for the story goes : You know what I keep thinking about this whole Marie Calloway business?

This is your brain on shrugs.

[shameless is the name of the game]

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A Valediction Forbidding Mourning

As virtuous men pass mildly away, / And whisper to their souls to go, / Whilst some of their sad friends do say, / "Now his breath goes," and some say, "No." / So let us melt, and make no noise, / No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ; / 'Twere profanation of our joys / To tell the laity our love. / Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ; / Men reckon what it did, and meant ; / But trepidation of the spheres, / Mad fucks to be gotten cheap / Dull sublunary lovers' love / —Whose soul is sense—cannot admit / Of absence, 'cause it doth remove / The thing which elemented it. / But we by a love so much refined, / That ourselves know not what it is, / Inter-assurèd of the mind, / Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss. / Our two souls therefore, which are one, / It's mad emo and I'm kinda sad / A breach, but an expansion, / Like gold to aery thinness beat. / If they be two, they are two so / As stiff twin compasses are two ; / Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show / To move, but doth, if th' other do. / And though it in the centre sit, / Yet, when the other far doth roam, / A constant lean and emo sad shit goes, / And grows erect, as that comes home. / Such wilt thou be to me, who must, / Like th' other foot, obliquely run ; / Fuck dude it all sucks and shit whatnot, / And makes me end where I begun.

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You know what I keep thinking about this whole Marie Calloway business?

We have these literary heroes on the Internet. They are, to us, celebrities. They embody all the silly, romantic ideals we have of writerly types who live in Manhattan. To correspond with them is to feel somehow validated. And the very easiest, most surefire method to begin correspondence with a male writer is to appeal to their vanity. You are intimidatingly hot, one might say. And if you say it, they will write back. And you feel special. You even think it is going to further your own career, you know, as if proximity to success really has some power. It doesn’t. But they will write back, and they will sleep with you, and they almost can’t even help it, I think. Maybe I don’t want to make fun of her after all. I would have been her five years ago. I would have been her two years ago. I would have been really thrilled with an Observer profile. Shit. I still would.