Sunday: We're all fans

Watch the Grammys on The Hill courtesy of my friends at ChiChi212, and see if the Academy throws a nod in the direction of indie rock by awarding Best New Artist to the Silversun Pickups. Not bloody likely.

Thursday: Release party for Haiti

Send help to Haiti, drink Colt 45, and check out my feature article on The xx. You can't ask for more in a night, right?

Tuesday: Mad tatts at Cameo, courtesy of Brooklyn Royalty

We just have to keep the memoir debate going until I finish mine

I'm devastated to have missed Ben Yagoda, author of Memoir: A History on Wednesday at Freerange Nonfiction Reading Series (see previous post) but on Poor Your Soul, Freerange proprietor Mira has a breakdown on the lecture he gave, in which he assigns and subtract points to various memoirs for criteria like "Dialogue" and "Rips on People", revealing that St. Augustine is currently beating Sarah Palin by around 40 points (surprisingly?) He also sets out to explain the insatiable current hunger we as a society have for "true stories" (translation: "untrue stories"). It's worth reading.

Northern Sky

So Flavorpill has "The Ultimate Hipster Reading List," which is, yes, about as obnoxious as it sounds. It's a list about of dozen white male writers you have heard of (Keith Gessen, Nick Flynn, et al. plus Miranda July thrown in for color) recommending about 50 white male writers you haven't heard of. I don't know whether FP thinks that there are actually people out there who will take these recommendations seriously, or whether it's all some elaborate, ironic joke. I'm not sure FP themselves want to know. The truth would probably horrify them, at any rate.

Oh, and also I'm in the frozen north right now, and have been for weeks, and will be for another week. All of my NYC information is coming from Facebook, mailing lists, and press releases, and I don't go anywhere. Which means that on Sunday I will unfortunately be missing the Improv Everywhere No Pants Subway Ride, so if you do go, make sure to take off an extra pair of pants for me. (Also, for my peace of mind when I come back, please don't tell me which train these people were on. I already don't like to think about who's occupied those hard plastic seats before me).