I've been doing a lot of sly bullshitting lately, and it's made me wonder whether this blog shouldn't or couldn't be a little more serious. Should I add poems, should I perform the office of a legitimate prose writer. And what I mean by that is Should I actually offer any insight(s) into dasein as I both see and imagine it.
I don't think I should. I think, if anything, I should be even more outrageous; even less serious.
I was looking through an old essay, and I'd written, about Woolf's To the Lighthouse, that "Nature is sombre and has a soul of passion." I wrote that years ago. (They call that "creative criticism," and at the graduate level it's good for two pounds of flesh.)
But I thought, "Well, I can do something like that. I can be honest, I can write serious fiction; I can post poetry."
And then GBS (Bernard Shaw) spoke to me. "David, why do you want to do that? David, so many others are doing that. David, please...David--Where in the shower does David Adams Richards rest his foot when he's shaving his testicles? Tell me that, David. Please."
So I could be serious. I have unpublished novels; I have unpublished short stories. I have unpublished poems.
But why ruin it? As Robert Bolt once told me, "David, you've already got one Margaret Atwood. Be funny!"
I dug my toe into the sand. "Well, Robert: I try."
I just wish that people cared. If people don't read Saul Bellow, why would they care that he's thinking of buying a new canoe?
About two months ago I met Zadie Smith. "Zadie," I said, "I want to let you know that I really love your stuff. But, please, smile, honey. Just part your lips. Come on. It would mean so much to me. How about a grin? Zadie, just smirk."
I don't sound like that. But I put on the voice. For you, readers. Just to entertain you. But it doesn't work. It reminds me of the time that I baked a pecan pie for Bret Easton Ellis. He'd asked for it, and I baked it. "Bret, have a piece."
"No."
"Just a taste."
"I'm not hungry."
"But you asked for it."
"David: I do not need pie right now."
That's the future of blogging. In my opinion, of course.
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2 comments:
Long time reader -- first time caller!
Obviously, it's clear to me that if "Canadian(ist)" is any evidence, the future of the blog is endless "satirical" navel gazing and puffed-up wry name-dropping. Let me guess, your unpublished novels feature domestic strife and you've cultivated a refined distaste of McSweeney's. Original, I know.
I'm watching your blog. I hope your future posts can provide me with more than just a sad chuckle and a hope that you write one honest word in your life.
I disagree entirely, Tim. I love to see the literati turned into real people who shave their testicles and buy tampax at the local drug store.
What's more honest than that?
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