feeling a bit disillusioned about this blog. unsure why. i could say more, but won’t. the feeling will probably pass. i’m going to paste in here an old short-story. very short. because cutting & pasting is easier than making stuff up. only offer feedback if you like having your comments ignored. (how’s that for alienating one’s audience…)
The man starts writing down random words. The words are something like: and, if, but, the, more, some, love, it, is, not. They are short words at first, but then they get longer as he runs out of words. He tries not to repeat himself. And some themes arise in his work. The man starts to think himself some sort of genius, and he believes he can create things, even change the world.
“You know,” he says to his wife, “I might just change the world with my lists of random words.”
He is always very honest with his wife. The wife looks away from the television and at the husband and takes another sip of her vodka tonic before pronouncing him a fool. “Don’t go getting stupid ideas into your head.” She ends the conversation with this. Surprisingly.
But the man is not put off. He keeps going and writes a parable for modern living. He calls it But. And it sells well; critics and laymen alike love it. He becomes a celebrity, or at least gets admitted to the same nice parties that celebrities go to. All his speeches are successes: he makes much use of his book’s title: “I would like to say I’m happy to be here, but…” At one of these parties he meets this beautiful young blonde actress-type (who in no way is a stereotype, or the product of a patriarchal society).
He says to her: “You know there is nothing to writing a novel. I simply started writing down random words and then look what happened.”
The blonde actress is still impressed though, she looks at him fondly and says: “Yes, but I couldn’t have done it.”
An amount of time passes.
The character has been divorced from his wife for three years. That’s how much time passed. It seems an appropriate amount of time for one to be divorced from one’s wife. She is looking into becoming a lawyer, and knows nothing of the highly-charged yet emotionally vapid sex the character and the blonde-actress enjoy together whenever circumstances permit it (her (the actress or actor) movie schedule is hectic). She (the wife) does however receive regular cheques from her ex-husband, and will purposefully (she is now very principled, though still lusciously drunk) rid herself of this money via the roulette wheel.
“I told him not to do it,” she is known to say with a semi-casual air to casual observers whom of course do not know her story and return to their respective houses not remembering her in the slightest. You might say this was her story. Or theirs. I don’t care either way.