the · affected · provincial’s · almanack

Why any of this would be of the slightest interest to you, I cannot say. Let's just agree that it isn't. Have a lovely Easter, just the same.

~W

John Tresch, Assistant Professor of History and Sociology of Science at the University of Pennsylvania, sat in on one of my readings last fall. Here's an excerpt of his incredibly kind letter:

"Last autumn I had the dagger-like pleasure of attending the public reading you magnanimously bestowed upon the Kelly Writer’s House of the University of Pennsylvania. Although I was already under the spell of your elegant, uproarious, and erudite volume, The Affected Provincial's Companion, I was delighted both by your ensemble, with its delicately outré combination of lavender and mossy green, and by your presentation, with its mélange of wit, extravagance, and modest breaks for the drinking of water.

Rather than grant you the warrior’s repose you had so forcefully earned, following your oratorical exertions I took the liberty of requesting your handwritten dedication upon a copy of your verdant tome for a dear friend of mine. (This friend has subsequently inaugurated a Whimsy Reading Circle in the outskirts of Chicago.) Yet more presumptuously (astonishing even myself), I dared to say a few words to you about my research into France in the nineteenth century, and, perhaps slightly less impertinently, about a course I will be teaching at Penn on aesthetics and technique next year. Your graceful response to these pleasantries stoked my audacity to a feverish blaze. Recklessly, I dared to presume upon your patience yet further and ask whether, by any ice-swan's chance in the Inferno, you might be willing to visit this class and deliver a light dusting of brilliance to a room of eager yet undercultivated minds on the topic of the theory and practice of dandyism."

[...]

"Although your calendar certainly now grows weedy with invitations—- to pyramid excavations, opium tastings, limousine-demolition derbies-- I wonder if there is any reason to hope that you might be enticed to return to the desert of West Philadelphia for a conversation with our class. Permit me to bore with details: The course’s marquee will read: “Instruments in Music and Science, 1750-1850.” In fact the course will be co-taught by myself, bringing a perspective from the History of Science (“dropping science,” one might say) and by a dear colleague, Emily Dolan, opalescent pedagogue of the Music Department. Emily has also devoured each word of your book and matched, gasp by gasp, my enthusiasm for the possibility of an appearance by you. The course will address the usual scholarly detritus: matter and mind, beauty, genius, cat pianos, electromagnetism, natural history, phantasmagoria, and weather-related mania. Ideally, your entrance will have been preceded by inquires by Kant and Foucault into “What is Enlightenment,” as well as texts by Hoffmann, Poe, Baudelaire, and other technicians of taste. On the general topic of transforming the persona into a work of art and tempering the delicate instrument of the self, I can think of no more exalted expert than yourself. [...]"
......

Help teach a class in an Ivy League university. This is comparable to the thrill I felt when I was told that the library at Yale had acquired a copy of my book for their permanent collection. How could I possibly say "no"?

I've also been asked to serve as a board member for the 215 Festival, an annual literary event held in Philadelphia. It should be great fun. Past luminaries include Amy Sedaris, John Hodgman, Robert Christgau, Sarah Vowell, Dave Eggers, Harvey Pekar, Patti Smith, etc. The other person who was asked to join along with me is a Jeopardy champion, American Philosophical Society-person, and a Ph.D. candidate at Penn. Goodness. Perhaps I'll simply serve coffee and pick out flyer fonts while the other members actually make the real decisions.

Chats on New York indie radio. Appearances on European television. Custom pocket squares. Surreal parties held in my honor in taxidermy-choked houses. Breakneck rides on Vespas through San Francisco. This whole movie nonsense. I'll say this much for the book: it will never sell millions of copies, but the opportunities and the wonderful people it has brought to my door have enriched my life immeasurably. It's both overwhelming and humbling.

~W

Saturday night's event at Obscura Antiques was a bit of a whirlwind. Early in the evening, we found ourselves late for my reading, many blocks from the venue and far from any available subway station. After a second cab refused us service, a friendly pedicab driver rolled up to offer us uncertain passage to the East Village. "To the pedicab!" said I.

For those unfamiliar with pedicabs, they are a three-wheeled bicycle rickshaw, often with a canopy over the passenger seats. They are mostly popular with tourists, but they can be a useful contingency when in the face of uncooperative cabbies and traffic-choked streets. They are a bit dicey as far as safety (I've heard tales of couples being wiped out by buses, and a couple close calls along the way confirmed the likelihood of such a mishap), but they are a far more humane and ecologically sound mode of transportation than cabs, so I heartily recommend them. After riding in one, I must say that I'd never noticed before how bumpy the crosstown streets are compared with the major avenues. Accompanied by the earsplitting crunk jams of our driver, we glided through busy intersections against the signals while eliciting incredulous stares of passersby (the contrast of Lil John's tender love sonnets and our slovenly attire probably jarred them from their customary jadedness). Made for quite an entrance when we pulled up at the reading, though--especially with the bicycle bell.

Oh yes, the reading...

( Some pictures from the evening )

We had a very good turnout--the crowd was spilling over into the street, and the room was actually a bit stuffy when we arrived. Having gorged on cheese and wine, the crowd was ready for one of my rants. So I hopped upon a rickety wooden stool behind the counter and did my bit. Obscura co-proprietor Evan was sweet enough to lend from her personal library a green-bound book published in 1882 entitled The Queer, The Quaint and The Quizzical; A Cabinet For The Curious by Frank H. Stauffer. The book is brimming with short entries on historical anomalies and anecdotes depicting the unusual customs practiced by the world's peoples. Impossible to put down. I hope to share some of these entries with you in the coming weeks.

Friends Sean and Meredith stopped by, and I gave Sean his belated birthday present: a pair of wooden sock stretchers (for wollen socks, which tend to shrink when drying).

Afterwards we went to an Italian restaurant around the corner, where the inimitable Catbone (pictured behind the cut) gave us pointers on how to turn a lady out, and how to ensure that any and all funds earned by said lady shall always reach the rightful party--namely, himself. He then revealed the tools of his trade: an antique moustache comb on a lapel chain, a twenty dollar bill, and a lipstick case that produces a small blade in lieu of, well, lipstick. Bad kitty.

Friend and Obscura co-owner Mike chauffered us back to our transportation, regaling us with tales of tattooed Japanese satanists who frequent the shop, and their preference for creepy gnomish automatons. Guess I should be wary.

I met so many wonderful people. Many thanks to Mike and Evan for a grand night out!

~W

So Farley's was fun, even though only a handful of people showed up at first (my special thanks to Jim, who arrived decked out in his finest). It could have become a rather sad affair: me sulking in an old chair next to a pile of untouched books, with the rare browser giving an uncomfortable glance at the pitiable sight of an overdressed git tucked away in the corner among the dustbunnies. Snif.

But no, my friends: the doing is the reward. And as far as I'm concerned, people will always get what they come for, whether they are five or five hundred in number. So up on a stool I went, and on went the show!

I gave an especially long reading last night (one of my better ones, by my admittedly lax standards). Those who showed were true fans of the book, and they were such a receptive, appreciative audience. The reading even grabbed some passersby from the street, and thus the crowd grew to fill the front of the shop. So what might have become a soul-deflating experience instead was a lively, intimate event. Even showbiz has something to teach us from time to time, eh?

My sincerest thanks to Jim and Nancy Farley, Deb, Justin and Lauren for their warmth and hospitality. See you in December!

~W

My sincerest thanks to both Kenny and Irwin for their kindness and hospitality!

Lurv,
W

Laura Pedrick, the photographer who came a couple weeks ago to my hovel and shot me for the NY Times, was kind enough to send a couple extra outtakes from that morning. I thought this one was particularly apt, since it seems to play with the idea of the dandy as a kind of discarded doll, a Pierrot-type character. Brings to mind Watteau's famous painting. It's all so very sad, you see.

~W

Philebrity: The Natural History of the Cheesesteak

~W

A very nice piece by Zach Dundas—a kindred spirit—who was kind enough to speak with me for an hour last week.

~W

(I don't even recognize myself in that old photo—I now feel as though I've always had this moustache.)

It's a very kind review, for which I'm thankful. I have plenty of people in Philly who have my back, and I greatly appreciate their support. I would kiss them, but they've all been drinking.

The piece is edited down from a much longer interview, so it starts off oddly (pseudo-) theoretical in tone, like a philosopher with Asperger's Syndrome. I only mention this, because I don't want people thinking that I abruptly start conversations with blather about "personality clusters." I like chatting about favorite cheeses as much as the next person.

~W

British magazine .Cent. is going with the theme of "whimsy" for their next issue, the guest editor being Stephen Jones:

".Cent is a quarterly magazine celebrating creativity in all its forms.In each issue we invite a well respected creative to act as guest editor,choosing a title that expresses something core to their beliefs. They then invite people they have worked with, or admire, to interpret the title from their own imaginative perspectives, giving readers the opportunity to see the guest editor in a more personal light whilst also showing all the facets that encompass them, .Cent then welcomes a worldwide network of creatives from fashion, art, music, design, illustration, literature and others, to contribute with their own interpretation of the title.

These contributions are then shared with the readers without the heavy hand of an intrusive editorial opinion. This inimitable concept allows contributors to speak directly to the readers creating an intimate, yet open debate. In a final step, .Cent encourages readers to offer their ideas and suggestions for contribution to the following issue. The distinctive process as a whole, .Cent calls Circlical Publishing™. .Cent’s aim is to provide an open platform for creative discussion, through intelligent yet accessible editorial; directly from the world’s most infl uential creative figures."

Another contributor is writing a piece on follies erected by English gentry, and I am submitting a piece on an American folly—Lucy. Issue eight will be out sometime this fall.

~W

( Once again down the rabbit hole )

~W