March 2, 2009


From this Sunday's article on Flannery O'Connor; the first paragraph and a half to be specific.
Flannery. She liked to drink Coca-Cola mixed with coffee. She gave her mother, Regina, a mule for Mother's Day. She went to bed at 9 and said she was always glad to get there. After ­Kennedy's ­assassination she said: "I am sad about the president. But I like the new one." As a child she sewed outfits for her chickens and wanted to be a ­cartoonist. She reluctantly traveled to Lourdes and claimed she prayed for the novel she was working on, "The Violent Bear It Away," which she referred to as Opus Nauseous. She referred to each of her novels as Opus Nauseous.
When I'm a rich and famous author, some years in the future (but not too many years) I want articles about my life and work to just be a long laundry list of all of my quirks. It would probably read something like this:
Bob. He never ate brown M&Ms. When he was feeling lonely, he would play Simpsons DVDs with the director's commentary to listen to in the background. He is a former vegetarian who resumed eating meat when George W. Bush was reelected as president. He became curiously obsessed with the career arcs of voice actors. He could read 170 pages an hour, depending on the book and the size of the text. He had a surprisingly low tolerance for other people's poetry, even though at heart he considered himself a poet and wanted to remove the stigma of contemporary poetry.
That sounds like a quirky, creative genius, right? Because that's what I'm going for. An attractive, quirky creative genius.
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.