Hemingway’s Favorite.
“They won’t get us,” I said. “Because you’re too brave. Nothing ever happens to the brave.”
“They die, of course.”
“But only once.”
“I don’t know. Who said that?”
“The coward dies a thousand deaths, the brave but one?”
“Of course. Who said it?”
“I don’t know.”
“He was probably a coward,” she said. “He knew a great deal about cowards but nothing about the brave. The brave dies perhaps two thousand deaths if he’s intelligent. He simply doesn’t mention them.”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to see inside the head of the brave.”
“Yes. That’s how they keep that way.”
-an exchange from “A Farewell to Arms” by Ernest Hemingway.
If there’s still chianti in the glass, it’s time to write. In this case, there is, so it is. Chianti was Hemingway’s favorite. I love Hemingway.
Political statements during award shows that have nothing to do with politics make me so frustrated, I can’t even tell you. Tonight, during the Grammy’s I wanted to punch about fourteen people, not least of whom was the lead singer for Coldplay, who mentioned Johnny Cash and Kerry (one of the democratic presidential contenders). First off, the guy’s British. If he wants to make a political statement, make one about Tony Blair, not an election that is none of his business. Second, the Grammy’s are not the place for that demonstration. It’s classless. Don’t get me started on the Michael Moore thing. I will freak out. If you want to use your celebrity to make a statement, schedule a press conference or interview with someone who cares.
Sometimes, doing things the right way stinks. This should be no surprise to anyone.
Life ebbs and flows. (And for the next most obvious thing…)
Sometimes, when life deals you a losing hand, you just have to throw in your cards and say, “next time.” (Sorry, inside joke. I pulled this off the other night, and was generally mocked for a long time.)
I tried to go watch a professional lacrosse game last night. The game was sold out. This baffles me.
Self-discipline, honor and promise-keeping are what it takes to be a man’s man. I have no idea what it takes to be a woman’s man. That was never my goal. Any suggestions?
I’m certain that God is amused with my attempts to figure out what the heck is going on. You’d think by now I’d realize there are just some things I will never get. Count ego for the reason on why I’m still trying to figure it out. I suck again.
I’m still not wearing any pants, film 11.
There are few things as entertaining singing along with your radio when you’re alone in a car. One of the few things that might be more entertaining is doing the same thing while singing into your air-freshener like it was microphone.
I’m still working on my rap album. I’ve had some problems with the release dates.
Tomorrow, I have another Greek quiz. I have no feelings about this.
I still have no job. I have plenty of feelings about this.
I want to hibernate for the rest of the winter. No, I’m not kidding.
Today, I pulled a papazzan chair in front of my computer and geeked out for several hours. If we needed more proof I’m in the last circle of geekdom, we now have it. My roommate has pictures. (The jerk.)
I just want to spill everything, and I can’t. (Reference my comments about doing the right thing and about being a man’s man.)
I’m finally starting to figure out what my deal is–why I’ve been so anxious. And I’m not as afraid of it anymore, only of what it will mean for me ten years from now. Sometimes, when you lose, you win. (Anyone know what that last part is a reference from?)
I’ve got a plan. That’s a sure sign something is wrong. Time for me to go back to my highly symbolic story which I have no plan to post here. Hope you all have a good night. Blessings.
BTW….I’m still planning to continue answering questions, the process is just going slower than I thought it would. Keep your eyes peeled.