Katherine Lanpher

SlushPile Hell: Another SlushPile Hell contest was held Thursday on Twitter. And there...

Fri, 30 Jul 2010 16:50:29 -0400

SlushPile Hell: Another SlushPile Hell contest was held Thursday on Twitter. And there...:

Another SlushPile Hell contest was held Thursday on Twitter. And there was much rejoicing.

We asked you to come up with THE WORST SELF-HELP BOOK…EVER (yeah, I know, we did the same thing with children’s books last week—are you surprised?). Too many entries to count this time, and a wealth of…

What happens five years after “The Education of Shelby...

Sun, 25 Jul 2010 12:58:28 -0400

What happens five years after “The Education of Shelby Knox?” I’ll find out tomorrow when I interview her for an upcoming magazine piece I’m doing.

The Takeaway: Billions on Intelligence Contractors; Continued Oil Impact; Army Suicides; DIY Mental Health; Raising 'Bad Seeds' - The Takeaway

Mon, 19 Jul 2010 11:46:01 -0400

The Takeaway: Billions on Intelligence Contractors; Continued Oil Impact; Army Suicides; DIY Mental Health; Raising 'Bad Seeds' - The Takeaway:

I co-hosted The Takeaway this morning with Todd Zwillich - here’s a link in case you were sleeping. We covered the Washington Post piece co-authored by Dana Priest on the Secret Nation of intelligence contractors, took a look at the disturbing Army suicide numbers from last month, tried to figure out how good parents can raise bad seeds and talked to a marine toxicologist who actually dove into the oil spill in the Gulf.

I’m ready for a nap.

Stephen Colbert as a United Farm Worker? They’re offering...

Sat, 10 Jul 2010 21:21:26 -0400

Stephen Colbert as a United Farm Worker? They’re offering all their jobs in the field to any documented American who will take them…..and Colbert is the fourth to sign up. Great interview with Arturo Rodriguez.

Steve Earle, Alison Moorer and Rosanne Cash: Yeah, the show you should have been at last night....

Fri, 09 Jul 2010 10:38:00 -0400

Steve Earle, Alison Moorer and Rosanne Cash: Yeah, the show you should have been at last night....

Yes, I’m a fair-weather World Cup fan. So sue me. This is...

Wed, 07 Jul 2010 22:09:04 -0400

Yes, I’m a fair-weather World Cup fan. So sue me. This is hysterical.

What are your picks for summer reading? Alan Furst wants...

Sat, 03 Jul 2010 14:42:15 -0400

What are your picks for summer reading? Alan Furst wants something he won’t have to write about, Kate Moses wants dessert, Elif Batuman wants romance, Teddy Wayne wants tennis…..and Gary Schteyngart wants romance and dystopia.

So, I’m standing on a little bridge in San Simeon, Calif.,...

Mon, 28 Jun 2010 20:10:00 -0400

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/upstairs-at-the-square/index.asp

So, I’m standing on a little bridge in San Simeon, Calif., looking down at the elephant seals flopped out on the beach below and I can’t help but remark that the seals look a lot like guys who have partied a little too hard and are sleeping it off. “Yeah,” says the cute guy next to me, “that’s how I feel.”

Turns out it’s Scott, the bass player for the Growlers. Next to him is Brooks, the lead singer. We did a show in NYC - what? two weeks ago? - and now here we all are, looking at elephant seals.

For the record: The Growlers are way more alert than elephant seals. Here’s the video of our show, which is up at bn.com/upstairs.

Killer show tonight at “Upstairs at the Square” with...

Fri, 11 Jun 2010 00:02:32 -0400

Killer show tonight at “Upstairs at the Square” with Gavin McInnes as our author and The Growlers as our musical guests. The former drove in from Southern California on “Brandy,” their former school bus turned tour bus and I couldn’t resist the chance to get a snap with Brandy. We’ll post the show as soon as we edit out the nasty bits.

"It appears, that I have … entirely by accident … developed a manifesto. Let me tell you..."

Wed, 09 Jun 2010 12:28:45 -0400

“It appears, that I have … entirely by accident … developed a manifesto. Let me tell you how this happened. So, because I am an author and am generally presentable and have shoes and things … and because I spend a lot of time online . .”

- MANIFESTO

The Growlers: goth-surf-punk-rockabilly-awesome. I cannot wait...

Mon, 07 Jun 2010 22:07:57 -0400

The Growlers: goth-surf-punk-rockabilly-awesome. I cannot wait until our show with them and guest author Gavin McInnes for our 4th anniversary edition of “Upstairs at the Square” this Thursday, Barnes and Noble Union Square, 7 p.m. FREE.

The Wall Street Journal reports that Calvin Klein’s...

Mon, 07 Jun 2010 22:01:22 -0400

The Wall Street Journal reports that Calvin Klein’s Obsession for Men works best for tracking jaguars in Central America……”Obsession for Big Cats?” This video worth it just for the ocelot going crazy for CK.

Natalie Merchant and "Leave Your Sleep'' at Upstairs at the Square

Wed, 28 Apr 2010 22:59:01 -0400

Natalie Merchant and "Leave Your Sleep'' at Upstairs at the Square:

This is a treat. Natalie talks about the poems that changed her life as a new mother and then sings the tunes she composed for a series of nursery rhymes and nonsense that make the most sense of anything you’ve ever heard.

A Scout is Trustworthy, Loyal.....

Mon, 26 Apr 2010 14:54:23 -0400

A Scout is Trustworthy, Loyal.....:

Paul Theroux on the Boy Scouts. Who knew?

Words to live by from a Pulitzer winner for music

Thu, 22 Apr 2010 23:59:49 -0400

New York Times, 4/22/10 interview with composer Jennifer Higdon

Ms. Higdon has had her share of detractors, who told her she couldn’t compose because she started so late; that a flute performance major couldn’t be a composer; that she would never make a living; and that she would never get into graduate school. Some male composers have grumbled to her face that she’s only been successful because she’s a woman.

“Everyone runs into naysayers,” Ms. Higdon said, ”but if you love something enough and feel passionately enough, you just go on ahead, walk right around the person saying it, proceed down the road and don’t look back.”

You're a doctor, a woman, you've just won a Pulitzer. So what do you have to say for yourself? Click here.

Mon, 19 Apr 2010 21:25:12 -0400

You're a doctor, a woman, you've just won a Pulitzer. So what do you have to say for yourself? Click here.

Memories of Justice John Paul Stevens From His Former Clerks - Op-Ed - NYTimes.com

Mon, 12 Apr 2010 00:38:31 -0400

Memories of Justice John Paul Stevens From His Former Clerks - Op-Ed - NYTimes.com:

Long, long ago, in another life I rarely mention, I wanted to be a legal historian; to this day, I am the only person I know who had read the four volumes of the John Marshall biography and who is a fan of the 19th Century Justice Joseph Story. But you should read these memories for their telling details -the judge who stayed up late, who sat in a creased black leather chair, who didn’t mind being called a judge….

Some friends and I have come up with a fictional airline...

Sun, 11 Apr 2010 21:44:00 -0400

Some friends and I have come up with a fictional airline called…..Hades Air. This photo is from the vintage file at Delta Airlines, which can be seen at deltamuseum.org and which was highlighted recently at nytimes.com……..

mnartists.org | mnLIT Original: "What the Neurologist Doesn't Say"

Sat, 10 Apr 2010 14:16:49 -0400

mnartists.org | mnLIT Original: "What the Neurologist Doesn't Say":

here is more ample documentation of Jeff and poem…..

Today's cadeau: a poem by Jeff Johnson

Sat, 10 Apr 2010 14:13:00 -0400

Today's cadeau: a poem by Jeff Johnson:

What the Neurologist Doesn’t Say

This is the end of minutiae
and the beginning of a sort
of cruise. You won’t quite recognize
the climate. Some people find this
troubling, but try to roll with it.
If you taste brine, if you hear gulls,
if the wind comes at you from an
unlikely quarter, don’t panic.
You’ve always been a landlocked soul—
acreages, volts, miles per gallon;
the sea will take getting used to.
Go for long walks past the lounge chairs.
Let your knees educate your mind
as to how the tides are running.
Bring a book of crossword puzzles.
Greet the people whose faces make
you think of old songs. Chances are
they’re your family. Sing their names
and see. When we speak of the brain,
Mr. Johnson, when we speak of
certain vexing pathologies
that tend to accompany age,
we are almost forced to deal in
metaphor. The day will come, then,
when you find yourself in a strange
part of the ship, far belowdecks,
a squat space dense with engine noise,
reeking of grease and buffet scraps,
and you won’t know how you got there.
Your pockets will be bulging with
hardware-lock washers, cotter pins,
small things that keep larger things from
falling to pieces. Most people
nowadays couldn’t tell you what
a cotter pin does. I intend
no irony when I observe
that no matter how long you live,
you will never lose that knowledge.
It will be in your fingertips
long after it’s gone from your skull.
All the same, you can’t fix this ship.
Your voyage is real yet purely
figurative, like so much else.
Your grandchild, say: a dead ringer
for your stupidest in-law and
an incarnation of heaven’s
most exalted lights. It isn’t
your job anymore to make sense
of these things. This is the end of
reconciliation. Your job
now is to stand on the top deck,
push your hands into your empty
pockets, and turn your face toward home.

Instead, the neurologist reads
from a sheet of paper, shyly,
as if he’s new to this business,
as if he has never before
had to sit in a fluorescent
compartment and tell an old man
the stars are dying. You have an
acetylcholine deficit,
he says. Here are some optimal
self-care protocols, and here’s a
prescription for a drug we’ve seen
some pretty darned good results with.
My father listens, or seems to.
His face prepares for tears when the
doctor says Alzheimer’s, but they
don’t quite fall. His mildness returns;
it refills his eight decades like
ballast. He perhaps remembers
what Reader’s Digest always preached:
Sadness is a choice. Laughter is
the best, the cheapest medicine.
Anger fills the vessels of your
body with a cancerous paste.
Joe’s gallbladder is a wondrous
organ, as are his skin and eyes
and liver, and if you think you
can even begin to fathom
the subtlety and horsepower
of Joe’s generic three-pound brain,
you’ve got another think coming.
Out we go to the parking ramp,
to the wide, worn seats of my dad’s
Century. We buckle in and
loop down to the booth. A peppy
older gal with a freshly set
permanent wave takes our two bucks
and tells us to have a good one.
We drive off in silence. It seems
this is the end of bantering
with congenial strangers, too.
The car steers like a pontoon boat,
but I don’t say so. Dad knows that,
or knew it, and in any case
he’s busy just now. He’s having
another think. He’s looking out
at the horizon, learning how
the light falls at this latitude,
how the clouds scatter in this sky,
taking his first measure of this
concrete, theoretical sea.