It's official . . .
I'll get to the meaning of my title in a second, but first a word from our sponsors:
From the coalition of fabulous fun festiveness:
I saw Daniel Handler. That's right, Lemony Snicket, walked by me in the foyer of the Herbst Theater like he was a real person. I felt like a total doofus for staring (and diving for my phone to text Chrissy, because I had to tell someone) until the girl next to me said, "Do you know him or are you just as amazed as I am that a god just walked by you?"
From the society of people who talk to other people:
I went to volunteer today at a Litquake event, which was fun. I took the author's to their super-secret entrance which didn't make me as tongue-tied as you would think after reading the above, because I hadn't really heard of any of them. Whoops . . . probably shouldn't admit that, but it's an event to let people hear their favorite authors and find new ones after all, I just did less of the former and more of the latter.
So I actually talked to another person about my age (who was volunteering with me) for about two hours. Luckily, she pointed out that the event that I'm volunteering at on Saturday (the LitCrawl, get it, like pub crawl, on Valencia) is not as far from a BART station as I thought and will be a big enough event that they're closing off the entire length of Valencia. So I won't be driving in as I originally thought I might, but all will be well anyway because I'm close to BART and there are lots of people.
And now for our feature presentation:
Ahem, as everyone can probably tell, my computer is fixed now. It was, please excuse the very technical language that I will now use, totally fucked. Why? I don't know. It's possible the considerable amount of time that I spent on the blog of one Mr. Lenar Clark gummed up the works.
Why was I on Clark's blog? Well, when someone dedicates some time to you on their blog, you feel like you really ought to put some time in to deserve it. What could someone who hasn't even spoken to me in two years have to say about me on his blog? Fancy you asking that, you rogue, because it relates back to my title.
It's official . . . I'm underground. That's what Clark had to say. I believe his words were something nearer to the effect of my resembling a mad monarch of a subterranean society of mole-people (if you can't take my word for it and must see, click here, though I warn you it's a looong entry). Still, I know that I understand his true meaning.
Yes, my friends, I'm happy to relate that someone has finally acknowledged my almost prescient liking for "Somebody Told Me" nearly a year and a half ago when my sister played it for me. Someone has seen my early adoption of cult classics like the Princess Bride for what it really is (when I say early adoption, here, I mean I was young when I fell in love Cary Elwes). Someone has finally alerted the world to my coolness in reading depressing Russian novels like The Brother's Karamozov for fun. And, yes, someone has finally given the green light to my sophomoric love of emo bands. And that person was Lenar Clark, who has now professed me Queen of the Underworld (should I start dressing like Kate Beckinsale did?).
Or maybe he just dislikes me as much as I disliked him. He did once basically call me a power hungry bitch. Hmm . . . nah.
I understand that I also have one Mr. Caleb Prewitt to thank for this distinction, but one can only sacrifice so much to the altar of vanity, and I don't have the sort of time it would seem like it would take to read that. So my computer needs have no fear from that quarter.
posted by Lynn @ 8:24 PM
3 Comments:
Def jealous of the Danile Handler experience.
I think Clark rambling would be a bit too much for any computer, him in person would sometimes give me a headache because you can only tolerate so much ridiculousness.
The Haiku as promised:
"Suck a big panther,
like finding the needle,
in a large haystack."
or
"A big black panter
turns into a myth when one sees
the little kitten."
And as I said before, I can't help but feel pure indifference when it comes to Caleb.
Wow that venture into my past almost makes me want to get back into creative writing. Almost.
Don't worry, those of us who matter (did I just say something that pretentious?) don't believe Clark's bashing of you. Though we, or at least I, was wondering what had become of you. I'm glad to read that you're still out there being amazing and creative!
I'd just like to reiterate Lauren's comment. The people who matter don't take anything that chucklehead says seriously and I have it on good authority you can count the people who even bother reading his silly little blog on the hand of a young sweat shop urchin who's had his fair (and drastically unfunny) share of industrial accidents.
For the record, I didn't dislike you as much as you disliked me, and parodoxically because of your disdain for me. I've always had an odd respect for people who don't care for me that much. I've long been under the impression that you're the ones who really understand me.
To say nothing of the fact that in all my brief personal dealings with you, you always seemed an intelligent person -- though brimming with inexplicable anger at times -- and I continue to regard your literary talent very highly.
I don't remember saying you were a "power hungry bitch". Which certainly isn't to say I never said such a thing, I just don't remember doing so. You see, I tend to say all sorts of things. It's hard to keep track.
But anyway, it's lovely to see that you're doing relatively well. I'm sorry if you were offended by what I considered a throwaway joke in a ponderous essay about a movie I didn't even like that much. But moreover, I hope that perusing my blog wasn't the cause of the computer problems you faced.
Oh and Chrissy, loved the little blast from the past with the old haikus. Although, you might want to tweak those second lines, as they don't really follow haiku format. I'm sorry to hear that you're no longer pursuing creative writing. Fondest regards to the family!
Lauren, I think bashing is a little strong.
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