Know what sucks about living in a building filled with professional writers?
Leaving notes in the hallway. I just caught myself in the doorway thinking -- out loud, no less -- i before e except after c. Then I couldn't decide whether it was inconvenience or inconvienience. I knew it was the former but I kept saying, in-con-veei-nence. in-con-vee-nence. I finally convinced myself they weren't going to care -- or notice most likely. But then I thought, "I would totally notice and I would totally care." (Though I apparently would have to check my assessment in a dictionary.)
You'll be relieved (i before e) to know I got inconvenience right. Thank god.
So, have I told you about my building? I have real, honest to god, published, book on the Barnes & Noble table writers living in my building. One more step closer to Oprah. (Oprah can you hear me? Oprah can you see me? Oprah can you find me in the night?)
How do I know this you ask? Obviously, I am stalking my neighbors. Rather, I am stalking my neighbor's mail. My building is one of those with two front doors with the mail box in the little room between them. If someone gets packages that don't fit in the box, they're left on the floor in the doorway.
99% of the time, the package is for Tom. Tom is a book reviewer. I know this because I always check. (I always hope it's a surprise for me. It rarely is.)
I covet Tom's mail. Tom gets piles and piles and piles of books delivered to the hallway. And I come in and I see them and I tell you, it is hard not to steal Tom's mail. I've been in his apartment and I have seen his book collection. Tom has good books.
So, as I'm checking to see which publisher has sent Tom another book, I recognize a different name. Mainly because it is written above the name of my all-time favorite literary magazine. Someone in my building is getting mail at our address for my favorite literary magazine.
Her Name
Magazine's Name
Our Street Address
Her Apartment Number
If you've ever read HRH's and my profile, you will have noted that HRH and I strive to be friends with Sarah Vowell in order to get closer to our favorite writers (she is the key to all of them) and become friends with them -- Nick Hornby being one of the top 5.
The woman who lives in my building is, by way of editing the literary magazine that he writes a column for,
Nick Hornby's boss.
A session with Shala is $300. But. If I could convince Random House (or McSweeney's. I don't care) that it was necessary for my research and that it should be covered under my expenses ... how cool would that be?
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