Cei-U, Cei-Me
I can't believe I haven't posted forever. But I haven't. That's the way it's gotta be, okay?
I'm sitting with more time than ideas, and even less to say. But who wants that? Do you want that?
I keep trying to leave, but I can't. I've got nowhere else to go. But as long as I stay, I'll never leave. Because what keeps me here, what keeps me in this abominable place, 100 per cent (that's the proper Cdn spelling, thanks) inertia. I'm a log. I'm a bump on the log. I'm a man looking at a log, looking at a bump on a log, identifying more with that bump than I do with my family.
On a lighter note, last week I picked up Neil Michael Hagerty's Public Works and it's very good. I don't know why I keep picking up collections of shorter writing, because I always abandon them, because I don't want them to be over. John Fante, I'm sorry.
Will Ferguson, I'm even more sorry. Although I've read ALL of your other books (except the ones about Japan or the ones that have the world "Girlfriend" in the title), and the new one, I just couldn't bear it. Not because it was bad. In fact, the few pages that I read were quite excellent. I just can't read it right now, because, dammit, that's a book I should have written. Again.
If I don't write a book soon, if I don't write a good book soon, if I don't write The Good Book soon, if I don't stand on a street corner on Good Friday and read Matthew, Luke, Mark and the other guy (is it John?), if I don't ever listen to Matthew Sweet ever again, if I don't pick up some sugar on my way home tonight, if I don't get a little sugar when I get home tonight, if Suge Knight violates his parole, if White Nights star Mikhail Baryshnikov wears a mink stole, when Lionel Richie sees what you did to his car...
Martha Wainwright's got a record coming out soon. It might be really good. I think so, anyway.
Falconhawk are about to release one too. It's good for sure.
There's something playing on the radio right now that sounds like a cross between Tangiers and Dexy's Midnight Runners.
Now it's over. But I'm still here.
I'm still here.
I'm still here.
I'm sitting with more time than ideas, and even less to say. But who wants that? Do you want that?
I keep trying to leave, but I can't. I've got nowhere else to go. But as long as I stay, I'll never leave. Because what keeps me here, what keeps me in this abominable place, 100 per cent (that's the proper Cdn spelling, thanks) inertia. I'm a log. I'm a bump on the log. I'm a man looking at a log, looking at a bump on a log, identifying more with that bump than I do with my family.
On a lighter note, last week I picked up Neil Michael Hagerty's Public Works and it's very good. I don't know why I keep picking up collections of shorter writing, because I always abandon them, because I don't want them to be over. John Fante, I'm sorry.
Will Ferguson, I'm even more sorry. Although I've read ALL of your other books (except the ones about Japan or the ones that have the world "Girlfriend" in the title), and the new one, I just couldn't bear it. Not because it was bad. In fact, the few pages that I read were quite excellent. I just can't read it right now, because, dammit, that's a book I should have written. Again.
If I don't write a book soon, if I don't write a good book soon, if I don't write The Good Book soon, if I don't stand on a street corner on Good Friday and read Matthew, Luke, Mark and the other guy (is it John?), if I don't ever listen to Matthew Sweet ever again, if I don't pick up some sugar on my way home tonight, if I don't get a little sugar when I get home tonight, if Suge Knight violates his parole, if White Nights star Mikhail Baryshnikov wears a mink stole, when Lionel Richie sees what you did to his car...
Martha Wainwright's got a record coming out soon. It might be really good. I think so, anyway.
Falconhawk are about to release one too. It's good for sure.
There's something playing on the radio right now that sounds like a cross between Tangiers and Dexy's Midnight Runners.
Now it's over. But I'm still here.
I'm still here.
I'm still here.