HOLD ON TIGHT

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. ~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot Tuesday, April 01, 2008 summer ambitions i have, admittedly been horribly distracted. got a call from a small literary agency that they'd be happy to have me for reading of unsolicited letters, manuscripts, slush piles, and drafting rejection letters. it's unpaid, but i would love the experience. especially, when they said they would like me to help out with translation and subrights deals. i have a phone interview with a huge publishing firm on friday. if i get the internship, it will be absolutely disgusting, and completely commercial, 9-5, slap in midtown, at the peak of the publishing season, very depressing, totally sell-out. but i'm going to read the publishers weekly everyday, because i totally want to learn how to be a sell-out. commercialism is the necessary, circuitous route that has to be taken for the world to be able to afford classic paperbacks. i used to be all idealistic and stuff, but i realise to move books across the world, you have to institute necessary evils. ...it's the first time i've heard him detached and valiant, and suddenly the banking crisis seems horribly real, and he seems horribly real. when i was young, my mom would always tell me my eyes were bigger than my mouth, and i'd never be able to finish what was on my plate. it's times like this when i wonder, should i really have left the city? but other times, i think, it's good i left the city, i'd be totally paranoid, totally ambitious, stretching myself all over the place to juggle work and study. i mean, two months in ithaca, and i started searching for all the publishing presses here, if i stayed on in manhattan, it would have been ridiculous. i like america. i like new york city. things are happening in the city. the ugly and beautiful, the beautiful can only be manufactured through the ugly, and my eyes are bigger than my life and my abilities allow. i would give up a lot for a job in book publishing where i feel i was actually moving books to places. i would give up past loves, past memories, so much that it would probably break the hearts of those who have ever loved me. posted by dawn # 6:05 PM Comments: Post a Comment << Home		[publishing] Publishers Weekly . Dystel & Goderich . New York Center for Independent Publishing . Association of American University Presses . Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators [people] clarisse . nurul . aunty zarina (ummi's bakery) . jeremy . pak . cyril . softblow . karen & kenny (booksactually) . eric . joel . [other loves] digitaljournalist . ballet dictionary . poetshouse . urbanwordnyc [me] dawn, singapore, new york city, ithaca. [yesterday] this is messed up - happy april's fools:) gold how to sleep missing me geryon responsibility cockroaches thinking about home lah the artist [archives] January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT

And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

summer ambitions

i have, admittedly been horribly distracted. got a call from a small literary agency that they'd be happy to have me for reading of unsolicited letters, manuscripts, slush piles, and drafting rejection letters. it's unpaid, but i would love the experience. especially, when they said they would like me to help out with translation and subrights deals.

i have a phone interview with a huge publishing firm on friday. if i get the internship, it will be absolutely disgusting, and completely commercial, 9-5, slap in midtown, at the peak of the publishing season, very depressing, totally sell-out. but i'm going to read the publishers weekly everyday, because i totally want to learn how to be a sell-out. commercialism is the necessary, circuitous route that has to be taken for the world to be able to afford classic paperbacks. i used to be all idealistic and stuff, but i realise to move books across the world, you have to institute necessary evils.

...it's the first time i've heard him detached and valiant, and suddenly the banking crisis seems horribly real, and he seems horribly real.

when i was young, my mom would always tell me my eyes were bigger than my mouth, and i'd never be able to finish what was on my plate. it's times like this when i wonder, should i really have left the city? but other times, i think, it's good i left the city, i'd be totally paranoid, totally ambitious, stretching myself all over the place to juggle work and study. i mean, two months in ithaca, and i started searching for all the publishing presses here, if i stayed on in manhattan, it would have been ridiculous. i like america. i like new york city. things are happening in the city. the ugly and beautiful, the beautiful can only be manufactured through the ugly, and my eyes are bigger than my life and my abilities allow. i would give up a lot for a job in book publishing where i feel i was actually moving books to places. i would give up past loves, past memories, so much that it would probably break the hearts of those who have ever loved me.

posted by dawn # 6:05 PM

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