Stephen Elliott writes a story involving an airplane crash every time he takes a flight. He understands that if you have a plane going down, you've created enough drama for almost any story. All you need is a desperate character and a plot line and you are good to go. Steve also writes a report of each poker game he holds with his friends, because he understands that poker nomenclature sounds cool, and just obscure enough to make the reader curious without sounding pretentious or phony, and that if you throw it down during an exposition of a scene, any reader will be captivated. I, however, understand none of these things. That is why I am blogging to you from a footnote to someone else's blog, and from gate A3 of the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, at 5:30 in the morning. If Steve were here he'd tell a story about the girl in the next seat over. How she looks, the few words they exchange, and how he feels about the prospect of sitting next to her on the flight. But there's nothing going on here at Gate A3 at 5:30 on a Wednesday. Nothing but the din of the nearby security checkpoint, the bleary look of everyone around me, and the jets outside, just turning on their cabin lights and beginning to move around, like giants stirring at dawn.
I don't get it. What's with the McSweeney's fetishist?
Oh yeah, a sweet doodle and a long screed from DJ Verbose-Non-Sequitur. I love the Wonder so much I'm buying an enormous mug to swim in.
OW! Pool party!
Is someone implying one must be a McSweeney's fetishist to like Stephen Elliott?
Can't one simply recognize a damn good writer when one reads one?
PP
Hey Sarah -- My apologies for the long non-sequitor. Sean
I wasn't implying that at all. If you read previous posts, however, you will notice that McSweeney's or a McSweeney's-related writer is mentioned in nearly every one. It's just kind of curious.
I've written for McSweeney's...wait, damn, I'm on vacation!
