Burning Books and Stuff

I have degrees in literature and writing so it goes without saying that I write and read more than the average person.  I guess you could say I'm well read, and no, I don't want to get into any bookworm pissing contest with anyone.  I'm just saying, I've read some stuff.  I'm a good reader.  I'm a close reader.  All that stuff.  And yes, I write--might not be the next Cormac McCarthy, but I do write...

You know, I can't imagine what it would be like if someone took it upon themself to hate my work so much that they amassed a heap of my *best* work and lit it ablaze.  Jeez, that would hurt my feelings, for sure.  I might even think about going into fetal hibernation under my bed.  Maybe I'd think about changing my name and moving to...somewhere that was not here.   I might think about a lot of stuff.  Yeah, I might think about it.  I wouldn't do it. Wouldn't do anything except keep writing.  That's what I would do. Well, ok, I might jump off a bridge if it were someone like my mother or my daughter doing the burning, that would shut me down, for sure.  But anything short of familial disparagement is just going to get chocked up to status-quo-class criticism.

Why is that?  Why wouldn't I freak out and throw incendiary bombs (linguistic or otherwise) at the people burning my book?  Because I live in a world of diverse opinions, with diverse perspectives and diverse attitudes.  That's why.  I'm used to criticism.  Americans are used to that.  If you're not, you're leading one helluva sheltered life, or you live with your mother.

You know what?  Check this out.  I actually did have a guy crumple up something I wrote once and toss it in the garbage can on the way out of class--a class full of students who were listening to me read my story as they were following along.  Boink.  In the trash.  Deep sixed.  I mean this guy was a blatant lefty and he didn't even think about recycling it.  Trashed.  Actually, when he first tossed it he missed the garbage can so he bent over and picked it up with his index finger and thumb as if it were a hardened dog turd and only dropped it into the wastebasket after dangling it there for a few seconds.  He smiled while he dangled it.  Right at me.  Right at my face.  Ugh.


Ok, that sucked.  But then again, so did what I wrote.  It sucked for him at least.  Pissed him off even. Whatever.

See?  This is why my writing sucks, I'm too tangential.  I've got no rigid structure, no...program, as someone once called it.  Maybe my writing style is just "diverse".  Nah...


So, I wonder about this Quran burning episode that will take place on 9/11/10.  And I wonder about Americans.  What is it about Americans that they put up with people burning the flag and the Bible even though they hate that it happens, but Muslims will supposedly kill an extra 10,000 infidels if we burn the Quran?  I don't know.  I'm just thinking...there aren't a lot of Christians in Mecca or Medina.  In fact, there aren't any at all.  No diversity.


Diversity.  God knows I hate that word so much.  It usually precede a lecture about how I suck for being a rich, white heterosexual male who enslaves entire races and eradicates other races from the face of the Earth.  Well, it does.  For the record, I'm not rich.  I'm not Caucasian.  I've never owned a slave, nor has anyone in my family. And I've never killed or condoned the killing of any human being.  Not even Saddam Hussein.  Not even Hitler.  Not even Kenny Rogers.


Oh, sorry.  Writing got diverse there again, didn't it?  It's actually working out good, let's keep it up.

More diversity:

I love chocolate cake with cherry flavored frosting.  /diversity


Have you ever read the Acts of the Apostles?  Did you know that Christians, 2,000 years ago burned books in protest?  Did you know this?  Act 19:19.  Go check it out.


So, what you're telling me is that it's NOT ok to offend the Muslim religion and their tradition by burning their book, but it is ok to offend the Christian religion and their tradition by telling them they cannot burn a book.  Hmm.  Maybe I was wrong about our "diversity".  Wait a second.  We don't get the benefit of our own diversity do we?  We're expected to be accepting--and particularly accepting of the idea that we're not expecting to be accepted.  That's not diversity, now is it?  That's writing yourself out of your own story! That's like...like...martyrdom.  That's the cultural equivalent of a self perpetuated fetal hibernation.  That's death.  Suicide.  Jumping off the bridge. 

Do yourself a favor and go burn a Quran.  At least you'll know you're alive.

Feel free to print this out, just so you can toss it in the trash.

Me?  I'm going to burn it. 

That's all.

Grown'ps

So, Tim Burton's Alice is a hit.  So what?  I'm not going to see it.  I'm done with Mr. Burton and his stinky band of merry catastrophers.

I'd rather talk about Lewis Carroll, but that gets all wacky--wocky--whatever.

Whatever...

I could talk about Cobain, then we could all get together for a cry.

Sorry, no.  That's what shotguns do, they go boom.


I'm thinking of a certain WWII vet I knew when I was a child; thinking, reasoning and doing childish things.  Maybe you knew this guy.  Maybe he was the guy down the street, maybe he was your grandfather or someone's parent. Could have been your parent, I don't know. He was the guy that did a weekend's worth of gardening before brunch on Saturday and spent the rest of the weekend in a lawn chair by the garden, watching, waiting, listening. For what, I don't know. He said very little with his mouth. He spoke Biblical proportions with his eyes.

I am thinking about this man today. I don't why. Just am. The immaculate tool shed is what I'm thinking about, really.

The disdainful nonchalance we held in our youths for the traditions of our betters is a sick, sick thing. And that we allowed every exterior influence to reinforce our little tantrummy rebellions is a tragedy.

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

There's some Burton in that, some Cobain, and definitely some Carroll.  Or maybe there's just the golden haze of memory's pristine tool shed. 

That's all.

The Tenacity of Love

I hear you hate Christians and libertarians and balanced budgets and fiscal responsibility and white people and guns and heroes and hyperbole and prejudice and private property and Jesus and Gandhi and little furry kittens and honesty in reporting and actual peer-reviewed research and apple pie and unproven allegations and baseball and yourself.

But this Christian libertarian proponent of balanced budgets and fiscal responsibility is white and has heroes who wield firearms when necessary to protect private property from the prejudiced hyperbolic killers of little furry kittens and actively seeks proof of allegations and honesty in both reporting and scientific research even when it comes to Jesus and Gandhi who both would have loved baseball and apple pie and yes, even  you.  As I love you.

 I do.

 I love you.

That is all.