Enjoying my day job

I’m writing an article about biomarkers and their use in drug development. While doing some research, I came across this article from the editor of the British Journal of Clinical Pharmacology. It opens:

When David Beckham leaves the field towards the end of a match, the man who replaces him is a surrogate. Although I suspect that many footballers, if asked, would say that Surrogate is a town in Yorkshire, the word actually comes from the Latin word subrogare, to substitute.

Whatcha readin’?

Here’s a summer reading list (PDF) of NYC-types and other smartypants. The official VM fiancee was happy to find that Harold Bloom adores one of her favorite books, John Crowley’s Little, Big. My book this week is Madame Bovary, as mentioned a few days ago. On the blogroll to the left I also put in the link to everydamnbook (.xls) I’ve finished since 1989, when I went to college. Oh, and my Amazon wish list. If, y’know, you wanted to buy me a book, movie, or record.

If only he signed with New Jersey…

I’m not a hockey fan, but I am glad that the NHL has reached labor peace and is getting ready for a new season, if only because it means Miroslav Satan got to test the free-agent waters, leading to headlines like this one:

MILBURY TRADES PECA,
CUTS DEAL WITH SATAN

Unfortunately, his deal was with the Islanders. If he played for the Devils, I’d have bought my first-ever hockey sweater (don’t get me started on my pile of basketball jerseys, including an Argentine national team jersey).

Misc.

Ahoy, ahoy, dear reader! Sorry to be out of touch. The muse hasn’t been too friendly, these past few days.

Which isn’t the same as lounging around in a catatonic funk, even though I could use a little of that. No, I’ve just been kinda busy and unable to find any subject about which I can dash off a few lines.

I mean, sure, there’s this picture of one of the terrorist arrests in London.

My first impression on looking at that was, “Either the Bobbies have some pretty lax dress codes, or people who look like average Londoners are capable of suddenly donning SWAT gear and kicking ass.”

But I haven’t had too much to write about those attacks or the ones that immediately preceded them.

The more astute among you have noticed that I’ve reorganized the blogroll on the left side of this page, breaking it out into utterly arbitrary categories. I’ve added a bunch of sites to the roll, too, so forensic psychiatrists can spend more time trying to assemble an identikit picture of my mind or something.

In that same vein, I took a mental health day yesterday and reinforced the principle that I seem to do more stuff on those days than I do when I’m in the office. Yesterday involved finishing two books (Perfume and The Underminer) and starting another (Madame Bovary), putting up some shelves in my office, taking care of some paperwork for closing out my business, cleaning some floors, doing laundry, finishing another Mad Mix, and being Uncle Gil one last time before my nieces head back home to St. Louis. At least I was off-duty enough to refrain from checking my work e-mail.

I had a good idea (I think) for a longer post, which would make it an essay, I suppose. I’ll have to work on that for a bit this week, and see if it amounts to anything. I’d tell you what it’s about, but that would ruin the surprise.

Corporate Synergy?

This morning, I read a neat article about co-op advertising in bookstores (better known as “pay for play”, which helps insure that deep-pocketed publishers get the most exposure for their books).

Then, on a whim, I hit Amazon’s “most-preordered books in Literature and Fiction,” when I came across this. Evidently, The Testing of Luther Albright “heralds the beginning of what bodes to be a substantial writing career” for MacKenzie Bezos.

I wonder if the publisher (Fourth Estate) has to pay co-op advertising for the book on Amazon, SINCE THE AUTHOR’S HUSBAND IS AMAZON CEO JEFF BEZOS. I also wonder if the Amazon.com reviewer felt any pressure to, um, say the book is any good.

Anyway, there are a bunch of reasons that I closed down Voyant Publishing, my “literary” imprint. This sorta stuff was a contributing factor, to say the least.

Deterrence

Last night, I discovered that an acquaintance of mine (friend of a friend) is serving nearly 2 years in the penitentiary at Fort Dix. I’ve been researching both the pen and prison life in general.

Here’s the website of a prisoner named Michael Santos, who’s serving 26 years (he’s supposed to finish his sentence in 2013). He educated himself in prison and writes pretty well (prosaically, actually) about the day-to-day ugliness of prison life. Santos was a prisoner at Fort Dix, and wrote about it pretty extensively.

During my researches, I also discovered that the Bureau of Prisons has a federal inmate locator, and that some of the forums at Prisontalk.com are monstrously depressing.

I’ve also discovered that I will, for the rest of my life, do my utmost NEVER to get sent to prison.

As a guy who allegedly writes for a living, and one who tends to go for humor, I’m finding it awfully difficult to write to a friend-of-a-friend who’s in prison. But he oughtta know that people on the outside are thinking of him. I mean, life on the outside can be pretty lonely.

More Sudan

Nicholas Kristof of the NYTimes is insanely pissed off at the media for ignoring the genocide in Darfur:

When I’ve asked television correspondents about this lapse, they’ve noted that visas to Sudan are difficult to get and that reporting in Darfur is expensive and dangerous. True, but TV crews could at least interview Darfur refugees in nearby Chad. After all, Diane Sawyer traveled to Africa this year – to interview Brad Pitt, underscoring the point that the networks are willing to devote resources to cover the African stories that they consider more important than genocide.

If only Michael Jackson’s trial had been held in Darfur. Last month, CNN, Fox News, NBC, MSNBC, ABC and CBS collectively ran 55 times as many stories about Michael Jackson as they ran about genocide in Darfur.

Read on.