Scotland (THE TAYLOR SWIFT CHEAT SHEET)

I will be away in Scotland for a while, and will resume posting sometime around July 25.

P.S. Bonus! Below is THE TAYLOR SWIFT CHEAT SHEET! Enjoy!

The Taylor Swift Cheat Sheet

Some of the literary devices TS uses very well:

Intertextuality: When one piece of writing refers to another.

These are the hands of fate;

You're my Achilles heel.

This is the Golden Age of something good, and right, and real.

(TS is alluding to the Iliad; she also seems to be alluding to the Classical Period of Actual Greece.)

You said you'd never met one girl

Who had as many James Taylor records as you

But I do.

(This isn't really a reference to a James Taylor song, but the words "James Taylor" are so evocative and recognizable, I think TS is using them to stand in for: "everything that is moody and smart.")

I'm dancing on my own.

I'll make the moves up as I go.

(Here, TS is tipping her hat to Robyn, to "Dancing on My Own." She might also be tipping her hat to Lena Dunham, whose show "Girls" made use of "Dancing" famously in Season One.)

And:

You were Romeo; I was the Scarlet Letter.

And my daddy said, Stay away from Juliet.

Metaphor: Well, examples of this are just everywhere.

Cherry lips, crystal skies.

I can show you incredible things.

And:

So you were never a saint

And I loved in shades of wrong.

We learn to live with the pain--

Mosaic broken hearts.

And:

Don't you worry your pretty little mind;

People throw rocks at things that shine.

Irony: TS uses this all the time.

I'm really gonna miss your picking fights

And me--falling for it, screaming that I'm right.

And:

Oh my God, look at that face!

You look like My Next Mistake.

And:

I stay out too late!

Got nothing in my brain!

And:

My mistake: I didn't know to be in love

You had to fight to have the upper hand.

And: Found-Object Art. I think TS did this once, with "Ronan." In that song, she just took blog posts from a woman whose baby had died of cancer--and she set the blog posts to music.

And: the Hero's Journey. This is a well-worn structure for a story. A hero leaves an Ordinary World for an Enchanted World, meets varied allies and tricksters, does battle with a dragon, and emerges with some kind of magical elixir. A fine example is "All Too Well." Here, TS "walks through the doors" with Jake Gyllenhaal. "The air was cold." She has left the bosom of her family! She meets new characters: Maggie Gyllenhaal, talking about her brother's years on "the tee ball team." Mama Gyllenhaal, speaking "of your past, thinking your future is Me." In this world, even the refrigerator light is magic; it becomes a spotlight in a ballroom. ("Dancing round the kitchen in the refrigerator light.") But the ally becomes a trickster; Jake Gyllenhaal is in fact a dragon who must be defeated. ("You call me up again just to break me like a promise, so casually cruel in the name of being honest.") TS escapes--sadder but wiser. ("It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well.") Now I'll use real hyperbole: When Sylvia Plath was very young, she kept diaries, and she recalled pedestrian adolescent flirtations as if they were major calamities. She was learning how to "mythologize" herself. I think TS does that, too.

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

The Death of Bergoglio

It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic. She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...

Liars and Saints

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