...and hijinks ensued.: Quote of the day

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Quote of the day

"Is it wrong that I like you better when I'm drunk?"

6 comments:

Indiana James said...: "Only if you mind me thinking you're hotter when I take my glasses off."; April 16, 2007 at 4:05 PM
The Butterfly Bar said...: I miss these quotables.

I used to date a girl who said this one, not with these or any words, but by getting drunk and latching onto me any way she could.

The feeling was quietly mutual.; November 27, 2007 at 3:23 AM
eric1313 said...: Hey, I answered you back (the top secret eyes-only communicade...)on my blog, and it turned into a novel.

Princess

Yeah, the wings have a bad problem with old bluebeards who don't know when to hang it up.

Zetterberg and Datsyuk are both awesome. You should get them both for your hockey pool (or one day when you're rich, for your pool boys...), since you'll double up on goals and assists.

As for the Butterfly effect: Don't worry about the poetry thing, or trying to be poetic, if you do accept an invite. Just type words and let them lead you somewhere magical. It's the best way to go. It'll open up doors of creativity all over the place. And, if you ever have a line in your head or on a piece of paper, that's what you do with it. Poetry. Type it, and then, like word association, type the next things that come from your mind. Your style of writing is extremely cerebral. That's good! But you can open up even more and reap benefits in the things you write about right now by learning to trust your intuition in writing. And poetry is much less of a time investment than short stories. From what you say on your blog, you like to have a plan (there's that fine self control in action, once again) when you start to write, and this way you'll see that plans can indeed take care of themselves on the fly. Maybe you already know that. But it would be a great chance to practice with people who have open minds. And Sing likes you. Maybe it's because I like you, but then again, I never see Singleton at Dear Bastards, so that theory is probably hoey.

I've read a lot of your work. I love it, I think you are uniquely hilarious, touching, poignant, and universal, and I bet I'm not the first to say so. There are people who love writing that would kill and trade in souls and all those other dark mystic deeds just to get half of that.

As for the award thing, that's just a simple encouragement. You drip with talent (wondered what that was, didn't you?). I'm sure I'll see your writing one day on at a bookstore. I'm positive, actually. No matter what happens, one cannot destroy a creative soul--unless you get sent to Siberia by a cruel dictator, to be mentally crushed for something you alluded to once, or something horrible like that. That's different.

And as for therapy from writing... yes, it is huge. I've heard arguments against it, but I already covered that with the whole "you might dig up more than you can find answers for" thing.

But all in all, how could I, of all people, argue against such wisdom? I use it as my own therapy--god knows I need it. But I especially can't argue when it's endorsed by a bona-fide expert. Or near expert.

Bahh... Who am I kidding? You're an expert, you write and study psych. High five, yo!

------

Kate Braverman is awesome. I read that one in my contemporary (1970 to present) North American lit class--that's right, two nations, one class. Braverman's a student of Margret Atwood--and I know you know who she is. How can a person be a Canadian and not know of her?

You could write a story like that one. That's what I thought as soon as I mentioned it. That's why I phrased it like "do me a favor and read..." It's the kind of story that would almost have to be written by someone well versed in psych.

Your expository writing is so good, I think that if you went to the other side of the coin--to show a story in the actions of a character or group dynamic, instead of telling it all in the narration--that you would surprise yourself with your growth. (of course narration is important. Just let it guide the action, show, don't tell. It's more than just a creative writing workshop cliche)

Sure, it's a different mindset, but you already have the desire to do so: looking in windows to make up stories about how people live? Sound familiar? You can do it. One day.

Obviously, right now would not be good, since you are so busy, and finishing what you started is very important. But later, when you get settled into a practice, I'd love to see your imagination take off.

Repeat after me:

I am the shiznot. The shiznizzle. The beez kneez, baby.

Like the zen buhdists, like the samurai, I am the master of my personal domain, my passions, and most importantly, my self.

Words do my every bidding.

I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me...; November 27, 2007 at 6:24 AM
eric1313 said...: Please don't mind me being a writing coach!

I swear on everything I said above.; November 27, 2007 at 6:45 AM
eric1313 said...: Hey, yo!

I edited the bejezuz out of that poem before I answered your comment back, you might actually really dig it now, the ideas are brighter, and the flow is much better.

Anyway, I'm exhausted, so I'm going to crash out. I'd read a bygone musing, but I've been awake since one thirty last night. Yep, I crashed out at like five o'clock (nap time hit me like a Detroit G) and woke at one thirty in the A to the M, yo.

Yeah, when I digress into ghetto speak, you know it's time for me to crash. But your writing today and the last posts have been magnificent.

ooh! by the by, here's exactly the Charles Bukowski poem that your time post reminded me of. This is my final good deed, then sleep.
(you'll have to pardon the French, but you're a slightly pervish young lady, you'll deal, right?) Maybe it's not such a good deed...

as crazy as I ever was
(from Love is a Dog From Hell)

drunk and writing poems
at 3 a.m.

what counts now
is one more
tight
pussy

before the light
tilts out

drunk and writing poems
at 3:15 a.m.

some people tell me that I'm
famous

what am I doing alone
drunk and writing poems at
3:18 a.m.?

I'm as crazy as I ever was
they don't understand
that I haven't stopped hanging out the 4th floor
windows by my heels--
I still do
right now
sitting here

writing this down
I am hanging by my heels
floors up:
68, 72, 101,
the feeling is the
same:

relentless
unheroic and
necessary

sitting here
drunk and writing poems
at 3:24 a.m.

OK, maybe it's totally unlike your post, except for the odd denotation of time. But, now you see some of my inspiration. I totally recommend Bukowski's Love is a Dog From Hell. It's just fun reading.

I need to get back to that style, just freewheeling it in every way and writing for the hell of it.

Like my early poems on my blog. I need another "I am an insecure poem" remember that one? I love that one. I want to read that one at an open mic sometime soon. Or the "why you probably aren't a poet(but should be)" poem. Ahh, the month of June. It was glorious. I let my blog and readers (not you, friend) pigeon hole me in one category too much, trying to be a comment whore too much. I need to shock the hell out of people, and do it sometime soon.

I wish I wrote the poem above.

I need some sleep.

Hell, I should turn this response into a poem!; November 27, 2007 at 11:21 PM
eric1313 said...: Ahh, it wouldn't work as a poem, but close. If only I could steal the copy write for the Bukowski poem...

Also, that poem on my sidebar is from the same collect, the poem called "Trapped".

I love that poem so much.

Well, good night. I would read a musing, but I need to stretch them out a bit, like a good addict.; November 27, 2007 at 11:27 PM