In her novel Frankenstein, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley posits that “Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.”
It is my hope, however, as I write this column announcing a somewhat significant change here at Weekly Alibi (namely, that beloved Arts & Literature Editor Maggie Grimason has opted to do shiny new things somewhere else, and, further, that the capable editorial cabal has opted, perhaps foolishly, to replace her with the oddity writing this now) that Shelley, while a credible monster-maker, was full of shit when it came to identifying absolutes about the human mind’s pain. I hope this, not because I am super excited about this job and want y’alls to like me—though I am, and I do, I assure you—but rather because, in spite of what venom most (okay, all) of my exes would volunteer to spew about me, I don’t actually like hurting people. Well, not most people.
And certainly none of you.
Now, then. That out of the way, let me begin the task which was handed to me by Managing Editor Devin D. O’Leary, my new boss, or, as I like to call him, El Mero Mero Más Magnífico del Mundo.
“Alisa,” quoth he, “Why don’t you do a little introductory column, letting readers know who you are?” I could think of a million reasons why not, chief among them being my general detestability, but when answering rhetorical questions posed by your new El Mero Mero Más Magnífico del Mundo, it is best to say “Ándale, pues, homie.” The nuns taught me that.
Telling you a little about me, then, is what I endeavor to do now, though I have mixed feelings about doing so under the rubric “Found Objects,” because I am more of a lost soul, or would be, if I didn’t know exactly where I was, or if I actually had a soul.
I used to be a staff writer for both The Boston Globe and The Los Angeles Times, spent eight years doing that, got some writing awards, including being named the top magazine essayist in the nation. Moved back here to Albuquerque, my hometown, to write novels, a dozen of them, couple-a bestsellers; been doing that for the past 15 years. I have more than a million books in print, in 11 languages, though China never made good on their contract, just bootlegged my book, which was really surprising considering how generally fair the Chinese government tends to be. I once was Features Editor for a mythological afternoon newspaper called The Albuquerque Tribune, read only by quetzalcoatls and fans of “Matlock” all over Bernalillo County. Oh. I’m also a sax player with an estranged brother, and might have once had a fling with a hot intern; these are the only things I have in common with Bill Clinton.
I want to hear from you. Well, some of you.
Or do I?