Well, it’s been about three months since the last post. About time for a new one, eh, lest my cyber-presence fade away completely (and thanks, Melissa, for the push).
The fact is, I haven’t particularly felt like writing. In the last three months I’ve read hardly anything. Certainly nothing that inspired me to write. (I don’t necessarily mean write about a book. What I mean is, good writing makes me want to write, period.)
Actually, there was one thing I did intend to write about, and that was the death of Kurt Vonnegut. Had I gotten around to writing it, that post would have described a junior high-aged Bookworm at music camp during the summer of 1981. You would have read about how I and this cellist named Rebecca had both recently read Slapstick — we had nothing else in common but this, and our friendship was based solely on the book — how Rebecca and I would pretend to be neanderthaloids every time we saw each other. That is, we pretended to be the neanderthaloids when they were apart from each other, slobbering & drooling & barely able to speak. And worse, I would have confessed, we pretended we had Tourette’s like the boy in the book, cheerfully exhorting each other to take flying f*cks at rolling doughnuts at every opportunity. (We had NO idea Tourette’s wasn’t just something hilarious that Vonnegut had invented.) Hi ho. So it goes. Rest in peace, Mr. Vonnegut. God bless Interlochen. And aren’t you glad I never actually wrote that post? ;)
8 Comments
Yay! Julie wrote a post!
There is much rejoicing.
I am glad you’re back. I was beginning to think you didn’t love us anymore. :)
I’m glad you’re back– and also glad that I am not the only one who takes three months breaks.
Hi, Julie! Welcome back :)
Woo hoo! You aren’t dead in a ditch. Glad to hear it. I’ve never (I think) read _any_ Vonnegut do I felt like a bit of a dag reading your post…
Thanks, you guys! And Crit, heh heh, the point of my non-post is that you’re probably better off if you haven’t. Or at least, if you didn’t at summer camp when you were 13. :)
We just happened to read a Vonnegut story in class the day he died–kind of spooky. It was Harrison Bergeron–kids loved it.
I know what you mean about good writing making you want to write. I recently had a long spell of escapist reading that was exactly what I needed for me but it didn’t inspire many blog posts! Not that I equate escapist books with bad writing mind you, but the whole point of that sort of reading is to take me out of myself, yet to write anything of critical interest, I have to be very much in my head, so generally I just relish that sort of reading experience without feeling a compulsion to write about it.