Tottenham has two matches left to the season, and I think the best that they can do is 6th place. I predict that Spurs will lose to Brentford, and then end with a win against Leeds. There is still a chance that Tottenham will qualify for the Europa League, or the Europa Conference League next season, but being how tough the last several matches have been, they could burn out easily. I would like to see them win a trophy next season, any trophy. But all of that will depend on the next manager and if Harry Kane sticks around.
I’m running out of room for books in my apartment. And, I have about nine file boxes in storage of more books that the wife and I have collected. I refuse to get rid of the books. That just feels like abandoning your child. Yet, I also feel compelled to go book shopping this weekend.
I should get a move on, you know. I was able to write these first to sections of this post rather fast, and now, for the past hour I have been trying to come up with a third paragraph. Not sure why I hit this block all of a sudden. I started looking out the livingroom window, and everything just ground to a halt. I was thinking about the kid at school, and how close Summer is, and if we were going to be able to get a vacation up to Maine this year. (Rather late in the year, so I’m thinking not.) Just random idea after random idea, but nothing solid that would lend itself to a narrative. Has anyone heard of the 25 – 5-minute rule? You work for 25 minutes, and then give yourself a 5-minute break. It’s supposed to help you stay focused and not burn out. Huh?
I also think the words, house husband should be spelled “house-husband,” but autocorrect disagrees with me. English is a strange language which never stops evolving.
And when I say that I will be house husbanding “it” what that really means is I have a bunch of errands to run around the city for the family. Every now and then, a day like is emerges and I have to put a bunch of other things that I would like to do on the back burner. Life is about trade-offs, and today, I will be living the trade-off.
But, one thing that I won’t let myself skip out on is putting down at least 250 words daily. I have been a little lax on the blog since the start of the year. I would post Monday through Friday, with occasional holiday breaks. But since the start of the year, it has been closer to four post a week. I still journal every day, which is how I normally hit my 250-word quota. A good day is 1,000 words, and bad day is 250.
You know, I started all of this back in 2019. I’m four years into this plan. Outside of my marriage, this is the longest commitment I have ever maintained. I started to think the other day that I should be closing in on my Gladwell 10,000 hours. Now if I do some simple math, like saying that I write about 3 hours a day, on average for 21 days a month, for four years now which means…
I’ve put in 3,024 hours…
So… I guess I’m still in my beginner phase.
You know, Gladwell said that the 10,000 hours was just a guideline, not a hard rule.
(The short story “Long Island” by Nicole Krauss appeared in the May 22nd, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)
(I’m gun’na try not to, but beware of SPOILERS!)
Illustration by Javi Aznarez
There are no rules to writing. None. Whoever told you that you had write something in a certain way was lying to you. You can write whatever you want, about anything you want… provided you are good at it.
Such as, you can’t start a story with a huge run-on sentence, and then spend the next couple of paragraphs just describing things with no narrative direction.
Sure you can. Nicole Krauss did it in her story “Long Island.”
Maybe it was supposed to be a “memory” story, because it’s not like this was stream of consciousness, but the story had the feeling of a memoir, what life was like out on Long Island in the late 70’s. This is a story of memory, experience, and all stirred up with a healthy bit of reflection and comparison.
I enjoyed this piece of fictional nostalgia; of a time and a place that will not exist anymore. An upper middle-class family that lived in Sutton Place, who bought and renovated an estate on a hill, and then moved into this suburban world. There is nothing normal or average about this family – they are privileged due to their money, but are presented here as normal, mainstream and as average as anyone else. But when you are a kid, you just assume the way you live is that – normal, and like everyone else. Krauss doesn’t labor this point, but only on reflection of this story, did it dawn on me. This story lulled me, and I enjoyed that aspect.
I like how the excuse to leave New York City for the suburbs was to escape the crime in the city. Yet, the neighborhood they moved into is filled with criminals. At least the socially acceptable gossipy kind of criminals who commit their crimes behind closed doors, and are dutifully punished. Yet, the narrator understands that this just the crime they know about.
I was entertained by this story. This wasn’t life changing fiction, but it didn’t waste my time. I like how Krauss compared her disinterested parents parenting with her generations over parenting, and how neither system seems to be creating better children. Yet both generation of parents tried in their own ways to keep the evils of the world at bay. In the end, a form of evil always found its way in.
Nicole Krauss crafted a story that didn’t follow the hero cycle, or a traditional plot/climax formula. What functioned as the rise in action/climax made sense with the story’s logic, which worked well to give the piece a release of tension that created the felling of resolution. Now, it did have a “Dead Chick in the Basket*” last paragraph, which I don’t want to say too much about as to not spoil the story, but I don’t think it added anything to the ending or point of the story. But that’s my only criticism here.
In the end, “Long Island” played with form and story, and kept me engaged and on my toes. And it made me think about parents and how they tried their best. And it also reminded me that when you are a good writer, there are no rules if you can tell a good story.
* “Dead Chick in the Basket” refers to a clichéd writing device where the final paragraph of a short story contains new information about a character which is meant to make the reader view the actions, statements, or feelings of that character in a different light. The first known use of this device was in J.D. Salinger’s short story “Just Before the War with the Eskimos.”
VICE filed for bankruptcy. I’m not surprised. VICE was the only media company I knew that no one read or watched. Hold on, except for Desus and Mero. But outside of that, I never met another person who was like, “I just read this piece on VICE,” or “Did you see that story on VICE news?”
Nope.
Not a once.
Oh, I did see Shane Smith everywhere, talking about how great and important VICE was. As far as I can tell, Shane made Williamsburg worse, by putting VICE’s headquarters there, and Shane also paid himself a huge, unreasonable salary while paying his writers barely above nothing with a side of free exposure.
Yet, when I read that they never turned a profit, and were forced to file for bankruptcy, thus the sense was made; It was all hype, with no substance.
I don’t mean to dance on VICE’s grave, and I do feel bad for the writer who will get laid off, but Shane Smith drove that ship onto the ground, and he’s still going to walk off a millionaire. And I though Canadians were all nice and shit.
But the truth of this situation, which is the same truth that has been around forever, is that there is no money to be made in media, unless you own a lot of media. My first day as a journalism major, the professor told us there is no money to be made being a journalist. (Incidentally, on the first day of film and theatre school, those respective professors said the exact same thing.) I find it very strange that there is no way to make a living wage in media, but somehow the richest people in the world are in media.
Earlier this week, I talked about going to the eye doctor to get a new prescription for glasses. I also mentioned my thin-skinned-vanity about not wanted to get bifocals just yet. Well, I did not get prescribed bifocals. The Optometrist suggested that I get readers, and also gave me a prescription for that. So, I think I split the difference here. I don’t need bifocals, but I no longer can see close, nor far away.
I didn’t know this was a thing, but I should have known it was a thing. When NFL teams release their schedules for the upcoming season, they make a little video for it. Makes sense as everyone releases a video for everything. Most are okay, but two stood out for me. First was the Chicago Bears which was a take-off on the show “The Bear.” (And if you haven’t watched The Bear, do it!) The other one that made me laugh out loud was the Tennessee Titans asking people on the street to identify other team logos.
The A/C’s are up and running in the apartment. Summer has officially begun!
Mother’s Day is this Sunday. Call your mom. Don’t text, actually call. And if you can, give her a visit. The wife and mother of my kid wants to go to a yoga class and have lobster rolls. I think I can do that for her. And let her know that we love her. Which is what mom’s want. That and visit more.
