that you never ever want to write again. Why bother?
At least, that’s what my brother Chris told me after rereading The Great Gatsby. I, naturally, have a much more practical view – go read a terrible book and vow to yourself that you can at least top that.
But it has crossed my mind that my blog might very well be another bit of clutter on the internet. Much like my life, it lacks vision, or rather, it has too much. However, my writing here is not harming anyone, and it is definitely helping me, so its net value is positive and I have no problem sticking it up.
I would like it known that I frequently hit upon ideas which are beyond brilliant, with potential impact beyond outletting my own need to write. Unfortunately I lack any sense of follow through. Also, I’m dating a killjoy. (Which, really, what a terrific word.) He tends to ask questions like “But what is the point?” and “Hasn’t that been done already?” Or sometimes he just laughs. Just. Laughs. Apparently all of these reactions fall under constructive criticism.
So instead of one of my great ideas, here’s one from The Onion.