imaginarycircus

My friend Salvatore, from college, has a story in The New Yorker! That's...

I'm thrilled for him, but honestly my thrill is tainted with a little green. I know I will never have a story in The New Yorker. My short stories are all still born. I'm going to take another whack at them this summer and see if I can't get one to work right. This is the same friend whose novel was a National Book Award finalist last year and he went to Iowa.

God, I hate being so solopsistic that I can't think about other people's writing without thinking about my own. *stomps on ego*

I've been watching Slings and Arrows and its making me want to reread Shakespeare. Especially the history plays. I love the history plays. It has all the elements I love best--a clown, a villian who is really a hero in disguise, and lots of wordplay, and a bunch of whores who make jokes about STDS. Plus gritty little asides about war and death. What's not to love?

Henry IV part ii so much more fun that Henry V. We few. We happy Few. We band of buggered...