2006-07-23

Nonstandard usage

It's not very often that I go this long without penning an entry. 13 days went by and I just didn't feel like it. Normally, I would attempt something, abandon it, and move on. But I wasn't even trying this time. I didn't even try. The block - the whatever it was - was simply unmoveable. It could have been anything, or nothing; it could have been these lyrics: "...there's only music / So that there's new ringtones...", repeating, endlessly, without even trying.

And now, I submit. I submit to writing about not writing. I submit to anything, everything. Take your submission and flee, before these shaking hands smash this desk into bits of wood.

And now it all comes out, like a bulbous python disgorging everything, unable to digest all the goats, chickens and children because of something stupid, some nothing; perhaps it was a shoelace that tangled in the duodenum, letting nothing pass, and so it must, and so it does, spill out in a bloody mess at the villagers' motionless feet. Never look away.

Back to those lyrics; they are from A Certain Romance, by The Arctic Monkeys - and they are good, they are worth listening to.

Worth reading is Amerika by Kafka. The man never set foot in New York, and it is amazing, because I feel like I am reading Fitzgerald F. Scott. The story is in the characters, or the story is the protagonist, and his meandering syllogisms that inevitably conclude everthing is alright*.

And Everything is Illuminated, which I fell asleep during the showing of - I am now inclined to view it again, on the strength alone of the theatrical preview, which should be given an award for doing what all previews should be doing, and that is making me want to drop everything and watch it immediately punch the couch repeatedly in awe.

*Interesting. According to Answers.com, although altogether and already are widely accepted contractions of all + other word, "one who uses alright, especially in formal writing, runs the risk that readers may view it as an error or as the willful breaking of convention."

So, let there be no mistake: I am smashing conventions with my usage of alright.

And suddenly I am picturing myself, running, wild-eyed and breathless, across the red decorative carpet of the Pan Pacific Hotel, knocking over dioramas and shoving would-be convention-goers and screaming ALRIGHT at their would-be smiling faces, like some Karl Pilkington gone berserk and vainfully directing his round-headed rage at that woebegone convention, drinking on the company dime all weekend the weekend convention.

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