Saturday, June 26, 2004


Lorrie Moore is a goddess.

"First, try to be something, anything, else. A movie star/astronaut. A movie star/missionary. A movie star/kindergarten teacher. President of the World. Fail miserably. It is best if you fail at an early age--say, fourteen. Early, critical disillusionment is necessary so that at fifteen you can write long haiku sequences about thwarted desire. It is a pond, a cherry blossom, a wind brushing against sparrow wing leaving for mountain. Count the syllables. Show it to your mom. She is tough and practical. She has a son in Vietnam and a husband who may be having an affair. She believes in wearing brown because it hides spots. She'll look briefly at your writing, then back up at you with a face blank as a doughnut. She'll say: 'How about emptying the dishwasher?' Look away. Shove the forks in the fork drawer. Acccidentally break one of the freebie gas station glasses. This is the required pain and suffering. This is only for starters."


At 10:28 PM, Blogger age of insomnia said...

I think I read that...'s a short story about writing stories, or something, right?

I seem to remember a part about a rifle that mysteriously appears in an elderly couple's living room, and they end up shooting eachother.

"Plots are for dead people". Yeah. I remember.

"You know what my kids would say..."
"You're not my real father! Poor, deluded Joe; doesn't even have any kids"

MST3K is my hero.


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