So, after a billion bleary-eyed adjustments (and three days before the deadline), I think that’s it. For what it’s worth. I mean, I’m not entirely sure anymore why I keep at it. Used to be just because I liked the smell of ink and paint, but Wacom tablets don’t give off much scent. They probably need to add that feature, some little vent that emits various arty aromas, kind of like the vent they used to have at the nut store in the Arcade in my hometown, which blew a gentle roasted peanut breeze out into the sidewalk, around about average nose height.
Anyway, heard this gem while prepping via podcast for class tomorrow: “St. Francis was a saint, hence he was called ‘St. Francis’.” That kind of sentence completely makes my day. Usually, of course, Wikipedia is the best source of shallow thoughts in poor form. My favorite, for example, from last week: “Blixen however rendered herself ineligible by dying in September.” I think it’s been edited since, but not by me, because I think finding those kinds of sentences is like finding rubies and emeralds in a Cracker Jacks box. Or, you know, a shipping container full of Crackers Jacks boxes. Why do I think this? Who knows. I love reading good writing as much as anyone, but there’s just something weirdly awesome about writing that’s accidentally so wrong.