Pray tell me sir, whose dog are you?

How did I miss this brief, wonderful New Yorker piece on the Great Dane who lives in a tiny NYC apartment?

Photo by Amit Elkayam

Also, in my newsletter roundup, I missed a vitally important one, Top Dogs of the Year, an easy one to forget as it comes out just once a year, and is, as you might guess, a list of the very best good dogs of the previous year, with links, photos, videos, etc.

In other dog-related news, Gus is making it his personal mission to pee on every curbside Christmas tree in town before the trash collectors take them away. His tally this morning was eight trees peed upon.

Would you like anything to read?

I made this gif for you.

make holiday GIFs like this at MakeaGif

I have been trying to be better organized about great articles I've read, books I'd like to read, pieces I mean to go back to later when I have more time. I'll let you know if I stumble on a great system for keeping track of it all. On helpful tip is less social media, more blogs and magazines and real books, but we all know how easy that is!

I recently read and enjoyed the old-fashioned paper books All You Can Ever Know by Nichole Chung and The Possessed by Elif "I'll read anything she writes" Batuman. Oh, also Asymmetry, which I'm happy to go back to with my virtual book club soon.

Mark and I have watched the first episode of Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat (which was FAT, not SALT, which obviously offends my sensibilities a little bit), and I really love Samin Nosrat and enjoyed everything about the episode except the graphic and possibly gratuitous pig-butchery that occurs. Anyway, several family members got a copy of her book last year at Christmas, including Isaac, and I read about half of his copy. And (to get to my point), this article about candy tasting by Samin is so fun. The caramels at the beginning reminded me of Holly, who adores them.

I love you, Jenny Holzer.

"Solastalgia is a combination of three elements: 'Solas' references the English word 'solace,' which comes from the Latin root solari meaning comfort in the face of distressing forces. But it is also a reference to 'desolation,' which has its origins in the Latin solus and desolare, which both connote ideas of abandonment and loneliness. 'Algia' comes from the Greek root -algia, which means pain, suffering, or sickness."

41

Photo by Thomas Kiefer

A former janitor for Customs and Border Patrol in Arizona collected and photographed the ordinary things left behind by migrants when they were detained or deported.

We walked at Wolfe's Neck this morning in the gray chill. Animal tally:

• Black and white cow outside the fence, half in the road, calmly chewing on weedy grass. All the other cows safely clustered together inside the fence, far from the road.*
• Two osprey, calling, soaring, then perching—one in a branch and the other in the nest. Where are the babies? Are they out of the nest already? 
• Dogs dogs dogs. Foxlike, wolflike, puppetlike.

*We called the farm to report the rogue cow.

I found some interesting items for you!

Listen to this episode of WTF with Marc Maron, or if you're short on time, go to 3:48 and listen to what he says about Hail, Caesar. At the time of my hearing this, I still hadn't seen it, and Marc and I don't precisely agree on our most and least favorite Coen brothers movies (he is "not a Big Lebowski guy," while I am totally a Big Lebowski guy), BUT I love what he says about them, about this film, and his general enthusiasm and vehemence on the subject. And I agree on Hail, Caesar's excellence, although my opinion might have been very slightly affected by Marc's admonitions. My Mark was enthusiastic too, by the way. It was so funny, with amazing tributes to old Hollywood and a cast of dozens.

More things for you to check out, dear reader:


Hijabi Barbie, so adorable.

I have Zoë and Isaac's cells in my brain, most likely. And they have mine. And also my mom's. And she has mine, and I have hers. Read this mind-blowing article to get your mind blown.

Pockets are my superpower.

I don't have 44 unread issues of the New Yorker looming, but close. If I could afford it, I would do what this writer did, and haul my New Yorkers to a scenic location for a vacation. Just me and my New Yorkers.

Eleven

I coincidentally read two fascinating longish-form things today about fabulists, Hanna Rosin's piece in the New Republic about Steven Glass and this 2012 New Yorker story about a marathon runner who (almost certainly) cheats. It's fascinating to read about liars who can sustain these super complicated stories for so long--both stories involve fake websites, notes, and characters. The first article is also about forgiveness, and the second is more open-ended.

It made me want to listen to this good old This American Life episode, "Liars." So good.

And I've always been interested in Munchausen Syndrome and Munchausen by proxy, which I guess now fall under the umbrella term Factitious Disorder? All of these are fabulous syndrome names, and the disorders are ones that are somehow simultaneously beyond my understanding and weirdly comprehensible. I think anyone with even a tiny bit of experience with lying, getting caught in a complicated lie or feeling the terror/gratification of a successful lie or exaggeration, could see how this might happen, and how it would be both compulsive and satisfying, but also...humiliating. And complicated, of course, by the fact that it's a mental illness, a true compulsion.




“All of us have to be prevaricators, hypocrites, and liars every day of our lives; otherwise the social structure would fall into pieces the first day. We must act in one another's presence just as we must wear clothes. It is for the best” ― O. Henry

Fifteenth

Losing steam here, mid-way through. I've been patting myself on the back, metaphorically, for my perseverance, both here and over here, but there's something about the ides of November that slows a person down. That and the utter darkness at 4:30, that's just hard to adjust to. It is 6:30 as I write this, and I am ready for pajamas and a book. Actually, I am enforcing the reading of all the New Yorkers I've got piled up before I allow myself to go back to the library. Which is nice because it's also bath season, and it's easier to read magazines in the bath than library books. Uhhhhh, I am an 80 year old lady now!!!!

Sleepytime.

Linky

But first, sea and sky. Sky and sea. Because spring is coming, we were able to visit the dog beach after work, before sunset, a little preview of summer and its endless days.

I've come across some great things on the internets lately:

Fact-checking at The New Yorker, which I found fascinating. It also illuminates the difference between good old-fashioned solid magazine/newspaper reporting and the glimmery, quick, near-immediate stuff we all read online every day.

The recently unearthed 1996 "Dirty Girls" documentary about eighth grade Riot Grrl/zinesters/outcasts, and the followup interview with them nowadays.

This brief, chilling, beautifully written snippet of memory, tangentially involving Charles Manson.

An amazing obituary, via Mary Phillips-Sandy, by way of Twitter. This is the kind of thing we can all only hope for after death, along with (in my case) a second line and an impromptu Iron and Wine concert for my mourners.

Even Isaac (like Zoë, perennially unamused by things I giggle at, me with the sense of humor of a twelve year old boy) thought this was pretty funny: Justin Timberlake and Jimmy Fallon singing "Africa" at summer camp.

new magazines!

i love new magazines SO MUCH. i am savoring these (actually, i have no time to read them today, but that makes it that much better):
























i'm not all that intrigued by the prospect of "10 things to do with tortillas" or "the skinny on sugar substitutes," but there are usually a few good recipes to be found in the pages of vegetarian times. bean is cooking one from last month's issue right at this very moment, in fact.
























i love bust. and look, it's the love issue! hmm, i wonder what "farm girl fashion" is all about...




















i saved the best, and smallest, for last. i adore the east village inky. i always try to make this one last as long as possible, especially since it only comes out four times a year.

(click on any of the pictures for more info)