Saturday, November 15, 2014

The Excrucianator


I don’t trust myself to write sometimes because I’m always anxious that I’ll get it wrong.  Somebody must be watching me somewhere to know what the exact truth is, so it’s only a matter of time before I get caught at something again.

I don’t know where or when I learned the phrase “if that’s the worst thing you ever do, you’re good in my book”, but it stuck to me like a steel bolt through the head.  I mean, it made a difference.  If the worst thing I ever do could be located next to my glowing box of stars, I would be pleased. 

I think this is how the universe should be organized.

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For some reason my students think that stapling their papers will matter more than whether or not the paper makes sense.  They pass around tiny staplers like this is the last and best bet.  I’m like Hello, there’s a stapler in the English Department 50 feet away, and free staples too.  I have said this six thousand seven hundred jillion times in my teaching career; I sat down to figure that out the other day.  I used to thunder forth with “for the price of a pitcher of beer, you too could own a stapler!”, but in the last ten years or so—for however long I’ve been back from Alaska, or whenever the price of staplers went down, or since Billy Mays died—this has lost its impact. 

I gave up “curtain number one, curtain number two” when that comment drew blankness too.

I’m sure I did it wrong for many years, the same years I told them that gazelles were winged creatures who couldn't be seen unless you bent over backwards on a galloping horse.  I used all my idioms to win them over, but it’s been a harder audience than I bargained for. 

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So many problems have occurred since last winter, and it is interesting to note how many more exist, like there is a never-ending list of problems that will never get solved.  I write this as I watch a spider build a web across the span of my patio.  I’ve also been waiting for a frond to drop from one of my picaresque palms.  It’s been there since the Great Flood of Arizona, in the sometime of summer 2014.  

I’m still thinking that the more I rub my feet together, the more likely there will be a genie.




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