I'm getting ready to go out to school this week, so I'm just going to share two things that made me smile recently. One is Mr. Grape. I have no idea what the grapes themselves are like, but I loved the packaging. "What will make these grapes stand out?" "I know - we'll call them Mr. Grape!" I just seems so The Simpsons to me.
And then I was talking with a friend about my new, and beloved, writing practice and how I have no interest in if anyone ever sees what I'm doing, that I just love getting up early and seeing what appears on the page. He recommended this poem and I loved it!
Between Races by Charles Bukowski
I know that I'm not supposed to bother
you, he said.
you've got that right, I
answered.
but, he went on, I want to tell you
that I was up all night
reading your
latest book.
I've read all your
books.
I work in the
post office.
oh, I said.
and I want to interview you for
our newspaper.
no, I said, no
interview.
why? he asked.
I'm tired of interviews, they have
nothing to do with
anything.
listen, he went on, I'll make it
easy for you, I'll come to your
house or I'll buy you dinner at
Musso's.
no, thank you, I said.
look, the interview isn't really for
our paper, it's for
me, I'm a writer and I want to get
out of the post
office.
listen, I said, just pull up a chair
and sit down at your
typewriter.
no interview? he asked.
no, I answered.
he walked
off.
they were coming out on the track
for the next race.
talking to the young man had
made me feel
bad.
they thought that writing had
something to do with
the politics of the
thing.
they were simply not
crazy enough
in the head
to sit down to a
typer
and let the words bang
out.
they didn't want to
write
they wanted to
succeed at
writing.
I got up to make
my bet.
no use letting a little
conversation
ruin your
day.
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