Driving in to work I continued listening to Nick Hornby’s Juliet, Naked. I am wishing I had a paper copy of the book. I may have to buy one, just so I can hold it in my hands as I read it. Some books just need to be consumed with our eyes as well as ears, and this is one of them. I want to be able to mark it up so that I can pull quotes from it. Hornby has such a wry, sly sense of the tiny mundanities that make up relationships, of what makes us tick, of the absurdities and painful beauty in the frail connections between people.
I love writing, and sometimes, the perfect turn of phrase comes to me, or a paragraph or a whole story, whole, as though I am channeling some inner, better voice, and I sit back after I write it and go, “Oh, yeah, that’s good.” But this guy can write like that all the time. Amazing.
I think I have a crush.
So I am ever-so-glad that someone that actually needs the money won the outrageously huge Powerball lottery this past week. But am I the only one who thinks that if a person is on their last $30 and their electric is going to be shut off, buying cigarettes and Powerball tickets is a poor choice? I mean, seriously?
I loved this line, too: “Mr Shaw said he would need a few days to mull over whether to quit his minimum-wage job.” Yeah, right. As I said to the guys over the weekend, I love my job and I’d quit it in a New York minute, like the moment I realized I had won. lol
On the way in to work there was a guy standing on an overpass with a huge sign pointing to the interstate that said, “So-and-So (he used a real first and last name) can’t we talk about it? Please call me.” He didn’t leave his name or phone number. I guess he assumes she would know who he is, or maybe he is just into embarrassing her and not himself. I mean seriously, if you love me, don’t ever do that to me. Grand, public gestures of sorrow and/or unrequited love just leave me cold. Unless, of course, they are a publicity stunt. Then it’s just annoying. But if that’s what it was, I guess it worked, right? It got on MSNBC.
And for all the little girls that wanted a pony but were told by their cold, heartless practical parental units, “Where would we put it? In the backyard?” you can now say “yes” and send them this story/clip: World’s Smallest Horse is Born.
And that, my friends, is all I got right now.