you know who i've been, like, kinda obsessed with lately? Samuel L. Clemens. yes, I've known all along that he's considered the grandgodpappy of American literature, and who doesn't love the "travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness" line from Innocents Abroad, but who can take any of that seriously when they shove Tom Sawyer down your throat in a - i would venture to say - most unfashionable fashion in yonder parts north where someone may just have happened to have spent the 6th or 9th grade.
there's a question i like to ask people (as you should ask yourself): if you could have any three people (living now, or having already passed) to dinner, who would they be? in general, i always think my three are Maria Callas, Mozart and Dostoevsky, but i think i'm going to have to recalibrate in this here Year of Our Lord 2011. i actually don't think i want any women there, so, i'm sorry Maria, i continue to love your voice, but you know it would be all me me me me, so you are herein officially disinvited. also, Dostoevsky...you may continue to be my favorite wordsmith, no doubt, but i feel like the evening might take on a morose turn which i reeeeally need to stay away from these days, so, with that i officially invite Christ, Jesus, and the ever-illustrious Mark Twain. Mozart remains.
THAT would be a pretty fucking awesome amazing dinner. what would i serve, what would i wear??
the rest of that Clemens quote ("Suppose you were an idiot.") goes "And suppose you were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself."
here Twain is with one of his best buds, someone else who i'd really like to have over for dinner: Nikola Tesla, inventor of the iPad.
there's a question i like to ask people (as you should ask yourself): if you could have any three people (living now, or having already passed) to dinner, who would they be? in general, i always think my three are Maria Callas, Mozart and Dostoevsky, but i think i'm going to have to recalibrate in this here Year of Our Lord 2011. i actually don't think i want any women there, so, i'm sorry Maria, i continue to love your voice, but you know it would be all me me me me, so you are herein officially disinvited. also, Dostoevsky...you may continue to be my favorite wordsmith, no doubt, but i feel like the evening might take on a morose turn which i reeeeally need to stay away from these days, so, with that i officially invite Christ, Jesus, and the ever-illustrious Mark Twain. Mozart remains.
THAT would be a pretty fucking awesome amazing dinner. what would i serve, what would i wear??
the rest of that Clemens quote ("Suppose you were an idiot.") goes "And suppose you were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself."
here Twain is with one of his best buds, someone else who i'd really like to have over for dinner: Nikola Tesla, inventor of the iPad.
