Dear dirties,

Get your callipygian asses over to MerrySwankster.com.
Why? Because I'm blogging there. Why else?
Because those swanksters have great taste in audible sounds.

your ears will thank you,
x Koren

posted by Koren at 1:58 PM 2 comments

FALL BOOK TOUR FINALE, PART ONE: Barries, 'Berries, 'Hope,' and
the Entrance of Another Tom

Monday, November 12, 2006:
Brandywine Hundred Library
Wilmington, Delaware

So I spent an unseasonably sunbeamy Sunday with my sister and her boyfriend
Tom. Tom is a marine. And over sticky rice at, well, Rice, he tried to
convince me that 'Smashed' is a hit in the barracks. Hmm Tom, I'm not quite
sure I believe you. Although I do appreciate the attempt to inflate my self esteem...
You also got me thinking we ought to organize a literary USO tour!
That would be sweet, wouldn't it? I mean, truly, why would troops want to watch
the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders when they could listen to flat-chested antisocials
read poised, elegiac prose? Listi, Klosterman, Ames, Jablonski: pack your bags,
we're going to Tikrit... Oh, and of course, Jake Coburn! J.C., you in particular,
will be just like Marilyn in Korea.





1 PM- Come Monday, I glided south to Delaware, traveling via train (not plane).
Yessir, I've said it once. And I'll surely say it again: "Amtrak + reward"
= oxymoron...And you know what else doesn't add up?
The cellphone-prohibited car. Please tell me: what good is voicelessness
if it only accentuates the clickty clack of 100 thumbs making urgent, violent
love to their Crackberries? For two hours, I glared at the spasmodic hand
of the man riding next to me. I considered bending his fingers waaay back
'til he dropped his wireless widget and shrieked like a schoolgirl.

7 PM- Evening was a feeble thing. Rain, more rain, fog, and a crescent
moon's snide, little smile. Still, the mood at Brandywine Hundred Library was
happy as any hoedown. (And yes, I'm aware: 'Brandywine' is an apt venue for
a 'Smashed' reading.)

In case you can't tell by the gratuitous group shots,
I had intense, immense, immoderate fun with all sorts of folks from the
Wilmy community. Below: the 'Let's Talk About It' book club; seniors at
Middletown High School; Yesenia Javeras and a cast of assorted, adorable munchkins.

I even walked away with a new book recommendation. Goodness, I love librarians.
You Dewey-Decimalin' gals (and guys) can shush me anytime you like.







.............................................................................................................................................................................

FALL BOOK TOUR FINALE, PART TWO: Gonzagas (or Reasons Not to Reach
Out to the Times in Insomniac States)

Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Middletown High School & The University of Delaware
Newark, Delaware

A (mortified) 7 AM- I awoke Tuesday morning to find a message from gonzo
reporter Charlie LeDuff nesting snug in my email inbox. I was so enamored
of one of his recent stories that I'd sent him a splinter of fan mail, telling him
what a bright spot I'd thought it was on an otherwise joyless news day.

Only, I made the mistake of penning it from the ninth circle of Motel Hell.
(It was 2 a.m. at the time, and I was staying in real mold-on-the-molding,
blood-on-the-door-jam, prison-bus-in-the-parking-lot kind of digs.) I can't
be certain, but maybe the setting colored my message? Maybe I inadvertently
emphasized the dark as opposed to the light? That's the only explanation,
really.. Because dear Charlie's response is appallingly "keep your chin up, kid."
Like: "Koren, feeling crummy? I've been there. Love, Charlie" kinda thing.
So embarrassing. But it'll teach me not to write to the NY Times in the throes of insomnia.

12 PM- Morning went like this: two lectures, three cups of coffee, and 900
15-year-olds. (Thank you by the way, to Joyce and the long-suffering
librarians at Middletown High School--I pray those baby criminals stop nicking
your reference books).

By afternoon, I was frittering the day away in Newark, DE.
I probably should have spent that free time investigating the "61 things every
Delawarian must do." But instead? I stunned my brain with, oh let me see,
two hours of that 'Celebrity Paranormal Project?' Am I alone in saying I'm not
entirely convinced of their findings? I mean Playboy bunnies seem pretty sissy,
pretty spookable under normal circumstances. Can't they get somebody a little bit
tougher up in there? And maybe, also, a shade or two smarter?




5 PM- Dinner and a lecture at the University of Delaware were the most fun you can
have without rollerskates. Thanks again to a wonderful Ms. Tracy Downs and friends
from the Wellspring Student Wellness Program. Thanks also to Kim, from UDel's student
newspaper! Kim, you're a LeDuffette in the making. The Dr. would be proud of you...





.............................................................................................................................................................................


..................................................................................................................................

FALL BOOK TOUR FINALE, PART THREE: Adventures in Vehicular Homocide

WENDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 2006
MAMARONECK HIGH SCHOOL
MAMARONECK, NEW YORK

An (acutely painful) 6 AM- It's amazing. The moment you get behind the
wheel in Manhattan, a whole new set of people begins to piss you off.
Bike messengers, for instance. Delivery trucks. And, first and foremost:
jaywalkers. As a pedestrian, these are the people who have my empathy.
As a driver, umm, not so much.

Fortunately, to stave off my road rage on the FDR, I had the foresight to fill my
Hertz rent-a-trek with the most calming CDs I could think of. Thank Christ
for that Andrew Bird. 'Mysterious Production of Eggs' might as well be
the sound of crickets and waterfalls for the way it's always lowered my blood pressure.

In a nutshell...On Wednesday, I:
1) Motored over the Triboro Bridge four times.
2) Gave three readings at Mamaroneck High School--which feels more like
a university than some actual universities do.
3) Received one impromptu drum lesson from the young drumming
virtuosos of Mamaroneck High School's 'Force!' (Like Mickey Hart,
"I was a drummer even before I had a set. I was a mental drummer...")

...................................................................................................................................

FALL BOOK TOUR FINALE, PART FOUR: Yippiee Chi-O!

Friday, November 17, 2006
College of Charleston
Charleston, South Carolina

Noon- So that pesky tornado warning postponed my arrival in Charleston, SC.
And I can't even say no one saw it coming! The girls of Chi Omega later told me
that their horoscopes predicted: "a visitor you've been expecting will be delayed."
Oh, those eerie planets. My, those accurate stars...

That said, 'Smashed' is not deterred by high-wind warnings. And I made it down to
Chucktown just in time for lunch with Caitlin, Lauren and Megan of Chi Omega sorority.
(The girls joked that they were going to call me "asshole," so as not to jar me with
the Southern hospitality that I mentioned in my Virginia blog.)

I also got to spend time with Jeri O. Cabot, who is, hands down, the most
intelligent and (dare I say) coolest Dean of Students I've ever encountered
in my travels. Jeri, I'm available anytime you want to talk Bravo TV with me.





3 PM- Later that afternoon, the girls took me on a walking tour of Charleston.
God, it was the closest I've come to a vacation in a really long time. The weather?
Flushed. The sunset? As pastel as any of the homes on 'Rainbow Row.' The ladies
at the Governor's House Inn even spoiled me with chocolate cake and
'low country afternoon' tea, which sure beats my 'high city' variety.





6 PM- I cannot thank the girls of Chi Omega enough for an extraordinary event.
Would you believe they got over 500 students to turn up on a Friday night!
I can't remember the last time I had so much fun with a microphone. Afterward, I
had (another) delightful meal with Caitlin, Megan, Lilah and Andrea in downtown
Charleston. In case you haven't noticed all they did was feed me like a starved, stray kitty.





11 PM- To top things off, I even got to hang with another dear writer pal,
who, as luck would have it, also had a gig in the area.

Anyway, I'm afraid that's it for now. No more tour dates until the winter
holidays are finished...Would you believe I got home yesterday and found
the streets of Manhattan had been strung with Christmas bulbs while I was
away? The speakers of every storefront are already spewing: "Christmas Eve
will find me/where the love light gleams."

In closing, thanks again to everyone who's crossed my path--
either here or in real life's 3D.

I am collecting beautiful things.
(...you are ALL very beautiful things.)

x Koren

posted by Koren at 8:03 AM 0 comments

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 2006
HARVARD UNIVERSITY
CAMBRIDGE, MASS.


2 p.m.- Today. Today. I landed in Boston. (My hometown, people. I'm a certified, grade-A Masshole.) And I drove over to Cambridge and checked into the gorgeous Charles Hotel. To be frank, it's much too exquisite for artless me. I stared in, like, pure, cavewoman wonder at the television embedded(!)(?)(!!) in the bathroom mirror. My inner thought bubble went like this: "Cool...Sweet...Rad...TV in the mirror." And then it dawned on me: "Wait, this is no more than eight paces from the TV in the
bedroom!" I ask you, people: Is that really necessary? Must we really live in a culture where we must be within eight paces of the retard box at all times? Why don't we just get them embedded on our inner-eyelids and get it over with, already... Okay, sorry. I'm being too judgmental. And you feel kind of bad for that little, 'ole bathroom tv don't you? I mean, afterall, it's just doin' it's thing; doin' it's job; relaying "Top Chef" reruns while I brush my teeth... I'm sorry. I take it back...Anyway, these digs are dripping with tweedy, professorial-jokes and I love them. Take for instance the painting in my room: "Doug loved his own lectures." Hysterical. Incidentally, Doug, I also love my own lectures. The sound of my own voice: delightful.





3 p.m.- With a few spare hours on my hands, I reverted back to the angsty days of my youth, a time when I would come amble around Harvard Square for hours, smoking ciggies and flirting with teen-runaway panhandlers. And today,
I did it all: Oona's vintage, tea at LuLu's Tealuxe. The funniest thing happened while I was in the fitting room at Urban Outfitters. With my head halfway through a sweater, I overheard two girls chatting about my evening's event. One girl was all, "I love that book 'Smashed.'" And the other girl was all, "She's gonna be here at Harvard tonight. It's gonna be awesome! You should totally come." Well, I'll tell you. They must have seen my little feet freeze under the fitting room door. Even top-naked, I wasstunned.











6 p.m.- Come dinnertime, I got to head down to the Adams House to dine with Justin Micomonaco of Harvard's Residential Life Programs and a gorgeous gang of peer health educators. Over tofu (yes!), someone asked me if this was my first time at Harvard. My response? Roughly: "I spent a great deal of my youth here, drinking hard liquor out of brown paper bags and wandering around like Joe Pesci's homeless man character in 'With Honors.' But this is the first time you people have ever invited me inside."

8 p.m.- And, precisely like Joe Pesci's character in 'With Honors' I got to lecture at Harvard! Yes! Now I can die with dignity whilest underclassmen hold my hand and read me Walt Whitman.. Hell, I didn't care how many people showed up. Likewise, I didn't care who I was speaking to. The janitorial staff? Shit, bring it on... Just kidding. Those smarty pants Harvard students were the sweetest, most well-mannered crowd I've seen in a good long while. (Take note, you junior college banshees.) They even got my 'America's Next Top Model' jokes. Really, what more could I ask for?





While signing books afterward, I got to spend some time with my wildly inappropriate family. And I even got a few spare moments to hang with dear Stephen who drove much too far to see me.

Goodnight folks.
And remember...."Love means never having to say your sorry."





x Koren Barrett IV

P.S.- My pal CJ just interviewed me at Hecklerspray.com.

P.P.S.- I just gave you the longest blog in 'Smashed' history, people! You'd better start thinking about what you're gonna give me in return.

posted by Koren at 4:52 PM 0 comments

BOOK TOUR BLOG: Old Dominion University

"I was born in East Virginia
To Carolina I did roam
There I met a little woman
Her age and name I didn't know...

Her hair was soft, a dark brown color
And her cheeks were rosy red
On her breast she wore white linen
Oh the tears that I have shed...

I'd rather be in some dark hollow
Where the sun don't ever shine
Than be another's darling
And know she never will be mine..."

- East Virginia Blues
(June Carter Cash's version)

..............................................................................................

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 28TH:
OLD DOMINION UNIVERSITY
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA

An open letter to the people of Virginia
(and, for that matter, the entire American south):

Please, stop being kind to me. When our paths cross on some sun-lit sidewalk, please refrain from the following pleasantries:
"Hi there;" "How's it going?;" "How are you?;" "Enjoying the day?" These sweet inquiries jar me; they disorient me; they mentally confuse me; and they...ummm...kind of make me wonder if you're f***ing with me. Please understand: I'm a New Yorker. And as such, here's what I'm accustomed to: exclusion; aversion; malice; abuse at the hands of strangers; abuse at the hands of intimates; abuse at the hands of people in official capacities. Where I'm from, we regard strangers with either: a) distrust, b) contempt, or c) utter disregard. Therefore, I'd appreciate it if you, my Southern brothers and sisters, would afford me that very same courtesy. For future reference, I'd feel much more comfortable if you addressed me with any of the following pre-approved greetings: "Watch it!;" "What are you blind?;" or "What the hell is wrong with you?" Also fine are: "F*** you;" "F*** your mother;" and "Drop dead asshole." Again, thank you for your understanding. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it.





1 p.m.- As my plane nosed down in Norfolk, I was anxious to investigate Virginia's age-old tourism slogan, "Virginia is for lovers." Would the Commonwealth of Virginia gift me a lover? You know, hand him over right there on the tarmac? The same way they present you with a lei the instant you deplane in Hawaii? Sadly, this wasn't the case. I was greeted (not by a lover),
but instead, by a morose kind of tour guide--my name lettered drowsily on his cardboard sign. I tried to warm him up while we cruised through the city's elaborate web of tunnels and bridges. "Why had he moved to Virginia?" "To escape the red-depth-hell of California," he informed me. And Norfolk was the farthest away he could get without "getting his feet wet." "But does he enjoy living here?" I asked. "No," he replied. "Not particularly."





2 p.m.- Upon check in, there was no room at the inn. Not yet, at least. So I got to drift through the streets of Norfolk for a couple of hours--through the MacArthur Center, by the Hermitage Foundation Museum, and past the battleship USS Wisconsin. I took flat, boring photos and dug on some local history.

What? Did I hear you say you say you crave trivia? Well:

- In the 1800s, a yellow fever epidemic killed a third of the people in Norfolk.
- Today, Norfolk is, quite obviously, a for-serious military center. And the Norfolk Navy base is the largest in the U.S.
- Norfolk's credo is "Cresas." Latin for "Thou shalt grow"...And that'd make a nice tattoo wouldn't it? Get on it, kids.





5:30 p.m.- Dinner time found me dining with some tremendous sweetie pies at Old Dominion University, including health educator Cynthia Duncan, assorted sorority presidents, and my new pal Ben from Old Dominion's student newspaper. Naturally, we debated some very serious topics over strawberry shortcake, including that wacky "Meet the Carters" show. Gals, I hope to see you soon in Manhattan. And Ben, I await the day I see your byline in the pages of R.S., where, god knows, they could use a few good men.

7:00 p.m.- So I experienced some camera flash malfunctions during my reading. And every photo I have is virtually un-postable; they are blurred, quivery images that look like they were captured by an epileptic wino. So I'm afraid you'll just have to trust me when I tell you I killed. And the evening was a good time for all (or at least, most) involved

10:30 p.m.- By the time the moon was tall in the broad Virginia sky, I was settled back in at my room in some Courtyard Marriott, terrorizing myself with Bravo's "100 Scariest Movie Moments" and subsequently sleeping with the light on. I dreamed of Body Snatchers, Poltergeists, Candymen, Wolfmen, Pet Cemeteries, Hellraisers, Psychos, Exorcists, and when the morning came, I clicked my heels and went home to an eerily cloudless New York City.





Anyway, Halloween this week- yay! And CMJ!

ooh baby,
do you have your costumes yet?

x Koren

posted by Koren at 6:19 PM 0 comments

"Bronx keeps creatin' it
And Queens keeps on takin' it..."

...........................................................................................
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 24TH
FORDHAM UNIVERSITY
BRONX, NY

Ah, nice to flee the Zailckas' residence for a few brief hours.
For the past couple of days, they've been filming some Hillary
Swank flick on my block; and the production trailers have been
lined up on both sides of my shy street, choking off traffic,
infuriating (perpetually furious) cabbies, knotting the sidewalks
with electrical cords and inflaming our nights with 1,200 volts of
high-electric Hollywood light. In addition, the neighbors
(strange specimens) have been acting up as well. Just last night,
I woke to the sounds of one of them tottering in his windowsill,
threatening to jump to his suicide, while his ever supportive
girlfriend urged, "do it! do it! do it!" Awesome. "Move to the
country," my parents keep telling me. And what? Miss all of this?





Anyhow, sundown found me hitching a ride up to the Bronx with Tom--
Whom I've neglected to tell you about, haven't I? And that's a serious
oversight on my part. Because he happens to bear the title 'coolest
person I know' (after you, that is). Tom used to be Jimi Hendrix's
personal driver. In addition, he's shuttled the likes of the Stones, the
Kennedys, Andy Warhol, Truman Capote, the whole Studio 54 gang, really,
and just too many legends of rock, art and literature to count...
Although I do pester him to recount them all--along with details of their
more illicit behaviors--while we change lanes, circle off-ramps, listen to
Bluegrass Junction on XM radio, and just generally get lost en route
to readings in Connecticut, New Jersey, or some saner town upstate.

So, like, the Bronx rippled by our windows, with faces, with sign flare,
with fervor and forgetting. And Tom and I passed time by talking about
Bronx's places of interest. "Botanical Gardens?" No, neither Tom nor
I could say we'd ever been. "Bronx Zoo?" Yes, both of us. Although,
personally, I think the Gorilla Forest is profoundly depressing. I mean, God,
the way they catch your gaze through that glass? With their furrowed brows and
those big, moist eyes? It's like gazing on prison 'lifers.'

Anyway, before you could say "primate" Tom and I were nosing
into handsome Fordham University...I almost went to Fordham.
For college, I mean. You didn't know that about me, did you? But
it's true! Ask my parents. Or better yet, ask John What's-His-Name.
He saw me there back in '97 when I was taking a college tour.





Now, I hate to play favorites...Actually, that's not true. I adore playing
favorites. And I don't mind saying tonight's event at Fordham was my favorite
in months, thanks in no small part to Kristen Woodford and her gang
of peer educators, who were kind enough to take a spontaneous
group photo with me. Girls: thank you, thank you! For your coffee,
and your posters, and your free-book giveaway. I even walked away with
my very own Fordham blanket! It is draped, as we speak, over my shuddering
shoulders...My apartment is as cold as a morgue.





Anyway, on that note... Goodnight my dear ghosts and goblins.
I'm waaaay tired. How tired? You ask. Let's just say I dozed off
during that lingering "waaaay"...

Trick,
(No, wait... Treat)

love,
your Koren

posted by Koren at 6:10 PM 0 comments

"Maine is the world that went south
Maine is a punch in the mouth
Maine at the top of the chart
Maine has crushed my evil heart..."

........................................................................................................


TUESDAY OCTOBER 10TH:
COLBY COLLEGE
Waterville, Maine

Dear wild banshees--

Due to popular demand (and you ARE demanding little suckers
aren't you?) I've decided to resurrect this here book tour blog.

So pack up your suitcase. That's right. Go and grab your humming
electric toothbrush. Roll up your socks and undies into tidy,
little space-saving balls. Where, oh where, will I take you? You ask.
Oh, we'll go everywhere together, baby. No more pins and needles
in your heart, no more snake juice squirted in your arm. The whole
world's green grass and, from now on, when you cry, it'll be because
you're happy...Okay, right. So I plagiarized that last bit from Clifford Odets.
It's alright though. We're tight. And his dead ass doesn't mind.

And, as long as we're bearing our fragile little hearts here,
blogging about these trips is a welcome inconvenience. Traveling
alone can be sweet enough. I hoard hotel toiletries. I hog
the bed like nobody's business. But every so often, these solo
migrations leave me feeling like one lonesome goose plum.
And these wordless jaunts feel far less lonely when I pretend
you're all here, drifting right alongside me.

Yes, I know. Gross. I've reached my sincerity ceiling for
the day. Enough with this silly wholeheartedness! Wholehearty
had a party and nobody came...On to business, shall we?
Let's fill this bear with honey...

12 p.m.: Noon found me wrapping myself in flannel and
departing the gray angles of my dear Manhattan for a
thoroughly autumned Maine.





1:20 p.m.: It was a quickie
flight. And less than one hour later, I was behind the wheel of
my Avis rent-a-trek, adhering to the Gonzo credo "rental cars were
made to be destroyed." Ah yes, I was a menace on the road! Pushing
90 on the Maine turnpike! No taillights up ahead to slow me down! No
disparaging headlights in my rearview mirror! I drove like I stole
it. Looked out the window. Let that good fall scenery do what
scenery does-- make my chest ache a little. Check that bloody
spray of foliage in the sugar maples.

Knocking about the radio dials, I couldn't help but notice the stations
all had real mountainman names! (Moose92 FM!). The ear worms
and ass anthems urged me on ("she's gonna get a ticket now sooner
or later, 'cause she can't keep her paw of the accelerator"). I tried
my damndest to win some radio call-in prizes, which included a winter's worth of firewood!
And a brand new ATV! Seriously, can't you just see me plowing down
Broadway on a high-performance ATV?





3:40 p.m.: This is the part of the story where I stray off course. And
I know what you're thinking. Your inner thought bubble is saying: "Koren,
how can you get lost driving from Portland to Waterville? You just drive
straight-as-an-arrow North along Interstate 95. Anyone with a fully functioning
brain stem could steer herself there without hassle." To which, I say: "Two
roads diverged in a wood and I-- I, like, took the other one. You know, the
contorted, distorted one with the strip club and the apple farm?"





6:30 p.m.: Back on track in Waterville in time for an evening reading at
historic Colby College. Now, I didn't want to assume
I'd be met with too much camaraderie. But, according to the university's
Wikipedia entry, Colby students (and I quote) "work hard, play hard and
spend the rest of the time recovering." So I figured, they'd know what I
was talkin' 'bout...

Anyway, I left with at least one suspicion confirmed: Colby weenies, you are all
insanely cute, and astute, and dare I say, far too physically dazzling for your
own good. Especially Terri (with an "i") and Loretta (like the Coal Miner's daughter).

Stay tuned.
We go to Fordham next. You and I...

I'm all the friend you'll ever need,
x Koren

P.S.- I almost forgot! A bit of news: 'Smashed' comes out dangerously
soon in Italy. Please alert your good-looking Italian friends. Grazie mille...
Also, Tua madre si da per niente.

posted by Koren at 6:00 PM 0 comments

Hey puppies,

Just a note to say, beginning July 1st, I'll be making daily posts at
JANE MAGAZINE (http://www.janemag.com).

See you there!

posted by Koren at 4:26 PM 2 comments

Good god! When my pals Michael and Glenn told me I had a cover story
in the August double issue of Writer's Digest, I had no idea they
meant I would go to the newsstand and see, like, my big dumb head
staring back at me. The picture: over a year old, I think. And my hair is
overgrown to what Corvette @ Mudhoney would call "blanket" levels. (I like
to tell him it's more like a shawl than a blanket. Or a cape, maybe, if we're
gonna get picky.) Anyhow, I think I may be the first person in the history of
W.D. covers to appear wearing glow-in-the-dark rosary beads.

The story's fairly breathtaking. (I'm not in it much, which might account
for its level of brilliance.) Kathryn Harrison, The Kiss, The Mother Knot,
one of memoir's founding foremommas, talks a lot about turning trauma into art:
"One of the solaces that art can offer you is the chance to make something out of
what's hurt you. You can objectify an experience, put it on paper, craft and shape it.
There's perhaps an illusory control over it. But it is significant." Indeed.

Anyway, hysterical. Last I heard, my dad's bought five copies.

posted by Koren at 4:24 PM 1 comments

Devil dolls,

If I checked my horoscope today, I suspect it'd say the moon's
entered a periodical period. Mercury's rising. The temperature's
slipping. And suddenly, "Smashed" is all over newsstands like
Bradgelina's baby. I have a great many stories in mags, rags and
newspapers to tell you about...

First (and most important) is the July Issue of Seventeen Magazine,
where the lovely Melanie Abrahams was kind enough
to let me rattle on about a few of my favorite works of lit.
Below's a teaser with the words smudged out. What kind of shameless
self-promoter would I be if I didn't make you purchase the issue?





Also, my pal Michael tells me I have
a few quotes in the August double-issue of Writers Digest.
I haven't seen a copy yet. So it's quite possible that I sound like
a mental defective (the interview was way back in 2005) and will
regret having briefed you on this. Irregardless, it's about "spilling secrets"
and Kathryn Harrison's in it too.

Finally, keep checking U.S. News & World Report for my
"College Kegger Survival Guide," as well as the Guardian for a story that
I wrote about the fetishization of drunk women. The latter will be in
the "Women's" section. (I love that. It seems to imply that the rest
of the newspaper--"World News," "Money," "Technology"-- is for men.)


You had me at hello,

x Koren

posted by Koren at 4:15 PM 1 comments

"We're crazy about this city. First time we came here, we walked the streets all day, all over town and nobody hassled us. People smiled, friendly-like, and we knew we could live here. Los Angeles? That's just a big parking lot where you buy a hamburger for the trip to San Francisco." - John & Yoko
..............................................................................................
SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 18TH:

"Fake Tales of San Francisco"

"Smashed" was dog-eared and dog-tired after its walking tour of the city: It made it to the Golden Gate Bridge and Haight-Ashbury. It canoodled with albums at Amoeba Music. It hiked through Chinatown and marveled at Kama Sutra figurines.














FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 7TH:

Location: Oakland and San Francisco

7:30 PM- Let it be known: my first love was Jack London. I think it was the author photo that got me. You know, the one that shows him dim-eyed and careless-haired, collar flipped up on his brown leather jacket. Oh how he quickened my ten-year-old pulse... To this day, I know few words hotter than "Buck did not read the newspapers."



In light of the above admission, you'll understand why I was thrilled to read at Jack London Square's Barnes & Noble. To top things off, I got to hang out with these bright young things. Students from Oakland Senior High School:



Raul, Maria and Martha are pretty as teen actors and smart as nuclear reactors. And they gave me the kindest introduction that I've had all tour:







THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 16TH

Location: Portland, OR

NOON- While "Smashed" went for a stroll in Washington Park's International Rose Test Garden, I rested my cranky bones with a tray of tea and earplugs at Portland's Heathman Hotel.





I also fingered the spines of Heathman's library, which houses over 3,000 books signed by authors who've stayed there. Among them are five Nobel Prize winners, 30 Pulitzer Prize winners and four U.S. poet laureates. On the title page of "Heartbreaking Work of a Staggering Genius," Dave Eggers penned: "Dear hotel, You are a very nice hotel." Mary Karr signed a copy of "The Liars' Club" with the note: "Dear Heathman, thanks for the hospital." (Either the concierge gave her medical attention or else she was too tour-tuckered to remember the "ity.") I, too, got to add a signed copy to the collection! Wanna know what it says? You know what they say..."Get a room."



7:30 PM- Powell's City of Books is, well, the biggest, baddest, raddest book store that I've ever been in. Or been lost in, for that matter. (The place is a full city block! I'm talkin' 68,000 square feet, people!) My reading was lovely, despite the best efforts of a gentleman who wanted to use my Q&A as a platform to argue that alcoholism is not a genetic predisposition (!) but a choice (!!) After the reading, he came over to the book-signing table, where I got to ask him whether he's genetically predisposed to being an asshole or whether it's a conscious effort on his part:)

posted by Koren at 7:31 AM 2 comments

"I wanted to move to Seattle, sell my ass, and be a punk rocker, but I was too afraid." - Kurt Cobain
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WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 15TH: Seattle, WA

8 AM- Thanks to the woman in window seat 9A, who was kind enough to let me straddle her. 9A, this shot of the Olympic mountains is for you:



11 AM- After I checked into my (ahem) wine-themed hotel, the Vintage, I wandered across the street to Seattle's new retro-futurist public library, which was designed by Dutch architect Rem Koolhaus. It's like an industrial, Technicolor cathedral. I swear, I saw God. Or at least Ken Kesey.







1 PM- While I went to KBSG-AM to talk to "Conversations" host Lizz Sommars, "Smashed" took a sightseeing tour of Seattle:







6 PM- Before my reading at the University of Washington Bookstore, I got to sit for an interview with Erik Schultz of Seattle's ultra rad MF Magazine... Erik, if you're reading this, I'm still trying to come up with a song that sums up my publishing experience. "Tractor Rape Chain" is all I can think of.

posted by Koren at 1:17 PM 0 comments

"There are parts of Texas where time gets strange from too much sky." - Katherine Dunn
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TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 14th:

Location: Austin, Texas

NOON- Sweethearts, tarts, fall-aparts...Happy Valentines Day! After a morning interview with Julie Moody at KUT-FM's "Morning Edition," I had plenty of time to dud myself in Texan togs. (Let the record show: I passed on the "Fuck Y'all" t-shirt.)





Also wandered up the hill to the capitol building, which is exquisite....and only slightly less breathtaking than Austin's flagship Whole Foods.







7:30 PM- Thanks to everyone at the Barnes & Noble on Brodie Lane, who postponed their hot dates for the sake of my reading! And thanks to (let me try it on here) "y'all" for following my blog. Hope your Valentines Day is bright. And your hearts are pumping love at some fourty-five hundred heartbeats an hour.

Goodbye Austin..







MONDAY, FEBRUARY 13th

Location: Highland Park High School. Dallas, Texas.

They say everything's bigger in Texas... And I guess that includes my hotel room. This epicurian vacuum is, well, pretty damn spookey. I couldn't sleep last night on account of too many alcoves, dripping shadows. At home, I can eye every corner of my living space from my bed.



8 AM- When I stopped by KDFW-TV this morning to talk with Tim Ryan of "Good Day Dallas" I got to see real, live penguins in the studio. I guess they were there to promote a Valentine's Day package at the Fort Worth Zoo, whereby you can adopt a penguin for your sweetheart. Sadly, I didn't get to snap a picture. So I'll spare you the penguin/Penguin Books puns.

NOON- Got to have pizza with some students from Highland Park High School. All of them: big-hearted, earnest, and bright as the stars over Dallas. (I'm dead center in my red-state shirt.)



A RANDOM NOTE: I forgot to mention that I lived in Texas as a small child (ages 1 through 3.5, approximately). Which was just enough time to cultivate an appreciation for the vocal stylings of Ms. Crystal Gayle..and a life-long ambition to grow my brown hair to the backs of my knees.





7 PM- Had a truly fine event at Highland Park High School, thanks to the Park Cities Chemical Awareness Council and the Highland Park United Methodist Church. Plus I got to see my southern kinfolk: my Auntie Annie and twin cousins Kirstin and Nathan.

Off to Austin tomorrow and "don't it make my brown eyes blue."
I leave you with some parting shots of Dallas...

posted by Koren at 12:44 PM 3 comments