Making Gone Girl Go
Presenting the best version of ourselves becomes loaded with pretense, as if our first impressions lock in our identities throughout the duration of a relationship.
Presenting the best version of ourselves becomes loaded with pretense, as if our first impressions lock in our identities throughout the duration of a relationship.
13. DO NOT FORGET THEIR LOVIES IN THE LOCKER! You will have to drive back to school in a panic!
even I can lament the anticlimactic answer to the perennial question of our youth: “Where in the World Is Carmen San Diego?” She’s sitting in a café in Palo Alto writing a nasty Yelp! review.
I will say that, even in the face of failure, that this reaching—and even the mere trying to reach—peels away at why and how poetry matters, at least sometimes, at least for some people.
A first family pet, unconventional as it may be. “What should we name him, Liam?” asked Charis. “Koonk.” A fine name, indeed. Simple and zany and oh-so-Liam.
Sure, this undertaking’s not quite as advanced as rebuilding the Six Million Dollar Man—though that price tag might just be in the ballpark for the cost of diapers.
“Beast” is a category not easily dismissed because “beast” bleeds out and spills over. When it’s presented as a binary, “beast” negates intrinsic components of our humanity.
I’m the son of a CPA, an accountant for the people, a number cruncher for democracy. I grew up knowing April 15 as a national holiday.
Suffice it to say that it’s been quite the couple of weeks for this strange, untamed corner of the Internet. A huge waste of time? You betcha. But…
I consider the substitute’s plight to be a paradox of permanence. Our teacher is absent, the students reason, ergo, this person before us now is but a specter—or, at worst, a charlatan… POUNCE!
December 31 certainly seems more festive than January 1. And by January 2, life resumes its normal course. Folks return to work, winter break ends, the Christmas tree comes down. Poor, poor January 2.
A sample list of my previous collections, presented chronologically: heads of Lego people, Beanie Babies, wristbands and tie-dye t-shirts, and music CDs (and books are a given, right?).
Given all of the intricacies of this brave new world, it’s somewhat surprising that I’m involved in (i.e., was even invited in the first place) a fantasy football league at all.
Small children are creatures of habit. Having been in the parental mindset for three years now, I’ve learned to stay on this side of sanity’s fine line by joining in (read: giving in) to these routines.
I’m not calling for a retreat into idealism. That said, I do see the merits of altruism. So what if it isn’t practical or realistic or the way things work?
Sigur Rós instantiates Walter Pater’s conviction that “All art constantly aspires towards the condition of music.” Short and sweet, but that’s what I think it all boils down to.
In order to reframe our writing, we need to see the world through a writer’s frame. What experiences, once put to words, will make compelling literature? Or start a discussion? Or, in their tedium, force readers to confront their boredom and test out what “counts” as art?