It’s a lovely moment at the end when [David] Letterman comes to the most human question of all, which is just this: “Boy, I feel like I want to do something for you. Can I do something for you?” And when [Michael] Douglas says, “Awwww, gimme a hug!” you realize that they’ve actually each offered a kindness: Letterman gave him the hug and Douglas let that be the thing that Dave could do for him.
Category Archives: Life
Plate of Spaghetti
Heartbreak is every bit as much a psychological adaptation as is the compulsion to have sex with those other than our partners, and it throws a monster of a monkey wrench into the evolutionists’ otherwise practical polyamory. It’s indeed natural for people—especially men—to seek sexual variety. My partner once likened this to having the same old meal over and over again, for years on end; eventually you’re going to get some serious cravings for a different dish. But I reminded him that people aren’t the equivalent of a plate of spaghetti. Unfortunately, we have feelings.
(Previously.)
A room of one’s own
[My] garret was a bit bleak, actually being the back of my very strange bedroom closet/storage area … but it was a garret, and it had a window, and an outlet, and it was nothing to scoff at, being a room of one’s own. Or at least a corner of an expansive closet of one’s own, which was plenty.
But it turns out that after a day at home alone … spending an evening alone in the back of a closet is bad for the soul. Or so I imagine, having not bothered to try. For the last year, my office has been a chair in the corner of my living room, by the window with my laptop, with my husband busy at his actual desk on the other side of the room. I miss him when he’s at work, and when he’s home I like to be close to him, even if neither of us are talking and both of us are working on various projects.
Impossible to Imagine
And it’s impossible to imagine ever returning to a life in which I treat my writing like a frivolous hobby or prioritize writing about other people’s novels over working on my own.
Chaos and unbridled impulsivity
As I’m lying there, crumpled and broken from my most recent attempt at meaningless success, I feel complete bewilderment at the motivation behind what I just did. There was no point. I’m sure that the decision was based on some scrap of reasoning, but in retrospect it seems that chaos and unbridled impulsivity just collided randomly to produce a totally unexplainable action with no benefit and all consequences.
Love Letter
I’ve always thought StoryCorps is about the coolest project ever. Now they’re making videos (sob!):
via Chookooloonks
Not my only guide to happiness
What we mean by “trust your gut” isn’t so much to go against all evidence but to listen to your feelings and your intuition and use their subtle signals to help you decide. Don’t ignore your passion. Honor your passion. But honor your passion by talking to it and saying, Passion, you know I like you a lot, and you’re a lot of fun, but you’ve also gotten me in a lot of trouble over the years, and I’m not always going to just come running every time you call. You’re powerful and you’re fun and attractive but you’re also sometimes inconvenient and dangerous and scary and if I might add, at times, just a mite weird — like some of the ideas you come up with are just against the law. I recognize that without you, Passion, I would probably not be alive, nor would much dance happen. Still, you’re not my only guide to happiness.
Want to understand
I like to write journal entries in the voices of my characters. I sometimes even do it for people who have hurt me deeply in real life. The challenge is that you have to discover something new about the person or character. If your exercise reveals only what you came to the page with in the first place, then you have not tapped into the empathy you are going to need to write the story you want to write. You really to have to want to understand that person, which means you may have to let go of that anger.
Tiny, Wonderful Things
[Y]ou do have to court delight, I think. Though there’s also the point that if you wish to be perpetually delighted, just look for the pleasure of tiny, wonderful things. (Or perhaps I need to get out more…)
Shared our lives online
At the end of 2006 I met my best friend. We met online. I didn’t know she was my best friend then. I just knew she was cool and had great taste in room porn. It didn’t take me long to find out that she was warm and kind and funny and fierce and loyal and smart and feisty and strong and loving … with great taste in room porn. She was always there for me through thick and thin and for both of us there were thick and thin times. Before too long she was a part of my life, a very special part. Kim and I have never met. We haven’t even spoken on the phone. We have shared our lives online and today I wish I could actually run up to her, throw my arms around her and wish her all the happiness in the world.
The Remainder Table 