Van Dyke Parks turns sixty-nine today. Happy birthday, Van Dyke.
[Sixty-nine is the new fifty-two. The explanation: the special theory of relativity.]
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Happy birthday, VDP
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- Against “deep reading”
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- At the World Trade Center and St. Paul’s Chapel
- Being wrong about beauty
- Bobbing for apples
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- “The Case of the Purloined Prairie”
- “The ’Clipse”
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- “Extra credit?”
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- Happy birthday, Mr. Piletti
- Hoagies, pizza, and English studies
- Homeric blindness in “colledge”
- How to Write a Sentence
- Imaginary liner notes
- Invisible man: Louis Armstrong and the New York Times
- Invitation to a dance
- John Lee Hooker and Canned Heat
- Is there a pencil in The House?
- A Kerouac notebook page
- The kitchen shink [sic]
- Klenosky!
- Lady Elaine’s can
- “Make My Jotter Quit!”
- Mysteries of the tollbooth
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- Phones Are For People
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- Proust: involuntary memory, foolish things
- P.S. 131
- Pullum on Strunk and White
- Re: the Beloit Mindset List
- Some have gone and some remain
- Sports Illustrated and Proust
- The Springfield Daily Gazette
- That (in)famous line
- Things I learned on my summer vacation
- Van Dyke Parks in Chicago
- What I hear in “Walk Away Renee”
- W(h)ither grammar
Nancy, October 19, 1950.
comments: 1
Hmm. I don't recall having quite this many aches and pains at 48, or 52. Sixty-four doesn't seem any great age any more, I admit, but *something* hurts all the time.
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