One time I caught myself in a flagrant act of plagiarism when I was watching a rerun of The West Wing.
Some months prior I had written a meditative passage about how there should be a word for when people paradoxically surprise you and meet your expectations at the same time. Do you know the feeling I’m talking about? It’s equal parts willful ignorance and stupid optimism, with an undercurrent of deep subconscious dread that you recognize only in retrospect.
Listening to President Bartlet hold forth with a somewhat pithier version of “my” idea (when he was explaining how he felt about Toby’s betrayal, in case you’re wondering), I felt a powerful meta form of willful-ignorance-stupid-optimism-hindsight-dread. And then it was like, oh shit, there should also be a word for when you realize that all your Deepest Thoughts are probably just regurgitated episodes of Dawson’s fucking Creek.
It made me worry that every smart thought I’ve ever written down was actually someone else’s.
This anecdote is a comment on two things, really. One: in my darker moments, one of which I confess is happening right here right now, I worry that life is just a series of shitty non-surprises and unoriginal thoughts. And two: I have no idea what to do about it, except sit here and type one word after another until I feel a little bit better.
Yeah. Anyone got a good joke?
3 comments:
Not long ago, a man from England--northern London to be precise--travelled to New York City on holiday. He spent a wonderful twenty-four hours in Manhattan, touring the Empire State Building and the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Chinatown. He met lots of really colourful Americans. Next, after a good night's sleep at the Waldorf and a delightful deli breakfast, he set out to tour around Brooklyn. But by chance he got on the wrong train, an express, and before he knew it, he was rather nearer to the Bronx than Prospect Park. He immediately exited the train, but as he made his way from one side of the underground platform to its opposite, he ran across a number of frightening youths.
"You came all the way to New York just ta die," hissed one particularly malevolent looking teen thug, eyeing the man up and down and cracking his knuckles.
"No" said the Londoner, feeling pensive, "I came here yesterdie."
A tortoise was mugged by a gang of snails. When asked by the police to describe his attackers, he replied, 'I don't know. It all happened so fast.'
These are so great. You really went the extra mile using British spellings in yours, Mr. Cavin!
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