Category: Life

  • Short Story Review: “We’re Not So Different, You and I” by Simon Rich

    (The short story “We’re Not So Different, You and I” by Simon Rich appeared in the May 13th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Tim Lahan

    You know, it’s hard to make friends the older you get. Especially for men. When you’re a kid, if someone lived on the same street as you, BOOM! you’d be friends. Then somewhere, later in life, opening yourself up to someone became difficult, and new friendships dried up. And if you add kids and career, making friends gets even more difficult. But, we need friends; It makes life easier to handle, and loneliness can be dangerous.

    On the whole, that’s what “We’re Not So Different, You and I” by Simon Rich is about. Except the loneness comes from a supervillain, Death Skull, who seems to be reaching out and trying to find friendship where he can. He tries with his nemesis, Ultra Man, and later, with a friendship speed dating group. Death Skull contemplates friendship with his henchmen, but there is a power dynamic there, so that doesn’t feel genuine. And though Death Skull has a wife, she has her own circle of friends, and encourages Death Skull to make his own.

    This is, if you haven’t put it together, a humorous story, and the writing is very funny and quick. I hate puns, but I found their use by Rich to be appropriate, and I will admit, made me laugh. Which made me think about how few humorous short stories I encounter, especially in The New Yorker, tbh. It was relief to read something that didn’t have someone dead, about to be killed or die off, or any death in general. It was refreshing, also, to read something that had happy ending.

    The only thing that nagged at the back of my head was the premise of the story; superheroes and villains, acting like normal people, dealing with normal situations, and having normal emotional reactions. This isn’t a new idea:

    Even SNL was playing around with this idea in 1979. Basically, The Incredibles is this idea as well. I’ve encountered this set up in stories, tv shows, movies for years, so maybe it should have its own official genera title? And I get it, the juxtaposition of all-powerful heroes being felled by all too human emotions is intriguing, and leads itself all sorts of funny situations. (I wonder if there is a lost play by Sophocles about Achilles painful anxiety speaking in front of people?) It’s not that the premise doesn’t work here, it’s just that I’ve seen it, and read it, before.

    “We’re Not So Different, You and I” by Simon Rich is a good story, so don’t take that last part too seriously. Making friends is important, and can be very difficult and scary, and that theme wasn’t lost on me. The use of an absurd situation heightened that point, which I give credit to. I’m just most surprised that Rich actually made puns funny.

  • Why Did I Get Tangled Up in Blue?

    Something happened to me over the past couple of years, where if I go shopping for clothes, I want to buy the color blue. I especially like the color navy, but wouldn’t pass up the blue of an oxford style button down shirt. The bluer the blue jeans, the better, and I’m even thinking about getting a blue suit for a wedding I’m supposed to attend. I’m even starting to like the look of khaki pants, and a blue shirt, but swear to God, if I add a puffer vest to that look, you should walk up to me and slap the hell outta my face… unless I’m working undercover as a “Finance Bro.”

    I’m not sure why this is happening, but I know that it is.

    I thought that it could be a reflection of my mental state, but I feel neither depressed, nor calm and relaxed.

    I started putting on my old army coat when I have a blue shirt on. I would like to believe that I look like Quint, but I know that’s not true.

    Is this a middle age thing? Does blue help me stand out, or blend in?

    And if the blue is in a plaid pattern, good lord, I have to own it.

    I have blue pajamas. A navy blue ballcap. My car is blue, but the wife did pick it out, but still…

    There was a time when I wore a lot of black, but that was my pretentious artists phase, which coincided with my stage crew phase.

    Maybe I’ll grow out of it. Maybe I move into a paisley phase.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Tottenham Woes, Submitting, and Ice Cream

    (The past wasn’t that good, and the future isn’t that bad…)

    Though I hate to admit this, I think it is time to say out loud that Tottenham will not make it to the Champions League next season. Ange Postecoglou has done a very good job with turning the team around and stopping the slide to a middle of the table team. And this was going to be a hard season, as it was the first without Harry Kane. But with 7 points behind Aston Villa, and matches against Liverpool and Man City yet to come, the odds are severely stacked against the team. No Champions League for next season, but there will be a birth in the Europa League. But hey, this was a better year, and next year will have extra competition, and more chances for trophies.

    Not on purpose, but I roundabout took the month of April off when it came to submitting stories. But I am coming back for the month of May. I’ve sent out four submissions thus far, and in the back of my head, I have a good feeling that I accidently messed up on somebody’s submission guidelines. Like, I didn’t put the page number in the correct corner. One time, I sent out a story and misspelled the editor’s name in the cover letter. Yeah, there’s no coming back from that.

    And it is true, ice cream does make everything better. Are you having an awful day? Have some ice cream. It won’t solve any problems, but it does make you feel better. And out of all the wonderful joys and experiences I have had with becoming a father, getting ice cream with my daughter is damn near one of the best.

  • Just Not Feeling It

    I know the conventional wisdom here is that you have to fight through it, but I’m questioning that. I have been looking at my computer, and listening to music for the past forty-five minutes, and I can’t come up with a single idea to write about. I did some free association journaling for about twenty minutes, and nothing came of it except me complaining about all the bills I have to pay.

    That leaves me to the tried and true “I have nothing to write about so I’m gun’na write about not having anything to write about,” trope! Ta-Da!

    I might have shot myself in the foot by deciding this morning that I was going to use my afternoon to research magazine/lit journals that I want to submit to, and not use that time to work on new material. It was like that part of my head just shut off, and now I am left with nothing but an urge to look at my phone to see if anything has happened.

    I checked; nothing is happening…

    But I’m not going to beat myself up over this. Somedays you get the bear, and other days, the bear gets you.

  • Paul Auster (1947 – 2024)

    I read the news today that Paul Auster had passed away. Kind’a always thought that Paul Auster would just be hanging around forever. Somewhere in Brooklyn, scribbling away, and walking around. I don’t know if any of that is true, it’s just what I expected.

    I first read Paul Auster in 1997 or 1998, and the book was Hand to Mouth: A Chronicle of Early Failure. I’m not 100% sure how this book came to me, but I’m pretty sure it was a Christmas gift from my parents. Maybe I put it on a list, but for whatever reason, it was the right book at the right time. For you see, I had just dropped out of college to peruse my career as a writer/artist, and then I read this book, wherein Paul Auster is pretty much telling me that I have ten awful years of struggle, disappointment, and failure headed my way. But he told it is such a funny and depressing way that, for all the wrong reasons, this book inspired me to continue following my path in the arts. And also, to read as many books by Paul Auster as possible.

    I had hoped to have met him one day. Not to have a conversation, or tell him how much I enjoyed his work. No, I just wanted to say “hi” to him on the street, like neighbors. And that’s the other great thing that Paul gave to me; he presented New York City (Brooklyn, actually) as this great place to meet and make friends with people who are nothing like you. There are all kinds of great things about the City, that artists have been talking about for years (the arts, nightlife, money, danger, excitement, scandal…) but he always gave me this feeling that, yes those things are here, but the people of this place, these characters of the City, are what makes this place magical.

    The other thing that I loved about Paul Auster was that the guy just wrote all the time, and produced so much work. This is the “hard working American” side of me that still sees production as one of the measuring sticks of artistic excellence. He created nonstop. He tried things, and sure, maybe not all of it was The New York Trilogy, but I have respect for the people out there that keep trying something new and producing.

    So I guess, thanks Paul Auster. Thanks for trying to talk me out of being creative.