As the curtain fell,
Marie picked up the flowers.
It was her last show.
Showing posts with label audience. Show all posts
Showing posts with label audience. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Monday, March 8, 2010
ELR Fan Mail #5
I wish I could put this strange encounter behind me, but journalistic integrity compels me to post the following letter.
Dear Esoteric Literary POSER [sic],
I can't believe you posted a semi-dramatized version of the verbal beat-up I administered to you last week. (I say 'beat-up' because everyone else would say 'beat-down', and I am different from and therefore better than everyone else.) Actually I can believe you posted it, because you're the biggest poser I've ever met.
Even your faux-obscure blog title reveals how big of a poser you are. Esoteric? No, you poser, you are not esoteric. You wish. You are, in fact, exoteric. Everyone understands your blog because it's run-of-the-mill, just like you are. And anyone who looks at your snaps knows it.
When you think about it (which you won't, because your mind is too mainstream to begin to conceive of things the way I do), I should be the one with an esoteric blog. I am esoteric. And believe me, you poser, when I say that if I had a blog I would post the most random and mind-boggling content you had ever seen. Except you wouldn't see it, because my blog would actually be esoteric, so that only about six people in the entire world would be able to appreciate it. But even they wouldn't read it, because they'd be too real to lower themselves to read something as ubiquitous and pedestrian as a blog. Plus, I'm too busy being deliberately contrarian to ever start a blog (which from now on I will call a 'bleeg'. Only I can use this word).
I don't expect you to write back to this letter and/or post it on your bleeg. But if you do, I bet it will be in the least original way possible, like in a plural third person. As if anyone else but poser you maintains this (un-ironic) joke of a site.
If I were you, I'd kill myself...except I wouldn't, because suicide is so poser...except I would, because I'd be you and you're a poser. Go watch Avatar and drink a Coke, you plebeian.
Authentically,
"Bearded Gaffing Hipster"
(a.k.a. Ripley LaDouche - my real, genuine, unique name)
Dear Mr. LaDouche,
We at Esoteric Literary Reference appreciate all feedback we receive about the site. Thank you for your correspondence!
We don't know how you found the blog. Nor do we know how you found Steve the other day when you were so randomly but purposefully cruel. But we do know that you read the blog, and for that we applaud you!
We're so glad that something we posted resonated with you. We're sure you'll be happy to learn that you're not alone. In fact, we've received hundreds of letters from other people who enjoyed the very same post you enjoyed. After all, that's our goal: connecting on a personal level with as many people as possible.
In our twenty-nine year history, we've discovered that there are certain fundamental truths about the human condition that people need and want to see displayed and uncovered in various artistic media over and over again. The post you connected with spoke to the need for individual identity within the context of a conforming society. Pressure to be like everyone else in our socio-economic circles can be overwhelming at times, but it's important to strike a balance between maintaining our selfhood and retreating from culture entirely.
Hopefully the post gave you some food for thought, LaDouche.
Try not to suck all the time,
Esoteric Literary Reference Letter Reply Dept.
(Steve)
P.S. - You used the word 'bleeg'. We don't know what that means.
Dear Esoteric Literary POSER [sic],
I can't believe you posted a semi-dramatized version of the verbal beat-up I administered to you last week. (I say 'beat-up' because everyone else would say 'beat-down', and I am different from and therefore better than everyone else.) Actually I can believe you posted it, because you're the biggest poser I've ever met.
Even your faux-obscure blog title reveals how big of a poser you are. Esoteric? No, you poser, you are not esoteric. You wish. You are, in fact, exoteric. Everyone understands your blog because it's run-of-the-mill, just like you are. And anyone who looks at your snaps knows it.
When you think about it (which you won't, because your mind is too mainstream to begin to conceive of things the way I do), I should be the one with an esoteric blog. I am esoteric. And believe me, you poser, when I say that if I had a blog I would post the most random and mind-boggling content you had ever seen. Except you wouldn't see it, because my blog would actually be esoteric, so that only about six people in the entire world would be able to appreciate it. But even they wouldn't read it, because they'd be too real to lower themselves to read something as ubiquitous and pedestrian as a blog. Plus, I'm too busy being deliberately contrarian to ever start a blog (which from now on I will call a 'bleeg'. Only I can use this word).
I don't expect you to write back to this letter and/or post it on your bleeg. But if you do, I bet it will be in the least original way possible, like in a plural third person. As if anyone else but poser you maintains this (un-ironic) joke of a site.
If I were you, I'd kill myself...except I wouldn't, because suicide is so poser...except I would, because I'd be you and you're a poser. Go watch Avatar and drink a Coke, you plebeian.
Authentically,
"Bearded Gaffing Hipster"
(a.k.a. Ripley LaDouche - my real, genuine, unique name)
Dear Mr. LaDouche,
We at Esoteric Literary Reference appreciate all feedback we receive about the site. Thank you for your correspondence!
We don't know how you found the blog. Nor do we know how you found Steve the other day when you were so randomly but purposefully cruel. But we do know that you read the blog, and for that we applaud you!
We're so glad that something we posted resonated with you. We're sure you'll be happy to learn that you're not alone. In fact, we've received hundreds of letters from other people who enjoyed the very same post you enjoyed. After all, that's our goal: connecting on a personal level with as many people as possible.
In our twenty-nine year history, we've discovered that there are certain fundamental truths about the human condition that people need and want to see displayed and uncovered in various artistic media over and over again. The post you connected with spoke to the need for individual identity within the context of a conforming society. Pressure to be like everyone else in our socio-economic circles can be overwhelming at times, but it's important to strike a balance between maintaining our selfhood and retreating from culture entirely.
Hopefully the post gave you some food for thought, LaDouche.
Try not to suck all the time,
Esoteric Literary Reference Letter Reply Dept.
(Steve)
P.S. - You used the word 'bleeg'. We don't know what that means.
Friday, November 6, 2009
You Know, As In Brigitte Bardot. But not.
I started going to a weekly improv contest with a couple of guys from my current class. Basically you show up with a three-person team and get to perform for five minutes. After each team has performed, the audience votes. The winner gets bragging rights.
And I’m happy to tell you, dear reader, that we currently retain those rights. At least until next week. We were pleased/surprised to hear the results, especially considering our last scene consisted of the three of us violently beating a hamburger for absolutely no reason.
Ah, improv. Even when it’s stupid it’s fun. Here’s hoping next week will be good. Maybe we can verbally assault a slice of pizza or something.
And I’m happy to tell you, dear reader, that we currently retain those rights. At least until next week. We were pleased/surprised to hear the results, especially considering our last scene consisted of the three of us violently beating a hamburger for absolutely no reason.
Ah, improv. Even when it’s stupid it’s fun. Here’s hoping next week will be good. Maybe we can verbally assault a slice of pizza or something.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Seriously, Tina Fey, I (Really, Truly, Without Caveat) Think You’re Funny
The other night I called our apartment to tell Lindsay I would be home later than expected. She didn’t pick up, so I left a message. When I got home, I played it back, intending to delete it. And that’s when I heard that frightening sound. Some dork blabbering on in what could generously be called a high tenor (and less generously called a warbling alto), saying in a hundred words what should have taken seven (“I will be home late. Love you.”)
If you're playing along at home, you'll realize that dork was me.
You’d think I’d be used to the sound of my own voice by now. It’s not like every waking moment of my life has been recorded (like the kids these days - how great would it be to have a million hours of video of yourself growing up? Don’t scoff; you, dear reader, are just as latently narcissistic as the rest of us), but the succession of audio/visual representation of me has been regular enough to become commonplace if not ubiquitous. Still every time I ask, “Do I really sound like that?”
This weekend I had to ask that question in another context; reading my own voice. And yes, I certainly said that stuff. Only it didn’t sound that way in my head. It sounded smart (one), poignant (two), and insightful (aaaand strike three).
When I read it now, it looks like I think Tina Fey is unworthy as an acting role model. This is not what I think. She's great. What my stupid warbling alto voice was trying to say was that I don't have acting role models because I'm a writer. Why would a writer have an acting role model? Do lawyers have doctors as role models? Do disc jockeys pattern their careers after airline pilots'? (Actually, that would explain why yesterday the host on NPR instructed me not to get out of my seat until the fasten seatbelt sign had been turned off. But I digress.)
Maybe you don’t ever get used to hearing your words quoted back to you, whether electronically or through the filter of another person’s mind. To quote the poet Robbie Burns:
And that's probably not how it sounded in his head, either.
If you're playing along at home, you'll realize that dork was me.
You’d think I’d be used to the sound of my own voice by now. It’s not like every waking moment of my life has been recorded (like the kids these days - how great would it be to have a million hours of video of yourself growing up? Don’t scoff; you, dear reader, are just as latently narcissistic as the rest of us), but the succession of audio/visual representation of me has been regular enough to become commonplace if not ubiquitous. Still every time I ask, “Do I really sound like that?”
This weekend I had to ask that question in another context; reading my own voice. And yes, I certainly said that stuff. Only it didn’t sound that way in my head. It sounded smart (one), poignant (two), and insightful (aaaand strike three).
When I read it now, it looks like I think Tina Fey is unworthy as an acting role model. This is not what I think. She's great. What my stupid warbling alto voice was trying to say was that I don't have acting role models because I'm a writer. Why would a writer have an acting role model? Do lawyers have doctors as role models? Do disc jockeys pattern their careers after airline pilots'? (Actually, that would explain why yesterday the host on NPR instructed me not to get out of my seat until the fasten seatbelt sign had been turned off. But I digress.)
Maybe you don’t ever get used to hearing your words quoted back to you, whether electronically or through the filter of another person’s mind. To quote the poet Robbie Burns:
O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
And that's probably not how it sounded in his head, either.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
About a Blog
I’m hesitant to write this post because it’s about this blog. That sort of bores me. Blogging about a blog seems too self-referential, like I’m breaking the Internet’s fourth wall, winking through the screen. Breaking the fourth wall is easy and hacky, and unless you’re the Mel Brooks of the Internet it probably won’t work for very long. Since I'm not even the Mel Tormé of the Internet, I’ll try to keep posts like these to a minimum.
[Time for a lengthy aside. I hate saying or writing “the Internet”. First, why is capitalization standard? I can’t say “internet”? Also its name has been changing ever since Former Vice President Captain Planet invented it. The Web. The Net. The Internet. Cyberspace. Can we just pick one? I suppose my fear is that I’ll look foolish and naïve to future generations, the way I chuckle at early twentieth century newspaper clippings that reference those magnificent Automobiles and Aeroplanes. And let's not forget that early nineties Sandra Bullock smash, THE NET. (That’s right. You shuddered. Just a little.) Some get around this by wedging tongue in cheek and typing “interweb” or “Internets”, but that smacks of adolescent exclusivity. I’m not going to invent a new term just to avoid being thought primitive by people I’ll never meet. Of course, this is assuming that people in the future will continue to attain literacy. So maybe I’m worrying about nothing. I mean, have you played video games? Seriously? Any of them?]
My concern about this little backwoods corner of the www is that I haven’t given it a cohesive theme. This means I don’t really know my audience. Not knowing your audience in writing is bad. The audience is the most important part of any story. Without an audience a story - or in this case a blog - doesn’t know what to do.
But I think I’ve found a solution. When I’m working on a screenplay or manuscript or article or poem, I don’t have the intended audience in front of me so I can ask them what works and what doesn't. I do have a substitute, though. Someone who will laugh if something is funny or lean forward if something is compelling or yawn if something is boring.
Wait for it...
It’s me. I’m the audience. The first one, anyway. The primary gatekeeper. The initial arbiter of all things creative. So I’m going to post things that I find interesting. That’s the de facto theme of this place. I’m my own audience. This way I guarantee that at least one reader will be satisfied.
So stick around and see if me as an audience matches you as an audience. Feel free to laugh, lean forward, or yawn as you see fit.
[Time for a lengthy aside. I hate saying or writing “the Internet”. First, why is capitalization standard? I can’t say “internet”? Also its name has been changing ever since Former Vice President Captain Planet invented it. The Web. The Net. The Internet. Cyberspace. Can we just pick one? I suppose my fear is that I’ll look foolish and naïve to future generations, the way I chuckle at early twentieth century newspaper clippings that reference those magnificent Automobiles and Aeroplanes. And let's not forget that early nineties Sandra Bullock smash, THE NET. (That’s right. You shuddered. Just a little.) Some get around this by wedging tongue in cheek and typing “interweb” or “Internets”, but that smacks of adolescent exclusivity. I’m not going to invent a new term just to avoid being thought primitive by people I’ll never meet. Of course, this is assuming that people in the future will continue to attain literacy. So maybe I’m worrying about nothing. I mean, have you played video games? Seriously? Any of them?]
My concern about this little backwoods corner of the www is that I haven’t given it a cohesive theme. This means I don’t really know my audience. Not knowing your audience in writing is bad. The audience is the most important part of any story. Without an audience a story - or in this case a blog - doesn’t know what to do.
But I think I’ve found a solution. When I’m working on a screenplay or manuscript or article or poem, I don’t have the intended audience in front of me so I can ask them what works and what doesn't. I do have a substitute, though. Someone who will laugh if something is funny or lean forward if something is compelling or yawn if something is boring.
Wait for it...
It’s me. I’m the audience. The first one, anyway. The primary gatekeeper. The initial arbiter of all things creative. So I’m going to post things that I find interesting. That’s the de facto theme of this place. I’m my own audience. This way I guarantee that at least one reader will be satisfied.
So stick around and see if me as an audience matches you as an audience. Feel free to laugh, lean forward, or yawn as you see fit.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
