Mumbai newspaper Mid-Day publishes article, "The Barbie (Political) Party," that mentions Richard Grayson's "Twelve-Step Barbie"

Today, Sunday, July 30, 2023, the Mumbai-based newspaper Mid-Day has published an article, "The Barbie (political) Party" by Paromita Vohra, that mentions Richard Grayson's story "Twelve-Step Barbie," originally published in Mondo Barbie, edited by Richard Peabody and Lucinda Ebersole, in 1993.

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Late May, 1993 | Richard Grayson

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Late May, 1993 | Richard Grayson

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Late April, 1993 | Richard Grayson

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Late April, 1993 | Richard Grayson 

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Mid-April, 1993 | Richard Grayson

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Mid-April, 1993 | Richard Grayson

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Early April, 1993 | Richard Grayson

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Early April, 1993 | Richard Grayson

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Late March, 1993 | Richard Grayson

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Late March, 1993 | Richard Grayson

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Mid-March, 1993 | Richard Grayson

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Late January, 1993 | Richard Grayson

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Late January, 1993 | Richard Grayson

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Early December, 1992 | Richard Grayson

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Early December, 1992 | Richard Grayson

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Late November, 1992 | Richard Grayson

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Late November, 1992 | Richard Grayson

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Late September, 1992 | Richard Grayson

A Writer’s Diary Entries From Late September, 1992 | Richard Grayson

Tuesday Evening in Chelsea: Denise Duhamel and Amy Lemmon reading at Barnes and Noble at Fashion Institute of Technology

Early this evening we went over to the fabulous Fashion Institute of Technology's Barnes and Noble college bookstore to see two of our favorite poets, Denise Duhamel and Amy Lemmon, read from their collaborative books, ABBA: The Poems and the just-published Enjoy Hot or Iced: Poems in Conversation and a Conversation.

Denise Duhamel is an old friend, and we were glad to see her photo in the New York Times on Saturday although the story of her reading at Horace Mann with another old friend from Miami, Maureen Seaton, was a little discomfiting. It was great to see her in person again as well as hear her read. We've enjoyed Denise's poetry since the 1980s although we didn't meet her until November 1993, when we did a reading together, along with others, for the anthology Mondo Barbie (coincidentally, it got a nice writeup by Dave Housley at The Lit Pub just this past weekend) at the Miami Book Fair International. And it was great to see her with Amy Lemmon, whom we've had the pleasure of knowing since she hired us to teach business writing at FIT in the fall of 2006.

Their joint reading from their collaborative books was a terrific hour of poetry, probably the best reading we've gone to this year. It had an intimate feel, and the poets -- as they do in their texts -- play off one another expertly. Denise has done a great deal of collaborative work, and both the playful ABBA poems and the somewhat more elegant Enjoy Hot or Iced (beautifully designed by the publisher) gave us, and the others in the audience, a great deal of excitement and fun.

Take this collaboration, "Ex Post Facto":

"Remember me?" the subject line. My college beau
was now HUGGYBEAR3@yahoo.com and a VIP at Sysco.
He'd worn tie-dye and Birks on our first tryst. "Oh
you're in a sorority?" he'd said. I'd just made a pledge, though

I couldn't afford the dues. "Um, I joined Chi-O,"
I lied. "It's not Greek at all. We sit around and discuss Tao
and the benefits of soy." "Cool," he said. "Let's go
figure out our charts." I was a Gemini. He was a Leo.

Back at his place, he put on Elvis Costello,
lit vanilla candles, and unwrapped his Tarot
deck and ceramic bong. "In a past life, I was a Pharoah,"
I said, showing him my spread: a sword, a wand, and a fellow

with cups, dead ringer for Benny from ABBA. "Bingo!"
he teased until I became defensive. "Hey, I belong to the AFL-CIO
and NOW." "Not bad for a girl from Ohio,"
he whispered. He was from Miami, land of flamingo-

colored hotels and retirees in low-slung Speedos.
His kisses were sweet, a mixture of grass and Gallo.
In the mornings, we would eat marshmallow
clovers and hearts, Lucky Charms inciting our libidos

and sending us back to the lumpy futon. "Presto!"
I'd say, waving the sheets, beginning my strip show
to Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon." Crypto-
karaoke was at the core of our love-manifesto,

"You Spin Me Round" by Dead or Alive. Ergo,
I traded in my shit-kickers for lime green stilettos
and my Tom Robbins novels for Brecht librettos.
Would he recognize me now? My clothes hamper so

clogged with black, my closet full of faux
Fendi and knock-off Manolo Blahniks? Apropos
or no, humming Schubert's allegro ma non troppo,
I typed "Refresh my memory!" and sipped Bordeaux.

Here's Amy's title poem from Enjoy Hot or Iced:

You’ve brewed this stuff, now drink it—
these dreggy-dregs, this filter-silt,
the tiny bits that cling to tongue.
You always liked it strong and now
you’ve got it at its darkest, split
us at the core to brew a full bold flavor,
so each must shoulder/bear the double-weight
of everything except the other’s body.
I hope you have your fun and drink it, too,
iced now as much as it was hot. I don’t. I didn’t
order it this way. I wanted café au lait,
and when the waiter brought it and I asked for water,
he said flat “No” and mugged—a joke, I thought,
but sure enough, he never brought a glass, left me
to fend with froth and squeeze a dollar tip. He thought
he was funny. You think you’re kind, you think
you’re sensible, you think you’re something
I can’t quite imagine. What of the Monet’s
lily-pads of mold on Earl Grey cooling in the jar?
The brown scrub-nulling scum that clings
to the worn Picasso mug? The ghosts of shattered crockery,
the cartoon souls of slain French press carafes?
Yours, yours, mine, ours. It’s a tossup,
so you clay-pigeon it again and pull! Shoot! A hit!
My heart, I mean, that flat and battered thing
you had and lately thought so little of.

And Denise's "Boxed Set Sestina":

I hid my hopes in a cigar box on Christmas, but you gave them away on Boxing Day (in Canada). I clipped box tops for coupons while you gobbled an expensive Bento box lunch. You were a noshow as I waited in line at the box office in the satin pillbox hat I bought at the thrift shop. I collected hatboxes while you flew your box kite wearing only your boxers. Our lovemaking once wore out the box springs, but now you said you felt boxed in. I slumped in the last row while you glowed with someone else in our box seats. You slept in first class while I shivered in the boxcar. I never got your love letter because you forgot to put it in the mailbox. I felt so neglected I ate fistfuls of croutons right from the box in my boxy, unflattering housedress. My shadow box was filled with ceramic figurines of you. Your toolbox was as empty as our icebox. I stayed home, blaring my boom box, while you drank at the bar, wasting quarters on a dusty jukebox. You told me to get off my soapbox. Were our problems bigger than a breadbox? Yes! Especially when I caught you peeing in the sandbox or dipping into the cashbox while you thought I wasn’t looking. It’s true I was a chatterbox, but you can’t deny you put your affection in a lockbox while you played with your vintage Matchbox cars. It was up to me to open the fuse box and fix the problem—up to me to take kickboxing to defend myself. I thought outside the box when I played your favorite song, Daddy Cool’s “Baby, Let Me Bang Your Box,” on my squeezebox. I was hoping to win you back after our most vicious boxing match—thirtynine rounds of screaming that made the German boxer nextdoor growl. It had all started when your word “boxwallah” wasn’t in the Scrabble dictionary; then I won with “carboxyl.” You snatched up your ebony snuffbox while I tore the boxberries from our flowerbox. I stuffed a shoebox with regret. You packed up your Hot Wheels lunchbox and left.

After the reading, the poets signed our books. We're really grateful for the work of Amy Lemmon and Denise Duhamel, and even more grateful to have them as friends.

Richard Grayson's "Twelve Step Barbie" at Chicago STORIES ON STAGE Summer Benefit Performance

Richard Grayson's story "Twelve Step Barbie" (originally published in Mondo Barbie) will be read at Chicago's "Stories on Stage" Summer Benefit Performance on Wednesday, June 29, 1994.

South Florida Sun-Sentinel reports on Richard Grayson's appearance at the Miami Book Fair International

In the South Florida Sun-Sentinel today, Sunday, November 14, 1993, book editor Chauncey Mabe reports on the Miami Book Fair International and the local authors, including Richard Grayson, appearing there.

Gainesville Sun & Miami Herald on Richard Grayson's "Twelve Step Barbie" in MONDO BARBIE

The Gainesville Sun (May 9, 1993) and Miami Herald (May 4, 1993) have articles on Mondo Barbie, edited by Richard Peabody and Lucinda Ebersole (St. Martin's Press) with work by Denise Duhamel, A.M. Homes, Sandra Cisneros, Kathryn Harrison, Margie Piercy, Alice McDermott, Gregg Shapiro, Lynne Barrett, Lyn Lifshin and others, including Richard Grayson, represented by his story "Twelve Step Barbie."

Irish Newspaper The Star Attacks Richard Grayson for Portraying Barbie as an Alcoholic and Ken as Transgender

Today (April 19, 1993), The Star, a newspaper in Dublin, Ireland, published an article, "Boozer Barbie's Sex Op Shock," attacking author Richard Grayson for portraying Barbie as an alcoholic and Ken as transgender in his story "Twelve-Step Barbie."

Los Angeles Times reports on Richard Grayson's "Twelve Step Barbie"

The Los Angeles Times today (Tuesday, April 6, 1993) has an "Only in L.A." column by Steve Harvey on page B2 that mentions a story by Richard Grayson in Mondo Barbie, edited by Richard Peabody and Lucinda Ebersole (St. Martin's Press):


That girl: The editors of "Mondo Barbie" describe their irreverent anthology of fiction and poetry dealing with the improbably shaped blonde as "the answer to . . . all that misplaced Barbie Angst, all that childhood conditioning, torture and repression."

All in 185 pink pages, none of them, needless to say, authorized by El Segundo-based Mattel.

This is not the blankly smiling Barbie of store shelves. The works carry such titles as "Hells Angel Barbie," "Barbie Meets the Scariest Fatso Yet," "Barbie Comes Out" and "The Barbie Murders."

In one story, Barbie complains of Ken: "Have you ever noticed, he has molded plastic hair. His head and his hair are all one piece. I can't go out with a guy like that."

Then there's Richard Grayson's "Twelve-Step Barbie," which presents an older Barbie, an Alcoholics Anonymous member living alone, resentful of the younger women in workout classes, irritated that the loan officer at the bank doesn't recognize her (she has an asbestos removal business). She finds some satisfaction in giving volunteer health education lectures to teen-agers.

Author Grayson's Ken has changed, too -- "after he disappeared from Barbie's life . . . he became Gender Reassignment Ken and finally Kendra." Upon getting back together, Barbie and Kendra discover "what they liked about each other, what they had missed the first time." They become best girlfriends.

GRAPHIC: Photo, An off-the-wall journal about Barbie reveals that she hates Ken's plastic hair.