Everything is wrong with me
Thursday, September 16, 2004
emails monster, and essays (?)
Over the past two nights, I've answered every email that I've gotten recently that required responding. No, it's not the coolest way to spend my evenings, but I had really dropped the ball recently, and needed to catch up. Since the beginning of the month, I've gotten hundreds and hundreds (seriously) of emails, and I loved and cherished each one, except the one from Ted from Oakland who sent me a picture of his scrotum. I neither loved nor cherished that one, although I did kiss the computer screen when the picture downloaded. But in my defense I had had way too much to drink (two beers) and was very lonely and curious. Moving on...

I figure if you take the time to write to me to tell me about your recent break-up, to give me some of your own personal dealbreakers, to share your favorite Will Ferrell skits, to give me your own sports insights, to give me ideas for posts, to tell me how I rock and/or suck (the most popular), or just to say hello, then I can take the time to write back.

But there is one thing that I can't do. For some reason, some of you have been sending me stuff to read. Not book suggestions, but stuff (essays, short stories, etc) you've written for me to read. I really don't know why - usually if I read more than a paragraph my head starts to hurt and my vision gets blurry. I've learned this with my recent excursion to grad school. I can't read two sentences without my mind drifting off:

What I'm reading: "Batu received the news that the Great Khan Ugedey had died in Mongolia on December 11, 1241. Mongol politics prevailed over Mongol strategy, and Batu ordered the withdrawal of his whole army from Hungary, through Bulgaria and Moldavia, back to the south Russian steppes."

What I'm thinking: "God, I fucking love Chinese food. I wish I could go to Dim Sum more often. But it's really intimidating, since I don't know what's going on, with all the Chinese being yelled and everything. It's good to go with a Chinese person, like Marie. Marie was quite a little piece - probably like 80 pounds, tops. Man, I'd split her in two. Oh yeah, what a sexy lil' thing, I'd - " [stops reading to masturbate]

What I'm reading: "In 1200, Bishop Albert found the town of Riga at the mouth of the Dvina. The inhabitants of the region, Lithuanians and Letts, were converted, though with difficulty, to Christianity."

What I'm thinking: "God, how many more pages do I have left? This sucks. Christ, I really need to get laid. Maybe I should try a personal ad? Uh-oh, look who's waking up! Let me put this book down for just one - " [stops reading to masturbate]

The point is, I am not a good reader. I don't mean that emails should be limited to 250 words or anything, but I mean that you shouldn't send me separate word documents containing stories you've written, or paste these stories or essays into the body of the email, because I can't read them. Really, I can't - I just can't focus for that long.

Aside from that, I am an asshole moron. I don't know if you guys are looking for comments or what, but I am not very smart. Here's what my comments would consist of, regardless of whether your work was about the fall of apartheid, Canada's welfare system, how you got your license, or why girls are better than boys:

Comment #1: "Good, but needs more anal."
Comment #2: "I don't understand any of this."
Comment #3: "So so. Spice it up with some anal."
Comment #4: "Wait - who's doing the what now?"
Comment #5: "Sucks. Add a lot more anal, maybe a threesome."


So I don't mean to sound like a dick, and I'm sure you're wonderfully talented, but please, leave the essays and short stories for class. Or pay me. Bitch.

In conclusion...

Emails: great - keep them coming
Stories/Essays: not good
Anal: hilarious and good
Me: hungry, and a little tired and cranky, but looking forward to Ray tonight

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