Sunday, March 06, 2005

the cat has a better shot at a booker prize than i do

It's strange how inspiration comes and goes. I figured after a weekend off, I'd be brimming with ideas. But it seems more true the ideas come with consistent writing. So, I've been working on this post on and off all day, and the best I've come up with are:

a) It’s really disturbing how comfortable people often are with making judgements of others. This is most obvious in discussions of the lives of celebrities. I remember hearing a “celebrity watcher” t.v. pundit asked about something like why the queen wasn’t going to go to prince charles’ wedding. The most honest answer would have been, “I don’t know, I’ve never met them personally, I haven’t got a sweet clue.”

...and...

b) EDWARD: I have been nothing but myself since the day I was born. And if you can’t see that, it’s your failing, not mine. (this is my favourite quote from Big Fish, so I didn't even come up with this one myself)

In fact, I think the best thing that was developed for the blog today was written by Jimmy the cat, who wandered onto the keyboard and created:

;p

Anyway, enough people have said nice things about the blog, and have suggested they've been checking in, that this is my public vow to write something, even if the real author is the cat, every day. I guess it's the best way to be regularly inspired.

5 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I will be pondering the writings of Jimmy the Cat for the rest of the day ;)

3:14 a.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I've always said that Jimmy is a genius.

Well, actually, I've never said that.

Inspiration definitely comes and goes when I'm writing my blog too. Like you say, I think that the key is to just keep writing all the time.

5:54 a.m.  
Blogger H. Now said...

Thanks 3rd time. I'm very flattered.

9:12 p.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Has Jimmy been taking writing lessons from little Joel?

3:31 a.m.  
Blogger H. Now said...

I could not figure out who little Joel was. Then I could. Then all was revealed. Lochalsh, he who is out of lunch.

7:25 p.m.  

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