Wednesday, April 11, 2007

False Alarm

I thought about yesterday's post most of the day at work and came up with a new entry for the Humphries Imaginary Literary Catechism:

"Q. What is accomplished when you mash three small pieces of crap together?

A. Despite the illogical and mostly subconscious thought and hope that, if you combine enough waste together in a centralized location, diamonds or other items of value will emerge, you will, in reality, accomplish only the compilation of a pile of crap."

This is how I felt about yesterday's article all day, the three logs being shampoo, golf, and some still undefined human lesson. Per the HILC, I felt like I never moved towards anything of value.

This is what I wanted to say yesterday:

-I love Zach Johnson.

-He won The Masters and gave the glory to Jesus.

-I want to give glory to Jesus in my life too.

-Johnson and Johnson is a corrupt corporation that lies and makes little boys cry.

Instead, I spent 1200 words muddling up these points. Like my homebody J. Alfred Prufrock, I found it "impossible to say just I mean."

As I re-read it this afternoon, I still do not like it. It feels forced, so much so that I found myself uncomfortable a third of the way through it and have yet to finish re-reading. The humor, the style, the content all seemed forced. You can see moments where the organic flow of the writing wants to push through, but the weeds of forced effort continuously stifle it.

In light of this, I will abstain from today's promised edit. The post has its moments but would take a lot of re-working and even re-writing. This is hard to do when looking at the text throws me into discomfort. So I shall leave it be and flush this feeling out of my system the best way I know how: with a rainy-day, up at 5:00am nap.

See ya'll tomorrow.

4 comments:

Jeff said...

good for you, my friend.

Jeff said...

btw...
conversation topic for sometime in the future...
douchiest things that one can do in life?
I think church league basketball technical fouls has to be up there somewhere.

Ben said...

It was an unjust call, man. He was a young, hip referee who wanted to draw attention to himself by taking over the game, I swear. I merely slapped the floor and screamed in frustration at missing a game-tying lay-up, NOT in frustration that a foul was not called. He blew it big time. Unjust, I say.

Jeff said...

douche