(Note: The following pieces are mostly from November and December 2010....with most of those being from the period of December 26-29th, 2010)
Today's Final Note: An Important Revelation About Me (How I am Sarcastic In Many Things; Especially Writings)
by Douglas Cate on Wednesday, December 29, 2010 at 6:26pm
Even in my most serious, truest writings and statements-unless they are those motivated by sharp, strong feeling like love or lust or sex or romance-I am almost always joking, satiric, dry and silly. Thus, even many of the things that I wrote and uploaded today, even for instance the "Sex Theory" piece, are in fact insincere and sardonic. They are-or might be-true, but they are also sarcastic and wry...and, if I do say so myself, utterly brilliant. However, this should not always be about me. I feel rather empty to remark upon the fact that so often am I the topic of any of my writings. It is unfair and unnecessary.
Yet, to give you a little slice about how fickle my mind can be and how short my attention span is and how easily I am distracted, let me tell you that the last sentence, the one above this one, was not meant to be written here, ever.
Yet, that is just a sample of my freewheeling literary and notional style. However, my actions are rarely so fickle.
After all, not to unduly, unnecessarily categorize and stereotype them, but in my experience, fickleness is primarily the province of women-not men. Yet, my fickleness-if existent or present at all-is not THEIR fickleness...you know?
And, now, at last, after what seems like fifty pieces and a hundred pages I am done-for today, for now, that is (sinister laughter as we:
FADE OUT).
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Douglas Cate "FADE OUT" , for those of you who don't know it's meaning and usage, is what is always written at the bottom of the final page of any sort of screenplay of teleplay. It signifies the end of the show or movie as written. TY.
18 minutes ago · LikeUnlike
Douglas Cate *screenplay OR teleplay.
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A Story Behind One of The Two Major Comic Bits that I Created Impromptu Yesterday
by Douglas Cate on Wednesday, December 29, 2010 at 6:06pm
As you who have actually read my many and variously topic-driven notes know, I have already told the tale of the creation of one of the comic bits that I did yesterday-namely, the "Jackin' coke, 'cause I'm bored" song one. However, there were at least two major bits engendered in impromptu settings and by the slightest impetuses and external stimuli yesterday; and as such, there is still one hopefuly brief tale to be told.
That tale is the one that covers a comic idea that I had while at the bank yesterday.
Here it is, then:
Having received a rather substantial windfall from my previous employers on Monday, the next day, Tuesday (for those of who who don't know the progression of the days of the week), I resolved to go down to the nearest bank, which happened to be the Eliot branch of the Kennebunk Savings Bank, and start up a savings account (for my previous bank, at which I have an account or two that is still active though humble and small and nonexistent, really; that bank is too far away and there are closer ones...so why not try to save myself the trip and time and gasoline-which is so unnecessarily, conspiratorially expensive these days?). So, I went down to that particular location, entered, looked about, and seeing a rather large crowd, that significantly busied the few tellers present, I stood back a few paces, nearest the deposit/withdrawal slip table and waited until I could approach the teller's window. Now, it had been a while since I had opened an account, especially at a whole new bank-my previous one having been going on for like nine years or so already-so I was naturally trepidatious and apprehensive and in a rather incommunicative mood. So, not wanting to talk, I thought of something. However, in order to fully understand my mindset behind this particular bit, you must realize that in addition to my nervousness and embarrassment, I was starting to feel worried and especially angry and indignant at the whole prospect; so, sufficiently emotional, and in a great mood to criticize and mock things in general, I thought the following little, comical notion:
(Which shall present itself herein as a rhetorial question or "What if" style premise):
"What if I took one of those deposit/withdrawal slips, and on the back of it, because I am now so indignant and nervous that I don't want to talk to anyone; what if I wrote: I would like to open a savings account? For, as I and I am sure all the tellers well know, certain robbers who don't want to attract too much undue attention to themselves used to and still do occasionally write a note, on which is written: This is a holdup or a stickup-I forget which: and pass this to the teller.
So, knowing this, what would the teller most likely think? Of course, she would think that I was a robber-but in reality I am a prospective customer!"
And this I naturally thought was deliciously funny and I resolved to write down that calming thought when I got home; as I did-right now and right here.
So, that is the whole of that particular story and bit and the story and idea behind it.
(Note: For those of you who are always having to be politically correct and are always telling people to not be too gender-specific, or to always say "he or she" in every pronoun case; such as that one before wheere I said: "Of course, she would think that I was a robber"; to you, I have only this to say: Fuck you; I'm not changing it. And, I am certainly not being sterotypical by saying "she"; for at that bank and almost all banks, really, the tellers were and are women. So, "she" is quite apt. So, again: Fuck you all you stupid politically correct dipshits! Thank You!)
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The Sex Theory (which is also: The Slut Theory)
by Douglas Cate on Wednesday, December 29, 2010 at 5:44pm
I have a theory about the sexuality of certain people-of promiscuous people who love and have sex a little too much and with all manner of people. I mean, my theory about people (men and women, but especially women; though again it does apply duly and equally to both sexes) who engage often in multiple-partner sex is that these people do this, not only for the intense pleasure of it or other reasons equally relative to that, but also and more primarily for the reason that they use this, the sexual act, as a means by which to cover up, forget and otherwise avoid feeling lonely and lovelorn. That is, they do it because they can't have and be with the one person who they truly want.
In the end, these type of people (and really any person could and can become this promiscuous quite easily) are using sex as a nepenthe: a drug that helps them to forget and reassign their pain. It is sad, but true-or at least, that is my theory. I'm not entirely sure if it is true, but I certainly think it could be and does explain a lot with regard to certain kinds of sexual behavior. However, you must realize that this does not mean that that isn't about and motivated by sheer pleasure and little else, for it obviously is. All I am doing is saying that sometimes it could possibly be other things that motivate that kind of behavior as well. And avoidance or reassignment or forgetfulness are the biggest things that I can think of.
And, of course, there is now no reason to set forth the "Slut Theory" for that is already here, just under a different name, as the title clearly shows. Thank you for bearing with me while I did my insufferable "psychiatrist/philosopher/psychoanalyst" impression. I trust it wasn't TOO insufferable.
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Douglas Cate Remember that I am not saying that sex is always displacement and deference. No; it is only that (and only partly that-never ENTIRELY that) for some people, sometimes. Never all people, and never all the time. Just occasionally.
Yesteday's Revelations, The Revelations-MY Relevations
by Douglas Cate on Wednesday, December 29, 2010 at 5:34pm
Long story short, I told two women (one at the bank at which I opened a savings account due to Monday's windfall; and one at the local library....and no, it was never done as a come-on or a pick up line of any kind; nor was it even said to remotely impress them) that I am or want to be, a writer. In this, they encouraged me somewhat-and at this, they expressed some enthusiasm and various wishes for success. Now, short story long or to make a short tale a very long one: ...........
(Author's Note: And, pretty obviously, that is all that I have for that-so far. However, you must understand a number of things: One, these most recent pieces-of which there are I believe about fifteen or sixteen or so, thus far-all are culled from a journal that I received as a Christmas present and in which I have been very feverishly writing ever since; and two, that many pieces are unfinished and that I am somewhat of a lazy, undisciplined writer and that I hate my handwriting, but I write by hand more often than anything else; therefore, I just put things in here, whether finished or not, just so as to have a nicer, cleaner, prettier version of it. Like any other male, I am greatly attracted to and an admirer of prettiness and physical beauty...and that includes even in writing! Besides, people don't really want to read my superlong stuff anyway.)
An Imperative Note Regarding Jiltedness; or, Love Taken Away-It's Aftermath and Effects
by Douglas Cate on Wednesday, December 29, 2010 at 5:24pm
When anyone, man or woman, comes by some salacious means or another, to basically feel pure love or lust or adoration, fondness, compassion or any strong, romantic feelings for someone and the thrill of it all is so intense and exciting that everything seems utterly heavenly and rosy, and THEN has all that taken away from them, for any number of good or bad reasons, they feel awful, hurt, rejected and....angry.
Almost partly vengeful, really.
They cannot help this perfectly natural, usually only very temporary, emotional state; it is human, and all humans in this particular, peculiar sort of situation-a situation charged with all manner of very strong emotions by all involved parties-feel this way: namely, temporarily betrayed and victimized and even tricked. It is sad, but true. However, as I pointed out, this feeling, in the normal human being, the rational human being, is almost always very short-lived if incredibly intense and stinging during it's short life (not the human's, the intensity of the anger that the IMAGINED betrayal).
A Very Important, Unequivocal, Uncontestedly True, Entertaining Note On Women (As I Have Experienced Them)
by Douglas Cate on Wednesday, December 29, 2010 at 5:15pm
Namely, to sum up all of analyses and conjectures of women, I would say, simply this: Though, in my opinion, they undoubtedly deserve to be loved and worshipped (just not, EVER, too much), there hasn't been the woman born yet who could ever tolerate, understand and enjoy being worshipped. Maybe because it makes her self-conscious, in that she doesn't feel she deserves it, that she thinks she is unworthy of such affection and adoration; maybe because it is, or can be, annoying-who the hell knows?
All that I know is, oddly enough, they can have such a demystifying attitude, such a hardheaded, stubborn practicality.....they, in my experience, can be both too logical AND illogical when it comes to romantic matters-and when it comes to dealing with their usually few true adorers and admirers. Yet, if you actually love them, how can you repress that sort of fondness for them that you have?
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About Journals And My Association With Them
by Douglas Cate on Wednesday, December 29, 2010 at 5:08pm
Given my status as a nearly prolific sort of writer-especially, as evidenced herein, of various essayistic albeit interesting, aphoristic, true, nonfictional/fictional/autobiographical, articular things-I should think that, maybe, what I most require is a fleet of journals, especially as I write longhand and handwritten things so often; yes, I need a veritable host of leatherbound journals....so long as they are, themselves, lined-factorylined.
So that, these prospective, multitudinous, hypothetical, requisite leathern journals and antebellumlike notebooks being lined, I don't have to by hand rule and line and measure and demarcate and bound them out myself. No, thank you.
Although, on the other hand, being a writer and, in this volume at least, a rather meiotic and minimalistic/hyperbolic, reportorial, truistic one-one who often within quotes truisms and composes or points out various obviousnesses-I would think that, maybe, just maybe, I would not mind it. But then, who knows? And, besides by means of it's smallness and randomness, is this even funny?
Local Idiots, Part II: Familial and Thus Unfortunately Related To Me (A Profile of Two of My Inane Brothers)
by Douglas Cate on Wednesday, December 29, 2010 at 5:00pm
To begin this musing, critique, report, entry, profile, article and assessment of these really ignorant and annoying and unnecessarily merciless and self-destructive relatives of mine, primarily and entirely my two vilest brothers, who have in their time and mine caused untold and undue misery of any and every imaginable kind to my family (and who will undoubtedly cause us all more before they're through), I will ask the following, seemingly innocuous, insouciant and inane, random question:
Is it in fact at all intelligent to go about shirtless on a cold, dark, windy, snowy, wintry night-even if you are in fact indoors while doing it?
Now, obviously the meaning behind this query is...............
(Note: That is all I have written on this most annoying, disgusting, distressing and aggravating of topics. And, if any of you were me, you too would not have written much more than that-because you wouldn't have been able to stomach it for long...believe me.)
An Excerpt: A Quick Memorandum On Local Newspapers Editorials' OW Stupidity, etc.
by Douglas Cate on Wednesday, December 29, 2010 at 4:52pm
Based on recent findings-all of which were painstakingly gathered by me and are my conclusions with few, if any, conjectures appended to them-I believe that the local newspapers are not only NOT interested in printing the truth, but also aren't interested in printing even entertaining versions of and variations on the truth. Regardless of any conjectures I might make, they disallow a contributor to make ANY insightful, entertaining, or even lame, conjectures and hypotheses...yet, is not opinion built out of and made up of these-conjectures and hypotheses?
I mean, not only have these vile, jocular sarcasms of journals and journalism-these papers-rejected and ignored ALL of my editorial submissions (all of which funny, entertaining-and TRUE, with few notable exceptions), but those they've actually printed have been the disjointed, maniacal, unfactual ramblings and rantings and ravings of some of the stupidest, most boring and incoherent, superfluous lunatics(of which it seems our humble region is entirely composed and crammed with)-most of these being but one foot from fullest entrance and internment into the yawning, dirt-rimmed, rectangular, black grave-to have ever walked the earth (and sullied it, befouled it with their inane mumblings).
So, what these so-called papers are telling me-telling EVERYONE, really-is that they only care about publishing vile, stupid, boring, octuagenarian/septuagenarian/centenarian, biased, dull, insane tripe and nonsense. These are the ironically, unnecessarily political papers'-whose fierce political agenda is to it's publishers the crux of all things-and............
(Author's Note: And...that is all I have for that, for now. Sorry).
The Story Behind A Silly Song/Comic Bit that I Engendered Impromptu Last Night
by Douglas Cate on Wednesday, December 29, 2010 at 4:32pm
This is the story-the story of a funky, silly, freewheeling, freestyling song or comical routine, et. al. It is the tale of a song that I might call, based on one of it's funniest, silliest lines: "Jackin' coke, 'cause I'm bored".
Here now, with all that preamble now duly concluded, is that story:
Yesterday, I purchased a cd of an anthology of The Meters (an incredible soul-funk-rock band from New Orleans which was pretty big in the late 60s and mid-70s), and it had two discs, the first of which covered the period of 1968-1971, during which The Meters only played and recorded mostly instrumentals, and so I was in the car last night, going from Bullmoose to another store in the Uptown portion of Portsmouth (unless the Uptown is not the area nearest the Newington border) and I was listening to the cd, the first one, with my brother, Jesse, who had accompanied me on the trip to Bullmoose, and as I am likely to do when I listen to music that has no lyrics nor vocals, I added some. We both did-though, as I am pretty much a master of supersilly freestyling and impromptu vocalizing and lyricism, I was of course the better and more consistent of the two would-be singers/lyricists. And, one of the funniest songs that I made up to the intense, funky/soulful beat of one of The Meters (which New Orleanean band I liked today, just now, on Facebook) was about an unemployed black man living in the city, in the ghetto, say of New Orleans itself, and among other diversions he pursues to pass the time, he likes to steal cocaine from various drug dealers...as the line, the funniest one, the one that made me stop and laugh the hardest, because it surprised even me in it's rhyming perfection and silliness: ".......Jackin' coke, 'cause I'm bored." clearly shows. Remember that the previous line had something to do with a Ford...so, I just rhymed "Ford" with "bored".
Now, for those of you who might, in your overwhelmingly unoriginal and insufferable uberliberality and political-correctness, say that I am being stereotypical and racist in my song that I made up for laughs, I say to you: One, fuck you, it was a harmless joke; and two, I crafted a song which intense funniness and absurdity aside, is true to the music. It fits it, and it is right for it. If you-any of you; if you had a fifth of my talent for silly rhyme-making, were to listen to this particular funk/soul instrumental and you had to create impromptu lyrics for it (which, no offense, I hardly doubt that any of you could do....I mean, remember, this is something I have been doing all my life for fun, making up little stories and songs and rhymes...none of you have half of my experience and training in this particular field), undoubtedly you too would come up with something that smacked of the ghetto and the whole funk/soul/rap/hip-hop lifestyle...at least, as we people guess it to be. So, therefore, that is that. I will not defend myself nor apologize for making incredibly funny comedy...that is not even that satirical; if anything it was just absurd...I might as well have said something about purple clouds and pancake forests and ice cream mountains and kaleidoscopic tangerine fortresses. See? It is all absurdity. To prove this point, namely that one I am making about my abilities to funnily, absurdly rhyme effortlessly, I will compose a silly song or poem sometime and put it in here. Indeed, I already have written and recorded a veritable buttload (no; that's inaccurate...a boatload, actually) of songs with ubersilly rhymes and themes and rhyme-schemes in them.
And now that I have won, this is all is done.
(Note: In this case, it is always good to end with a rhyme.)
The Beliefs That I Have of Myself: A Brief Thought On My Abilities As A Writer
by Douglas Cate on Wednesday, December 29, 2010 at 4:08pm
I like to imagine that I have the ability and due, adept talent and literary nimbleness to make anything and everything (no matter how small, vile, strange, gross, bland, dirty, ugly, filthy, scatological, weird, smutty, raunchy, taboo, salacious, disgusting, gory, improper, prurient, nefarious, archaic, boring, dull, arcane, nauseating, etc.) better, more interesting, intelligent, exciting, poetic, engaging, and beautiful-or at least: witty, satiric, and funny. And I can achieve this usually by invariably telling (some version-perhaps strained and embellished) of the truth!
Is It For It or Against It?
by Douglas Cate on Wednesday, December 29, 2010 at 4:00pm
In late 2005 or early 2006-I forget which; but I do know it was cold and wintertime-, at a certain now defunct paperback and comicbook and used bookstore in Somersworth, I saw a black-dustjacketed book entitled:
"Everything You Know About Sex Is Wrong: The Misinformation of Extreme Sexuality."
Now, basically ever since ( and I hope this doesn't make me sound like an obsessive moron, but) just one thought about that book has been in my mind, ever since that fateful, sullied day standing in front of a book display along a wall at The Paperback Bazaar:
Is it-that book-advocating a pornographic lifestyle; is it for lustfulness-or is ti denigrating just such a lifestyle and sexual philosophy; and utterly against it and all forms of carnality and lustfulness?
Well, I never did discover the true answer (though at first I thought, based on it's title alone, that is was against the adoption and application of a pornographic, lascivious lifestyle); primarily because I never read nor opened that book (I guess at the time, I was too embarrassed and afraid to); but that store also sold various XXX magazines and this book (EYKASIW:TMOES) was right next to them, so..........
(Note: And of course, there is now no reason to continue that sentence; trailing off is the best way to end this.)
A Few Diarrheal Thoughts....that is, The Machinations and Duplicities of That Grim, Seasonal Tyrant
by Douglas Cate on Tuesday, December 28, 2010 at 4:58pm
Having myself fallen victim to it recently, I feel this current, prostrating, toilet-confining, agonizing affliction of mine, coupled with overmuch misfortunate, abject and terrifying cold and flu symptoms; such as feverishness, puts me in the way of an authority, and thus endowed and enabled, to talk without fear of contradiction, equivocation and undue, unbidden conjecture about it. The number one, supremest awfulness associated with that vile, strickening fiend Diarrhea (that odious brigand) is its satanic unfairness and malignant trickery.
It is most duplicitous and treacherous; it dupes you at almost every turn primarily with the ruse of (false) evacuation........that is, the definite, bowel-clenching sensation that portends defecation.
Such is but a moiety of its fiendishness and chicanery, but there are more vile machinations to report and expose and more deep descriptions required to be carried out with regard to its most dastardly treachery-of which I've already spoken.
To say nothing of the aridity it employs whilst one is seated upon, glued to, imprisoned on, confined to the commode: For even in the starkest, barest, coldest, emptiest bathroom, even one lacking in heaters, even on the snowiest day of winter-the snowiest, darkest day-even with all that compacted and compounded gelidity and inertia of temperature, even then, one's forehead perspires, as the fiend turns up the heat, though it is not a comfortable, sexual, pleasant heat; no, it is an awful, anhydrous, afflictive desert heat, a heat that ephemerally makes you wish you were dead.
However, I must expatiate and bloviate more on the topic of diarrhea's foulest, most duplicitous machination: that of its false feeling of evacuation.
Now, you must understand that..............
Local Idiots, Part I-Those Fools in Eliot, Who Are Nameless, That Are Unrelated to Me
by Douglas Cate on Tuesday, December 28, 2010 at 4:46pm
The supreme selfishness of the men of this town with regard to the use and possible sharing of their precious plows is singular and appalling-in that, in the midst of a vile, crushing, unremitting blizzard, such as that that raged unchecked all around me a few days ago when I first wrote this in my notebook....that blizzard being full of wind and snow and cold and darkness......yet, in it, in one, they pass an area not yet passed or cleared by the town plow trucks (of which I judge there must be a brace...that is, a pair) and humped with snowy almost impassable drifts, and their oft-rusty, always trusty plows-where are they?
Why, in that most natural and beneficial of positions: poised several dozen lofty inches above the swiftly gathering, unplowed, unbroken ridges of snow!
You can imagine these blackguards, enscounced in their warm, dark cabins of their trucks, rushing down the road, in a driving, bitter snow, to make money: really, to take rough, undue advantage of others-..........(and that is all I have for now; to be completed later. See earlier pieces and notes to understand why this is even inputted to here.)
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Brief, Explanatory Note on My Notes
by Douglas Cate on Tuesday, December 28, 2010 at 4:38pm
As you may have noticed, all my most recent pieces, even those that are complete, are singularly brief and short and are not longer than perhaps 300 words long. In explanation of this radical transformation in my work, I say: Given the ridiculously attentuated (that is, short) attention spans of the average "reader" , I have decided it is for the best to significantly shorten my works.
Now, perhaps, by doing this, by making this unprecedented move towards tighter writing, more laconic writing....perhaps, people will finally persue and pore over that which I have to say and in doing so, will comment upon it.
For once.
Note if you will, that this seeming rant is not a rant at all and is certainly not a complaint, either. Thank You.
And, though you all obviously never do it, keep reading!
Reply and Recommendation to My Most Ardent Critics and Detractors Who Might Turn Out To Be Idiots, etc.
by Douglas Cate on Tuesday, December 28, 2010 at 4:32pm
To those who accuse me and all of my writing of being unnecessarily didactic and pedantic and who cite my supposedly constant use of large, intelligent, recondite words (designed, perhaps to make some of them feel even stupider) in a broad way of inflicting people with my "smartness"; to these I say, in definite defense, explanation, suggestion and possibly scathing rebuttal:
You are not comprehending the fullness of my meaning. You are looking at and reading pare of the thing-instead of, as I intended, the whole thing.
The content, the body, the context, the wholeness-these are what matter.
It is not ever how I am saying something, but rather what it is itself (the entire statement) that matters. Otherwise, all this-all my work-is for nothing. And I'd really hate to think that!
Note Explaining Why So Many of My Incomplete Fragments Are Put Up Here and Otherwise Typed Up
by Douglas Cate on Tuesday, December 28, 2010 at 4:26pm
I do put up these and other, earlier writings and various fragments on places like Facebook, Blogspot, and Myspace, et. al-even when incomplete, fragmentary, and half or a quarter-finished primarily because I am either A) Proud of and desirous to share them-even in their most uncomplete, inchoate stage; or B) Disgusted thoroughly by their hideous, illegible (sometimes even to me) appearence; their common, overarching unreadableness-the fact-nay, the truism; the obviousness-that all handwritten work always takes on a finer, purer luster when duly transformed by word processor, typewriter, or computer into the clear, bold, always readable, black-and-white typewritten page. And........that's all I got on that one!
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An Autobiographical Pause; or Sketch; (From The Rush, Influx and Flow of All Previous Writings in Their Currentness)
by Douglas Cate on Tuesday, December 28, 2010 at 4:19pm
I should like to, if I may, speak somewhat briefly of my one-time stint as an invalid and my simultaneous periods of convalescence and quarantine, most of which (though certainly not all of which) occurred between my 7th and 10th years.
Thus, by that it is proven that then I was a rather unfortunately sickly child-if only thankfully occasionally.
Yet, before I ever speak deeply, fully, descriptively in a veritable narrative about that, I think it is important to digress, as all the great, immortal writers do and did, and to consequently remark the following: That, to recall this time in any depth, is to cause myself some momentary uneasiness, uncomfortableness and occasional flashes of unpleasantness, misery, melancholy, awfulness, and ironically enough, sentimentality, oddest, briefest romanticism and nostalgia...................
A Quick Note on Writing; or, I've Got 135 Words Here You've Just Got to Read!
by Douglas Cate on Tuesday, December 28, 2010 at 4:12pm
In regard to one of the strangest conceits and concepts in writing, I have only this to say-or to query:
"Why is it that everything, with regard to output, is measured in words and amounts of words?"
I mean, what is often said about the daily output of writers?
It is never: "Oh, he wrote about 12 pages a day."
No; it is always: "Oh, he wrote 4,500 words a day."
That is the singular, eternal rule of writing and writers: that everything with regard to composition and all within it's purview; it's solid, plastic scope; all of that, all work, all production, all output-it is all invariably measured-for God knows why-in words; not pages.
A Thought About Raucous Parties and Palatial, Immaculate Bathrooms (Especially when in the same Locale)
by Douglas Cate on Tuesday, December 28, 2010 at 4:05pm
In my time, I have been to admittedly few raucous parties, but I have attended, been invited to and gatecrashed enough of them to remark with some authority on them. Therefore, being the sort of basically soberly reserved person that I am, I have often sought momentary refuge from the cacophony and dissonance and the din of the damned-you know, all their hollering and such-in the nearest, safest, quietest, cleanest bathroom of whichever sullied, debauched house the party I happening to attend is being held in.
Now, to my mind, the actual numerical definition of "raucous party" with regard to the number of attendees, occupants, gatecrashers and invitees is fourteen or more-or seven or more-and in this way, I can truly say that I've................
A Sarcastic, but Seemingly True, Musing of Mine Concerning Composition
by Douglas Cate on Tuesday, December 28, 2010 at 3:56pm
A new thought has emerged in the literary world-the reading, and writing, public (as small as it now is):
Writing is of no consequence and is not an apt, adept art-if even an art at all.
And finally, the literary construction of a wholly new and original-and true and entertaining-though, should be considered as the most detestable act committed or perpetrated (or perpetuated) by any humans..........
or, at least, that is what all their current behaviors and attitudes about it clearly imply.
It seems all these travesties and sarcasms of intelligentsia say to me-about my writing:
"Who the hell are you? What is your purpose? What is this-you call this writing? It is far too abstruse, unclear, obscure and obviously untalented."
And that's what those bastards-with all their precious, environmentally-sound, ultramodern Ebooks and fucking Nooks-say, do, think.....and, very seldom, write.
That, then, is their one, overarching thought.
Designs on Modern Scribing ( )
by Douglas Cate on Monday, December 27, 2010 at 3:35pm
A confederation, dark and nimble, of thoughts to be poured out........
nay, what a cup, a tankard, a goblet, a vessel of
distilled, wondrous notions is
the inked pen!
It is a great conduit, linking the fevered, excited mind to the oft-empty page; but
how many still write and express themselves-if at all-in just that way-pen and ink to paper as the imbibed,
ink-surfeited quill to the crumbling, torn
frayed, blemished parchment?
No; it is an anachronism-let's update it....nay,
to use the neologism: upgrade it.
Therefore, what a flask of opinions is the keyboard!
What a conduit between the rambling, unsettled,
too-expressive, mad mind and the blinking, black
cursor, flitting on and off at the top of the
lonely white unlined expanse of the page
is the typewriter, the computer,
the keyboard, the laptop......the -to go back to anachronisms and archaisms-
notebook...but not the same 'notebook' I write this in!
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Okay, that's it; End of Part One of the Longest Post Ever-A Collection of My 2010 Facebook Reportage
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