Vice Pulls Female Author Suicide Fashion Shoot
I see your Sylvia Plaths and Virginia Woolfs and raise you Mary Oliver and Jhumpa Lahiri. They don’t all kill themselves.
The Versed Librarian
I am a poet and a librarian. This is the best of both worlds.
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If I had not existed, someone else would have written me, Hemingway, Dostoyevsky, all of us. Proof of that is that there are about three candidates for the authorship of Shakespeare’s plays. But what is important is Hamlet and A Midsummer Night’s Dream, not who wrote them, but that somebody did. The artist is of no importance. Only what he creates is important, since there is nothing new to be said. Shakespeare, Balzac, Homer have all written about the same things, and if they had lived one thousand or two thousand years longer, the publishers wouldn’t have needed anyone since.
— William Faulkner (via theparisreview)
Source: theparisreview
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Set your calendars. Tell your friends. Reblog for your followers. Library Journal and Tumblr are joining forces, with the help of Togather, to host an ALA meetup to end all meetups.
Important facts:
- Tumblarians are librarians on Tumblr. It’s a big community, folks. Read more about it over at LJ.
- There will be free wine & beer.
- We’ll also have a raffle! Prizes includes signed advance copies of Richard Dawkins’s An Appetite for Wonder (Harper, Oct.) and LIBBANANAS.
- It’s right before & at the same location—Local 22—as the Librarian Wardrobe/EveryLibrary party.
- Official hashtag is #laserfingers. Make tumblarians known across platforms: tweet, tumbl, and Instagram the event.
So excited to see you all then!
Free booze. Friends. Phasers. YOU.
(PS YOU DON’T NEED TO BE LIBRARIAN OR TUMBLARIAN OR ETC ETC JUST A PERSON AND OVER 21)
My husband doesn’t believe that librarians can party hard. This should most certainly prove him wrong.
Source: libraryjournal
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Good news, #tumblarians! With the first trimester well behind me, I have time for more than hugging the toilet, which means you’ll be hearing a lot more from me. Even more good news, me and my belly will be rocking it in Chicago for #ala13, so prepare your #laserfingers.
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2013-02-20
Riverhead Books: AMAZING poem about missed connections, Junot Diaz, the NYC subway and love in the New York Times City Room's...
“…Stand clear of the closing doors, please.”
I didn’t notice him until
The next stop, Grand Avenue.
Sitting alone,
Reading “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao.”“Next stop, Elmhurst Avenue…”
¡Me gusta Junot Díaz también!
I want to exclaim.
But how do I do that?
Yell across the…Source: riverheadbooks
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2013-02-12
“Romance” by Claude McKay, a writer born in Jamaica and associated with the Harlem Renaissance. McKay arrived in South Carolina in 1912 and made his way to New York City in 1914. He advocated against racism throughout his life.
McKay’s “Romance,” above, is one of hundreds of poems that high school students across the nation can choose to recite through Poetry Out Loud. On Valentine’s Day, see Chicago-area students compete in their regional competition at the Poetry Foundation, details here.You can also download a copy of this broadside to post on your fridge.
Source: poetrysince1912
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A list of 10 Things Sylvia Plath Loved — including sun-bathing, France, and Marilyn Monroe. Read more >
From Plath’s journals:
Marilyn Monroe appeared to me last night in a dream as a kind of fairy godmother. An occasion of ‘chatting’ with audience much as the occasion with Eliot will turn out, I suppose. I spoke, almost in tears, of how much she and Arthur Miller meant to us, although they could, of course, not know us at all. She gave me an expert manicure.
Source: poetsorg
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2013-02-11
Hear Poetry senior editor Don Share read Yeats’s poem, above, on BBC Radio 5 Live today. He begins at 2:48:50.
Source: poetrysince1912
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2013-02-01
W. W. Norton: If I Were Built, I'd Be a Poet
If I were built, I’d be a poet. I’d be the strongest poet who ever lived. It wouldn’t come easy, though. I know this. It would require years of literary study and weight training, introspection and nutritional discipline, derangement of the senses and protein cocktails. For many years I’d toil…
Source: newyorker.com
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2013-01-30
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It’s when I’m weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig’s having lashed across it open.
I’d like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love:
I don’t know where it’s likely to go better.
I’d like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches— From “Birches” by Robert Frost (via thelifeguardlibrarian)
Source: thelifeguardlibrarian
