I need some coffee, some serious hardcore bean man, I can’t take a dump until I have some coffee, but damn, what did I drink last night I can’t remember except there was there grenadine in it or perhaps that nasty red shit you can’t drink on its own? Maybe there was some tequila involved…that’s always trouble, fucking tequila. I do the stupidest shit when I drink tequila. Some involving my penis, others involving my feet, some involving my feet and penis. What if one’s penis was shaped like a foot? Or feet like a penis? That would hurt, either.
Ah, thank you caffeine, I worship at your altar…I like to imbibe M&Ms when I drink coffee for hangovers. I don’t buy this shit that M&Ms are poison. Wait — some of the M&Ms have imprinting on them…”Sept. 30, 2006″ and “[Bride's name] & [Groom's name]“. Damn, we were at a wedding last night. Now it all makes sense. We were at a wedding last night in Aruba. Or was it Bermuda? I can’t keep those straight. Just let me have some more coffee, and I’ll remember it.
This is why I don’t write stream of consciousness in my fiction…the only thing I write is what happened to me in the past 24 hours. I had a weird dream last night, eight drinks later…I had a $10 bill but it was labeled “ELEVEN DOLLARS” and half of the “10s” were “11s” and I wonder if this dream had something to do with Spinal Tap or that I’m a counterfeiter or does anybody really care about a drunkard’s dream, and if not, why are they always found in really bad fiction?
It’s really hard to nail down stream of consciousness though if you are Irish or Really Smart you can do it, but since most of us are not Irish or not Really Smart, or at least as Really Smart as Brainiac Writers Who Could Have Been Physicists and Solved Unified Field Theory or Could Have Been Doctors and Cured Cancer.
Take away his writer’s license
But try and try we do…like robots, we think that great, profound writing is embodied in long, complicated sentences without punctuation or in italics or separated by elipses…but I’ve seen it too often, and done so amateurishly that there’s really no point in it anymore, I mean, if it were the 1920s all over again, it might mean something innovative and not lazy like I’m being today because it feels like there are a million gremlins stomping out fires on my body…
I remember trying to read Ulyssess a long time ago…I was in college, thinking I was reallysmart and my Jesuitprefabuliststreamofthinking would carry me though the text like a lifeboat on a sea of lava….but then my cantankerous talking canker cabliasian McLeary land-lord told me i love you you love me i said but why do we love my love said and
when I was in graduate school we had some lousy writers who would put a flashback within a flashback, like “I remembered when I was twelve. I was walking down the street with my friends, and then I remembered when I was four and my brother pushed me down a flight of stairs wearing a backwards san diego padres hat and I cannot go to san diego, I thought.”
but what did you write i said you cannot have a flashback in a flashback unless you’re reallytalented nobody can really get away it but she said, i can do what i want you stupid writer of stupid stories and friends said bookfraud you are a fraud and can’t you see this is so brilliant because you write stories without enough information about the male protagonist’s relationship with his girlfriend and i said what the fuck, i can’t stand this any more, if i read one more “my first period” story i’m going to throw up and you’re making this about me, you can’t do that oh yes we can oh yes yes and yes I said yes I will Yes.
man, my head hurts right now i should not have had that sixth tequila sunrise and taken the bride away from the groom during the first dance and hit the security guard in the solar plexus then hurled all over the drumkit while the bride’s two nfl-playing brothers were using my head as a mop to clean up all the vomit ohboy did i really go to this wedding or is it all a dream sequence like the end of “star wars” when yoda woke up with a couple of skanks from a 70s porn movie (or was it from a shakira video) and says, “the force was with me all night long!”
Stately, plump Bookfraud
So I try to avoid writing stream-of-consciousness, as it has become an easy shorthand for “I’m really weird” or “Look at me!” I once tried to write a story when I was in my early 20s about a fellow whose father had absconded with the family’s money and made off to Brazil, but it was even less accomplished than the writing you see above, and because I am older and I can see the past and there were these Faulknerian habitualizations of narcoleptic love fury enviromizing our fecundic polarities and I say Yes.
~giggling~
Well done.
I made it a habit to read only 1/3 of the novels on those damn courses – Ulysses didn’t make the cut.
~giggling~
Well done.
I made it a habit to read only 1/3 of the novels on those damn courses – Ulysses didn’t make the cut.
~giggling~
Well done.
I made it a habit to read only 1/3 of the novels on those damn courses – Ulysses didn’t make the cut.
You know what they say about Ulyssess.
The greatest book no one’s read.
Sorry to hear of your cranial discomfort.
You know what they say about Ulyssess.
The greatest book no one’s read.
Sorry to hear of your cranial discomfort.
You know what they say about Ulyssess.
The greatest book no one’s read.
Sorry to hear of your cranial discomfort.
Hmmm…I’ve read Ulyssess (twice) and I’ve put flahsbacks inside flashbacks so that must mean I’m a reallytalented writer and I’m just wasting my life on blogs and poetry and should really be writing the next great American novel because no one gives a flying fuck about poetry and everyone loves a good novel becasuse they can usually “get it” and then I could quit my day job and finally get that palatial London home overlooking the Grand Union Canal with beautiful Asian servant boys who attend to my every need (mmmm….yes) and the world would be my oyster or I would be a pearl or some nonsense like that but I’d be rich and thats all that would matter so maybe I wouldn’t need to write anymore at all just live of the royalty checks like Salinger and Harper Lee who probably haven written a dozen more books and locked them up in an safe so no one will read them until they dide but I just won’t write anything else and lay on the deck all day drinking martinis and getting fat because I’m secure in the fact that I’m really talented and yes….I said…mmmmm yes I would.
I’ve made it through “A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man” and, several weeks later, I attempted “Ulysses.” My intention had been to eventually get through “Finnegans Wake.” Then, about 20 pages into “Ulysses,” I realized that Joyce’s writing is pretentious and gimmicky. And on the heels of that: I don’t like pretentious and gimmicky. And then: Fuck James Joyce.
I like your stream-of-consciousness, though. It made me chuckle.
Hmmm…I’ve read Ulyssess (twice) and I’ve put flahsbacks inside flashbacks so that must mean I’m a reallytalented writer and I’m just wasting my life on blogs and poetry and should really be writing the next great American novel because no one gives a flying fuck about poetry and everyone loves a good novel becasuse they can usually “get it” and then I could quit my day job and finally get that palatial London home overlooking the Grand Union Canal with beautiful Asian servant boys who attend to my every need (mmmm….yes) and the world would be my oyster or I would be a pearl or some nonsense like that but I’d be rich and thats all that would matter so maybe I wouldn’t need to write anymore at all just live of the royalty checks like Salinger and Harper Lee who probably haven written a dozen more books and locked them up in an safe so no one will read them until they dide but I just won’t write anything else and lay on the deck all day drinking martinis and getting fat because I’m secure in the fact that I’m really talented and yes….I said…mmmmm yes I would.
Hmmm…I’ve read Ulyssess (twice) and I’ve put flahsbacks inside flashbacks so that must mean I’m a reallytalented writer and I’m just wasting my life on blogs and poetry and should really be writing the next great American novel because no one gives a flying fuck about poetry and everyone loves a good novel becasuse they can usually “get it” and then I could quit my day job and finally get that palatial London home overlooking the Grand Union Canal with beautiful Asian servant boys who attend to my every need (mmmm….yes) and the world would be my oyster or I would be a pearl or some nonsense like that but I’d be rich and thats all that would matter so maybe I wouldn’t need to write anymore at all just live of the royalty checks like Salinger and Harper Lee who probably haven written a dozen more books and locked them up in an safe so no one will read them until they dide but I just won’t write anything else and lay on the deck all day drinking martinis and getting fat because I’m secure in the fact that I’m really talented and yes….I said…mmmmm yes I would.
bernita: glad to hear your giggles. yeah, the “read only 2/3 of your required reading” rule served me well, too.
phoenix: thank you for the kind words. my brain is much better now. maybe i’ll tackle ulysses after all. it would make for excellent blog fodder, no?
collin: i don’t know what to say, except you’re funny. everybody has a dream, and the best of us can put it into words. but i’m sticking to my guns about the “memory within a memory” thing. most people can’t pull it off — which is not to say you didn’t.
brandon: i will stand up for joyce in that his “gimmicky” writing (however pretentious) was trying new things with language and form, so i gotta give him props.
have you read joyce’s story collection, “dubliners”? specifically, “the dead,” the greatest short story ever written in english? (in my humble opinion.) nothing gimmicky about that. the only thing i don’t like about “the dead” is that joyce ruined snow as a metaphor forever.
I’ve made it through “A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man” and, several weeks later, I attempted “Ulysses.” My intention had been to eventually get through “Finnegans Wake.” Then, about 20 pages into “Ulysses,” I realized that Joyce’s writing is pretentious and gimmicky. And on the heels of that: I don’t like pretentious and gimmicky. And then: Fuck James Joyce.
I like your stream-of-consciousness, though. It made me chuckle.
I’ve made it through “A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man” and, several weeks later, I attempted “Ulysses.” My intention had been to eventually get through “Finnegans Wake.” Then, about 20 pages into “Ulysses,” I realized that Joyce’s writing is pretentious and gimmicky. And on the heels of that: I don’t like pretentious and gimmicky. And then: Fuck James Joyce.
I like your stream-of-consciousness, though. It made me chuckle.
bernita: glad to hear your giggles. yeah, the “read only 2/3 of your required reading” rule served me well, too.
phoenix: thank you for the kind words. my brain is much better now. maybe i’ll tackle ulysses after all. it would make for excellent blog fodder, no?
collin: i don’t know what to say, except you’re funny. everybody has a dream, and the best of us can put it into words. but i’m sticking to my guns about the “memory within a memory” thing. most people can’t pull it off — which is not to say you didn’t.
brandon: i will stand up for joyce in that his “gimmicky” writing (however pretentious) was trying new things with language and form, so i gotta give him props.
have you read joyce’s story collection, “dubliners”? specifically, “the dead,” the greatest short story ever written in english? (in my humble opinion.) nothing gimmicky about that. the only thing i don’t like about “the dead” is that joyce ruined snow as a metaphor forever.
bernita: glad to hear your giggles. yeah, the “read only 2/3 of your required reading” rule served me well, too.
phoenix: thank you for the kind words. my brain is much better now. maybe i’ll tackle ulysses after all. it would make for excellent blog fodder, no?
collin: i don’t know what to say, except you’re funny. everybody has a dream, and the best of us can put it into words. but i’m sticking to my guns about the “memory within a memory” thing. most people can’t pull it off — which is not to say you didn’t.
brandon: i will stand up for joyce in that his “gimmicky” writing (however pretentious) was trying new things with language and form, so i gotta give him props.
have you read joyce’s story collection, “dubliners”? specifically, “the dead,” the greatest short story ever written in english? (in my humble opinion.) nothing gimmicky about that. the only thing i don’t like about “the dead” is that joyce ruined snow as a metaphor forever.
I actually checked out “Dubliners” yesterday at the library. I’ve decided to pace myself by reading one story every night before bed. I’ve read “Araby” before, but I read it on the computer, so I don’t remember much about it. (I have trouble comprehending stories I read on a computer screen.)
Now I see nothing wrong with experimentation, but for me, it has to have a point for me to appreciate it. I think of it like a guitar solo in rock music. Is the guitarist showboating, saying, “Look what I can play!” Or does the solo work the song as a whole? And the impression I got while reading “Ulysses” is that JOyce was showboating. But maybe I haven’t reached that level of literary maturity to really appreciate Joyce.
I actually checked out “Dubliners” yesterday at the library. I’ve decided to pace myself by reading one story every night before bed. I’ve read “Araby” before, but I read it on the computer, so I don’t remember much about it. (I have trouble comprehending stories I read on a computer screen.)
Now I see nothing wrong with experimentation, but for me, it has to have a point for me to appreciate it. I think of it like a guitar solo in rock music. Is the guitarist showboating, saying, “Look what I can play!” Or does the solo work the song as a whole? And the impression I got while reading “Ulysses” is that JOyce was showboating. But maybe I haven’t reached that level of literary maturity to really appreciate Joyce.
I actually checked out “Dubliners” yesterday at the library. I’ve decided to pace myself by reading one story every night before bed. I’ve read “Araby” before, but I read it on the computer, so I don’t remember much about it. (I have trouble comprehending stories I read on a computer screen.)
Now I see nothing wrong with experimentation, but for me, it has to have a point for me to appreciate it. I think of it like a guitar solo in rock music. Is the guitarist showboating, saying, “Look what I can play!” Or does the solo work the song as a whole? And the impression I got while reading “Ulysses” is that JOyce was showboating. But maybe I haven’t reached that level of literary maturity to really appreciate Joyce.