Tag Archives: Elizabeth Croyden

The Croyden Affair Meets Andy Corrigan's Big Event

Private Neurosis
Private Neurosis

Date: Thu Mar 28, 1996 3:23:30 PM

Bob, since you were not shy or coy in voicing your infatuation with Our Lady Elizabeth of Croyden this morning on the phone, I thought you might also appreciate Tom's fresh reply to my blast. In the following piece, you may recognize the name of Franz Anton Mesmer (whom Tom is conspiring to sketch among others of similar ilk in his "Psychic Investigator" CD-ROM treatment), but you should also know that this Schwartz mentioned is Laurens Schwartz, an equally wacky youngish New York talent rep, who took Tom on after I composed and printed for him twenty or so a postcard queries to spearhead his search for an agent early last year. Seems he & Elizabeth are indeed moving that tour forward. Bravo! Theirs is quite the sembiotic relationship, shark and little sucker. Enjoyed our chat. It's too bad we are deemed socially incompatible. We do ebb a strong conversational tide when we allow ourselves the luxury our more sober inklings insist upon.

Still up for Andy Corrigan's Big Event tomorrow, Bob? Three o'clock. Still haven't talked with Sue this evening to determine her status. She often plans to knock off early, and only 2% (one in fifty) of the time ever pulls it off, unless she's heading out of town towards home which I figure she must take rather seriously. Ah, Richmond. Sure be interesting.

Heeeere's Tom...

Right on I agree with every word, that is, I would agree, I mean COULD agree, (Tom loses his train of thought here) if that last missive were put in form of an agrument, which it was not, or I could respond point by point if it were a prose essay, which it was not—what da' hell was that?! Anyway, it had the ring of truth. Elizabeth is a piece of work, a squirming mass of contradictions (see? you got me talking like that now). Anyway, I follow in the footsteps of Master Mesmer, and I'm taking my hysterical patient to Cleveland to get 800 color copies made, and then on to Philadelphia were Elizabeth's private neurosis will be on display at a comedy club. The back to D.C. on Monday to check e-mail and pick up snail mail and then up to New York to present four bound volumes to the Schwartz. —Tom Howell

Any Cracking Due To The Heavy Snows

The Croyden Affair
The Croyden Affair

Date: Thu Mar 28, 1996 7:24:35 AM America/New_York

"...profane my domain" Har har har! That's rich! Elizabeth started bad-mouthing Big Al over the mic at his bar on Columbia Road. She was ranting while on the portable phone with him, airing her dirty linen over the P.A. system, we heard screams outside, whipped the camcorder around, Big Al had Elizabeth in a choke hold from behind, a bear-hug. The cops came, Elizabeth wants to sue, I just returned from small claims court, my lawsuit is coming along fine. It's like they say at BZT "Sue Thy neighbor!" (registered trademark, BZT Industries, used by permission). —Tom Howell

Hey Bob, our illustrious neighbor, did your walls suffer any cracking due to the heavy snows this year? We sustained minor runs in the bedroom plaster along the partition where the column we installed props up the crossbeam opus the library so proudly rooted inspires, and also in the dining room, a near perfectly spent straight line approximately one and a quarter inch to the right (east) of a wallpaper joint streaks a crack the full height of the wall, splitting open the wallpaper quite nicely as if it were a planned joint. The damage however is merely cosmetic and since our "never mind the bollocks" indoctrination we don't care, we find it only slightly irritating. I suppose in a counting our blessings way we are lucky, very lucky. Some buildings collapsed under the weight of two feet. Of snow.

Ah...spring, seems so oddball, heavenly even, some six months after the impressionistic post-nickeldog renovations, to randomly gaze out into the backyard hubris and spy large tufts of greener than green grass, a few choice flowers, a stray but environmentally harmless cat, and a fence that just won't quit articulating rumors of a vestal nature about the subsequent rise and fall of my character. Go figure. It's a shipwrecked idea, but I enjoy my delusions of mediocrity.

You don't know any of the precious folk save the writer himself, in that forwarded piece (Oh yeah, Big Al, you know Big Al) but I just thought I'd rankle your pieces of mind with a few choice words Tom inspired. Oh yes, there is the Thomas Jeff Howellnyms, whom you know, a fair piece of shoddy workmanship himself, or just another snow job in today's vernacular. Anywaze, have a goody too shoes afternoon. You deserve it, and please, just this one favor, for the glory of expatriate Pennsylvanians everywhere, flash off a quick glance at the wicked little office artchik in your best Aqualung resolve just once for me. Whatever else you undoubtedly launch you should claim as your own.