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Spoke w/NPR science reporter on the phone yesterday for 45 minutes or so. Very bright, literate man but something’s missing – yes, yes, physical proximity to be sure. Something else too. At the end of our conversation he told me, “It’s like I have all these cartoons I cut out and hang on my refrigerator. I want someone else to see them, to say, ‘Okay! This Black guy – he’s cool.’” I understand the sentiment, don’t get me wrong – but it sounds a little as though he wants a Significant Other so he’ll have someone to take on guided tours through his interior landscape. Dunno about that.
Plus I can just tell he’s never read a copy of The National Enquirer in his life! And would probably radiate disapproval if, say, on Sunday afternoon while he was working his way through the New York Times, I opted instead to find out which cellulite-infested celebrity is really gay and going out with Charlie Sheen.
But anyway, he lives in Madison, Wisconsin so it’s a moot point.
Also spent a couple of hours w/B restructuring the Steinbeck novel. He went for the Chinese fishing village! Although very little of what we’ve been writing is going to be recyclable, I think this is a much stronger plotline and more in tune with my natural writing voice. So I’m actually feeling much more optimistic about the collaboration.
It did seem as though every fifth sentence B was glaring and telling me icily, “Don’t interrupt me in the middle of a sentence, please,” – which would seem to be a carryover from our many years of cohabitation. No doubt these were words he longed to tell me throughout those 17 years and very easily could have at any point – I am very open to being told not to interrupt because I am well aware that interruption is a bad habit of mine.
With B I felt very comfortable reading The National Enquirer and The New York Times, of course.
Have a very bleak weekend stretched out in front of me during which I must work and work and work – because if I don’t, I will never have enough money to get away this summer. Sigh…
Plus I can just tell he’s never read a copy of The National Enquirer in his life! And would probably radiate disapproval if, say, on Sunday afternoon while he was working his way through the New York Times, I opted instead to find out which cellulite-infested celebrity is really gay and going out with Charlie Sheen.
But anyway, he lives in Madison, Wisconsin so it’s a moot point.
Also spent a couple of hours w/B restructuring the Steinbeck novel. He went for the Chinese fishing village! Although very little of what we’ve been writing is going to be recyclable, I think this is a much stronger plotline and more in tune with my natural writing voice. So I’m actually feeling much more optimistic about the collaboration.
It did seem as though every fifth sentence B was glaring and telling me icily, “Don’t interrupt me in the middle of a sentence, please,” – which would seem to be a carryover from our many years of cohabitation. No doubt these were words he longed to tell me throughout those 17 years and very easily could have at any point – I am very open to being told not to interrupt because I am well aware that interruption is a bad habit of mine.
With B I felt very comfortable reading The National Enquirer and The New York Times, of course.
Have a very bleak weekend stretched out in front of me during which I must work and work and work – because if I don’t, I will never have enough money to get away this summer. Sigh…
