Thursday, May 06, 2010

Learning about the world mainly through books, as I have, leaves me stuck with a geography of time along with space. Traveling becomes difficult. Kelly and I went to Monterey, California. We visited Cannery Row, but it wasn't Cannery Row, not the place Steinbeck told me about. This was no bustling, stinking, raucous port of fishy industry. This was mostly a series of shops and restaurants and a really cool aquarium.

So now my Cannery Row became everyone else's Cannery Row.

My Los Angeles suffered a similar fate. It is not Philip Marlowe's Los Angeles, where if they look like a lowlife they probably are, and if they look high class then they're probably worse. I walked those streets at night and I didn't get hit with a tire iron, not even once.

What's this world coming to.

Monday, May 03, 2010

Historically, historians have realized that anything a writer writes while drunk is crap. For instance:

"Sir, I will punch you."

"Yes, but I propose that in punching me, you are really punching yourself."

"I accept this risk."


End Scene.