Exclamation Mark
If there is anything to be said for extreme cold in Orlando, it is this: This is the only time of the year that you can walk around in a peacoat in Florida. Which I am doing.
Also, I've been watching less TV than usual, but have not have been having (have not have been having?) too much time to read non-required stuff. Been reading (and rereading) some stories for my fiction and nonfiction workshops, along with assorted articles for the satire class, plus the last two New Yorkers. My fiction bit is up for discussion this Tuesday. The nonfiction bit is due for next Monday, and I was having a hard time deciding what to write about, but will probably do a piece on hobbledehoydom and Bogota. The trick, which shouldn't be too hard to pull off, is to do almost a kind of essay on Trollope and his take on awkward maleness, along with illustrated examples of this awkwardness in action from life. Along of course with parts where the hobbledeyhoydom is overcome or come to grips with or when it is accepted. I am trying to find a way to do it all w/o resorting to the Hunter S Thompson-ish bits, the booze and the substances, but they do seem integral to the fabric of the awkwardness. And also trying to find a way to avoid an Oh-I-learned-so-much kind of bullshit little memoir, but also want to keep away from an I-regret-nothing type narrative. I learned little. I regret a few moments, moments where the hobbledeydom turned to assholishness. So right now the only problem is how much weight to give to each discrete part. We'll see.
There should also be at least a little bit on two exemplary hobbledehoys: Charlie Brown (ur-hob.) and Kermit (the hob. every awk. male should aspire to, the ideal hob.).
Anyway, I hope you're well. I hope you're wearing a peacoat. I hope you're happy.
I am almost unutterably so, and have no good excuse for it.
Also, visit Nicholas Laughlin! Say hi! His blog kicks ass.
If there is anything to be said for extreme cold in Orlando, it is this: This is the only time of the year that you can walk around in a peacoat in Florida. Which I am doing.
Also, I've been watching less TV than usual, but have not have been having (have not have been having?) too much time to read non-required stuff. Been reading (and rereading) some stories for my fiction and nonfiction workshops, along with assorted articles for the satire class, plus the last two New Yorkers. My fiction bit is up for discussion this Tuesday. The nonfiction bit is due for next Monday, and I was having a hard time deciding what to write about, but will probably do a piece on hobbledehoydom and Bogota. The trick, which shouldn't be too hard to pull off, is to do almost a kind of essay on Trollope and his take on awkward maleness, along with illustrated examples of this awkwardness in action from life. Along of course with parts where the hobbledeyhoydom is overcome or come to grips with or when it is accepted. I am trying to find a way to do it all w/o resorting to the Hunter S Thompson-ish bits, the booze and the substances, but they do seem integral to the fabric of the awkwardness. And also trying to find a way to avoid an Oh-I-learned-so-much kind of bullshit little memoir, but also want to keep away from an I-regret-nothing type narrative. I learned little. I regret a few moments, moments where the hobbledeydom turned to assholishness. So right now the only problem is how much weight to give to each discrete part. We'll see.
There should also be at least a little bit on two exemplary hobbledehoys: Charlie Brown (ur-hob.) and Kermit (the hob. every awk. male should aspire to, the ideal hob.).
Anyway, I hope you're well. I hope you're wearing a peacoat. I hope you're happy.
I am almost unutterably so, and have no good excuse for it.
Also, visit Nicholas Laughlin! Say hi! His blog kicks ass.
posted by fulmerford at
5:33 AM
