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Oct. 7th, 2002 07:44 pmI have only a fleeting knowledge of V.S. Pritchet. I know he's a writer, and he edited a book that I once used in a short story class. This is the extent of what I know of him. None the less, he managed to make my day about fifty billion percent more complicated.
"It's all in the art. You get no credit for living."
He was talking about memoirs, but it stuck with me for some reason. You don't get any credit for living. That doesn't seem fair. I live well, but I have no art to share it. Writing comes slowly to me, and my drawing is a random collection of junkidy stuff.
So I have come to the conclusion that I will be sketch blogging. (For the heart! For the soul! For the spirit! For the disipline of doing something I don't want to do, but know I will enjoy anyway!) If you see me without my trusty blank book from here on out, you are to hit me. Really.
In other news, the insanely cool boy from the deep south brought me cinnamon rolls. That he made himself. He can bake. I informed him that I was going with him when he leaves at the end of the semester. He blinked a few times, and told me that this was a good thing, as it would save him the trouble of having to kidnap me. It's good to be on the same wavelength.
In random news of the evening- I love this Bobbins
Of course I knew. I always stand with my mouth open and my hands on my head when in full possession of the facts.
"It's all in the art. You get no credit for living."
He was talking about memoirs, but it stuck with me for some reason. You don't get any credit for living. That doesn't seem fair. I live well, but I have no art to share it. Writing comes slowly to me, and my drawing is a random collection of junkidy stuff.
So I have come to the conclusion that I will be sketch blogging. (For the heart! For the soul! For the spirit! For the disipline of doing something I don't want to do, but know I will enjoy anyway!) If you see me without my trusty blank book from here on out, you are to hit me. Really.
In other news, the insanely cool boy from the deep south brought me cinnamon rolls. That he made himself. He can bake. I informed him that I was going with him when he leaves at the end of the semester. He blinked a few times, and told me that this was a good thing, as it would save him the trouble of having to kidnap me. It's good to be on the same wavelength.
In random news of the evening- I love this Bobbins
Of course I knew. I always stand with my mouth open and my hands on my head when in full possession of the facts.
