Humility

Humility is not something you're born with. It is something that is thrust upon you. A great way to experience humility is to get married. That way, when you've written something that seems pretty damn fine to you. Through the wonders of marriage you can be brought back down to earth faster than Neil Armstrong. Was Neil Armstrong brought back down to earth quickly? I bet he was.

M: Did you read my blog?
S: Yeah, but I didn't really like it.
M: You didn't.
S: It annoyed me that you didn't make any of the posts hyperlinked

The "discussion" continued, and pretty much revolved around whether you can offer a critique of something you haven't read fully. Note: Authors like to believe that anything they come up with, even if it's a poorly sketched picture of a vacation they took to Italy, is the very word of God channeled through their fingertips. I'm going to get a poster on my wall of a cat that says "Criticism always welcome." I think the cute cat will soften the blow of the sarcasm.

It is my position that you can't really criticize something that you haven't given your full attention to.

M: I like DFW.
Eminent Lit. Critic: He's unreadable.

Unfortunately, by that logic I'd have to consider everything before I ruled it out of hand. It's fair to say that I shouldn't really have to consider whether murdering people and putting them in my backyard and then selling their filed down bones as lemonade powder is worthy or not. But, in fact, I actually did just that. In order to type the question I had to ask myself whether my neighbor wouldn't go nicely with a few ice cubes.

We don't really get a choice about what we consider

I was warned long ago to trust my readers. But just in case you don't get the above quote and hyperlink are ironic. I'm claiming that you don't get a chance to consider whilst simultaneously giving you something that you can either click on or not. This is probably wasted typing space. Sorry about that. Will you forgive me if I tell you I love you?

The EC and I disagreed about Lydia Davis. In the earlier blog I put a nice pastable (now a word) web address into the text. However, S told me that merely enacting the laziness that I am criticizing is not enough. She's probably right. However, I'm kind of a sucker for having things that are ironic. Irony is the distance between what is said and what is meant. Or something like that. From Wikipedia-the use of words expressing something other than their literal intention, notably as a form of humor. Notably as a form of humor? Nothing is more humorless than a definition of humor.

Speaking of humor:
M: So you didn't like my last post?
S: I read four of them. I liked the one where you were funny. That's probably going to depress you.
M: Right on.

Deep down, everybody wants to be something that they are not. That is something that me and the EC have in common.

Here is a really amazing story by George Saunders that I bet you won't read. In fact, I'm willing to be a dollar that no one will read this story. If you happen to read this story go ahead and post a comment or something on facebook that is proves that you read the story. I'm guessing that most people won't make the time to click over. Even you. Hell, even me. I already know the story is good. Why the hell should I read it again?

Besides which, now that you've actually linked to a couple of stories I've already passed the five minutes that I allocate to drink my morning tea and read this blog. I've got other important things to do today.

S: In no way shape or form did this post have anything approaching humor. Why don't you talk about the seven holes we punched in our wall trying to find a stud. (Insert joke about finding a stud).

M: You're asleep. Stop talking to me.

S: I mean. Isn't that sort of good fodder for your blog? spending all this time painting your wall only to ruin the whole thing on a madcap search for a stud. (This time, just chuckle a little because you've already made the joke). It's okay to be funny.

M: I know. I know. I just wanted to take a little break from headboards and rugs.

S: If you didn't want to write about our inability to find a stud (Just lightly smile this time because you saw the joke coming. Try and think of a way to not have this joke come up again in the blog. Briefly let your mind wander to an image of a horse. Hell, make it a Platonic form of the horse. Now picture this horse in dappled light, munching hay, waiting for another bride to mount.) you could have written about the fact that our car was broken into.

M: That's not technically true. I left the car unlocked.

S: You probably shouldn't mention that. It makes you look a tad incompetent.

M: Besides, they didn't steal anything. Maybe they just needed a warm place to sleep and in their fevered dream they decided to search through our glove compartment in hopes of finding a blanket. Maybe people are genuinely good?

S: Go to sleep.