Still Willing to Brisket
(I'm never afraid to serve up a top round of meat puns, even if it means you'll chuck things at me. Ahem. Sorry.)
I spent the long weekend attempting to be as decadent as possible without actually being in Las Vegas. Over the course of four parties (three attended, one hosted), I managed to commit six of seven deadly sins (I was too busy with "sloth" on Monday to get around to "wrath"). Lest you worry that the deadly sins have deadly consequences via divine lightning bolt, let me reassure you that the deadly sins are not actually mentioned anywhere in the Bible. They're part of Catholic dogma, and I'm Lutheran, so every so often I can get away with such things. Much love for grace over good works.
It wouldn't be very nicemodernist of me to go into major specifics over how exactly each sin was committed, but I do feel it necessary to brag about the fact that Friday night, I took second place in a meat-eating contest at Churrascaria Plataforma. While I did not claim the top prize, I did out-steak my pal Danny, and given that the original terms of our bet involved Danny and me in a head-to-head steakoff, I'm happy with the silver medal. And everyone involved put in a solid effort, so there really were no losers, except maybe Churrascaria Plataforma, who had to have lost money on us.
(Speaking of dead cow, my favorite song ever about steak appears on Peter Himmelman's "Stage Diving" album. If you go here, and scroll down a bit, you can give it a listen.)
Because this is an attempt to be a serious writer-blog, here's an update on that, even though it's a bit of a non-update. I was too busy committing sloth (it is my favorite, after all) to get very much writing done, but in my head things are gelling quite nicely, and I think I'll actually be able to make some huge strides this week. Namely, I realized that I was getting too bogged down in out-and-out narration and wasn't focusing on the really meaty things that were the things I wanted to get at when I started this project. In a talk he gave right after Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close came out, my number one literary crush object Jonathan Safran Foer said, "it's not the rock, it's the ripple." More ripple, less rock. This is a good formula to keep in mind.
(I wish Jonathan Safran Foer was single. And I also wish I didn't have such a devastating crush on a man who looks so much like Harry Potter.)
Finally, I must return to my self-promotional efforts by reminding you all that my reading is coming up just one week from today. I attempted to send an announceatory email to everyone from my spiffy new bittysoda email account, but it hasn't as yet cooperated. How will my coterie of sycophants know to go to Pianos next week if I can't spam them about it?
I spent the long weekend attempting to be as decadent as possible without actually being in Las Vegas. Over the course of four parties (three attended, one hosted), I managed to commit six of seven deadly sins (I was too busy with "sloth" on Monday to get around to "wrath"). Lest you worry that the deadly sins have deadly consequences via divine lightning bolt, let me reassure you that the deadly sins are not actually mentioned anywhere in the Bible. They're part of Catholic dogma, and I'm Lutheran, so every so often I can get away with such things. Much love for grace over good works.
It wouldn't be very nicemodernist of me to go into major specifics over how exactly each sin was committed, but I do feel it necessary to brag about the fact that Friday night, I took second place in a meat-eating contest at Churrascaria Plataforma. While I did not claim the top prize, I did out-steak my pal Danny, and given that the original terms of our bet involved Danny and me in a head-to-head steakoff, I'm happy with the silver medal. And everyone involved put in a solid effort, so there really were no losers, except maybe Churrascaria Plataforma, who had to have lost money on us.
(Speaking of dead cow, my favorite song ever about steak appears on Peter Himmelman's "Stage Diving" album. If you go here, and scroll down a bit, you can give it a listen.)
Because this is an attempt to be a serious writer-blog, here's an update on that, even though it's a bit of a non-update. I was too busy committing sloth (it is my favorite, after all) to get very much writing done, but in my head things are gelling quite nicely, and I think I'll actually be able to make some huge strides this week. Namely, I realized that I was getting too bogged down in out-and-out narration and wasn't focusing on the really meaty things that were the things I wanted to get at when I started this project. In a talk he gave right after Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close came out, my number one literary crush object Jonathan Safran Foer said, "it's not the rock, it's the ripple." More ripple, less rock. This is a good formula to keep in mind.
(I wish Jonathan Safran Foer was single. And I also wish I didn't have such a devastating crush on a man who looks so much like Harry Potter.)
Finally, I must return to my self-promotional efforts by reminding you all that my reading is coming up just one week from today. I attempted to send an announceatory email to everyone from my spiffy new bittysoda email account, but it hasn't as yet cooperated. How will my coterie of sycophants know to go to Pianos next week if I can't spam them about it?
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