It’s Not Happening

You know you want:

…so why haven’t we dated?*

Seriously, check out her blog at least once, if only to marvel as this bona fide celebrity person connects her keyboard to the hamster wheel in her brain and delivers nuggets like this:

I”m pleased to report that I’ve managed to brush most of the ick away from this bummer, ball sack area of my existence at least intermittently entitled PRESSING ISSUES, and once again am in the happy position to invite you to assemble with me here in this moonlit, internet arena where I can share the ordinary aspects of the extraordinary world I inhabit!

Whew! I can’t be bothered to find the page, but she did once refer to an extra in Return of the Jedi being permitted, thanks to her ridiculous, Lucas-approved, plastic-thonged slave costume, to “see all the way to Florida,” for which I became a lifetime member of the “OMG, Carrie Fisher!” club.

* Note to all who might take offense: I mean awesome enough to attract my attention, but insane enough to consider dating me.

I keep telling you that my reading pace has slowed, but get this: I started this book before he died (just over six months ago, grr) and thought I’d just wait ’til I finished the book before I commented on his suicide. Yeah, well, sorry, I’m late to the funeral.

His work affected me and my writing more than any other writer, largely thanks to his style and subtext, rather than any insight into life as it’s lived* or anything merely content-driven. Like all fans of all icons, I suspected that he and I shared congruent perspectives, and I certainly took his permission (too far, no doubt) to make free use of parentheticals and footnotes and conversational elements in my writing. So blame him?

I’ve tried and failed to come up with a predictive taxonomy that could easily split DFW lovers from the haters – writers v. editors, maybe, or readers of McSweeney’s v. Harper’s. Like all problems that don’t matter, it’s a hard one to give up on. I invite your suggestions.

I think it might be better for new readers to start with his non-fiction, maybe this book, though I do know one person so turned off by the title essay that they never looked back. But read his Rolling Stone piece on the 2000 McCain campaign, which became minorly famous last year during the Straight Talk trainwreck and his sweet, sad review of Tracy Austin’s memoir and see what you think. You’ll love him or you won’t, but at least you’ll know.

And I’m out – I guess I’m just not in the mood to rally anyone to discover him. He’s worth it, but I don’t feel right shilling for the poor guy.

* Which is not to say his work is free of insight – far from it. I just mean that his talent for precise dissection of behavior and reasoning in his characters and subjects was less affecting and unique than his open-mindedness about using verbal tools. You know what? Forget it. YMMV.

This might not be even remotely funny if you haven’t read the book (why haven’t you?), but I thought it was awesome. More importantly, it’s brief:

He insists he’s just a fan, and while I’m inclined to believe him, who can say? Eventually a corp-derived viral video has to work, right?

A lesson many THC users (nobody I know, settle down) would do well to learn: Just because it’s hilarious, that doesn’t make it right.

(Via AM Cox, who will always be Wonkette to me)