thoughts? opinions? accolades?
Recently I’ve begun work on the great american novel for our time. It’s all about a misunderstood individual with casual good looks and a penchants for sloth and falling asleep in the bath tub. He also enjoys sulking around the campus of his alma matter and hanging out with the old folks at a local retirement home. Yet all this changes after he awakes one morning to find his literary perusals stuffed with various articles each more puzzling than the last. Consumed by this mystery, he begins a journey of self-discovery that leads him through a dreamworld inhabited by talking cows and a stark reality filled with indifferent femme fatales and various turncoats (you know who you are.) Ultimately, these two worlds are reconciled when our protagonist wins the lottery and moves to Buenos Aires where he passes the time throwing half-empty whiskey bottles at poor people from his 5th floor balcony. Finally at peace, he enjoys the company of women of the night that allow him to indulge in his habit of talking to various domesticated phantasms.
posted by Working Boy @ 10:46 AM
11 Comments:
What was the mystery he was consumed by? I don't get it. What does he discover? Is this some sort of commie rag?
i can't give it all away or else you won't buy the hardback first edition for 29.95.
will it be lavishly illustrated? will there be nudie pics?
andy you're so cute when you're fishing for accolades ;)
save the accolades. I've already got three paragraphs written. At this rate I'll have it done sometime in 2015, unless the bottle overtakes me beforehand.
Does it begin like this?:
Some people wonder why I was born a fucking genius. I can’t say why or when for that matter. But whatever the case may be I only have one word for you. Genius is not easy. Its not easy because wherever I turn I am surrounded by the very people who confirm my genius. The tired old war veteran who goes to thriftshops to pick up books on Mexico because “its good to learn about the enemy”. Or the beautiful delicate college girl who realizing that being a women gets her whatever she wants laments her supple breasts and comfortable vagina while she’s screwing her philosophy professor for an A. So I guess you could saw that my genius is my curse. My curse because I’m surrounded by fucking morons with a 3.8 gpa and a ticket to Yale graduate school, while sitting here in the back of this restaurant trying to figure how the hell 9 dollars and hours is going to get me out of fucking Buckings, South Dakota.
andy and I really understand the tortured genius genre...that's why we both love Good Will Hunting so much
my favorite part in good will hunting is when howard zinn is cited as a real luminary. that or the whole movie which is like really interesting and full of thought provoking insights about, you know, stuff, like math, and girls.
Andy, thought you would be interested to know that you can go online and vote for the names of one of the twelve baby pandas at some zoo in china.
you just had to drag pandas into this
The obvious solution to the Panda-naming paradox is corporate sponsorship. If we number each one and cover it with logos much like racing cars, everyone will be happy.
There's the number 10 panda, who, rumor has it, is interested in Instant Quaker Oats over there.
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