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ivan@stellysee.de
| From | "Julie" <daisyknowsrock@hotmail.com> |
| Subject | Re: Liz UnPhair? |
| Date | Mon, 30 Jun 2003 20:27:26 -0500 |
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i just don't get it. liz really *has* lost her mind.
it's almost like the courtney love/vanity fair freakshow without the 4am
prank phone calls, although that can't be proven at this juncture...<g>
----- Original Message -----
From: "Michael Bennett" <mrhonorama@hotmail.com>
To: <audities@smoe.org>
Sent: Monday, June 30, 2003 4:53 PM
Subject: Liz UnPhair?
> I read this letter to the editor from Ms. Phair in the NY Times yesterday,
> in response to a negative review last Sunday. Someone on another list
> posted this. While I want to keep an open mind on the record, and don't
> want to let the negative pub affect my judgment, this letter makes me
think
> Liz is a thin skinned loser prima donna twit. -- Mike Bennett
> http://www.nytimes.com/2003/06/29/arts/29MAIL.html
>
> LETTERS
>
> LIZ PHAIR
> Chicken Little's Tale
> To the Editor:
>
> Re "Liz Phair's Exile in Avril-ville" by Meghan O'Rourke [June 22]:
>
> Once upon a time there was a writer named Chicken Little. Chicken Little
> worked very hard and took her job very seriously. Often, she even wrote.
One
> day, just as Chicken Little was about to have an idea, she heard something
> falling on her roof. "The sky is falling! The sky is falling!" she
shrieked,
> spilling green tea and vodka all over her work station. This commotion
awoke
> her three readers, who lived with her in her hut, and all three rushed
> outside to see what had happened to the sky. After enduring several
anxious
> minutes alone, Chicken Little was relieved to see her readers return. "Oh,
> Chicken Little, it was just the trees dropping their buds on a beautiful
> spring day," they said. Chicken Little tried not to show her
disappointment.
>
> Not long after, as Chicken Little was poring over some back issues of
other
> writers' material, she felt another idea about to form in her mind. "Truth
.
> . . no . . . Lies . . . no . . . ummm . . . ummm . . . Conspiracy!" She
was
> just about to write this down, when a great clattering and scraping began
> above her head. Clutching her PC to her breast, she swung her head wildly
to
> and fro. "The sky is falling! This time, the sky is falling! The sky is
> falling!" She meant to alert her readers. She felt very responsible for
> them. They played outdoors, mostly, and had very open minds. The three
> readers rushed back into the hut, very concerned, and when they saw the
look
> of dread on Chicken Little's sweet face and her finger pointing skyward,
> trembling, they immediately turned around and rushed back out to see what
> was the matter. For a few breathless moments, they could neither confirm
nor
> deny, then they all saw the same thing at once. "Chicken Little," said the
> readers, "it's only two squirrels chasing each other in amorous conquest,
> skittering over the eave of our house." "It's quite funny, actually,"
added
> one of the readers, "you should come and see." But Chicken Little was
> annoyed. "I have work to do!" she fumed. "Besides, I wasn't speaking to
you.
> I was performing a haiku," she fibbed, faxing something.
>
> Well, time passed, and the readers grew, and so did Chicken Little, but
not
> very much. The light inside the hut was dim, and she worked in a huddled
> position for long hours. She grew paranoid. She began to think she wasn't
> sure anymore. She began to fear she didn't know. Then, just as her resolve
> was nearly wiped away clean, she heard a sound that was not very loud. She
> cocked her head from side to side, her little neck pouch jiggling, and
> pecked at a few pebbles lying around her desk. Yes, the sound was
definitely
> there. In fact, it was coming from all sides now, the sound of a million
> tiny things dropping on her roof. She peeked out her window and saw a
> million tiny things dropping from the sky. All her chicken senses gathered
> in supreme vindication. She opened her throat as wide as it would go and
> crowed, "The sky is falling! The sky is falling! By God, any moron can see
> the sky is falling!"
>
> The peacefully sleeping readers were aroused, but did not pay attention
> anymore, so used to her hysteria were they by now that her crowing became
> one more familiar noise in the chattering nighttime forest.
>
> "The sky is falling! The sky is falling!" Chicken Little screeched,
> terrified they would not heed her and would be found the next morning,
> buried among the intellectual debris. She pecked and pecked at them with
her
> sharp little beak until they finally agreed to be awakened. The three
> readers rose up and shuffled outside to be greeted by a warm, summer rain
> falling steady as a heartbeat, wondrous and quiet as unexpected relief
from
> pain. "Why, Chicken Little," said one reader, "it's only a summer shower
> come to feed the land. It feels great!" Chicken Little cowered in the
corner
> as a fork of lightning licked the trees. "It's dangerous!" she cried, "you
> could slip on the wetness! You could catch a nasty cold! You could get
> electrocuted!" The three readers laughed, and went back out to experience
> the mystery of the storm, without thinking, without deconstructing,
without
> checking what the other would do first. "Listen to me! Listen to me!"
cried
> Chicken Little, as she watched their backs turn. The three readers stopped
> at the door and called out before leaving: "C'mon, Chicken Little. Hurry
up,
> you're gonna miss it!"
>
> LIZ PHAIR
> Manhattan Beach, Calif.
> Meghan O'Rourke's review of Liz Phair's new album, "Liz Phair," is online
at
> www.nytimes.com/lizphair.
>
>
>
>
>
> Record reviews and more at http://fufkin.com
>
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