Tonight was quite fun and so unexpectedly so that I had to take a break from the break to tell you about it. First I had drinks with my colleague in literary PR, James Meader of Picador, at Les Enfants Terribles and we swapped books we're working on right now. He gave me Cion, The Echo Maker and The Shape of Things to Come. Classy picks, of course; however, he was chagrined that I outright refused one related to the The Paris Review and made him take it back. Well, of course I did (BTW, as I recall from the first time around, everyone's favorite venture capitalist wants you to know one of those links is NSFW). After my third glass of tropicalia or whatever it is that I'd drink out of a bucket down there at Ludlow & Canal, I hopped on the subway (dangerously chic, I know!) for a one stop trek to DUMBO, where another fellow colleague in literary PR, Sarah Reidy of Soho Press, had organized an amateur boxing match between Jonathan Ames and Craig Davidson, author of the debut novel The Fighter. It was really something and I enjoyed indulging my inner Roman (goes with the nose). The place was literally mobbed and I could type for the next hour just listing all the people I saw that I knew or whatever; it was marvelous. At one point I asked another publicist, Kathy Daneman of FSG, why there were so many attractive straight guys at the afterparty. Was it Brooklyn? Nah, she said, Bloodsport.
Snapshot of Fiona Apple at Gleason's Gym courtesy of SLUNCH, my favorite new anonymous, bitchy publishing gossip blog (<3)! And awesome etymology, all around: "I first heard this word about 1960 in the phrase, 'she is a slunch c___'" or "a term referring to a lunch-break used to have sex as opposed to eat lunch." I like the sound of it already.