’t tell me that calling Sarah Palin stupid is sexist. Speaking of which, who can explain the new Genius function on iTunes to me? It does seem vaguely genius, but I’ve only created one Genius playlist. It’s probably the most depressing playlist on earth as I told it to start with a Colin Hay song and it dug up 25 Songs to Sob To.

5. Sobbing

Which inhibits 4, of course, but 4 is a good stay against 5. Not that much of 5, but, you know, tomorrow’s another day.

I think this is a good start. To being back. And to say to the readership, the wild & raging readership of Girl’s Guide and beyond, that I’m fast at work. Watch this space.

Let me just be frank with you. I am a late-in-life addict of Gilmore Girls. There’s not even anything quietly subversive about that show that would make this a fake confession. I did whisper that I had been watching it to my lunch date the other day and was informed that that was not something I had to hide and everyone watches it. I don’t think anyone should admit to liking this show so freely. It’s got this “Hey I’m kind of edgy what with my whippersnapper banter and teenage mom gone mild” affect, but then it turns out that the show is about white people (and one token Korean friend) in a fake Connecticut village (and I know from Connecticut villages) who are so obsessed with coffee! And they have a lot of town pageants! And people dress up like soldiers and got to DAR meetings and when the weird daughter misses her mom’s community college graduation she apologizes so profusely that you would think she knifed someone. But I digress.

I spent Saturday afternoon to last night completely indoors working. (I know that’s horrible. It was indeed horrible. What can I say? What can I say besides: flow. Just kidding. I’ve been to Stars Hollow more times than I’ve been in a flow state.) It was important. I had to get about ten things done and it was the culmination of a week of worrying about deadlines and avoiding them and even having Leigh come over to sit with me while I worked which helped a little but not enough. I missed Amichai’s Oscar party. I missed the two days of sunlight. I was inside typing and so I decided it would be a good idea to watch Across the Universe, that Julie Taymor Beatles movie, which it was not. Then I decided I could not go wrong with some GG. I dozed off immediately. I am sure the plot had something to do with the town green and a fair or a pageant or a snowman-making contest.

I didn’t sleep well. You know when you think you’re sleeping and then you realize you are not asleep and you are kind of using all your energy to try to be asleep and you toss and turn in the dark and realize you are so very awake? That is what happened. And of course it was then impossible to wake up this morning. Even though the hoist thing on the construction site has developed a totally superfluous creaky wheel so it makes extra, non-essential noise now on top of its groaning and rumbling and the saw noise that you feel in your brain, you hear it but it also hits your brain metalically.

All work and no play makes me a dull boy. Seriously. I’m a boy now. No one warned me.

So I’ve had time to discover that I don’t hate celery anymore! I cannot brook one chunk of it in my tuna salad, but I’m cool with it by itself raw or cooked in a melange of steamed vegetables. I used to not be able to eat anything that had been in the same room with celery. Now I can tolerate it. All work and no play makes me ridiculous.

Did I mention my skin is still shit? Also that I am strangely fascinated by Diablo Cody? Even though I know I’m supposed to hate her and be jealous of her and feel somehow like she’s treading on my turf because she’s a wiseass and is working this rockabilly thing (that I am so decidedly not working, but girls tend to hate on other girls, and girl writers–forget it.). Anyway, I don’t hate her. I liked Juno. As I said, I’d walk a mile in the snow in uninsulated boots to see Michael Cera sneeze. And I think her blog is kind of amazing and certainly entertaining. I don’t suppose it really makes one whit of difference what I think of a famous screenwriter. But I’d just like to say that I am not interested in taking part in the Diablo Cody Backlash. Not that anyone’s tapped me to join in any convincing way.

Oh and make no mistake: I am jealous of her. Where did “make no mistake” come from? I think it was George Bush. Presidential candidates say that. They also refer to all people as “folks” and Ben says it’s a Bush cowboy thing and Catherine says it’s an effort to be folksy but I say what the hell, what’s wrong with people? What is wrong with you people? That packs a much harder punch than “What is wrong with you folks?” I see. If I say “folks” you think I like you. It’s gentler. What I hate is when they say “There’s folks.” As in “there’s folks in Ohio who don’t have a pot to piss in.” Yeah, they say “pot to piss in” too. Presidential candidates.

It may interest you to know that I am multitasking, i.e. waiting for the Chelsea Clinton Nightline interview to happen which means I have the TV on and I have twice seen this repulsive NYC Health commercial about smoking that shows disgusting rotten teeth among other disgusting things. Probably a black lung in a jar. They always show that. I cannot see anything gross involving teeth. I can see a lot of gross stuff like people eating grubs but I cannot see teeth getting ripped out. Like how they keep showing Joanie getting her teeth ripped out on America’s Next Top Model? Or the moment at which I stopped watching that horrid Ashley Judd movie Bug when the paranoid boyfriend starts pulling his teeth out with pliers. Ugh. I’m sick. I will watch someone vomit his/her guts out but I will not watch you pull your teeth out. Please. Stop making me watch you pull your teeth out. I beg you, folks.

If you were to assume I have been shut inside my apartment for the entire season watching bad TV and bad movies, you would be mistaken. I go out a lot and I hate every second of it. Because it’s cold and rainy and I take this personally, folks. Oh! If I address you as folks, I’m breaking some bad news. If I refer to others in the third person as folks “There’s folks in Afghanistan…” or “Folks just want someone to be a a uniter, not a divider,” I seem gentle.

It now seems that the Chelsea Clinton interview is on and I have never heard Chelsea Clinton speak before. Have you? Chelsea’s in Lubbock, Texas. She’s got a folksy way about her! She just said “Forgive my voice, I’ve been workin’ hard.” Droppin’ your Gs is very folksy. Chelsea’s boyfriend is very good looking. Gossip columnist Lloyd Grove is awful. I think Chelsea’s long layers must take a lot of blowing out and flat-ironing. And then sometimes a curling iron.

Okay. I am not going to live-blog Nightline. That would be terribly depressing. I’d like to announce that things are happening. The work has not been for naught and I’m making progress. Someday I’ll emerge, like a Chelsea Clinton from an Applebee’s in Lubbock.

PS I am actually going to Texas!!! This weekend! A light (literally) on the horizon!

PPS I made a dermatologist appointment. Of course she can’t see me until the end of March. At which point I will probably have magically flawless skin.

PPPS That Chelsea Clinton interview was lame. And not an interview.

Did I just type that? What kind of lame punster am I? I can’t seem to not make that the headline.

The Běžná cena was 499,-Kč, but you can get it for the klubová cena of 399,- Kč How weird and great.

So Conde Nast has this very fun online TV show called The Daily Special and today I am a guest on it. If you go to their site and leave your favorite bit of advice, you can win a signed copy (this time a real book included!) of TGGTAE.

In other news: It’s wet, winter continues, MoDo irks, acne resurfaces, deadlines are met only to be replaced by new ones, blogging frustrates, Pilates offers some relief, or at least connects mind & body, so oft at odds these days. These days.

If you delve into the archival folders of your computer, you (if you’re me), find the darndest things.

In a Word document, all by itself on the page, just this sentence:

Avoid reference to an adult female as girl; to women collectively as the distaff side; or the fair sex; to a wife as the little woman; to a female college student as a coed; to an unmarried woman as bachelor girl; spinster; or old maid.

In a folder labeled FRAGMENTARY which is housed in a folder labeled CANADA SEPTEMBER 2002. What was I trying to tell myself? It’s like sifting through someone else’s subconscious.

I’ve given in to Amazon’s pleas and signed up for my free one-month trial of Amazon Prime, which will give me free 2-day shipping for one month. Hey, Amazon: You scratch my back, I ‘ll scratch yours.

As a gesture of good faith, since I did take you up on your offer, you take me up on mine: You sell 1,000 copies of my book each day in February and I will consider paying the $79/month to continue this 2-day shipping racket you’re running. Sound fair? Okay, fine, 500 copies. That’s nothing. You could sell those in your sleep, Amazon.

In the meantime, I plan to buy everything I would normally buy in a store online for the next month. I’m looking for suggestions. I’ve already decided to order face cleanser, and maybe a microwave. (As much as I try to convince myself I enjoy defrosting stuff on the stove, let’s face it, I hate it.)

How else can I maximize this one precious month of free shipping? What bargains are there to be had for which I would otherwise be overpaying in some brick-and-mortar store in New York where everything is approximately one million times more expensive to begin with? How do I make sure I don’t go off the rails and start profligately buying luxury items or cases of Hamburger Helper just because the shipping is free?