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“I think it’s a testament to the writing over the last five years that they’ve built animosity in our audiences towards a character that has done some pretty despicable things and, at the same time, who has lived a life in a perfectly moral way.”

I haven’t done a gratuitous Pete Campbell post in awhile. I was too busy being completely absorbed by Mad Men’s Season 5. Here Vincent Kartheiser defends his shattered, sneaky alter ego to Vulture.

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Hey! My former hometown paper the Los Angeles Times published an essay I wrote about my memory of the L.A. Riots

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[This is a stock photo, not taken at Damaged Goods]

On Friday night I went to poster artist Art Chantry’s show at Damaged Goods in Belltown. He’s a Seattle artist who was first known for designing posters for Nirvana and Pearl Jam, I think, and has been shown at the Louvre, Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the Smithsonian.

I love his distinctive style. My favorite piece was the big poster of Hollywood mugshots–Frank Sinatra, Jim Morrison, a surprisingly glamorous Jane Fonda…

I’m trying to get over my shyness with well-known people, so I made it a point to introduce myself and Mr. Chantry was cute–he shrugged and was bashful when I asked if he was the artist and then was even more so when I sort of non-sensically thanked him for his work.

I really like the Damaged Goods store. They have all this cool memorabilia–40s prints, vintage Playboys, band posters.

The hipsters were out in force with their wool caps, tiny black rectangular glasses and tinier black jeans, buying vinyl records and drinking beer from a can.

Damaged Goods also has a great collection of pulp fiction for $4.50 each. I don’t read them, but I’m so in love with the artwork of those old paperbacks. This is the one that the cover of my book DATING AMY was inspired by:

It was not based on this, as a former boyfriend guessed:

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I’m not gonna lie to you, I bought Everyday Italian by Giada De Laurentiis to round out an Amazon order so I could get free shipping. I don’t watch the Food Network and I don’t eat fattening food and I’m not a guy who fantasizes about a gorgeous woman who can bring home the spaghetti carbonara and fry it up in a pan. So, yeah, I basically have no use for Giada.

Italian is very useful for dinner parties, though, so I invited some people over for Giada’s Classic Italian Lasagna. It called for a lot of cheese and cream. The company was scintillating–one guy moved 15 times as a kid, another woman is a storyteller for The Moth–but the dish was bland, I am sorry to report.

The next morning everyone from my dinner party except for me headed off for a long weekend in the San Juan Islands. I stayed at home and wrote.

That’s the story of this summer, sadly. It seems like this is just my time to work on my craft. No vacations, no sailing. I haven’t even been to a beach or a barbeque yet.

I am spicing things up today, though. I am building on Giada’s recipe and making it my own. Not all that cream. Not four hours of prep. Spicier, leaner, I’m layering myself into this puppy and it’s going to be delicious.

Happy August.

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