Wednesday, June 07, 2006
7.31 On Time
Once upon a time, long, long ago, I lived with someone who fancied himself as a writer.
On completion of a section of The Novel he liked to have my opinion of his talents.
If I was honest, and said: “I thought such & such was well written” or “this & that was almost there, but maybe x&y needed a bit more work” he’d get upset.
What did I know anyway? What qualified me to be the critic? How could I hope to understand what he was trying to achieve? Blah blah blah. Smack.
If I was honest and said, without reservation: “That was really good – I really liked it” he’d get angry. Why was I patronising him? There was no point if I couldn’t be honest! Blah blah blah. Smack.
D’you know? I can’t for the life of me remember what the hell it was all about.
Geogaddi - Boards Of Canada
Once upon a time, long, long ago, I lived with someone who fancied himself as a writer.
On completion of a section of The Novel he liked to have my opinion of his talents.
If I was honest, and said: “I thought such & such was well written” or “this & that was almost there, but maybe x&y needed a bit more work” he’d get upset.
What did I know anyway? What qualified me to be the critic? How could I hope to understand what he was trying to achieve? Blah blah blah. Smack.
If I was honest and said, without reservation: “That was really good – I really liked it” he’d get angry. Why was I patronising him? There was no point if I couldn’t be honest! Blah blah blah. Smack.
D’you know? I can’t for the life of me remember what the hell it was all about.
Geogaddi - Boards Of Canada
Labels: nostalgia
