oh and on fb

also I found myself shocked the other day participating in a fb thread with some other writers– this one guy was writing like a troll– calling people misogynist names, baiting, saying really mean things about one of my old teachers, all that, but admittedly elegant at it– he had a nice rangy vocabulary and was clearly showing it off.  anyhow I looked him up and he’s not only a new yorker writer– or once was– but I suddenly remembered hearing stories about him when I was 19 at my very first writers conference (that same summer:  I lived in a rooming house with a nun, my boyfriend got arrested and jailed for arson, I met Grace Paley and she was amazing to me, I got invited to a party at Bret Easton Ellis’s house and proudly declined to stay in and write, I met a black girl who spoke with a very strange accent I was later told was “Choate”… ) He and his writer-wife had this rock-star-reputation, they had not shown up at the conference, one of them was supposed to be teaching, where could they be, supposedly they had gone to a motel and kicked the tv out like in the movies, they were writing, drinking, fighting, fucking, and just hadn’t shown up.    I sort of remember them arriving eventually all ragged looking like Patti Smith, but I could have made that up based on the stories people told.  I like some the wife’s books very much– very, very much– but I never read him.  They divorced in the mid-nineties.  I read that on wikipedia.

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