1/29/2001

at four this morning, as i lay awake in bed listening to the wind smack rain against the window in short, erratic bursts, it occurred to me that i’d forgotten to do an assignment. i was supposed to write an ode to some inanimate object, and it’s due today at one. so i’ve written an ode to the O key on my keyboard, but i’ve taken out all of the O’s. and boy, does it ever suck.

h, little key
resting happily in my keyb ard
sandwiched between the i and the p
just like the thers, and yet
s r und and perfect, essential
with ut y u, there w uld be n l ve
n c kies, n m vies with p pc rn
n new n teb ks in c ffeeh uses
n cl uds r sn wst rms
h, little key
life with ut y ur square plastic self
w uld be n g d
h, little key
y u are n t superflu us

11/18/2000

right. an uneventful evening, delightfully so, finishing the first draft of my paper and talking to various strangers who stopped by my table for reasons that i cannot explain other than that my table was right next to the door. so everyone got their little friday-night dose of literature on their way out of the coffeehouse. don’t they all wish they could be dorks like me…

not much writing going on this week, is there? i’ve recently had some interesting reactions from the non-internet-savvy when i mention this site.
“you write a journal on the internet?”
“oh my god, i could never do that.”
“so, like, anyone can see it?”
well, it’s my mistake for using the word journal as it’s somewhat misleading, but it’s the only word i can think of to describe this to people who won’t know what i’m talking about when i try to explain. regardless, the almost-inevitable disdain in their voices sort of bugs me. from now on i shall be more careful with my url…

11/11/2000

recurring themes this week about which i would write forever if they were not either a) private, b) boring, or c) overwhelming when added all together and divided by the amount of brainspace i have available:

1) the staggering disparities i’ve found between evaluating work from a critical perspective and evaluating it from a writerly perspective. i had a lengthy discussion with my american lit professor about how i didn’t think that i had any business writing a paper asserting that despite caddy’s lack of voice in the sound and the fury, when combining all three different perspectives on her the reader can know her just as well as if parts of it had been from her point of view. it was a good topic, my professor said, and i agree with her that it is. but, as i asked her later, what right did i have to try to tell other people what william faulkner intended? who the hell do i think i am to make those types of assumptions about his technique and his characters, things that are his? she told me that that’s what writers want; they want people to read their books and say, “hey, this work is way too complex for me not to evaluate in depth and give some further attention to.” and i agree with her completely, but personally, my only consolation is that faulkner is dead, and as such will not be able to think i’m a dumbass.

2) falling asleep in front of the television and waking up the next morning in one’s clothes from the previous day. ’tis an accidental holiday quite frequently observed by me at my own house on my futon, but imagine my surprise when i went to rob’s house last night, fell asleep in front of the television, and woke up the next morning on his couch. he was asleep on the other couch, it was very bright, and the movie was over. i have very vague memories of john goodman yelling, but that’s about it. ’twas quite surreal.

3) song covers that should be allowed and those that shouldn’t. after hearing two cover bands at two different bars last night, i’ve come to the conclusion that it is okay to cover tracy chapman, but not stevie nicks, and that it is okay to cover america but not the beatles, and it is never okay to cover “american pie.” also if you are over 35 and/or you do not have that special thing one must have in order to successfully wear leather pants, you should not wear leather pants.

4) tennessee williams. i had a williams discussion with phil thursday night, and then on friday i went to a zelda fitzgerald art exhibit with tony, at which they had a few pages from a play that williams wrote about zelda and f. scott, called clothes for a summer hotel. it was an ill-received work, apparently, but i’d be interested in checking it out sometime anyway. even tennessee williams’ stage directions are beautiful. what i really love is that my copy of cat on a hot tin roof has paul newman and elizabeth taylor on the cover. i can imagine paul newman as brick, but the idea of elizabeth taylor as maggie is somewhat frightening. sure, she was oscar-nominated for it and all, but still. ick.

5) the fact that i have rather unique perspectives on a lot of things, perspectives that would be really interesting to write about, perspectives that are fairly unique, i think. but i’m scared to write about them, in case i suck. so this way, if i don’t write about them, i can brag to everybody about how i could have written some awesome stuff, and what an incredibly romantic tragedy it is that i never did, because my stuff wouldn’t have sucked, that’s for sure. “let’s not talk about this anymore,” i said to johanna last night after she told me things that were painful to know.
but hey, at least i don’t have ramen in my lungs.

6) head-shop incense with names like “dragon’s blood.”