Sappy Sincere Anna will never post again. I did her as Taliban mullahs would have Winona Ryder. And no, I don't mean a $10,000 fine and 480 hours of community service either. (Sorry about the Ryder reference, Linz. It won't happen again.)
Caution: Blatant metaphor-mixing ahead. Don't try this @ home.
Although you wouldn't know it from my rambling, disjointed posts, Anna is quite the perfectionist in real life. It's not a good thing. Were I a filmmaker, I'd be Stanley Kubrick dropping dead from exhaustion due to his endless tinkering w/ the flop Eyes Wide Shut (mine were, as in sound asleep.) If I was a murderer, I'd strive to concoct a foolproof plot as Michael Douglas almost did in A Perfect Murder. But when typing in the vapors, some sense of urgency is essential. It wouldn't do to riff off an outdated link or carp about ancient history dating to last week, after all. Hence one can't agonize incesantly over details of details of phrasing or syntax. Indeed, I have perused blogs where the writer displayed grammatical and syntactic skills on a par with George W. for "We Don't Get Fooled Again" Bush.
Not so your pal Antwon. His blog teams with clever turns-of-phrase, hip allusions and the occasional insight, all set forth in impeccable King's English. It comes across as casual, offhand even, but we all know it don't come that easy. Antwon rocks.
Here's my point, lame as it may be: Antwon has literally written a book on his site, and a damn good one @ that. Yet all he receives in return is whatever pittance readers stuff in his tip jar. (Well, maybe it's not a pittance. I dunno.) Meanwhile, such text millers as Stephen King or John Grisham or Tom Clancy could whack off on a sheath of papers, slap on a $20 price and it would sell like those annual hot toys moms battle to the death over. (Last year robbers laid in wait outside Toys R Us and relieved parents of their newly purchased PlayStation 2 at gunpoint.) Likewise, I cringed with resentment as I plunked down $23 for my vampire stepdaughter's copy of Kurt Cobain's Journals. Which consists of, and I kid you not, random doodles, druggy musings and hand-scrawled draft copies of lyrics all rendered on notebook paper. $23!!
Damn snooty, insular publishing industry.
The injustice of it all is enough to drive an unstable sort to Andrea Yates action. But not me. I'm happy here in the vapors.
Huh??!!!?! I assume there's something that pulls all this rambling together. I'll try to read it again when I'm sober.
by nancy at December 7, 2002 9:30 PM
I can't explain what it is exactly, but something about that Kurt Cobain book really irks me. I think it's my fear that Courtney Love might be making money from it.
In case I sounded high & mighty, I totally read the updates on Winona's trial; I'm not sayin' I'm above any of that stuff. I just wish the news media would be a little more discerning about what they deem important enough to report, since I'm too lazy to go digging for substance.
by Linz at December 9, 2002 1:55 PM
Apparently, some point in the past MTV did 24 hours of Love, in which Courtney got free rain to do anything she wanted for an entire day. Over Thanksgiving, when I was at the fams house and actually had cable, MTV was showing the best of that 24 hours. All I can say is that if I didn't hate Mrs. Love to begin with, I would have after watching that. She is one annoying twat.
by mg at December 9, 2002 3:18 PM
Linz's point becomes more relevant still when you consider that @ least oneflmmaker theorized that she offed him. Until her atttorneys silenced him, that is. Ditto for MG"s. Thanks for the commentary.
by anna at December 9, 2002 5:58 PM