Archive for November, 2010
Writers are real assholes when it comes to finishing the things we start. If novels were children, the world would be home to an ever-growing tribe of abandoned orphans. These incomplete and uncertain children would wander the alleys and deserts, all of them feral — but not so feral that they fail to overcome the resentment at being left alone.
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I remember in particular my discovery of the word “sesquipedalian.” It is a word that means polysyllabic, or, put less succinctly, “a really long word.” Which means that sesquipedalian is itself a sequipedalian. Just as a word is itself a word. It’s wonderfully circular, and will make you so dizzy that you might throw up in your soup.
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Do you have an iPhone? Do you agree that the iPhone’s camera is a bag of dicks? Let me whisper one word into your ear: Hipstamatic. The Hipstamatic app transforms your iPhone camera into generating faux-vintage and fake-ass-retro shots. Yes, that’s right. I have become a HIPSTAMADDICT.
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My biggest enemy is that guy in the corner. He’s got cymbals on his knees and he keeps clapping them together: BOOSH BOOSH BOOSH. And he’s got all these blinky lights and he’s holding cheesecake and porn and whiskey and he keeps dangling keys in front of me (and I chase them like an idiot dog). Thing is, the guy in the corner? He’s me.
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So, yesterday, some foul scumhole self-published a book that was essentially the “best practices for practicing pedophiles” book. He seems to think the book is about creating “safe pedophilia” but is really about being a turd-of-the-earth kid-toucher and not getting caught. The Internet, predictably and perhaps appropriately, acted like a kicked-over anthill.
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