Updated Dec, 7th 2012
I love words. I am wordy. I prefer the use of extra words when fewer suffice. It would be fair to say I am overly wordy. Loquacious is far from wrong. No doubt getting down to 500 words will be the toughest part of this project.
That is, once I get started, which is always like volunteering to drink from the fire hose.
Numero uno: I dig aggressive cheer. That McSweeney’s piece – “It’s decorative gourd season, motherfuckers” – that aggressive, in-your-face celebration of the passage of time with a street-wise accent about what is at its core an existentially suburban decoration – I mean, that is killer. That kind of juxtaposition is hysterical and comedy has been fucking around with time and class to create those kinds of jokes for hundreds of years. I’d love to take that sort of aggression and diction and apply it on an even greater separation of time and space, maybe keeping with the seasonal theme, since it’s wintertime, and pull from the lyrics of the season – Handel’s Messiah, words of praise, “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring,” “For the Lord God Omnipotent Reigneth” – and explore a forceful praise situation.
And can we stop for a moment and just ruminate on the whole concept of the “forceful praise situation”? I’m already filled with joy. BAM. Anyway.
(Also, also: if you google "forceful praise" you get pages upon pages of Martha Raddatz references, which is basically like praise from on high. FULL CIRCLE, y'all.)
Idea B: I also really dig character-driven story. I love a good story for story’s sake, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the interpersonal tension that really does it for me. Especially with 500 words, I’m kind of vibing on a scene that starts, like, in the middle of a letter from one woman to another. You only get the voice of the one, of course, so you only get the scene from her, but as she gives advice to her friend, it’s a very megalomaniacal relationship and the writer is giving the reader advice on how to kill her husband and the encouragement to stop putting tiny bits of poison into his food but rather just go ahead and off him. In my head this pulls very much from characters on “Sordid Lives” and “Absolutely Fabulous,” tossed with a soupcon of David Ives.
Three: Whiskey product reviews.
Four Roses Small Batch 90°: A creamy golden elixir of warmth that brightens the sparkle in one's eye as it flows down the esophageal tract to rest lightly in the belly. With hints of salty caramel, sweet oak and red berries, spicy amber richness and a long finish.
Maker's Mark Regular Batch with the red waxy thing: Sweet, sweet merciful joy in tawny tones of liquid silk. Pour me another and, yes, it IS a hint of the Divine I feel when I close my eyes and swallow. Caramel and burnt sugar and the promise of Christmas cookies flow over my palate, leaving a sense of tristesse that the moment has ended.
Woodford Reserve Aged cask rye the dude on it 'n the Kentukey derby I love this one: Like mother's milk from my childhood, this amber nectar of mash has a good cork for pulling off when your thumbs have gottn a little harder to use because it's all wood on top and bigger an' it's sweeter than the others an' uses a pot an' i gotta go pee.
(it's a work in progress. we'll see.)
Quatro: Press release: My New Haircut ala “What I Did On My Summer Vacation.” Don't dismiss this one. It's pretty fucking spectacular hair. I mean, we're talking Appalachian Folk Singer hair meets Way Better Than Rachel On Friends and Don't Even Bring Kate Middleton Into This Fight, Princess Is Going Down kind of excellent hair.