Nothing as far as I can see, but that’s bound to change as soon as they reverse my mood.
Mr. Codrescu is a poet, novelist, an essayist, a screenwriter, a columnist for N.P.R., and the editor of Exquisite Corpse. His most recent novel is Wakefield.
I am on the hunt. My hands feel gritty against the stock of my rifle. Sweat and dirt have tightened my grip. I turn to my faithful friend, Hobbes. “Do you have the scent of the prey?” “What prey?”…
Music Too Hot for Work | People with Jobs That Make No Sense | Concern Over “The Obesity Epidemic” | Ringtones That Sound Either Like (A) Actual Songs, Not Cheesy Casio Synth-Songs or (B) Like Actual 1930s Telephones | “G-d”
Y.P.R. 1. How’s life treating you? M.G. Well, I’m on my book tour, which is exhausting, and I’m now in England and suffering from major jetlag. But yesterday, I had a few hours off in the afternoon and went for…
Day 1: It has taken me a while to get my bearings. I spent an unknown amount of time disoriented and unconscious, but I’m more lucid now and more comfortable. This environment is stifling and odorous. The best I can…
Scenario 1: My Father I’m watching “Evening at the Improv” in the mid-90s when my father enters the room. “What are you watching?” he says. “This comedienne named Ellen DeGeneres,” I say. “She’s pretty funny.” He snorts. “Looks like a…
… , rub his eyes, stare in disbelief, and finally call his lawyers is what Paul Simon did when he realized Garfunkel had published a pseudonymous memoir. (As if those damn Norwegians weren’t headache enough. Now this!) Did…
This book is not going to help your fiction. Seriously. Don’t buy it for that. I mean, buy it if you really want to read it, but don’t buy it just because you think it’s got some revolutionary thing to…
O.K., Y.P.R.keteers, we’re back again and this time everything’s more or less working smoothly. The site’s archives are being built up quite slowly, and you may find some links or pages to be working screwy. Wally, our tech assistant, is…
IHappy ChristmasDarkening my day is the story already having leaked of Comet and Blitzen, selling their meaty, raw, tiny charges into slavery—their rotten and embarrassing behavior, now dubbed ‘Reindeer Syndrome’ by some Eastern Syndicate—the latest en vogue disease to get…
I play a jaw-harp. You can call it a trump, a drumbla, a génggong, or a scacciapensieri; a vargan, a marranzanu, a kubing, or a good ol’ jew’s-harp, but there’s no mistaking the rhythmic, aggressive, driving beat of a metal…
The Y.P.R. Book Club solicits your spur-of-the-moment, off-the-cuff, split-second, ad-lib snap judgements regarding Malcolm Gladwell’s Blink: The Power of Thinking without Thinking. Send us your reviews, parodies, deleted chapters, etc. by February 28th, 2005. Blink! 100 bonus points if…
Date: December 26, 1991 yakov smirnoff: I just wanted to stop by in person to thank you again, Morty, for the booking at the Flamingo. This is a big one; I couldn’t be more excited. Back in Russia, they…