http://odeo.com/channels/884-Miette-s-Bedtime-Story-Podcast Miette no Lay yourself down to sleep with the soothing soporific of Miette's purr as she reads you the world's greatest short stories and delivers them podcasterly. Lay yourself down to sleep with the soothing soporific of Miette's purr as she reads you the world's greatest short stories and delivers them podcasterly. Sweet dreams. en 40 Fri, 30 Oct 2009 15:35:30 -0700 Fri, 30 Oct 2009 15:35:30 -0700 Literature http://odeo.com/episodes/25398440-The-Pool-of-the-Stone-God For those of you who will not be spending the weekend dressed scandalously and behaving just as badly, or scaring young children, or throwing personal hygiene product in the trees of your enemies, here’s a quick little bit of badinage to keep you in the mood. Note: includes an outburst of wicked laughter. You’re welcome. For those of you who will not be spending the weekend dressed scandalously and behaving just as badly, or scaring young children, or throwing personal hygiene product in the trees of your enemies, here’s a quick little bit of badinage to keep you in the mood. Note: includes an outburst of wicked laughter. You’re welcome. For those of you who will not be spending the weekend dressed scandalously and behaving just as badly, or scaring young children, or throwing personal hygiene product in the trees of your enemies, here’s a quick little bit of badinage to keep you in the mood. Note: includes an outburst of wicked laughter. You’re welcome. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-30,25398440 Fri, 30 Oct 2009 15:35:30 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Merritt, A. http://odeo.com/episodes/25325298-The-Adventure-of-Prince-Florizel-and-a-Detective It was recommended some time ago by a guy named Alex that I read the entire four-story cycle of The Rajah’s Diamond, and it is a request I’ll perhaps fill someday. I’m in the throes of a mini Stevenson obsession right now, so it seems the proper and selfish thing to do. But for now, I wanted to warn you that as an aperitif, what I’m offering here is, in fact, the last story in the cycle. Now, at least a few of you are going to go perfervidly huffy with me for spoiling the whole work for you. And to that, in the spirit of rapprochement, I should remind you gently that this isn’t reality television or a celebrity love affair or the latest movie by the I See Dead People fellow. I mean, we’re talking about stories that were written a century and change ago, and you can go here to read them before taking a listen here. Or after. Or during. It’s the damned internet, where you can basically do whatever you want (or so I’ve heard). And so, tha... It was recommended some time ago by a guy named Alex that I read the entire four-story cycle of The Rajah’s Diamond, and it is a request I’ll perhaps fill someday. I’m in the throes of a mini Stevenson obsession right now, so it seems the proper and selfish thing to do. But for now, I wanted to warn you that as an aperitif, what I’m offering here is, in fact, the last story in the cycle. Now, at least a few of you are going to go perfervidly huffy with me for spoiling the whole work for you. And to that, in the spirit of rapprochement, I should remind you gently that this isn’t reality television or a celebrity love affair or the latest movie by the I See Dead People fellow. I mean, we’re talking about stories that were written a century and change ago, and you can go here to read them before taking a listen here. Or after. Or during. It’s the damned internet, where you can basically do whatever you want (or so I’ve heard). And so, thanks Alex for the recommendation– you’re more than right about the rip-roaringness of the action, and if you keep asking, maybe I’ll read the rest. It was recommended some time ago by a guy named Alex that I read the entire four-story cycle of The Rajah’s Diamond, and it is a request I’ll perhaps fill someday. I’m in the throes of a mini Stevenson obsession right now, so it seems the proper and selfish thing to do. But for now, I wanted to warn you that as an aperitif, what I’m offering here is, in fact, the last story in the cycle. Now, at least a few of you are going to go perfervidly huffy with me for spoiling the whole work for you. And to that, in the spirit of rapprochement, I should remind you gently that this isn’t reality television or a celebrity love affair or the latest movie by the I See Dead People fellow. I mean, we’re talking about stories that were written a century and change ago, and you can go here to read them before taking a listen here. Or after. Or during. It’s the damned internet, where you can basically do whatever you want (or so I’ve heard). And so, thanks Alex for the recommendation– you’re more than right about the rip-roaringness of the action, and if you keep asking, maybe I’ll read the rest. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-21,25325298 Wed, 21 Oct 2009 12:17:33 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast scottish, Stevenson, Robert Louis http://odeo.com/episodes/25250523-Trouble-at-Pow-Crash-Creek It’s probably one of the better things in life — right up there with creative breakthroughs and lasting love and the slurp of streetside oysters — to have one’s hat tipped to new and great authors. In my case, it doesn’t happen often, because I’m finicky and discriminating with my own tastes, or as others have said, snotty. Some of my closest friends, in fact, have sworn never again to share enthusiasm of their own discoveries, for fear of my response. I’m not proud of this. So, several months ago, I may or may not have been at a certain big bookish event, and I may or may not have chatted briefly with a representative of an independent publisher known for foresightedness and inventiveness and openmindedness and other qualities sometimes surprising of publishing types. And during this chat, that may or may not have happened, the publisher may have mentioned an author in her catalogue that may (or may not) gel with my very fussy and finicky t... It’s probably one of the better things in life — right up there with creative breakthroughs and lasting love and the slurp of streetside oysters — to have one’s hat tipped to new and great authors. In my case, it doesn’t happen often, because I’m finicky and discriminating with my own tastes, or as others have said, snotty. Some of my closest friends, in fact, have sworn never again to share enthusiasm of their own discoveries, for fear of my response. I’m not proud of this. So, several months ago, I may or may not have been at a certain big bookish event, and I may or may not have chatted briefly with a representative of an independent publisher known for foresightedness and inventiveness and openmindedness and other qualities sometimes surprising of publishing types. And during this chat, that may or may not have happened, the publisher may have mentioned an author in her catalogue that may (or may not) gel with my very fussy and finicky tastes, and later, I may or may not have gotten my sticky mitts on an illicit copy of that author’s book of short stories. And it’s hard to say whether or not any of this actually happened, or whether or not this story is related to that anecdote. I mean, it was several months ago, and we all know what happens to memory. But however I may have come across tonight’s author, when I did it was not unlike experiencing a breakthrough while slurping an oyster on the street with one’s lasting love. If we’re lucky, you’ll feel the same. It’s probably one of the better things in life — right up there with creative breakthroughs and lasting love and the slurp of streetside oysters — to have one’s hat tipped to new and great authors. In my case, it doesn’t happen often, because I’m finicky and discriminating with my own tastes, or as others have said, snotty. Some of my closest friends, in fact, have sworn never again to share enthusiasm of their own discoveries, for fear of my response. I’m not proud of this. So, several months ago, I may or may not have been at a certain big bookish event, and I may or may not have chatted briefly with a representative of an independent publisher known for foresightedness and inventiveness and openmindedness and other qualities sometimes surprising of publishing types. And during this chat, that may or may not have happened, the publisher may have mentioned an author in her catalogue that may (or may not) gel with my very fussy and finicky tastes, and later, I may or may not have gotten my sticky mitts on an illicit copy of that author’s book of short stories. And it’s hard to say whether or not any of this actually happened, or whether or not this story is related to that anecdote. I mean, it was several months ago, and we all know what happens to memory. But however I may have come across tonight’s author, when I did it was not unlike experiencing a breakthrough while slurping an oyster on the street with one’s lasting love. If we’re lucky, you’ll feel the same. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-07,25250523 Wed, 07 Oct 2009 13:53:33 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast canadian, Contemporary, wonderful, Birrell, Heather http://odeo.com/episodes/25167230-I-Stand-Here-Ironing So I have this tendency, as you may have noticed, to take a sharp left at matters of personal divulgences, which is a difficult thing to pull off today, given the severity and somber-ity of a story like this one. But so, okay, here you go, three very revealing facts about my own self to accompany a story of introspect and plaintivity and other words existent and non-. Number 1: I (your Miette) have never owned an iron. So god only knows if, in my delivery of tonight’s monologue, I am at all able to capture the sorts of things that go through a woman’s head while performing such an act. Number 2: It is my opinion that “She blew shining bubbles of sound” is perhaps one of the finest phrases ever to be shucked from our language, and the fact that it exists in this narrative makes me think the entire thing’s worth another close listen by all of us. Number 3: I’m not kidding in tonight’s blathery introduction about the naughty naked puppets, thou... So I have this tendency, as you may have noticed, to take a sharp left at matters of personal divulgences, which is a difficult thing to pull off today, given the severity and somber-ity of a story like this one. But so, okay, here you go, three very revealing facts about my own self to accompany a story of introspect and plaintivity and other words existent and non-. Number 1: I (your Miette) have never owned an iron. So god only knows if, in my delivery of tonight’s monologue, I am at all able to capture the sorts of things that go through a woman’s head while performing such an act. Number 2: It is my opinion that “She blew shining bubbles of sound” is perhaps one of the finest phrases ever to be shucked from our language, and the fact that it exists in this narrative makes me think the entire thing’s worth another close listen by all of us. Number 3: I’m not kidding in tonight’s blathery introduction about the naughty naked puppets, though I won’t tell you where people who get here by that route are being sent. Now, I suppose, they’ll just come here. I win! Okay, your turn? Enjoy a fine listen this actual autumn. I’ll yam at you next week with something fresh out of Canada, and I’ll bet money that you’ll love it. So I have this tendency, as you may have noticed, to take a sharp left at matters of personal divulgences, which is a difficult thing to pull off today, given the severity and somber-ity of a story like this one. But so, okay, here you go, three very revealing facts about my own self to accompany a story of introspect and plaintivity and other words existent and non-. Number 1: I (your Miette) have never owned an iron. So god only knows if, in my delivery of tonight’s monologue, I am at all able to capture the sorts of things that go through a woman’s head while performing such an act. Number 2: It is my opinion that “She blew shining bubbles of sound” is perhaps one of the finest phrases ever to be shucked from our language, and the fact that it exists in this narrative makes me think the entire thing’s worth another close listen by all of us. Number 3: I’m not kidding in tonight’s blathery introduction about the naughty naked puppets, though I won’t tell you where people who get here by that route are being sent. Now, I suppose, they’ll just come here. I win! Okay, your turn? Enjoy a fine listen this actual autumn. I’ll yam at you next week with something fresh out of Canada, and I’ll bet money that you’ll love it. tag:odeo.com,2009-09-22,25167230 Tue, 22 Sep 2009 14:27:27 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Olsen, Tillie http://odeo.com/episodes/25013168-Space-Time-for-Springers Can I tell you something about my speculative fiction habits? Of course I can– this my barroom restroom wall and the red marker’s in my slimy mitt. Here’s the thing: I just love stories about sentient animals. I can’t get enough of talking dogs or super-intelligent rats or telekinetic polar bears– this is the stuff of unconditional love. And I know the analogies presented in this trope can only go so far, sure. But I don’t care– I could start a website called Miette’s Podcasted Stories of Intelligent Animals, and be perfectly happy doing so. As it is, looking through the archives, there’s not much represented here yet — there’s the Saki, which is hilarious, and now Leiber, which is one of those that will hopefully make you check yourself in the mirror and pucker your nose in search of a stray whisker. I have several others in mind, but meanwhile, do feel free to fill it with your suggestions as well. Can I tell you something about my speculative fiction habits? Of course I can– this my barroom restroom wall and the red marker’s in my slimy mitt. Here’s the thing: I just love stories about sentient animals. I can’t get enough of talking dogs or super-intelligent rats or telekinetic polar bears– this is the stuff of unconditional love. And I know the analogies presented in this trope can only go so far, sure. But I don’t care– I could start a website called Miette’s Podcasted Stories of Intelligent Animals, and be perfectly happy doing so. As it is, looking through the archives, there’s not much represented here yet — there’s the Saki, which is hilarious, and now Leiber, which is one of those that will hopefully make you check yourself in the mirror and pucker your nose in search of a stray whisker. I have several others in mind, but meanwhile, do feel free to fill it with your suggestions as well. Can I tell you something about my speculative fiction habits? Of course I can– this my barroom restroom wall and the red marker’s in my slimy mitt. Here’s the thing: I just love stories about sentient animals. I can’t get enough of talking dogs or super-intelligent rats or telekinetic polar bears– this is the stuff of unconditional love. And I know the analogies presented in this trope can only go so far, sure. But I don’t care– I could start a website called Miette’s Podcasted Stories of Intelligent Animals, and be perfectly happy doing so. As it is, looking through the archives, there’s not much represented here yet — there’s the Saki, which is hilarious, and now Leiber, which is one of those that will hopefully make you check yourself in the mirror and pucker your nose in search of a stray whisker. I have several others in mind, but meanwhile, do feel free to fill it with your suggestions as well. tag:odeo.com,2009-08-24,25013168 Mon, 24 Aug 2009 09:22:21 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast SciFi, cat, wonderful, Leiber, Fritz http://odeo.com/episodes/24988697-The-Doctor%E2%80%99s-Heroism Well, I’ve been reading some unavoidable news about Death Panels and baby killing nazi zombies terrorizing in the Norwegian mountains and all sorts of incessant catfighty nastiness which I suppose our world can take, given that it’s really all pretty hopeless, when confronted by the threat of health care. Or zombies. And I didn’t really think about how topical tonight’s story was until I listened to the reading of it. But Villiers de l’Isle-Adam may have been a little cigar-tunneling heavyhanded in his symbolism in this story (just a smidge), but I’m thinking he might have been on to something. And if you haven’t read L’Ève Futur, there’s no time like now. You can read it while waiting in line to be judged by the Panel. Well, I’ve been reading some unavoidable news about Death Panels and baby killing nazi zombies terrorizing in the Norwegian mountains and all sorts of incessant catfighty nastiness which I suppose our world can take, given that it’s really all pretty hopeless, when confronted by the threat of health care. Or zombies. And I didn’t really think about how topical tonight’s story was until I listened to the reading of it. But Villiers de l’Isle-Adam may have been a little cigar-tunneling heavyhanded in his symbolism in this story (just a smidge), but I’m thinking he might have been on to something. And if you haven’t read L’Ève Futur, there’s no time like now. You can read it while waiting in line to be judged by the Panel. Well, I’ve been reading some unavoidable news about Death Panels and baby killing nazi zombies terrorizing in the Norwegian mountains and all sorts of incessant catfighty nastiness which I suppose our world can take, given that it’s really all pretty hopeless, when confronted by the threat of health care. Or zombies. And I didn’t really think about how topical tonight’s story was until I listened to the reading of it. But Villiers de l’Isle-Adam may have been a little cigar-tunneling heavyhanded in his symbolism in this story (just a smidge), but I’m thinking he might have been on to something. And if you haven’t read L’Ève Futur, there’s no time like now. You can read it while waiting in line to be judged by the Panel. tag:odeo.com,2009-08-14,24988697 Fri, 14 Aug 2009 10:05:45 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast French, Villiers de l'Isle-Adam, symbolist http://odeo.com/episodes/24915626-An-Unbeliever The other day I was lying in the woods, on a hammock on a mountaintop, reading aloud to young people, and wondered, for a second, why there was no professional job market for reading aloud on hammocks to young people, why there isn’t a real market demand for just such a role and why imagined salaries for such work wouldn’t rival those of morally questionable military contractors or knee-breaking thugmasters. And of course, what happened next was obvious: my bliss at the hammock and the mountain and the good book and the eager young people were corrupted, and for a split second I was Don Jenaro, an unbeliever and a nasty harridanny crank. Here’s the quote I came back to when we climbed down the hill: There had been times in his youth, in the ardor of young manhood, when he had cherished ambitions to be somebody great and important. He had not succeeded in surpassing a decent mediocrity. But in this assured, deep-rooted, indestructible mediocrity he had the satisfact... The other day I was lying in the woods, on a hammock on a mountaintop, reading aloud to young people, and wondered, for a second, why there was no professional job market for reading aloud on hammocks to young people, why there isn’t a real market demand for just such a role and why imagined salaries for such work wouldn’t rival those of morally questionable military contractors or knee-breaking thugmasters. And of course, what happened next was obvious: my bliss at the hammock and the mountain and the good book and the eager young people were corrupted, and for a split second I was Don Jenaro, an unbeliever and a nasty harridanny crank. Here’s the quote I came back to when we climbed down the hill: There had been times in his youth, in the ardor of young manhood, when he had cherished ambitions to be somebody great and important. He had not succeeded in surpassing a decent mediocrity. But in this assured, deep-rooted, indestructible mediocrity he had the satisfaction of thinking about those who struggled, those who had a faith, an ideal, a political, social, or artistic belief for which they strove, for which they suffered privations and anxieties – and which perhaps they never saw realized. I mean, it’s enough to force even the likes of to shut the valve off and get back to reading affectionately to the children. On a mostly unrelated note, one of the top authors in Miette’s Preferred Podcasted Authors Network here, Bart Midwood, has a new project in the works that I can’t help but pass along. Do add word of The Francophile to your Myface Twitty Bookmarks Feeds and if you’re in the area we’ll go see it together on opening night. The other day I was lying in the woods, on a hammock on a mountaintop, reading aloud to young people, and wondered, for a second, why there was no professional job market for reading aloud on hammocks to young people, why there isn’t a real market demand for just such a role and why imagined salaries for such work wouldn’t rival those of morally questionable military contractors or knee-breaking thugmasters. And of course, what happened next was obvious: my bliss at the hammock and the mountain and the good book and the eager young people were corrupted, and for a split second I was Don Jenaro, an unbeliever and a nasty harridanny crank. Here’s the quote I came back to when we climbed down the hill: There had been times in his youth, in the ardor of young manhood, when he had cherished ambitions to be somebody great and important. He had not succeeded in surpassing a decent mediocrity. But in this assured, deep-rooted, indestructible mediocrity he had the satisfaction of thinking about those who struggled, those who had a faith, an ideal, a political, social, or artistic belief for which they strove, for which they suffered privations and anxieties – and which perhaps they never saw realized. I mean, it’s enough to force even the likes of to shut the valve off and get back to reading affectionately to the children. On a mostly unrelated note, one of the top authors in Miette’s Preferred Podcasted Authors Network here, Bart Midwood, has a new project in the works that I can’t help but pass along. Do add word of The Francophile to your Myface Twitty Bookmarks Feeds and if you’re in the area we’ll go see it together on opening night. tag:odeo.com,2009-08-05,24915626 Wed, 05 Aug 2009 14:15:47 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast spanish, Azorin http://odeo.com/episodes/24776545-Feathers Oh-h-h-hhhh ladies! Oh men and oh boys and girls, the sexiest man alive is BACK. Patrick has been threatening to start up Patrick’s Bedtime Story Podcast, and with a voice this smooth, he might have to do it, much as I’d miss his occasional guest posts here. I’ll warn you that there’s an outburst of laughter in the middle of this that I didn’t have the heart to cut out, and also that he does a killer bird caw, and that Olla’s voice is a little on the saccharinely fey side. It’s that good. I don’t get the chance to kick back and listen to another’s purring drone very often, but when Patrick delivers the musing about Fran’s hair, there was a little patter in this dark heart o’mine. And if you think all babies are angelic beauties and that children are some sort of personification of happiness, this may help set you straight — and in that sense, it’s a morality story. Hope you like. More from me next week. Oh-h-h-hhhh ladies! Oh men and oh boys and girls, the sexiest man alive is BACK. Patrick has been threatening to start up Patrick’s Bedtime Story Podcast, and with a voice this smooth, he might have to do it, much as I’d miss his occasional guest posts here. I’ll warn you that there’s an outburst of laughter in the middle of this that I didn’t have the heart to cut out, and also that he does a killer bird caw, and that Olla’s voice is a little on the saccharinely fey side. It’s that good. I don’t get the chance to kick back and listen to another’s purring drone very often, but when Patrick delivers the musing about Fran’s hair, there was a little patter in this dark heart o’mine. And if you think all babies are angelic beauties and that children are some sort of personification of happiness, this may help set you straight — and in that sense, it’s a morality story. Hope you like. More from me next week. Oh-h-h-hhhh ladies! Oh men and oh boys and girls, the sexiest man alive is BACK. Patrick has been threatening to start up Patrick’s Bedtime Story Podcast, and with a voice this smooth, he might have to do it, much as I’d miss his occasional guest posts here. I’ll warn you that there’s an outburst of laughter in the middle of this that I didn’t have the heart to cut out, and also that he does a killer bird caw, and that Olla’s voice is a little on the saccharinely fey side. It’s that good. I don’t get the chance to kick back and listen to another’s purring drone very often, but when Patrick delivers the musing about Fran’s hair, there was a little patter in this dark heart o’mine. And if you think all babies are angelic beauties and that children are some sort of personification of happiness, this may help set you straight — and in that sense, it’s a morality story. Hope you like. More from me next week. tag:odeo.com,2009-07-09,24776545 Thu, 09 Jul 2009 14:23:41 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Relationships, sex, guest, american, Carver, Raymond, guestreader http://odeo.com/episodes/24750038-Hollow Breece D’J Pancake was brought to my attention only a couple of years ago, one of those writers who didn’t leave a whole lot left behind for us to gluttonously swallow, and one who was willing to grab the short story by the balls of its form and steer it where he wanted. In his forward to the collection of Pancake’s stories, James Alan McPherson quotes from a letter he received from Pancake: “Anyway, what was that Latin phrase about the Obligation of Nobility? If it’s what I think it means — helping folks — it isn’t bad as a duty or a calling. We’d both better get back to work.” And there are some stories that cause us to shake the fog forcibly from our head, that draw our pens to the paper and force us to get back to work. And let me tell you something, these stories do that. And I know it’s summertime and we should take it easy and allow ourselves to dawdle in the sun, but if you need a firecracker tossed under your... Breece D’J Pancake was brought to my attention only a couple of years ago, one of those writers who didn’t leave a whole lot left behind for us to gluttonously swallow, and one who was willing to grab the short story by the balls of its form and steer it where he wanted. In his forward to the collection of Pancake’s stories, James Alan McPherson quotes from a letter he received from Pancake: “Anyway, what was that Latin phrase about the Obligation of Nobility? If it’s what I think it means — helping folks — it isn’t bad as a duty or a calling. We’d both better get back to work.” And there are some stories that cause us to shake the fog forcibly from our head, that draw our pens to the paper and force us to get back to work. And let me tell you something, these stories do that. And I know it’s summertime and we should take it easy and allow ourselves to dawdle in the sun, but if you need a firecracker tossed under your feet to get you to dance, you should have a listen. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to trying to glue the heads back on my flowers. Breece D’J Pancake was brought to my attention only a couple of years ago, one of those writers who didn’t leave a whole lot left behind for us to gluttonously swallow, and one who was willing to grab the short story by the balls of its form and steer it where he wanted. In his forward to the collection of Pancake’s stories, James Alan McPherson quotes from a letter he received from Pancake: “Anyway, what was that Latin phrase about the Obligation of Nobility? If it’s what I think it means — helping folks — it isn’t bad as a duty or a calling. We’d both better get back to work.” And there are some stories that cause us to shake the fog forcibly from our head, that draw our pens to the paper and force us to get back to work. And let me tell you something, these stories do that. And I know it’s summertime and we should take it easy and allow ourselves to dawdle in the sun, but if you need a firecracker tossed under your feet to get you to dance, you should have a listen. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to trying to glue the heads back on my flowers. tag:odeo.com,2009-07-01,24750038 Wed, 01 Jul 2009 12:47:20 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast american, american south, appalachian, Pancake, Breece D'J http://odeo.com/episodes/24707767-An-Encounter I’m so excited about Bloomsday that I’m sharing the love a day early this year. In fact, I was so excited that I almost went ahead and read all the stories from Dubliners that I haven’t yet done for you, but then it hit me that I’d have to move forward next year with my plan to do Ulysses in its entirety. And, well, I don’t know if I have the pipes for that yet. And I don’t know if you have the perseverance to listen to me indulge the Joyce itch. Because then I think, well, if I were to consider reading Ulysses, then what I really should do is find some balls and put them on the table (eh, proverbially) and read the Wake to you. And that’s just crazy thinking. Meanwhile, Happy Bloomsday and here’s another from Dubliners. I’m so excited about Bloomsday that I’m sharing the love a day early this year. In fact, I was so excited that I almost went ahead and read all the stories from Dubliners that I haven’t yet done for you, but then it hit me that I’d have to move forward next year with my plan to do Ulysses in its entirety. And, well, I don’t know if I have the pipes for that yet. And I don’t know if you have the perseverance to listen to me indulge the Joyce itch. Because then I think, well, if I were to consider reading Ulysses, then what I really should do is find some balls and put them on the table (eh, proverbially) and read the Wake to you. And that’s just crazy thinking. Meanwhile, Happy Bloomsday and here’s another from Dubliners. I’m so excited about Bloomsday that I’m sharing the love a day early this year. In fact, I was so excited that I almost went ahead and read all the stories from Dubliners that I haven’t yet done for you, but then it hit me that I’d have to move forward next year with my plan to do Ulysses in its entirety. And, well, I don’t know if I have the pipes for that yet. And I don’t know if you have the perseverance to listen to me indulge the Joyce itch. Because then I think, well, if I were to consider reading Ulysses, then what I really should do is find some balls and put them on the table (eh, proverbially) and read the Wake to you. And that’s just crazy thinking. Meanwhile, Happy Bloomsday and here’s another from Dubliners. tag:odeo.com,2009-06-15,24707767 Mon, 15 Jun 2009 10:35:40 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Joyce, James http://odeo.com/episodes/24634041-The-Sailor-Boy%E2%80%99s-Tale Twice now I’ve sat down to read something from Isak Dinesen’s Winter’s Tales , and twice when pawing through for a good story, I’ve ended up spending hours re-reading the stories in here, to the point of distracted negligence, but to the point of great self-satisfaction nevertheless. One day I’ll just relent and read them all to you, but that’d be a big project, and if you’re anything like me, you’re already running on the fumes of big projects. And if you’re smarter than me, you’ll have discovered a long time ago that when you have too many big projects, the best way to make absolutely certain that you don’t forget to do another one is to tell the Internet about it then whet its palette with anticipation. And you can do so with such a painful and potentially-affected self-consciousness as to ensure that you’ll be forgiven if it takes you a decade to follow through on that promise. And if you’re as tight-f... Twice now I’ve sat down to read something from Isak Dinesen’s Winter’s Tales , and twice when pawing through for a good story, I’ve ended up spending hours re-reading the stories in here, to the point of distracted negligence, but to the point of great self-satisfaction nevertheless. One day I’ll just relent and read them all to you, but that’d be a big project, and if you’re anything like me, you’re already running on the fumes of big projects. And if you’re smarter than me, you’ll have discovered a long time ago that when you have too many big projects, the best way to make absolutely certain that you don’t forget to do another one is to tell the Internet about it then whet its palette with anticipation. And you can do so with such a painful and potentially-affected self-consciousness as to ensure that you’ll be forgiven if it takes you a decade to follow through on that promise. And if you’re as tight-fisted as me, you’ll know that this way of going about things is way cheaper than seeing a shrink. But in any event, if you don’t know the Winter’s Tales, you should read them yourselves. For now, I’ve settled on that which I find most fabulist and late-springish in its step. Twice now I’ve sat down to read something from Isak Dinesen’s Winter’s Tales , and twice when pawing through for a good story, I’ve ended up spending hours re-reading the stories in here, to the point of distracted negligence, but to the point of great self-satisfaction nevertheless. One day I’ll just relent and read them all to you, but that’d be a big project, and if you’re anything like me, you’re already running on the fumes of big projects. And if you’re smarter than me, you’ll have discovered a long time ago that when you have too many big projects, the best way to make absolutely certain that you don’t forget to do another one is to tell the Internet about it then whet its palette with anticipation. And you can do so with such a painful and potentially-affected self-consciousness as to ensure that you’ll be forgiven if it takes you a decade to follow through on that promise. And if you’re as tight-fisted as me, you’ll know that this way of going about things is way cheaper than seeing a shrink. But in any event, if you don’t know the Winter’s Tales, you should read them yourselves. For now, I’ve settled on that which I find most fabulist and late-springish in its step. tag:odeo.com,2009-05-31,24634041 Sun, 31 May 2009 14:02:27 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Student, Women, Fable, wonderful, scandinavian, Dinesen, Isak http://odeo.com/episodes/24552124-The-Silver-Hilt Okay, okay, you all keep asking for me to read writers you know, and I keep dipping into the well of obscurity to pick up writers you’ve never heard of. I know! I’ll read the writers you know, maybe, but you have to tell me which ones you want to hear. And until you do, I’m just going to continue to flip over rocks and turn up amazing archeoliterary pearls like this. Do you know this story? Probably not. Should you listen anyway? Yes, if you want your socks knocked right off your feet. Come to think of it, getting one’s socks knocked off is one of those idioms that doesn’t sound like much fun, especially if your feet aren’t just washed. Or if it’s cold where you are. If you wish to throw your arms around your nerdish side, here’s the most convincing enumeration I’ve found for the origin of the phrase. Or, if you just want to sit back and stick your feet up and see what it’s like to have your socks knocked off, listen on. Okay, okay, you all keep asking for me to read writers you know, and I keep dipping into the well of obscurity to pick up writers you’ve never heard of. I know! I’ll read the writers you know, maybe, but you have to tell me which ones you want to hear. And until you do, I’m just going to continue to flip over rocks and turn up amazing archeoliterary pearls like this. Do you know this story? Probably not. Should you listen anyway? Yes, if you want your socks knocked right off your feet. Come to think of it, getting one’s socks knocked off is one of those idioms that doesn’t sound like much fun, especially if your feet aren’t just washed. Or if it’s cold where you are. If you wish to throw your arms around your nerdish side, here’s the most convincing enumeration I’ve found for the origin of the phrase. Or, if you just want to sit back and stick your feet up and see what it’s like to have your socks knocked off, listen on. Okay, okay, you all keep asking for me to read writers you know, and I keep dipping into the well of obscurity to pick up writers you’ve never heard of. I know! I’ll read the writers you know, maybe, but you have to tell me which ones you want to hear. And until you do, I’m just going to continue to flip over rocks and turn up amazing archeoliterary pearls like this. Do you know this story? Probably not. Should you listen anyway? Yes, if you want your socks knocked right off your feet. Come to think of it, getting one’s socks knocked off is one of those idioms that doesn’t sound like much fun, especially if your feet aren’t just washed. Or if it’s cold where you are. If you wish to throw your arms around your nerdish side, here’s the most convincing enumeration I’ve found for the origin of the phrase. Or, if you just want to sit back and stick your feet up and see what it’s like to have your socks knocked off, listen on. tag:odeo.com,2009-05-11,24552124 Mon, 11 May 2009 06:04:12 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Hungarian, playwright, Molnar, Ferenc http://odeo.com/episodes/25398442-A-Game-of-Catch It’s always a little weird to me to read a sports story, with idioms like “burning one in” that are just so far removed from my patois that I can barely even get my mouth to go in that direction. And it’s equally odd to try and project teenage boy-speak, because it’s been quite a while since I’ve taken an interest in the mannerisms of teenage boys. But it’s springtime, and nothing’s more appropriate than boys and baseball. So here’s a little bit of both, no matter how much “burning one in” seems like the last thing you want a teenage boy to do. But consider yourself forewarned: this is not a work of jolly maypole-dancing return-to-innocence, though it is appropriate and recommended for young and old, whether in classroom, cabana, cubicle or coffin. In sadder news, J.G. Ballard has died, and I encourage you to have a listen to this reading of The Assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy Considered as a Downhill Motor R... It’s always a little weird to me to read a sports story, with idioms like “burning one in” that are just so far removed from my patois that I can barely even get my mouth to go in that direction. And it’s equally odd to try and project teenage boy-speak, because it’s been quite a while since I’ve taken an interest in the mannerisms of teenage boys. But it’s springtime, and nothing’s more appropriate than boys and baseball. So here’s a little bit of both, no matter how much “burning one in” seems like the last thing you want a teenage boy to do. But consider yourself forewarned: this is not a work of jolly maypole-dancing return-to-innocence, though it is appropriate and recommended for young and old, whether in classroom, cabana, cubicle or coffin. In sadder news, J.G. Ballard has died, and I encourage you to have a listen to this reading of The Assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy Considered as a Downhill Motor Race. And then you might need to go out and read everything he’s ever read, and thank me for it. It’s always a little weird to me to read a sports story, with idioms like “burning one in” that are just so far removed from my patois that I can barely even get my mouth to go in that direction. And it’s equally odd to try and project teenage boy-speak, because it’s been quite a while since I’ve taken an interest in the mannerisms of teenage boys. But it’s springtime, and nothing’s more appropriate than boys and baseball. So here’s a little bit of both, no matter how much “burning one in” seems like the last thing you want a teenage boy to do. But consider yourself forewarned: this is not a work of jolly maypole-dancing return-to-innocence, though it is appropriate and recommended for young and old, whether in classroom, cabana, cubicle or coffin. In sadder news, J.G. Ballard has died, and I encourage you to have a listen to this reading of The Assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy Considered as a Downhill Motor Race. And then you might need to go out and read everything he’s ever read, and thank me for it. tag:odeo.com,2009-04-20,25398442 Mon, 20 Apr 2009 12:30:07 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Student, american, Contemporary, poet, Wilbur, Richard http://odeo.com/episodes/24474680-A-Game-of-Catch It’s always a little weird to me to read a sports story, with idioms like “burning one in” that are just so far removed from my patois that I can barely even get my mouth to go in that direction. And it’s equally odd to try and project teenage boy-speak, because it’s been quite a while since I’ve taken an interest in the mannerisms of teenage boys. But it’s springtime, and nothing’s more appropriate than boys and baseball. So here’s a little bit of both, no matter how much “burning one in” seems like the last thing you want a teenage boy to do. But consider yourself forewarned: this is not a work of jolly maypole-dancing return-to-innocence, though it is appropriate and recommended for young and old, whether in classroom, cabana, cubicle or coffin. In sadder news, J.G. Ballard has died, and I encourage you to have a listen to this reading of The Assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy Considered as a Downhill Motor R... It’s always a little weird to me to read a sports story, with idioms like “burning one in” that are just so far removed from my patois that I can barely even get my mouth to go in that direction. And it’s equally odd to try and project teenage boy-speak, because it’s been quite a while since I’ve taken an interest in the mannerisms of teenage boys. But it’s springtime, and nothing’s more appropriate than boys and baseball. So here’s a little bit of both, no matter how much “burning one in” seems like the last thing you want a teenage boy to do. But consider yourself forewarned: this is not a work of jolly maypole-dancing return-to-innocence, though it is appropriate and recommended for young and old, whether in classroom, cabana, cubicle or coffin. In sadder news, J.G. Ballard has died, and I encourage you to have a listen to this reading of The Assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy Considered as a Downhill Motor Race. And then you might need to go out and read everything he’s ever read, and thank me for it. It’s always a little weird to me to read a sports story, with idioms like “burning one in” that are just so far removed from my patois that I can barely even get my mouth to go in that direction. And it’s equally odd to try and project teenage boy-speak, because it’s been quite a while since I’ve taken an interest in the mannerisms of teenage boys. But it’s springtime, and nothing’s more appropriate than boys and baseball. So here’s a little bit of both, no matter how much “burning one in” seems like the last thing you want a teenage boy to do. But consider yourself forewarned: this is not a work of jolly maypole-dancing return-to-innocence, though it is appropriate and recommended for young and old, whether in classroom, cabana, cubicle or coffin. In sadder news, J.G. Ballard has died, and I encourage you to have a listen to this reading of The Assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy Considered as a Downhill Motor Race. And then you might need to go out and read everything he’s ever read, and thank me for it. tag:odeo.com,2009-04-20,24474680 Mon, 20 Apr 2009 11:30:07 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Student, american, Contemporary, poet, Wilbur, Richard http://odeo.com/episodes/25398443-The-Burning-City Boy, I sure am all kinds of flushed with the Scandinavs these days. Maybe it’s my compassion for others plying their way through long cold winters, or maybe it’s my assertion that gravlaks is a flawless food, or maybe it’s just what they’re willing to pay for a beer is a most resonant sacrifice. Or maybe they’re just loaded with great writers. But if you had to lay a fresh twenty on what countries would sit atop Miette’s Trove of Literary Masters (and god knows you should let me in on such a bet were you to place one) you’d win big by betting all on Nordic. On a not-unrelated-note, I’ve got these things called “tags” in place on this web site, which would have been a Real Big Deal about seven years ago, and which I’m just now getting around to. It’s not complete, but it allows you to do things like see all the Scandinavian stories I’ve read, and slap your forehead in disgust at how many more I need to read... Boy, I sure am all kinds of flushed with the Scandinavs these days. Maybe it’s my compassion for others plying their way through long cold winters, or maybe it’s my assertion that gravlaks is a flawless food, or maybe it’s just what they’re willing to pay for a beer is a most resonant sacrifice. Or maybe they’re just loaded with great writers. But if you had to lay a fresh twenty on what countries would sit atop Miette’s Trove of Literary Masters (and god knows you should let me in on such a bet were you to place one) you’d win big by betting all on Nordic. On a not-unrelated-note, I’ve got these things called “tags” in place on this web site, which would have been a Real Big Deal about seven years ago, and which I’m just now getting around to. It’s not complete, but it allows you to do things like see all the Scandinavian stories I’ve read, and slap your forehead in disgust at how many more I need to read. I suppose this could be useful if you ever find yourself in a mood. Expect things to get interesting around here. Har det bra! Boy, I sure am all kinds of flushed with the Scandinavs these days. Maybe it’s my compassion for others plying their way through long cold winters, or maybe it’s my assertion that gravlaks is a flawless food, or maybe it’s just what they’re willing to pay for a beer is a most resonant sacrifice. Or maybe they’re just loaded with great writers. But if you had to lay a fresh twenty on what countries would sit atop Miette’s Trove of Literary Masters (and god knows you should let me in on such a bet were you to place one) you’d win big by betting all on Nordic. On a not-unrelated-note, I’ve got these things called “tags” in place on this web site, which would have been a Real Big Deal about seven years ago, and which I’m just now getting around to. It’s not complete, but it allows you to do things like see all the Scandinavian stories I’ve read, and slap your forehead in disgust at how many more I need to read. I suppose this could be useful if you ever find yourself in a mood. Expect things to get interesting around here. Har det bra! tag:odeo.com,2009-04-07,25398443 Tue, 07 Apr 2009 12:13:46 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast youth, swedish, scandinavian, Söderberg, Hjalmar http://odeo.com/episodes/24421475-The-Burning-City Boy, I sure am all kinds of flushed with the Scandinavs these days. Maybe it’s my compassion for others plying their way through long cold winters, or maybe it’s my assertion that gravlaks is a flawless food, or maybe it’s just what they’re willing to pay for a beer is a most resonant sacrifice. Or maybe they’re just loaded with great writers. But if you had to lay a fresh twenty on what countries would sit atop Miette’s Trove of Literary Masters (and god knows you should let me in on such a bet were you to place one) you’d win big by betting all on Nordic. On a not-unrelated-note, I’ve got these things called “tags” in place on this web site, which would have been a Real Big Deal about seven years ago, and which I’m just now getting around to. It’s not complete, but it allows you to do things like see all the Scandinavian stories I’ve read, and slap your forehead in disgust at how many more I need to read... Boy, I sure am all kinds of flushed with the Scandinavs these days. Maybe it’s my compassion for others plying their way through long cold winters, or maybe it’s my assertion that gravlaks is a flawless food, or maybe it’s just what they’re willing to pay for a beer is a most resonant sacrifice. Or maybe they’re just loaded with great writers. But if you had to lay a fresh twenty on what countries would sit atop Miette’s Trove of Literary Masters (and god knows you should let me in on such a bet were you to place one) you’d win big by betting all on Nordic. On a not-unrelated-note, I’ve got these things called “tags” in place on this web site, which would have been a Real Big Deal about seven years ago, and which I’m just now getting around to. It’s not complete, but it allows you to do things like see all the Scandinavian stories I’ve read, and slap your forehead in disgust at how many more I need to read. I suppose this could be useful if you ever find yourself in a mood. Expect things to get interesting around here. Har det bra! Boy, I sure am all kinds of flushed with the Scandinavs these days. Maybe it’s my compassion for others plying their way through long cold winters, or maybe it’s my assertion that gravlaks is a flawless food, or maybe it’s just what they’re willing to pay for a beer is a most resonant sacrifice. Or maybe they’re just loaded with great writers. But if you had to lay a fresh twenty on what countries would sit atop Miette’s Trove of Literary Masters (and god knows you should let me in on such a bet were you to place one) you’d win big by betting all on Nordic. On a not-unrelated-note, I’ve got these things called “tags” in place on this web site, which would have been a Real Big Deal about seven years ago, and which I’m just now getting around to. It’s not complete, but it allows you to do things like see all the Scandinavian stories I’ve read, and slap your forehead in disgust at how many more I need to read. I suppose this could be useful if you ever find yourself in a mood. Expect things to get interesting around here. Har det bra! tag:odeo.com,2009-04-07,24421475 Tue, 07 Apr 2009 11:13:46 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast youth, swedish, scandinavian, Söderberg, Hjalmar http://odeo.com/episodes/25398444-Madame-de-Luzy Tonight’s story came from one of several boxes of books that were recently given to me by a stranger, someone apparently vying for the title of Miette’s Best Friend. And as I mention when reading tonight’s story, this alone makes today one of the best days anybody’s had, in a good long while (if not EVER). There are some real treasures here, among them, a wilderness guide from 1979 written not by an enthusiastic back-to-the-land trailblazer, but by a wondrously grizzled mind capable of gems like this: At this point, I’d like to throw in a few words about the bright blue, red, dazzling yellow, and orange fabrics used in outdoor clothing, pack bags, and tents. Millions of hikers and backpackers wearing these gaudy colors are turning the wilderness into one vast Coney Island. You look out across a magnificent forested valley. Not a sign of humans anywhere. No? Look again. Over on the far side is a trail, and suddenly you see it — a moving bright red ... Tonight’s story came from one of several boxes of books that were recently given to me by a stranger, someone apparently vying for the title of Miette’s Best Friend. And as I mention when reading tonight’s story, this alone makes today one of the best days anybody’s had, in a good long while (if not EVER). There are some real treasures here, among them, a wilderness guide from 1979 written not by an enthusiastic back-to-the-land trailblazer, but by a wondrously grizzled mind capable of gems like this: At this point, I’d like to throw in a few words about the bright blue, red, dazzling yellow, and orange fabrics used in outdoor clothing, pack bags, and tents. Millions of hikers and backpackers wearing these gaudy colors are turning the wilderness into one vast Coney Island. You look out across a magnificent forested valley. Not a sign of humans anywhere. No? Look again. Over on the far side is a trail, and suddenly you see it — a moving bright red spot, followed by another, and then another, four altogether. It looks like a line of red ants marching along single file. Your vision of the vast wilderness is ruined. Had these hikers been wearing forest green, brown, or russet clothes and packs, they would never have been seen at that distance. When you enter an established campsite, what do you find? Maybe dozens of tents so brightly colored that they practically knock your eye out. This colorful practice is a relatively new phenomenon. The old idea was to wear colors and live in tents that blended and harmonized with the greenwood. I don’t understand these brightly colored “environmentalists.” They must be colorblind! Of course, if he’d written this today, he’d be condemned for his impolitic prejudice against the colorblind. Know that I’m reprinting this passage for stylistic and training purposes ONLY, and by no means think that the colorblind population is incapable of selecting forest-appropriate outdoor clothing. Tonight’s story came from one of several boxes of books that were recently given to me by a stranger, someone apparently vying for the title of Miette’s Best Friend. And as I mention when reading tonight’s story, this alone makes today one of the best days anybody’s had, in a good long while (if not EVER). There are some real treasures here, among them, a wilderness guide from 1979 written not by an enthusiastic back-to-the-land trailblazer, but by a wondrously grizzled mind capable of gems like this: At this point, I’d like to throw in a few words about the bright blue, red, dazzling yellow, and orange fabrics used in outdoor clothing, pack bags, and tents. Millions of hikers and backpackers wearing these gaudy colors are turning the wilderness into one vast Coney Island. You look out across a magnificent forested valley. Not a sign of humans anywhere. No? Look again. Over on the far side is a trail, and suddenly you see it — a moving bright red spot, followed by another, and then another, four altogether. It looks like a line of red ants marching along single file. Your vision of the vast wilderness is ruined. Had these hikers been wearing forest green, brown, or russet clothes and packs, they would never have been seen at that distance. When you enter an established campsite, what do you find? Maybe dozens of tents so brightly colored that they practically knock your eye out. This colorful practice is a relatively new phenomenon. The old idea was to wear colors and live in tents that blended and harmonized with the greenwood. I don’t understand these brightly colored “environmentalists.” They must be colorblind! Of course, if he’d written this today, he’d be condemned for his impolitic prejudice against the colorblind. Know that I’m reprinting this passage for stylistic and training purposes ONLY, and by no means think that the colorblind population is incapable of selecting forest-appropriate outdoor clothing. tag:odeo.com,2009-03-25,25398444 Wed, 25 Mar 2009 11:54:41 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast French, France, Anatole http://odeo.com/episodes/24359759-Madame-de-Luzy Tonight’s story came from one of several boxes of books that were recently given to me by a stranger, someone apparently vying for the title of Miette’s Best Friend. And as I mention when reading tonight’s story, this alone makes today one of the best days anybody’s had, in a good long while (if not EVER). There are some real treasures here, among them, a wilderness guide from 1979 written not by an enthusiastic back-to-the-land trailblazer, but by a wondrously grizzled mind capable of gems like this: At this point, I’d like to throw in a few words about the bright blue, red, dazzling yellow, and orange fabrics used in outdoor clothing, pack bags, and tents. Millions of hikers and backpackers wearing these gaudy colors are turning the wilderness into one vast Coney Island. You look out across a magnificent forested valley. Not a sign of humans anywhere. No? Look again. Over on the far side is a trail, and suddenly you see it — a moving bright red ... Tonight’s story came from one of several boxes of books that were recently given to me by a stranger, someone apparently vying for the title of Miette’s Best Friend. And as I mention when reading tonight’s story, this alone makes today one of the best days anybody’s had, in a good long while (if not EVER). There are some real treasures here, among them, a wilderness guide from 1979 written not by an enthusiastic back-to-the-land trailblazer, but by a wondrously grizzled mind capable of gems like this: At this point, I’d like to throw in a few words about the bright blue, red, dazzling yellow, and orange fabrics used in outdoor clothing, pack bags, and tents. Millions of hikers and backpackers wearing these gaudy colors are turning the wilderness into one vast Coney Island. You look out across a magnificent forested valley. Not a sign of humans anywhere. No? Look again. Over on the far side is a trail, and suddenly you see it — a moving bright red spot, followed by another, and then another, four altogether. It looks like a line of red ants marching along single file. Your vision of the vast wilderness is ruined. Had these hikers been wearing forest green, brown, or russet clothes and packs, they would never have been seen at that distance. When you enter an established campsite, what do you find? Maybe dozens of tents so brightly colored that they practically knock your eye out. This colorful practice is a relatively new phenomenon. The old idea was to wear colors and live in tents that blended and harmonized with the greenwood. I don’t understand these brightly colored “environmentalists.” They must be colorblind! Of course, if he’d written this today, he’d be condemned for his impolitic prejudice against the colorblind. Know that I’m reprinting this passage for stylistic and training purposes ONLY, and by no means think that the colorblind population is incapable of selecting forest-appropriate outdoor clothing. Tonight’s story came from one of several boxes of books that were recently given to me by a stranger, someone apparently vying for the title of Miette’s Best Friend. And as I mention when reading tonight’s story, this alone makes today one of the best days anybody’s had, in a good long while (if not EVER). There are some real treasures here, among them, a wilderness guide from 1979 written not by an enthusiastic back-to-the-land trailblazer, but by a wondrously grizzled mind capable of gems like this: At this point, I’d like to throw in a few words about the bright blue, red, dazzling yellow, and orange fabrics used in outdoor clothing, pack bags, and tents. Millions of hikers and backpackers wearing these gaudy colors are turning the wilderness into one vast Coney Island. You look out across a magnificent forested valley. Not a sign of humans anywhere. No? Look again. Over on the far side is a trail, and suddenly you see it — a moving bright red spot, followed by another, and then another, four altogether. It looks like a line of red ants marching along single file. Your vision of the vast wilderness is ruined. Had these hikers been wearing forest green, brown, or russet clothes and packs, they would never have been seen at that distance. When you enter an established campsite, what do you find? Maybe dozens of tents so brightly colored that they practically knock your eye out. This colorful practice is a relatively new phenomenon. The old idea was to wear colors and live in tents that blended and harmonized with the greenwood. I don’t understand these brightly colored “environmentalists.” They must be colorblind! Of course, if he’d written this today, he’d be condemned for his impolitic prejudice against the colorblind. Know that I’m reprinting this passage for stylistic and training purposes ONLY, and by no means think that the colorblind population is incapable of selecting forest-appropriate outdoor clothing. tag:odeo.com,2009-03-25,24359759 Wed, 25 Mar 2009 10:54:41 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast French, France, Anatole http://odeo.com/episodes/25398446-Three-Letters%E2%80%A6-and-a-Footnote This is on the lighter end of Horacio Quiroga’s stories, which (of those I’ve read) tend to have more to do with death and desolation than the streetcar indiscretions we’ve got here. But it’s March, and I’m springing forward and bringing you with me, merrily because there’s no unsightly wad of money in our pockets to weigh us down, by hook or by crook. Which is just to say, the best way to enjoy this one is on the portable music player of your choice, while skipping through a jasmine field with a ribbon in your hair. This is on the lighter end of Horacio Quiroga’s stories, which (of those I’ve read) tend to have more to do with death and desolation than the streetcar indiscretions we’ve got here. But it’s March, and I’m springing forward and bringing you with me, merrily because there’s no unsightly wad of money in our pockets to weigh us down, by hook or by crook. Which is just to say, the best way to enjoy this one is on the portable music player of your choice, while skipping through a jasmine field with a ribbon in your hair. This is on the lighter end of Horacio Quiroga’s stories, which (of those I’ve read) tend to have more to do with death and desolation than the streetcar indiscretions we’ve got here. But it’s March, and I’m springing forward and bringing you with me, merrily because there’s no unsightly wad of money in our pockets to weigh us down, by hook or by crook. Which is just to say, the best way to enjoy this one is on the portable music player of your choice, while skipping through a jasmine field with a ribbon in your hair. tag:odeo.com,2009-03-09,25398446 Mon, 09 Mar 2009 08:11:43 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast uruguay, Quiroga, Horacio, south american, latin american http://odeo.com/episodes/24277786-Three-Letters%E2%80%A6-and-a-Footnote This is on the lighter end of Horacio Quiroga’s stories, which (of those I’ve read) tend to have more to do with death and desolation than the streetcar indiscretions we’ve got here. But it’s March, and I’m springing forward and bringing you with me, merrily because there’s no unsightly wad of money in our pockets to weigh us down, by hook or by crook. Which is just to say, the best way to enjoy this one is on the portable music player of your choice, while skipping through a jasmine field with a ribbon in your hair. This is on the lighter end of Horacio Quiroga’s stories, which (of those I’ve read) tend to have more to do with death and desolation than the streetcar indiscretions we’ve got here. But it’s March, and I’m springing forward and bringing you with me, merrily because there’s no unsightly wad of money in our pockets to weigh us down, by hook or by crook. Which is just to say, the best way to enjoy this one is on the portable music player of your choice, while skipping through a jasmine field with a ribbon in your hair. This is on the lighter end of Horacio Quiroga’s stories, which (of those I’ve read) tend to have more to do with death and desolation than the streetcar indiscretions we’ve got here. But it’s March, and I’m springing forward and bringing you with me, merrily because there’s no unsightly wad of money in our pockets to weigh us down, by hook or by crook. Which is just to say, the best way to enjoy this one is on the portable music player of your choice, while skipping through a jasmine field with a ribbon in your hair. tag:odeo.com,2009-03-09,24277786 Mon, 09 Mar 2009 07:11:43 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast uruguay, uruguayan fiction, Quiroga, Horacio, latin american fiction, south american fiction http://odeo.com/episodes/24196942-Various-Miracles More Canadian Short Fiction? You damned well bet– just check the calendar. On that note, I’m starting to think Carol Shields herself is somewhat of a miracle. For starters, look at this, from an interview on Canada as a landscape for writers: “We’re not big on heroes, either. The concept of heroes is alien. And I think that’s a very telling piece of our national ethos – no one deserves to be better than anyone else.” If I didn’t already secretly pine for Canada on an almost daily basis, this tips the scales to metric. And here’s another quote, which (for any Carol Shields scholars) I’d love to find in its original context and in full: “I’m concerned about the unknowability of other people…. That’s why I love biography and the idea of the human life told or shown. Of course, this is why I love novels, too. In novels, you get to hear how people are thinking. That’s why I read fiction.” In my (not nonexistent) experience, fiction is worth... More Canadian Short Fiction? You damned well bet– just check the calendar. On that note, I’m starting to think Carol Shields herself is somewhat of a miracle. For starters, look at this, from an interview on Canada as a landscape for writers: “We’re not big on heroes, either. The concept of heroes is alien. And I think that’s a very telling piece of our national ethos – no one deserves to be better than anyone else.” If I didn’t already secretly pine for Canada on an almost daily basis, this tips the scales to metric. And here’s another quote, which (for any Carol Shields scholars) I’d love to find in its original context and in full: “I’m concerned about the unknowability of other people…. That’s why I love biography and the idea of the human life told or shown. Of course, this is why I love novels, too. In novels, you get to hear how people are thinking. That’s why I read fiction.” In my (not nonexistent) experience, fiction is worth loving as it brings the reader insight into what an author must think is unknowable about people, which is often extremely dissimilar to what I find unknowable about people. But I think the gist is there. A disclaimer: You should know that this is the story that opens the collection of the same name. You should also know that the stories in this collection, while not mutually dependent, are definitely mutually more fascinating. Which is just a tip that if this is your cuppa, you should run out and snag yourself a copy, and read every last one. More Canadian Short Fiction? You damned well bet– just check the calendar. On that note, I’m starting to think Carol Shields herself is somewhat of a miracle. For starters, look at this, from an interview on Canada as a landscape for writers: “We’re not big on heroes, either. The concept of heroes is alien. And I think that’s a very telling piece of our national ethos – no one deserves to be better than anyone else.” If I didn’t already secretly pine for Canada on an almost daily basis, this tips the scales to metric. And here’s another quote, which (for any Carol Shields scholars) I’d love to find in its original context and in full: “I’m concerned about the unknowability of other people…. That’s why I love biography and the idea of the human life told or shown. Of course, this is why I love novels, too. In novels, you get to hear how people are thinking. That’s why I read fiction.” In my (not nonexistent) experience, fiction is worth loving as it brings the reader insight into what an author must think is unknowable about people, which is often extremely dissimilar to what I find unknowable about people. But I think the gist is there. A disclaimer: You should know that this is the story that opens the collection of the same name. You should also know that the stories in this collection, while not mutually dependent, are definitely mutually more fascinating. Which is just a tip that if this is your cuppa, you should run out and snag yourself a copy, and read every last one. tag:odeo.com,2009-02-24,24196942 Tue, 24 Feb 2009 11:50:46 -0800 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Shields, Carol http://odeo.com/episodes/24114367-The-Boat Canadian Short Fiction Month continues, as promised, with a story that seems obviously designed to be delivered from the lips straight to the ears. There’s so much beauty tucked away in here of the sort you wouldn’t necessarily see on the page, unless you read to yourself with one of the voices in your head. Critically and academically, it’s the opening of this story that tends to get the most attention. But there’s an incredible rhythm throughout (the magnificence of which I likely don’t give justice), and it’s the ending that really got the chills going in this reader. I’d say more, but that’d spoil it. And for those who are here on academic assignment, you shouldn’t take this as any sort of criticism against the value or impact of the opener — listen to your teachers or professors. The opening is worth study. But listen through to the end (yes, it’s almost an hour long). It also makes prominent use of the word GALU... Canadian Short Fiction Month continues, as promised, with a story that seems obviously designed to be delivered from the lips straight to the ears. There’s so much beauty tucked away in here of the sort you wouldn’t necessarily see on the page, unless you read to yourself with one of the voices in your head. Critically and academically, it’s the opening of this story that tends to get the most attention. But there’s an incredible rhythm throughout (the magnificence of which I likely don’t give justice), and it’s the ending that really got the chills going in this reader. I’d say more, but that’d spoil it. And for those who are here on academic assignment, you shouldn’t take this as any sort of criticism against the value or impact of the opener — listen to your teachers or professors. The opening is worth study. But listen through to the end (yes, it’s almost an hour long). It also makes prominent use of the word GALUMPH, a word that doesn’t see nearly as much usage as it deserves. Coincidentally, when out for a woodsy walk this morning, my co-perambulator noticed a set of tracks in the snow and noted that they likely belonged to “something large, galumphing.” And following so closely on the heels of my reading, left me all kinds of tickled. So we walked on, me in galumph-appreciative reverie, and stumbled upon a dead porcupine. I’m not sure if that was an omen or, more importantly, what it has to do with galumphing. Canadian Short Fiction Month continues, as promised, with a story that seems obviously designed to be delivered from the lips straight to the ears. There’s so much beauty tucked away in here of the sort you wouldn’t necessarily see on the page, unless you read to yourself with one of the voices in your head. Critically and academically, it’s the opening of this story that tends to get the most attention. But there’s an incredible rhythm throughout (the magnificence of which I likely don’t give justice), and it’s the ending that really got the chills going in this reader. I’d say more, but that’d spoil it. And for those who are here on academic assignment, you shouldn’t take this as any sort of criticism against the value or impact of the opener — listen to your teachers or professors. The opening is worth study. But listen through to the end (yes, it’s almost an hour long). It also makes prominent use of the word GALUMPH, a word that doesn’t see nearly as much usage as it deserves. Coincidentally, when out for a woodsy walk this morning, my co-perambulator noticed a set of tracks in the snow and noted that they likely belonged to “something large, galumphing.” And following so closely on the heels of my reading, left me all kinds of tickled. So we walked on, me in galumph-appreciative reverie, and stumbled upon a dead porcupine. I’m not sure if that was an omen or, more importantly, what it has to do with galumphing. tag:odeo.com,2009-02-16,24114367 Mon, 16 Feb 2009 11:32:23 -0800 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast MacLeod, Alistair http://odeo.com/episodes/24076615-The-Orchard If you’re reading this before listening to the podcast… and you know, I have no idea whether you read or listen first, or if you just read, or just listen, and find yourself lost on those rare occurrences where I can hold a thought long enough to prattle BOTH orally and epistolarily about it… but anyway, if you are, reading, and you also listen (but haven’t yet), and you’ve followed all this so far, then I’ll have to announce to you that, thanks to an email from an intrepid and observant listener (and/or reader; I don’t know), it has come to my attention that there aren’t enough Canadian authors represented here. Now, when this was first revealed to me, my knee started jerking and I impulsively wanted to hurl out BUT WHAT ABOUT Mavis Gallant! And Morley Callaghan!! But then I realized… that’s two names out of a BUNCH, and it’s about time I do something about it. And so, welcome to Canadian Short Fiction Month… y... If you’re reading this before listening to the podcast… and you know, I have no idea whether you read or listen first, or if you just read, or just listen, and find yourself lost on those rare occurrences where I can hold a thought long enough to prattle BOTH orally and epistolarily about it… but anyway, if you are, reading, and you also listen (but haven’t yet), and you’ve followed all this so far, then I’ll have to announce to you that, thanks to an email from an intrepid and observant listener (and/or reader; I don’t know), it has come to my attention that there aren’t enough Canadian authors represented here. Now, when this was first revealed to me, my knee started jerking and I impulsively wanted to hurl out BUT WHAT ABOUT Mavis Gallant! And Morley Callaghan!! But then I realized… that’s two names out of a BUNCH, and it’s about time I do something about it. And so, welcome to Canadian Short Fiction Month… yes, beginning almost half a month behind. For starters, I thought Mr J’s lovely comment deserved another school-age-worthy meditation courtesy of Ernest Buckler. And next? Send me the Canadian authors you’d have me read, and I’ll see how many I can get in. And if there are other groups under-represented, you should send them too. You can leave a comment, as always, or email me at miette (@) miettecast (.) com. The more you send, the more I’ll try to read this month, even with a throat full of (audibly detectable?) mucus. Deal? For Canada! If you’re reading this before listening to the podcast… and you know, I have no idea whether you read or listen first, or if you just read, or just listen, and find yourself lost on those rare occurrences where I can hold a thought long enough to prattle BOTH orally and epistolarily about it… but anyway, if you are, reading, and you also listen (but haven’t yet), and you’ve followed all this so far, then I’ll have to announce to you that, thanks to an email from an intrepid and observant listener (and/or reader; I don’t know), it has come to my attention that there aren’t enough Canadian authors represented here. Now, when this was first revealed to me, my knee started jerking and I impulsively wanted to hurl out BUT WHAT ABOUT Mavis Gallant! And Morley Callaghan!! But then I realized… that’s two names out of a BUNCH, and it’s about time I do something about it. And so, welcome to Canadian Short Fiction Month… yes, beginning almost half a month behind. For starters, I thought Mr J’s lovely comment deserved another school-age-worthy meditation courtesy of Ernest Buckler. And next? Send me the Canadian authors you’d have me read, and I’ll see how many I can get in. And if there are other groups under-represented, you should send them too. You can leave a comment, as always, or email me at miette (@) miettecast (.) com. The more you send, the more I’ll try to read this month, even with a throat full of (audibly detectable?) mucus. Deal? For Canada! tag:odeo.com,2009-02-12,24076615 Thu, 12 Feb 2009 13:34:19 -0800 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Buckler, Ernest http://odeo.com/episodes/23971959-It-Was I was sitting here eating little sugary hearts with terms of endearment printed on them. They’re pretty popular with the young people, and surely you must know them: cheap things, sort of disgusting in the way that totally fructosified food product is, but sort of terrific for the same reason. And besides, they’re candied hearts, which can’t be that bad. But I stopped to take a look at some of the platitudes printed on them, and proceeded to eat a U GO GIRL, two yellow EMAIL MEs, a GET REAL, a surprising amount of AWE SOME bits, and topped it off with a GOT CHA. Now, I don’t have that intimate a history with these candies, but I know they’ve been around for a while, and evidently the endearments have changed over the years. But GET REAL and GOT CHA seem more for bleeding hearts, not those of the more sugary variety, and I wondered if someone in the candy factory was trying to tell me something. Which didn’t stop me from eating the entire bag. Or t... I was sitting here eating little sugary hearts with terms of endearment printed on them. They’re pretty popular with the young people, and surely you must know them: cheap things, sort of disgusting in the way that totally fructosified food product is, but sort of terrific for the same reason. And besides, they’re candied hearts, which can’t be that bad. But I stopped to take a look at some of the platitudes printed on them, and proceeded to eat a U GO GIRL, two yellow EMAIL MEs, a GET REAL, a surprising amount of AWE SOME bits, and topped it off with a GOT CHA. Now, I don’t have that intimate a history with these candies, but I know they’ve been around for a while, and evidently the endearments have changed over the years. But GET REAL and GOT CHA seem more for bleeding hearts, not those of the more sugary variety, and I wondered if someone in the candy factory was trying to tell me something. Which didn’t stop me from eating the entire bag. Or thinking that had Zukofsky gotten a job coming up with things to print on candied hearts, I’d probably eat a bag every day. I was sitting here eating little sugary hearts with terms of endearment printed on them. They’re pretty popular with the young people, and surely you must know them: cheap things, sort of disgusting in the way that totally fructosified food product is, but sort of terrific for the same reason. And besides, they’re candied hearts, which can’t be that bad. But I stopped to take a look at some of the platitudes printed on them, and proceeded to eat a U GO GIRL, two yellow EMAIL MEs, a GET REAL, a surprising amount of AWE SOME bits, and topped it off with a GOT CHA. Now, I don’t have that intimate a history with these candies, but I know they’ve been around for a while, and evidently the endearments have changed over the years. But GET REAL and GOT CHA seem more for bleeding hearts, not those of the more sugary variety, and I wondered if someone in the candy factory was trying to tell me something. Which didn’t stop me from eating the entire bag. Or thinking that had Zukofsky gotten a job coming up with things to print on candied hearts, I’d probably eat a bag every day. tag:odeo.com,2009-01-28,23971959 Wed, 28 Jan 2009 14:15:11 -0800 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Zukofsky, Louis http://odeo.com/episodes/23861696-The-Hyannis-Port-Story I was talking to the resident genius here about false memories and the publishment thereof, when an idea emerged, an idea with such potential for industry salvation that there’s no choice but to document it here, in the interest of knowledge open-sourcing, or whatever. The idea involved all these made-up memoirs floating about these days, and what a shame it is that they all have to be disparaged, refunded, yanked from shelves or production processes, and so on, especially in times of economic struggle. The idea is to take a fraction of the shelves of the Memoir section at your local bookstore, and refashion them into an entirely new genre: the Memwasn’t. Or the Fauxmoir. Whatever. The name’s beside the point. But, think it over. It can be an inspiring game for authors, coming up with the most sensational, most unbelievably believable fake memoir imaginable. And at some point, there will be more and more of these books, and maybe no shortage of great ones, and peop... I was talking to the resident genius here about false memories and the publishment thereof, when an idea emerged, an idea with such potential for industry salvation that there’s no choice but to document it here, in the interest of knowledge open-sourcing, or whatever. The idea involved all these made-up memoirs floating about these days, and what a shame it is that they all have to be disparaged, refunded, yanked from shelves or production processes, and so on, especially in times of economic struggle. The idea is to take a fraction of the shelves of the Memoir section at your local bookstore, and refashion them into an entirely new genre: the Memwasn’t. Or the Fauxmoir. Whatever. The name’s beside the point. But, think it over. It can be an inspiring game for authors, coming up with the most sensational, most unbelievably believable fake memoir imaginable. And at some point, there will be more and more of these books, and maybe no shortage of great ones, and people will be ardently buying and reading them, and the language will evolve and what we know as Fiction will be known as Memwasn’t (or whatever), and we can have stimulating arguments about Literary Fauxmoirs vs Genre Fauxmoirs, and we’ll all be happy again, and rolling in no shortage of books. So there you have it, for any underemployed marketing brains just waiting for an idea to get you back in the game. All I want’s a credit at your awards speech. And to read all your fake memoirs… make em scandalous. I was talking to the resident genius here about false memories and the publishment thereof, when an idea emerged, an idea with such potential for industry salvation that there’s no choice but to document it here, in the interest of knowledge open-sourcing, or whatever. The idea involved all these made-up memoirs floating about these days, and what a shame it is that they all have to be disparaged, refunded, yanked from shelves or production processes, and so on, especially in times of economic struggle. The idea is to take a fraction of the shelves of the Memoir section at your local bookstore, and refashion them into an entirely new genre: the Memwasn’t. Or the Fauxmoir. Whatever. The name’s beside the point. But, think it over. It can be an inspiring game for authors, coming up with the most sensational, most unbelievably believable fake memoir imaginable. And at some point, there will be more and more of these books, and maybe no shortage of great ones, and people will be ardently buying and reading them, and the language will evolve and what we know as Fiction will be known as Memwasn’t (or whatever), and we can have stimulating arguments about Literary Fauxmoirs vs Genre Fauxmoirs, and we’ll all be happy again, and rolling in no shortage of books. So there you have it, for any underemployed marketing brains just waiting for an idea to get you back in the game. All I want’s a credit at your awards speech. And to read all your fake memoirs… make em scandalous. tag:odeo.com,2009-01-12,23861696 Mon, 12 Jan 2009 08:17:31 -0800 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Vonnegut, Kurt http://odeo.com/episodes/23740345-Raymond%E2%80%99s-Run A disclaimer: the Wiki says that tonight’s story is… how to put this… Big in Middle School Circles. But don’t let that put you off (especially if you yourself run in Middle School Circles, or are Big therein). I can be as big of an arrogant elitist as the next lady when it comes to my own sometimes obscurantist needs, but as anyone with a well-rounded appreciation of fiction, I can sit back and take a closer look at the forgotten gems of Middle School. Like those jelly shoes that ladies my age are supposed to nostalge about. Because we can reminisce about all these things, or read lines like this and put our hands up in admission of the ageless: “It’s about as real a smile as girls can do for each other, considering we don’t practice real smiling every day, you know…” That’s pretty good, right? Happy wintertime. A disclaimer: the Wiki says that tonight’s story is… how to put this… Big in Middle School Circles. But don’t let that put you off (especially if you yourself run in Middle School Circles, or are Big therein). I can be as big of an arrogant elitist as the next lady when it comes to my own sometimes obscurantist needs, but as anyone with a well-rounded appreciation of fiction, I can sit back and take a closer look at the forgotten gems of Middle School. Like those jelly shoes that ladies my age are supposed to nostalge about. Because we can reminisce about all these things, or read lines like this and put our hands up in admission of the ageless: “It’s about as real a smile as girls can do for each other, considering we don’t practice real smiling every day, you know…” That’s pretty good, right? Happy wintertime. A disclaimer: the Wiki says that tonight’s story is… how to put this… Big in Middle School Circles. But don’t let that put you off (especially if you yourself run in Middle School Circles, or are Big therein). I can be as big of an arrogant elitist as the next lady when it comes to my own sometimes obscurantist needs, but as anyone with a well-rounded appreciation of fiction, I can sit back and take a closer look at the forgotten gems of Middle School. Like those jelly shoes that ladies my age are supposed to nostalge about. Because we can reminisce about all these things, or read lines like this and put our hands up in admission of the ageless: “It’s about as real a smile as girls can do for each other, considering we don’t practice real smiling every day, you know…” That’s pretty good, right? Happy wintertime. tag:odeo.com,2008-12-11,23740345 Thu, 11 Dec 2008 11:13:53 -0800 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Bambara, Toni Cade http://odeo.com/episodes/23675226-In-Dreams-Begin-Responsibilities Well, pilgrims. It’s that day once again when the poisoned blankets of history are celebrated with turkey and squash. And I want to get all excited with you about Delmore Schwartz, and rave a while about how you should be able to listen to the rhythm of his narrative with an almost painful wistfulness for the days when poets were rockstars (even poets with given names like Delmore), and I’d love to get enthusiastically and prattily didactic about the structural inventions in this story and where they allowed fiction “to go” and so on etc ad blatherium. But then I remember: it’s That Day Once Again, and if I get you all excited about a story you might just suffer from some sort of post-tryptophanic hemorrhage before getting to the pumpkin pie, and that would be a disaster. So maybe instead you should just sit back, undo the button on your bluejeans (but, uh, not in -that- way) and have a quiet listen. Well, pilgrims. It’s that day once again when the poisoned blankets of history are celebrated with turkey and squash. And I want to get all excited with you about Delmore Schwartz, and rave a while about how you should be able to listen to the rhythm of his narrative with an almost painful wistfulness for the days when poets were rockstars (even poets with given names like Delmore), and I’d love to get enthusiastically and prattily didactic about the structural inventions in this story and where they allowed fiction “to go” and so on etc ad blatherium. But then I remember: it’s That Day Once Again, and if I get you all excited about a story you might just suffer from some sort of post-tryptophanic hemorrhage before getting to the pumpkin pie, and that would be a disaster. So maybe instead you should just sit back, undo the button on your bluejeans (but, uh, not in -that- way) and have a quiet listen. Well, pilgrims. It’s that day once again when the poisoned blankets of history are celebrated with turkey and squash. And I want to get all excited with you about Delmore Schwartz, and rave a while about how you should be able to listen to the rhythm of his narrative with an almost painful wistfulness for the days when poets were rockstars (even poets with given names like Delmore), and I’d love to get enthusiastically and prattily didactic about the structural inventions in this story and where they allowed fiction “to go” and so on etc ad blatherium. But then I remember: it’s That Day Once Again, and if I get you all excited about a story you might just suffer from some sort of post-tryptophanic hemorrhage before getting to the pumpkin pie, and that would be a disaster. So maybe instead you should just sit back, undo the button on your bluejeans (but, uh, not in -that- way) and have a quiet listen. tag:odeo.com,2008-11-26,23675226 Wed, 26 Nov 2008 18:14:22 -0800 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Schwartz, Delmore http://odeo.com/episodes/23609374-The-Specialist%E2%80%99s-Hat So it was decided that I needed a table, but in thinking about the sort of table I might need, for the purpose the table would serve, it was further decided that the table needed to have certain bench-like properties. A hybrid, as we say in these times. The problem is, as you may have heard, money in my country is not worth very much these days and table-benches are beyond my budget, and while there’s a new president whose first order of business, as you may have heard, will be to give me a new hybrid table-bench, I know better than to rely on economies and politics, and I went and gathered what I needed to fashion it myself. Now, I’m not the handiest of people, and I’m actually fairly dangerous when put in front of power tools and sharp edges and, you know, screws and such, but I built the damned thing, which grew increasingly complicated from the initial idea of Top and Legs, to include such delicate bench-like features as Rabbited Feet and Lots of Slatted Insert... So it was decided that I needed a table, but in thinking about the sort of table I might need, for the purpose the table would serve, it was further decided that the table needed to have certain bench-like properties. A hybrid, as we say in these times. The problem is, as you may have heard, money in my country is not worth very much these days and table-benches are beyond my budget, and while there’s a new president whose first order of business, as you may have heard, will be to give me a new hybrid table-bench, I know better than to rely on economies and politics, and I went and gathered what I needed to fashion it myself. Now, I’m not the handiest of people, and I’m actually fairly dangerous when put in front of power tools and sharp edges and, you know, screws and such, but I built the damned thing, which grew increasingly complicated from the initial idea of Top and Legs, to include such delicate bench-like features as Rabbited Feet and Lots of Slatted Inserts and Dependence on Measurements, and no shortage of other over-ambitious features for an unhandy sort. But it’s built. It’s wonky as all-hell, and if you’re ever over at my house and I invite you to sit on it, it can probably be safely said that I’m not your biggest fan. But it’s built– it’s my civic duty to let you all know that, wonkily or not, I’ve done my civic duty. And now it’s time to sit back and read more stories. So it was decided that I needed a table, but in thinking about the sort of table I might need, for the purpose the table would serve, it was further decided that the table needed to have certain bench-like properties. A hybrid, as we say in these times. The problem is, as you may have heard, money in my country is not worth very much these days and table-benches are beyond my budget, and while there’s a new president whose first order of business, as you may have heard, will be to give me a new hybrid table-bench, I know better than to rely on economies and politics, and I went and gathered what I needed to fashion it myself. Now, I’m not the handiest of people, and I’m actually fairly dangerous when put in front of power tools and sharp edges and, you know, screws and such, but I built the damned thing, which grew increasingly complicated from the initial idea of Top and Legs, to include such delicate bench-like features as Rabbited Feet and Lots of Slatted Inserts and Dependence on Measurements, and no shortage of other over-ambitious features for an unhandy sort. But it’s built. It’s wonky as all-hell, and if you’re ever over at my house and I invite you to sit on it, it can probably be safely said that I’m not your biggest fan. But it’s built– it’s my civic duty to let you all know that, wonkily or not, I’ve done my civic duty. And now it’s time to sit back and read more stories. tag:odeo.com,2008-11-11,23609374 Tue, 11 Nov 2008 17:34:23 -0800 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Link, Kelly http://odeo.com/episodes/23513964-The-Quilt This was going to go up during Banned Books week, but then I got a nasty visit from Uncle Rhinovire, and then there was the trip to the Akvariet and then it hit me that neither a short story nor the oral presentation of one qualify, really, as a “Banned Book,” although for reasons that will become evident, this story has been pretty broadly banned (read: it errs on the side of racy). But that said, I’m happy to take your vote on what our young heroine saw beneath the quilt. A hint: I’m pretty sure it was not, in fact, an elephant. This was going to go up during Banned Books week, but then I got a nasty visit from Uncle Rhinovire, and then there was the trip to the Akvariet and then it hit me that neither a short story nor the oral presentation of one qualify, really, as a “Banned Book,” although for reasons that will become evident, this story has been pretty broadly banned (read: it errs on the side of racy). But that said, I’m happy to take your vote on what our young heroine saw beneath the quilt. A hint: I’m pretty sure it was not, in fact, an elephant. This was going to go up during Banned Books week, but then I got a nasty visit from Uncle Rhinovire, and then there was the trip to the Akvariet and then it hit me that neither a short story nor the oral presentation of one qualify, really, as a “Banned Book,” although for reasons that will become evident, this story has been pretty broadly banned (read: it errs on the side of racy). But that said, I’m happy to take your vote on what our young heroine saw beneath the quilt. A hint: I’m pretty sure it was not, in fact, an elephant. tag:odeo.com,2008-10-21,23513964 Tue, 21 Oct 2008 10:17:37 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Chugtai, Ismat http://odeo.com/episodes/23411966-To-the-Open-Water As I noted in the whole wide verbal megillah setting up tonight’s reading, I’m taking great issue with the Wikipedia entry on tonight’s author. Here, again, is the first sentence, with my call to fix it: Jesse Hill Ford (December 28, 1928 - June 1, 1996) was an American writer of Southern literature who produced one good novel (Mountains of Gilead), one popular novel (The Liberation of Lord Byron Jones) and a host of mediocre works entirely at odds with his public posturing at the heir-apparent to William Faulkner. – Wikipedia Entry on Jesse Hill Ford And maybe that’s true, beats me. I mean, I’ve gotten the impression that he wasn’t necessarily the mowing-the-lawns-of-the-elderly sort of gregarious, in character anyway. And I don’t know enough about his writing to know if the above is true or not. But in the interest of improving the accuracy and objectivity of the world’s knowledge (which, I suppose, is the point), I’m dra... As I noted in the whole wide verbal megillah setting up tonight’s reading, I’m taking great issue with the Wikipedia entry on tonight’s author. Here, again, is the first sentence, with my call to fix it: Jesse Hill Ford (December 28, 1928 - June 1, 1996) was an American writer of Southern literature who produced one good novel (Mountains of Gilead), one popular novel (The Liberation of Lord Byron Jones) and a host of mediocre works entirely at odds with his public posturing at the heir-apparent to William Faulkner. – Wikipedia Entry on Jesse Hill Ford And maybe that’s true, beats me. I mean, I’ve gotten the impression that he wasn’t necessarily the mowing-the-lawns-of-the-elderly sort of gregarious, in character anyway. And I don’t know enough about his writing to know if the above is true or not. But in the interest of improving the accuracy and objectivity of the world’s knowledge (which, I suppose, is the point), I’m drawing your attention there now. Hopefully we can resolve this before it becomes a full-on obsession, before I start the Jesse Hill Ford Credibility Restoration PAC, or somesuch. As I noted in the whole wide verbal megillah setting up tonight’s reading, I’m taking great issue with the Wikipedia entry on tonight’s author. Here, again, is the first sentence, with my call to fix it: Jesse Hill Ford (December 28, 1928 - June 1, 1996) was an American writer of Southern literature who produced one good novel (Mountains of Gilead), one popular novel (The Liberation of Lord Byron Jones) and a host of mediocre works entirely at odds with his public posturing at the heir-apparent to William Faulkner. – Wikipedia Entry on Jesse Hill Ford And maybe that’s true, beats me. I mean, I’ve gotten the impression that he wasn’t necessarily the mowing-the-lawns-of-the-elderly sort of gregarious, in character anyway. And I don’t know enough about his writing to know if the above is true or not. But in the interest of improving the accuracy and objectivity of the world’s knowledge (which, I suppose, is the point), I’m drawing your attention there now. Hopefully we can resolve this before it becomes a full-on obsession, before I start the Jesse Hill Ford Credibility Restoration PAC, or somesuch. tag:odeo.com,2008-09-27,23411966 Sat, 27 Sep 2008 09:22:56 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Ford, Jesse Hill http://odeo.com/episodes/23375982-The-Spring But in order to be mad scientists, first we had to learn how to be normal scientists. It’s funny, imagining John Fahey sitting in a hotel rampantly scrawling. Not because he’s so otherwise voiceless, or should relegate his expressiveness to the steel-stringed style, or other reasons fascistic or idiotic. He’s just one of those guys one imagines (if the “one” doing the imagining were “me,” admittedly) never to have put down his guitar for anything other than a whiskey glass or a pee. You just don’t get that good if you have to stop to put it down. So it’s nearly impossible to think of him not only putting it down, but picking up a pen long enough to get good at that too. And he was pretty good– listen for the mad scientist bit, partially quoted above. In fact, if he and I were teenage girls, I might have to start a jealous fight with him over this. And tonight’s super special Feel-Better-Just-For-a-Minute (or Feel-Even... But in order to be mad scientists, first we had to learn how to be normal scientists. It’s funny, imagining John Fahey sitting in a hotel rampantly scrawling. Not because he’s so otherwise voiceless, or should relegate his expressiveness to the steel-stringed style, or other reasons fascistic or idiotic. He’s just one of those guys one imagines (if the “one” doing the imagining were “me,” admittedly) never to have put down his guitar for anything other than a whiskey glass or a pee. You just don’t get that good if you have to stop to put it down. So it’s nearly impossible to think of him not only putting it down, but picking up a pen long enough to get good at that too. And he was pretty good– listen for the mad scientist bit, partially quoted above. In fact, if he and I were teenage girls, I might have to start a jealous fight with him over this. And tonight’s super special Feel-Better-Just-For-a-Minute (or Feel-Even-Better-if-You’re-Already-Feelin-Okay) soundtrack by the author, but let’s keep it between us, okay? But in order to be mad scientists, first we had to learn how to be normal scientists. It’s funny, imagining John Fahey sitting in a hotel rampantly scrawling. Not because he’s so otherwise voiceless, or should relegate his expressiveness to the steel-stringed style, or other reasons fascistic or idiotic. He’s just one of those guys one imagines (if the “one” doing the imagining were “me,” admittedly) never to have put down his guitar for anything other than a whiskey glass or a pee. You just don’t get that good if you have to stop to put it down. So it’s nearly impossible to think of him not only putting it down, but picking up a pen long enough to get good at that too. And he was pretty good– listen for the mad scientist bit, partially quoted above. In fact, if he and I were teenage girls, I might have to start a jealous fight with him over this. And tonight’s super special Feel-Better-Just-For-a-Minute (or Feel-Even-Better-if-You’re-Already-Feelin-Okay) soundtrack by the author, but let’s keep it between us, okay? tag:odeo.com,2008-09-19,23375982 Fri, 19 Sep 2008 18:25:49 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Fahey, John http://odeo.com/episodes/23259386-When-I-Was-Miss-Dow This story was brought to my attention a few months ago, making its way inbox-ward on the anniversorry of my trip down Amniotic Lane, timing not unintentional. Now, I would share with you my thoughts on why this was selected as a Birthday Story, but that would involve psychographic profiling of the sender’s right eyebrow and a frame-by-frame comparison of my genuflection style to that of the author. And that’s just for starters. In other words, not nearly as fun as speculation, and besides, I’m not about to give you all the information you’d need to know to perform such a task. But I will ask you this: have a listen (and keep your jaw taped up off the floor — this is a good one) and a think about it, and see what comes up. It could be worse, after all. We could be discussing politics. This story was brought to my attention a few months ago, making its way inbox-ward on the anniversorry of my trip down Amniotic Lane, timing not unintentional. Now, I would share with you my thoughts on why this was selected as a Birthday Story, but that would involve psychographic profiling of the sender’s right eyebrow and a frame-by-frame comparison of my genuflection style to that of the author. And that’s just for starters. In other words, not nearly as fun as speculation, and besides, I’m not about to give you all the information you’d need to know to perform such a task. But I will ask you this: have a listen (and keep your jaw taped up off the floor — this is a good one) and a think about it, and see what comes up. It could be worse, after all. We could be discussing politics. This story was brought to my attention a few months ago, making its way inbox-ward on the anniversorry of my trip down Amniotic Lane, timing not unintentional. Now, I would share with you my thoughts on why this was selected as a Birthday Story, but that would involve psychographic profiling of the sender’s right eyebrow and a frame-by-frame comparison of my genuflection style to that of the author. And that’s just for starters. In other words, not nearly as fun as speculation, and besides, I’m not about to give you all the information you’d need to know to perform such a task. But I will ask you this: have a listen (and keep your jaw taped up off the floor — this is a good one) and a think about it, and see what comes up. It could be worse, after all. We could be discussing politics. tag:odeo.com,2008-09-07,23259386 Sun, 07 Sep 2008 20:54:33 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Dorman, Sonya http://odeo.com/episodes/23202381-Of-Angleworms-and-Others So it’s summer right now, if you’re with me hemispherically. Although if you were to zoom in a little closer you’d see that in some places, we’re tying up that chapter, it’s cooling down, and that means it’s time to read you some Tove Jansson. Now, I was going to read you something from the Moomins, but it’s not quite as charming when removed from the illustrations of big Moomin innocently bent-over butts. Or rather, it’s just as charming, but I’m hopelessly unable to convey Moomin-butt-drawing charm by voice alone. And besides, the Summer Book is pretty archetypal for changing-tree times. As much as bonfires and maybe as much as the Shrimp Song that Townes van Zandt sang. Any other absolutely perfect end-of-summer stories? I’m in a wood-fire mood. So it’s summer right now, if you’re with me hemispherically. Although if you were to zoom in a little closer you’d see that in some places, we’re tying up that chapter, it’s cooling down, and that means it’s time to read you some Tove Jansson. Now, I was going to read you something from the Moomins, but it’s not quite as charming when removed from the illustrations of big Moomin innocently bent-over butts. Or rather, it’s just as charming, but I’m hopelessly unable to convey Moomin-butt-drawing charm by voice alone. And besides, the Summer Book is pretty archetypal for changing-tree times. As much as bonfires and maybe as much as the Shrimp Song that Townes van Zandt sang. Any other absolutely perfect end-of-summer stories? I’m in a wood-fire mood. So it’s summer right now, if you’re with me hemispherically. Although if you were to zoom in a little closer you’d see that in some places, we’re tying up that chapter, it’s cooling down, and that means it’s time to read you some Tove Jansson. Now, I was going to read you something from the Moomins, but it’s not quite as charming when removed from the illustrations of big Moomin innocently bent-over butts. Or rather, it’s just as charming, but I’m hopelessly unable to convey Moomin-butt-drawing charm by voice alone. And besides, the Summer Book is pretty archetypal for changing-tree times. As much as bonfires and maybe as much as the Shrimp Song that Townes van Zandt sang. Any other absolutely perfect end-of-summer stories? I’m in a wood-fire mood. tag:odeo.com,2008-08-21,23202381 Thu, 21 Aug 2008 19:57:02 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Jansson, Tove http://odeo.com/episodes/23166920-Show-and-Tell In the two days since first reading of tonight’s story, I’ve been deeply ensconced with this idea of show-and-tell, to the irrational (read: batshit) point of showing-and-telling the objects comprising the contents of my desk to the various beasts kicking about the place, or showing-and-telling one runty waterlogged piece of the garden to another. And then waking from that little spat of brain damage to the discovery that… well, maybe I’d missed the point entirely. In the two days since first reading of tonight’s story, I’ve been deeply ensconced with this idea of show-and-tell, to the irrational (read: batshit) point of showing-and-telling the objects comprising the contents of my desk to the various beasts kicking about the place, or showing-and-telling one runty waterlogged piece of the garden to another. And then waking from that little spat of brain damage to the discovery that… well, maybe I’d missed the point entirely. In the two days since first reading of tonight’s story, I’ve been deeply ensconced with this idea of show-and-tell, to the irrational (read: batshit) point of showing-and-telling the objects comprising the contents of my desk to the various beasts kicking about the place, or showing-and-telling one runty waterlogged piece of the garden to another. And then waking from that little spat of brain damage to the discovery that… well, maybe I’d missed the point entirely. tag:odeo.com,2008-08-10,23166920 Sun, 10 Aug 2008 19:27:52 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Singleton, George http://odeo.com/episodes/23137773-Fun-With-Your-New-Head A couplefew nights ago, catatonic with fatigue after a couple days of travel, I found just the right pace of entertainment watching my cat chase a furry little squeaker all around the place. My conscience wouldn’t let me object– it was nature’s way and the mouse deserved whatever was coming to it, after all… but my sense of rectitude couldn’t allow me to stay for even the chance of a bloody climax, so when the mouse was good and hidden, I went up to bed, with no idea who’d win. The next morning, having forgotten about the whole scene thanks to a night of Thomas Disch dreams, I made the coffee and fed the cat, whose breakfast made its way back up several minutes later. And right in the middle of the mess was the cutest slick brown fur, with tail still mostly undigested. Despite the fact that I had to clean it up, I was so proud. A couplefew nights ago, catatonic with fatigue after a couple days of travel, I found just the right pace of entertainment watching my cat chase a furry little squeaker all around the place. My conscience wouldn’t let me object– it was nature’s way and the mouse deserved whatever was coming to it, after all… but my sense of rectitude couldn’t allow me to stay for even the chance of a bloody climax, so when the mouse was good and hidden, I went up to bed, with no idea who’d win. The next morning, having forgotten about the whole scene thanks to a night of Thomas Disch dreams, I made the coffee and fed the cat, whose breakfast made its way back up several minutes later. And right in the middle of the mess was the cutest slick brown fur, with tail still mostly undigested. Despite the fact that I had to clean it up, I was so proud. A couplefew nights ago, catatonic with fatigue after a couple days of travel, I found just the right pace of entertainment watching my cat chase a furry little squeaker all around the place. My conscience wouldn’t let me object– it was nature’s way and the mouse deserved whatever was coming to it, after all… but my sense of rectitude couldn’t allow me to stay for even the chance of a bloody climax, so when the mouse was good and hidden, I went up to bed, with no idea who’d win. The next morning, having forgotten about the whole scene thanks to a night of Thomas Disch dreams, I made the coffee and fed the cat, whose breakfast made its way back up several minutes later. And right in the middle of the mess was the cutest slick brown fur, with tail still mostly undigested. Despite the fact that I had to clean it up, I was so proud. tag:odeo.com,2008-08-01,23137773 Fri, 01 Aug 2008 11:27:57 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Disch, Thomas http://odeo.com/episodes/23083036-The-Self-Contained-Compartment During a trip by car I noticed a guy on the phone in a parking lot frantically trying to start his car, a kid really, a kid in trouble, just laying into the ignition while the engine was turning halfway over which indicated, to my limited capacity for automotive troubleshooting, that maybe his vehicle was flooded. Now, given that it’s superhero-movie-season, I asked to assist anyway, even though I -knew- it had nothing to do with the battery. I asked if he needed a jump, because where logic ends, blind altruism begins and I thought it’d be a good thing, to make somebody’s day, get him on the road again. So I offered the jump which was accepted, and pulled up beside him and got the cables and gave it a good effort, though it was doomed, pathetic really, as his under-hood ineptitude evidently rivaled mine own. Which is to say, it was worthless. And I couldn’t get the brake set right and was parked on a backward incline — or maybe a decline — in any ... During a trip by car I noticed a guy on the phone in a parking lot frantically trying to start his car, a kid really, a kid in trouble, just laying into the ignition while the engine was turning halfway over which indicated, to my limited capacity for automotive troubleshooting, that maybe his vehicle was flooded. Now, given that it’s superhero-movie-season, I asked to assist anyway, even though I -knew- it had nothing to do with the battery. I asked if he needed a jump, because where logic ends, blind altruism begins and I thought it’d be a good thing, to make somebody’s day, get him on the road again. So I offered the jump which was accepted, and pulled up beside him and got the cables and gave it a good effort, though it was doomed, pathetic really, as his under-hood ineptitude evidently rivaled mine own. Which is to say, it was worthless. And I couldn’t get the brake set right and was parked on a backward incline — or maybe a decline — in any event so I had to keep gassing to keep up the appearance of being idle, all the while trying HARD not to look like the idiot who can’t use the brake, much less get another car started. And I’m not sure what I did end up looking like that night, but I’m fairly certain that it wasn’t confused with superheroics, and that it was clear to a discerning passerby, even if that passerby were to have been the subject of tonight’s story. During a trip by car I noticed a guy on the phone in a parking lot frantically trying to start his car, a kid really, a kid in trouble, just laying into the ignition while the engine was turning halfway over which indicated, to my limited capacity for automotive troubleshooting, that maybe his vehicle was flooded. Now, given that it’s superhero-movie-season, I asked to assist anyway, even though I -knew- it had nothing to do with the battery. I asked if he needed a jump, because where logic ends, blind altruism begins and I thought it’d be a good thing, to make somebody’s day, get him on the road again. So I offered the jump which was accepted, and pulled up beside him and got the cables and gave it a good effort, though it was doomed, pathetic really, as his under-hood ineptitude evidently rivaled mine own. Which is to say, it was worthless. And I couldn’t get the brake set right and was parked on a backward incline — or maybe a decline — in any event so I had to keep gassing to keep up the appearance of being idle, all the while trying HARD not to look like the idiot who can’t use the brake, much less get another car started. And I’m not sure what I did end up looking like that night, but I’m fairly certain that it wasn’t confused with superheroics, and that it was clear to a discerning passerby, even if that passerby were to have been the subject of tonight’s story. tag:odeo.com,2008-07-16,23083036 Wed, 16 Jul 2008 05:13:25 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Goldstein, Michael http://odeo.com/episodes/23037424-The-Pukey “But when it thinks, I feel like vomiting.” With these words, it is clear that if Nigel Dennis were still around I’d be his groupie. I’d start the FaceBook Club and make mashups on Youtube for him and disguise myself as an editor at Rolling Stone Magazine to obtain his personal email address, which I would then use in ways the word “subterfuge” can only begin to imagine. And when I web-two-dot-ooh’ed the Nigel Dennis article in the Wikipedia and tag it up, the index would indicate that Nigel Dennis writes about obscene bile-spewing puking beasts kept as pets because that’s what people do, and at this, you would join my Nigel Dennis FaceBook Club and we’d all order matching t-shirts. I -know- you would. “But when it thinks, I feel like vomiting.” With these words, it is clear that if Nigel Dennis were still around I’d be his groupie. I’d start the FaceBook Club and make mashups on Youtube for him and disguise myself as an editor at Rolling Stone Magazine to obtain his personal email address, which I would then use in ways the word “subterfuge” can only begin to imagine. And when I web-two-dot-ooh’ed the Nigel Dennis article in the Wikipedia and tag it up, the index would indicate that Nigel Dennis writes about obscene bile-spewing puking beasts kept as pets because that’s what people do, and at this, you would join my Nigel Dennis FaceBook Club and we’d all order matching t-shirts. I -know- you would. “But when it thinks, I feel like vomiting.” With these words, it is clear that if Nigel Dennis were still around I’d be his groupie. I’d start the FaceBook Club and make mashups on Youtube for him and disguise myself as an editor at Rolling Stone Magazine to obtain his personal email address, which I would then use in ways the word “subterfuge” can only begin to imagine. And when I web-two-dot-ooh’ed the Nigel Dennis article in the Wikipedia and tag it up, the index would indicate that Nigel Dennis writes about obscene bile-spewing puking beasts kept as pets because that’s what people do, and at this, you would join my Nigel Dennis FaceBook Club and we’d all order matching t-shirts. I -know- you would. tag:odeo.com,2008-06-29,23037424 Sun, 29 Jun 2008 20:34:32 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Dennis, Nigel http://odeo.com/episodes/23001594-Eveline Were I a listmaker, and perhaps I am, you would be the warm recipient of many reasons to be grateful when the internet goes for broke on Bloomsday. This list, were I to make one, would include the subcategories: FOR ME and FOR YOU. Topping the FOR YOU list, were such a thing to exist, might be an extended two-day belated story from Dubliners, a way of bloody-marying your hangover into oblivion. And in the FOR ME column of our imagined list, not in the treasured top slots but up there, would be the gift of Joycean spam upon a digital reemergence: boltmaker stippled scrapy heartedness burgoo overplentiful unended hydrophobous. Were I a listmaker, and perhaps I am, you would be the warm recipient of many reasons to be grateful when the internet goes for broke on Bloomsday. This list, were I to make one, would include the subcategories: FOR ME and FOR YOU. Topping the FOR YOU list, were such a thing to exist, might be an extended two-day belated story from Dubliners, a way of bloody-marying your hangover into oblivion. And in the FOR ME column of our imagined list, not in the treasured top slots but up there, would be the gift of Joycean spam upon a digital reemergence: boltmaker stippled scrapy heartedness burgoo overplentiful unended hydrophobous. Were I a listmaker, and perhaps I am, you would be the warm recipient of many reasons to be grateful when the internet goes for broke on Bloomsday. This list, were I to make one, would include the subcategories: FOR ME and FOR YOU. Topping the FOR YOU list, were such a thing to exist, might be an extended two-day belated story from Dubliners, a way of bloody-marying your hangover into oblivion. And in the FOR ME column of our imagined list, not in the treasured top slots but up there, would be the gift of Joycean spam upon a digital reemergence: boltmaker stippled scrapy heartedness burgoo overplentiful unended hydrophobous. tag:odeo.com,2008-06-17,23001594 Tue, 17 Jun 2008 04:20:27 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Joyce, James http://odeo.com/episodes/22603198-The-Cask-of-Amontillado So I read in the news today about the Indonesian macaque monkeys who’ve learned to successfully catch fish, and how exciting this is for biology, and how it’s a living and breathing example of the adaptation of a species to its conditions and environment, and really it was all astonishing stuff to read. But for some reason all I could think was that these monkeys are capable of catching fish with their bare hands, and in the modern on-demand way we’d expect of them, when it takes me hours of unraveling knots and tying knots and waving a stick around in the water before, if I’m very very lucky, I manage to land anything more than ingredients for a muck-and-weed juice drink. And then I snapped out of it and thought: huh, jealous of monkeys. Well, why not? In other news, a killer thunderstorm knocked the power out twice before settling into the atmosphere needed for Poe regaleritics. So I read in the news today about the Indonesian macaque monkeys who’ve learned to successfully catch fish, and how exciting this is for biology, and how it’s a living and breathing example of the adaptation of a species to its conditions and environment, and really it was all astonishing stuff to read. But for some reason all I could think was that these monkeys are capable of catching fish with their bare hands, and in the modern on-demand way we’d expect of them, when it takes me hours of unraveling knots and tying knots and waving a stick around in the water before, if I’m very very lucky, I manage to land anything more than ingredients for a muck-and-weed juice drink. And then I snapped out of it and thought: huh, jealous of monkeys. Well, why not? In other news, a killer thunderstorm knocked the power out twice before settling into the atmosphere needed for Poe regaleritics. So I read in the news today about the Indonesian macaque monkeys who’ve learned to successfully catch fish, and how exciting this is for biology, and how it’s a living and breathing example of the adaptation of a species to its conditions and environment, and really it was all astonishing stuff to read. But for some reason all I could think was that these monkeys are capable of catching fish with their bare hands, and in the modern on-demand way we’d expect of them, when it takes me hours of unraveling knots and tying knots and waving a stick around in the water before, if I’m very very lucky, I manage to land anything more than ingredients for a muck-and-weed juice drink. And then I snapped out of it and thought: huh, jealous of monkeys. Well, why not? In other news, a killer thunderstorm knocked the power out twice before settling into the atmosphere needed for Poe regaleritics. tag:odeo.com,2008-06-11,22603198 Wed, 11 Jun 2008 05:17:41 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Poe, Edgar Allen http://odeo.com/episodes/22573494-A-Rose-for-Emily So, my “identity” was stolen recently. And not for the sake of sordid members-only internet sites or international travel or a weekend of Spitzering other scandalous activities that, if you’re going to have your identity stolen, would constitute Theft in Style. No, my identity was used to buy clip art and stock photography and website services, which is about as exciting as cutting school to go and get a root canal, sneaking out of the house late at night to mow the lawn next door. You get the picture. So a personal note to identity thieves in training: when you’re done with me, at least return me with a few heavy anecdotes and a thrilling punked-up haircut. OK? So, my “identity” was stolen recently. And not for the sake of sordid members-only internet sites or international travel or a weekend of Spitzering other scandalous activities that, if you’re going to have your identity stolen, would constitute Theft in Style. No, my identity was used to buy clip art and stock photography and website services, which is about as exciting as cutting school to go and get a root canal, sneaking out of the house late at night to mow the lawn next door. You get the picture. So a personal note to identity thieves in training: when you’re done with me, at least return me with a few heavy anecdotes and a thrilling punked-up haircut. OK? So, my “identity” was stolen recently. And not for the sake of sordid members-only internet sites or international travel or a weekend of Spitzering other scandalous activities that, if you’re going to have your identity stolen, would constitute Theft in Style. No, my identity was used to buy clip art and stock photography and website services, which is about as exciting as cutting school to go and get a root canal, sneaking out of the house late at night to mow the lawn next door. You get the picture. So a personal note to identity thieves in training: when you’re done with me, at least return me with a few heavy anecdotes and a thrilling punked-up haircut. OK? tag:odeo.com,2008-06-01,22573494 Sun, 01 Jun 2008 05:53:59 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Faulkner, William http://odeo.com/episodes/22476730-A-Note-on-the-Camping-Craze-That-is-Currently-Sweeping-America Fishing season began early this year for your Miette, with the streetside discovery of a freshly abandoned goldfish with wonky telescopic eyes, in its bowl and with a note reading: Free Fish! Please Give Steve Buscemi a good home. And of course I did. I found an exceptional home for him, a home where he’s given all the love and post-traumatic care that he needs, and maybe even such environmental niceties as filters and plastic sunken ships. And I mention this now not out of gratitude to his new clan, although that’s there in spades, nor out of self-congratulations for my successful act as adoption supervisor, though, you know, I felt pretty good about the rare chance at a good charitable act. But on the off-chance that the noontime hot-sidewalk abandoner stumbles across this page, you little shit, do send me an email so I can say a few inappropriate and depravedly nasty words to you directly. Anonymous tips will not be prosecuted. But something good came of it, in that i... Fishing season began early this year for your Miette, with the streetside discovery of a freshly abandoned goldfish with wonky telescopic eyes, in its bowl and with a note reading: Free Fish! Please Give Steve Buscemi a good home. And of course I did. I found an exceptional home for him, a home where he’s given all the love and post-traumatic care that he needs, and maybe even such environmental niceties as filters and plastic sunken ships. And I mention this now not out of gratitude to his new clan, although that’s there in spades, nor out of self-congratulations for my successful act as adoption supervisor, though, you know, I felt pretty good about the rare chance at a good charitable act. But on the off-chance that the noontime hot-sidewalk abandoner stumbles across this page, you little shit, do send me an email so I can say a few inappropriate and depravedly nasty words to you directly. Anonymous tips will not be prosecuted. But something good came of it, in that it’s a more natural anecdotal segue than I’m used to. (This a second-hand mic, a little poppier than usual, back next week purring into the usual devices) Fishing season began early this year for your Miette, with the streetside discovery of a freshly abandoned goldfish with wonky telescopic eyes, in its bowl and with a note reading: Free Fish! Please Give Steve Buscemi a good home. And of course I did. I found an exceptional home for him, a home where he’s given all the love and post-traumatic care that he needs, and maybe even such environmental niceties as filters and plastic sunken ships. And I mention this now not out of gratitude to his new clan, although that’s there in spades, nor out of self-congratulations for my successful act as adoption supervisor, though, you know, I felt pretty good about the rare chance at a good charitable act. But on the off-chance that the noontime hot-sidewalk abandoner stumbles across this page, you little shit, do send me an email so I can say a few inappropriate and depravedly nasty words to you directly. Anonymous tips will not be prosecuted. But something good came of it, in that it’s a more natural anecdotal segue than I’m used to. (This a second-hand mic, a little poppier than usual, back next week purring into the usual devices) tag:odeo.com,2008-05-02,22476730 Fri, 02 May 2008 20:45:15 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Brautigan, Richard http://odeo.com/episodes/25398459-Truth-or-Consequences After a week of muscle-burning manual work and long long drives, some of us settle in with a nice cold beer. For others– maybe like me, who’s to say — it takes more that that… way more, maybe, to relax muscles as sore as these and attempt to put together nerves which have been plucked to the bone. For that reason, perhaps it’s best to just shut up and read (if you’re me) or grab a beer and listen (if you’re you) and maybe write the Pulitzer committee about considering a Podcasting category. And I should mention… I’m not much for promotion other than that of the Self, but those of you with an interest in the more overtly prurient might take a shine to the new podcast of my friend Mia (also worthwhile bedtime material), most subtly titled I Want Your Sex. And for those of you without an interest in the overtly prurient, well, don’t click there, ok? After a week of muscle-burning manual work and long long drives, some of us settle in with a nice cold beer. For others– maybe like me, who’s to say — it takes more that that… way more, maybe, to relax muscles as sore as these and attempt to put together nerves which have been plucked to the bone. For that reason, perhaps it’s best to just shut up and read (if you’re me) or grab a beer and listen (if you’re you) and maybe write the Pulitzer committee about considering a Podcasting category. And I should mention… I’m not much for promotion other than that of the Self, but those of you with an interest in the more overtly prurient might take a shine to the new podcast of my friend Mia (also worthwhile bedtime material), most subtly titled I Want Your Sex. And for those of you without an interest in the overtly prurient, well, don’t click there, ok? After a week of muscle-burning manual work and long long drives, some of us settle in with a nice cold beer. For others– maybe like me, who’s to say — it takes more that that… way more, maybe, to relax muscles as sore as these and attempt to put together nerves which have been plucked to the bone. For that reason, perhaps it’s best to just shut up and read (if you’re me) or grab a beer and listen (if you’re you) and maybe write the Pulitzer committee about considering a Podcasting category. And I should mention… I’m not much for promotion other than that of the Self, but those of you with an interest in the more overtly prurient might take a shine to the new podcast of my friend Mia (also worthwhile bedtime material), most subtly titled I Want Your Sex. And for those of you without an interest in the overtly prurient, well, don’t click there, ok? tag:odeo.com,2008-04-18,25398459 Fri, 18 Apr 2008 18:33:18 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast american, Gill, Brendan http://odeo.com/episodes/22439139-Truth-or-Consequences After a week of muscle-burning manual work and long long drives, some of us settle in with a nice cold beer. For others– maybe like me, who’s to say — it takes more that that… way more, maybe, to relax muscles as sore as these and attempt to put together nerves which have been plucked to the bone. For that reason, perhaps it’s best to just shut up and read (if you’re me) or grab a beer and listen (if you’re you) and maybe write the Pulitzer committee about considering a Podcasting category. And I should mention… I’m not much for promotion other than that of the Self, but those of you with an interest in the more overtly prurient might take a shine to the new podcast of my friend Mia (also worthwhile bedtime material), most subtly titled I Want Your Sex. And for those of you without an interest in the overtly prurient, well, don’t click there, ok? After a week of muscle-burning manual work and long long drives, some of us settle in with a nice cold beer. For others– maybe like me, who’s to say — it takes more that that… way more, maybe, to relax muscles as sore as these and attempt to put together nerves which have been plucked to the bone. For that reason, perhaps it’s best to just shut up and read (if you’re me) or grab a beer and listen (if you’re you) and maybe write the Pulitzer committee about considering a Podcasting category. And I should mention… I’m not much for promotion other than that of the Self, but those of you with an interest in the more overtly prurient might take a shine to the new podcast of my friend Mia (also worthwhile bedtime material), most subtly titled I Want Your Sex. And for those of you without an interest in the overtly prurient, well, don’t click there, ok? After a week of muscle-burning manual work and long long drives, some of us settle in with a nice cold beer. For others– maybe like me, who’s to say — it takes more that that… way more, maybe, to relax muscles as sore as these and attempt to put together nerves which have been plucked to the bone. For that reason, perhaps it’s best to just shut up and read (if you’re me) or grab a beer and listen (if you’re you) and maybe write the Pulitzer committee about considering a Podcasting category. And I should mention… I’m not much for promotion other than that of the Self, but those of you with an interest in the more overtly prurient might take a shine to the new podcast of my friend Mia (also worthwhile bedtime material), most subtly titled I Want Your Sex. And for those of you without an interest in the overtly prurient, well, don’t click there, ok? tag:odeo.com,2008-04-18,22439139 Fri, 18 Apr 2008 17:33:18 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Gill, Brendan http://odeo.com/episodes/25398460-Last-Class All week I’ve been wanting to read this to you, waking up more excited than the trashman on the day-after-Christmas, and running into my…. uh… recording studio (read: three paces from the bed) to see if it’s quiet enough. But it hasn’t been quiet enough. All week there’ve been people, russian sailors doing ballet with cinderblock slippers (if you need some imagery), fewer than ten feet above my head, all day, back and forth and back again. But today, I could hold out no longer, and instead of waiting for a quiet day, waited for a quiet spell, which was a way shorter wait. That said, if you listen closely, in perfect silence and with headphones held tight, you may hear with your very own button-ears what I been hearing. Didja?? All week I’ve been wanting to read this to you, waking up more excited than the trashman on the day-after-Christmas, and running into my…. uh… recording studio (read: three paces from the bed) to see if it’s quiet enough. But it hasn’t been quiet enough. All week there’ve been people, russian sailors doing ballet with cinderblock slippers (if you need some imagery), fewer than ten feet above my head, all day, back and forth and back again. But today, I could hold out no longer, and instead of waiting for a quiet day, waited for a quiet spell, which was a way shorter wait. That said, if you listen closely, in perfect silence and with headphones held tight, you may hear with your very own button-ears what I been hearing. Didja?? All week I’ve been wanting to read this to you, waking up more excited than the trashman on the day-after-Christmas, and running into my…. uh… recording studio (read: three paces from the bed) to see if it’s quiet enough. But it hasn’t been quiet enough. All week there’ve been people, russian sailors doing ballet with cinderblock slippers (if you need some imagery), fewer than ten feet above my head, all day, back and forth and back again. But today, I could hold out no longer, and instead of waiting for a quiet day, waited for a quiet spell, which was a way shorter wait. That said, if you listen closely, in perfect silence and with headphones held tight, you may hear with your very own button-ears what I been hearing. Didja?? tag:odeo.com,2008-04-04,25398460 Fri, 04 Apr 2008 10:00:48 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast american, Roethke, Theodore, poet http://odeo.com/episodes/22231452-Last-Class All week I’ve been wanting to read this to you, waking up more excited than the trashman on the day-after-Christmas, and running into my…. uh… recording studio (read: three paces from the bed) to see if it’s quiet enough. But it hasn’t been quiet enough. All week there’ve been people, russian sailors doing ballet with cinderblock slippers (if you need some imagery), fewer than ten feet above my head, all day, back and forth and back again. But today, I could hold out no longer, and instead of waiting for a quiet day, waited for a quiet spell, which was a way shorter wait. That said, if you listen closely, in perfect silence and with headphones held tight, you may hear with your very own button-ears what I been hearing. Didja?? All week I’ve been wanting to read this to you, waking up more excited than the trashman on the day-after-Christmas, and running into my…. uh… recording studio (read: three paces from the bed) to see if it’s quiet enough. But it hasn’t been quiet enough. All week there’ve been people, russian sailors doing ballet with cinderblock slippers (if you need some imagery), fewer than ten feet above my head, all day, back and forth and back again. But today, I could hold out no longer, and instead of waiting for a quiet day, waited for a quiet spell, which was a way shorter wait. That said, if you listen closely, in perfect silence and with headphones held tight, you may hear with your very own button-ears what I been hearing. Didja?? All week I’ve been wanting to read this to you, waking up more excited than the trashman on the day-after-Christmas, and running into my…. uh… recording studio (read: three paces from the bed) to see if it’s quiet enough. But it hasn’t been quiet enough. All week there’ve been people, russian sailors doing ballet with cinderblock slippers (if you need some imagery), fewer than ten feet above my head, all day, back and forth and back again. But today, I could hold out no longer, and instead of waiting for a quiet day, waited for a quiet spell, which was a way shorter wait. That said, if you listen closely, in perfect silence and with headphones held tight, you may hear with your very own button-ears what I been hearing. Didja?? tag:odeo.com,2008-04-04,22231452 Fri, 04 Apr 2008 09:00:48 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Roethke, Theodore http://odeo.com/episodes/25398461-Binoculars A saw a sign the other day while out on a drive, a sign that said this: Frost Heaves. And I almost had to stop and compose myself, because I was so deeply distressed by the fact that frost can’t heave in private (and I’m not a histrionic sort of girl), and saddened that a frost’s heave has to be announced clearly for any old asshole who happens to be driving by, and that even though this old asshole was told that the frost was heaving, which was too much, I wanted more… I wanted a sign telling me exactly why the frost was heaving. Well, it was then explained to me that this condition probably had very little to do with the emotional state of the frost, and was intended as a warning to the state of the pavement. Which made me better about the frost, which I care about a little more than pavement. Apparently, this old asshole is also a little biased that way. Which is not meant to offend any pavement that happens to be listening. A saw a sign the other day while out on a drive, a sign that said this: Frost Heaves. And I almost had to stop and compose myself, because I was so deeply distressed by the fact that frost can’t heave in private (and I’m not a histrionic sort of girl), and saddened that a frost’s heave has to be announced clearly for any old asshole who happens to be driving by, and that even though this old asshole was told that the frost was heaving, which was too much, I wanted more… I wanted a sign telling me exactly why the frost was heaving. Well, it was then explained to me that this condition probably had very little to do with the emotional state of the frost, and was intended as a warning to the state of the pavement. Which made me better about the frost, which I care about a little more than pavement. Apparently, this old asshole is also a little biased that way. Which is not meant to offend any pavement that happens to be listening. A saw a sign the other day while out on a drive, a sign that said this: Frost Heaves. And I almost had to stop and compose myself, because I was so deeply distressed by the fact that frost can’t heave in private (and I’m not a histrionic sort of girl), and saddened that a frost’s heave has to be announced clearly for any old asshole who happens to be driving by, and that even though this old asshole was told that the frost was heaving, which was too much, I wanted more… I wanted a sign telling me exactly why the frost was heaving. Well, it was then explained to me that this condition probably had very little to do with the emotional state of the frost, and was intended as a warning to the state of the pavement. Which made me better about the frost, which I care about a little more than pavement. Apparently, this old asshole is also a little biased that way. Which is not meant to offend any pavement that happens to be listening. tag:odeo.com,2008-03-25,25398461 Tue, 25 Mar 2008 18:54:05 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Musil, Robert, modernist, austrian http://odeo.com/episodes/22196385-Binoculars A saw a sign the other day while out on a drive, a sign that said this: Frost Heaves. And I almost had to stop and compose myself, because I was so deeply distressed by the fact that frost can’t heave in private (and I’m not a histrionic sort of girl), and saddened that a frost’s heave has to be announced clearly for any old asshole who happens to be driving by, and that even though this old asshole was told that the frost was heaving, which was too much, I wanted more… I wanted a sign telling me exactly why the frost was heaving. Well, it was then explained to me that this condition probably had very little to do with the emotional state of the frost, and was intended as a warning to the state of the pavement. Which made me better about the frost, which I care about a little more than pavement. Apparently, this old asshole is also a little biased that way. Which is not meant to offend any pavement that happens to be listening. A saw a sign the other day while out on a drive, a sign that said this: Frost Heaves. And I almost had to stop and compose myself, because I was so deeply distressed by the fact that frost can’t heave in private (and I’m not a histrionic sort of girl), and saddened that a frost’s heave has to be announced clearly for any old asshole who happens to be driving by, and that even though this old asshole was told that the frost was heaving, which was too much, I wanted more… I wanted a sign telling me exactly why the frost was heaving. Well, it was then explained to me that this condition probably had very little to do with the emotional state of the frost, and was intended as a warning to the state of the pavement. Which made me better about the frost, which I care about a little more than pavement. Apparently, this old asshole is also a little biased that way. Which is not meant to offend any pavement that happens to be listening. A saw a sign the other day while out on a drive, a sign that said this: Frost Heaves. And I almost had to stop and compose myself, because I was so deeply distressed by the fact that frost can’t heave in private (and I’m not a histrionic sort of girl), and saddened that a frost’s heave has to be announced clearly for any old asshole who happens to be driving by, and that even though this old asshole was told that the frost was heaving, which was too much, I wanted more… I wanted a sign telling me exactly why the frost was heaving. Well, it was then explained to me that this condition probably had very little to do with the emotional state of the frost, and was intended as a warning to the state of the pavement. Which made me better about the frost, which I care about a little more than pavement. Apparently, this old asshole is also a little biased that way. Which is not meant to offend any pavement that happens to be listening. tag:odeo.com,2008-03-25,22196385 Tue, 25 Mar 2008 17:54:05 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Musil, Robert http://odeo.com/episodes/25398462-A-Handful-of-Dates The question that’s been asked a few times of me now: why don’t I read more African writers? Actually, it’s been asked more than a few times… enough times, in fact, to warrant the sort of qualifier most accurately described as MANY. So, many times it’s been asked of me, and many times I’ve answered that I, in what sometimes seems to be my inestimable ignorance, am aware of far fewer African writers than I should be. And, in the equally inestimable ignorance of the publishers of many of the short fiction anthologies from which I ply stories to read to you… well, you guessed it. And rest assured, this is an acknowledgement that makes me wish I were flexible enough to kick my own ass, because a story like tonight’s makes me think I should. But I’m not (flexible enough), which is where guys like Isaac are useful. So thank you Isaac, and if others of you want to introduce me to something new, send it along. The question that’s been asked a few times of me now: why don’t I read more African writers? Actually, it’s been asked more than a few times… enough times, in fact, to warrant the sort of qualifier most accurately described as MANY. So, many times it’s been asked of me, and many times I’ve answered that I, in what sometimes seems to be my inestimable ignorance, am aware of far fewer African writers than I should be. And, in the equally inestimable ignorance of the publishers of many of the short fiction anthologies from which I ply stories to read to you… well, you guessed it. And rest assured, this is an acknowledgement that makes me wish I were flexible enough to kick my own ass, because a story like tonight’s makes me think I should. But I’m not (flexible enough), which is where guys like Isaac are useful. So thank you Isaac, and if others of you want to introduce me to something new, send it along. The question that’s been asked a few times of me now: why don’t I read more African writers? Actually, it’s been asked more than a few times… enough times, in fact, to warrant the sort of qualifier most accurately described as MANY. So, many times it’s been asked of me, and many times I’ve answered that I, in what sometimes seems to be my inestimable ignorance, am aware of far fewer African writers than I should be. And, in the equally inestimable ignorance of the publishers of many of the short fiction anthologies from which I ply stories to read to you… well, you guessed it. And rest assured, this is an acknowledgement that makes me wish I were flexible enough to kick my own ass, because a story like tonight’s makes me think I should. But I’m not (flexible enough), which is where guys like Isaac are useful. So thank you Isaac, and if others of you want to introduce me to something new, send it along. tag:odeo.com,2008-03-20,25398462 Thu, 20 Mar 2008 18:28:30 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Salih, Tayeb, Arabic, sudanese http://odeo.com/episodes/22189709-A-Handful-of-Dates The question that’s been asked a few times of me now: why don’t I read more African writers? Actually, it’s been asked more than a few times… enough times, in fact, to warrant the sort of qualifier most accurately described as MANY. So, many times it’s been asked of me, and many times I’ve answered that I, in what sometimes seems to be my inestimable ignorance, am aware of far fewer African writers than I should be. And, in the equally inestimable ignorance of the publishers of many of the short fiction anthologies from which I ply stories to read to you… well, you guessed it. And rest assured, this is an acknowledgement that makes me wish I were flexible enough to kick my own ass, because a story like tonight’s makes me think I should. But I’m not (flexible enough), which is where guys like Isaac are useful. So thank you Isaac, and if others of you want to introduce me to something new, send it along. The question that’s been asked a few times of me now: why don’t I read more African writers? Actually, it’s been asked more than a few times… enough times, in fact, to warrant the sort of qualifier most accurately described as MANY. So, many times it’s been asked of me, and many times I’ve answered that I, in what sometimes seems to be my inestimable ignorance, am aware of far fewer African writers than I should be. And, in the equally inestimable ignorance of the publishers of many of the short fiction anthologies from which I ply stories to read to you… well, you guessed it. And rest assured, this is an acknowledgement that makes me wish I were flexible enough to kick my own ass, because a story like tonight’s makes me think I should. But I’m not (flexible enough), which is where guys like Isaac are useful. So thank you Isaac, and if others of you want to introduce me to something new, send it along. The question that’s been asked a few times of me now: why don’t I read more African writers? Actually, it’s been asked more than a few times… enough times, in fact, to warrant the sort of qualifier most accurately described as MANY. So, many times it’s been asked of me, and many times I’ve answered that I, in what sometimes seems to be my inestimable ignorance, am aware of far fewer African writers than I should be. And, in the equally inestimable ignorance of the publishers of many of the short fiction anthologies from which I ply stories to read to you… well, you guessed it. And rest assured, this is an acknowledgement that makes me wish I were flexible enough to kick my own ass, because a story like tonight’s makes me think I should. But I’m not (flexible enough), which is where guys like Isaac are useful. So thank you Isaac, and if others of you want to introduce me to something new, send it along. tag:odeo.com,2008-03-20,22189709 Thu, 20 Mar 2008 17:28:30 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Salih, Tayeb http://odeo.com/episodes/25398463-In-a-Hole It’s confusing, the name of tonight’s author, right? I mean, the better known writer sharing this name didn’t bother with a middle pseudonymous initial, and there’s a slight tweak to the surname, but we readers would be none the wiser, push-to-shove, and would settle back with a cup of tea and upperclass accent. But rest assured, there’s nothing Victorian here. Not much, anyway. Maybe a metaphor for industry, revival architecture, the destruction and rebirth of the city… honestly, there’s nothing Victorian in today’s story. Would you just listen to it already? It’s confusing, the name of tonight’s author, right? I mean, the better known writer sharing this name didn’t bother with a middle pseudonymous initial, and there’s a slight tweak to the surname, but we readers would be none the wiser, push-to-shove, and would settle back with a cup of tea and upperclass accent. But rest assured, there’s nothing Victorian here. Not much, anyway. Maybe a metaphor for industry, revival architecture, the destruction and rebirth of the city… honestly, there’s nothing Victorian in today’s story. Would you just listen to it already? It’s confusing, the name of tonight’s author, right? I mean, the better known writer sharing this name didn’t bother with a middle pseudonymous initial, and there’s a slight tweak to the surname, but we readers would be none the wiser, push-to-shove, and would settle back with a cup of tea and upperclass accent. But rest assured, there’s nothing Victorian here. Not much, anyway. Maybe a metaphor for industry, revival architecture, the destruction and rebirth of the city… honestly, there’s nothing Victorian in today’s story. Would you just listen to it already? tag:odeo.com,2008-03-12,25398463 Wed, 12 Mar 2008 20:07:48 -0700 no Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast american, Elliott, George P.