March 1, 2012 at 1:42pm
What are the origins of this meh-ness? Yiddish appears to be the ultimate source. I checked with Ben Sadock, a Yiddish expert in New York, and he turned up a tantalizing early example. In the 1928 edition of his Yiddish-English-Hebrew dictionary, Alexander Harkavy included the word meh (written in the corresponding Hebrew letters) and glossed it as an interjection meaning “be it as it may” and an adjective meaning “so-so.
The ‘meh’ generation
Had no idea ‘meh’ comes from Yiddish.
February 14, 2012 at 12:57pm
Allen demystifies these banalities, arguing that ordinary real life, take-out-the-recycling, sheets-sharing, airport-pick-upping, Malick-enduring (God, the things I do) love has to accept indelible flaws without trying to correct them. It’s not about “putting up with them” (this too seems like a cliché), but rather requiring them as constitutive of a functioning relationship. Love becomes a question of finding someone who doesn’t make you feel self-conscious about the psychic bullshit that you bring to the dinner table, movie theatre, bedroom, etc. (not that you get over any of it — but that you can deal with it).
— Love and ‘Annie Hall’
In my good deed for the day, I saved them from what could have been a lifetime of fried-food-related regret by leaning over and telling them to order them immediately.
— this restaurant review for Pinche Taquería in Denver is pinche great
Nice story via Grantland about how Townson University’s basketball coach deals with his team being the worst Division I team. Would have been nice to talk to the students/fans, though, too.
October 22, 2011 at 11:04am
Most of my ribbons were for good sportsmanship, a backhanded compliment if ever there was one. As the starting gun was raised, I would look at my competitors twitching at their places. Parents would shout their boozy encouragement from the sidelines, and it would occur to me that one of us would have to lose, that I could do that for these people. For, whether I placed or came in last, all I ultimately felt was relief. The race was over, and now I could go home.
— David Sedaris, “Memory Laps”, in the Oct. 24 issue of The New Yorker
July 2, 2011 at 2:13pm
…but in this tournament your forehand is your vocabulary, your backhand is your eye for detail, your ability to turn words into poetry and rhythm is your volley, your use of metaphors and symbolism is your overhead, and your deep understanding of the sport is your all-important first serve.
— Tennis by the Book
Original free-verse poem:
What are you watching?
It appears you are watching some new age-y, futuristic infomercial
And you are smiling.
Do you want to buy it?
Do you want to call the 800 number they will list on the screen
and make a purchase?
Perhaps for a special limited-time offer
if you call immediately?
Whose phone will you use?
Or did the human-like figure
buzzing through the electric shimmer
just say some word that merely sounded like “cooper”?
May 13, 2011 at 1:21pm
so much truth in this.
What becomes of Asian-American overachievers after the test-taking ends?
New York Magazine | May 2011
Wow, do read.
February 25, 2011 at 6:15pm