I know she’s a bit much at times but…

I know she's a bit much at times, but I like Miranda July

She’s like that friend who you sometimes forget why you’re friends with–She says really annoying things sometimes and she’s always trying so hard. She’s trying so hard that everything seems forced and people notice and it’s uncomfortable. Maybe she  says something or does something like this and it embarrasses you in front of your friends. Or maybe you’re at dinner and she’s putting on her normal little show, and you like her show, you really do, but you’re also thinking to yourself that it’s still a show, that it still doesn’t seem real. That it’s fake and (there’s that word again) forced somehow. And you’re thinking, Damnit Miranda, can’t you turn it off for like five seconds so we can eat?!

But then… Ah, but then, you’ll be hanging out and she’ll say something so perfect and sweet, or she’ll make you laugh, or she’ll respond to something in a way that makes you look at the whole situation differently. That gives you a new perspective that’s meaningful and profound in a way you wouldn’t have expected from such a silly creature. And suddenly you’re reminded of how great she can be. How she really gets you in a way that other friends don’t, and maybe even can’t. That despite all her annoying tendencies–her not being able to turn it off, her theatrics, her whole shtick, and her “too-muchness”–she is actually pretty beautiful and real. And maybe it’s her too-muchness that gives her this weird power, that makes her what she is and allows her to see things and express them in ways that others can’t.

And then you smile, laugh, and love her for what she is.

Not everyone, in life or literature, is easy to love. That doesn’t mean they’re not worth it.

I pressed my lips to his ear and whispered again, It’s not your fault. Perhaps this was really the only thing I had ever wanted to say to anyone, and be told.

Do you have doubts about life? Are you unsure if it is worth the trouble? Look at the sky: that is for you. Look at each person’s face as you pass on the street: those faces are for you. And the street itself, and the ground under the street, and the ball of fire underneath the ground: all these things are for you. They are as much for you as they are for other people. Remember this when you wake up in the morning and think you have nothing. 

You always feel like you’re on the only one in the world, like everyone else is crazy for each other, but it’s not true. Generally, people don’t like each other very much.

This is a picture of me taken in 1996. I am opening a letter from a stranger and no doubt my heart is pounding in a way that is uncalled for. I am 22 and I am just dying to know what this stranger has to say and I’m hoping it will turn my world upside down. Not that my world is so horrible, but I know it will be better upside down and understood by a stranger. It is this desire, to be transformed by understanding, that has pretty much propelled me through every single day since 1996.

She’s been in the literary news a lot lately and the articles have been kind of annoying too but I understand. She CAN be annoying. But she’s also herself. And she probably hates silly commentaries about her like this–thoughts on how she’s cute and annoying but still great.

Ha, but it kind of gives me hope for myself so too bad for her. Oh no… wait… Maybe I’M that friend! (Though I can’t imagine having that much insight.)

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Found: Links

These are some very sensitive robots, but I like their faces.
(By the way, when he puts his plug in her do you think it represents sex? I’m just saying… I bet it does. I bet that’s what robot sex is.)

Everyone’s dog  should have this ball

This is kind of interesting if you’re into David Foster Wallace. (And kind of interesting even if you’re not.)

So, I have to admit that I haven’t  made it through one of David Foster Wallace’s books yet. I started The Broom of the System but only got through a few chapters before I moved on to something else. But he fascinates me for some reason. I love reading about him more than I love reading him. I know that’s horrible to say and I’m sure he’d probably hate that. (Actually, I’m not sure. I’m just guessing because I would hate that.) But check out this link and see how much he writes in his books. It’s crazy. Almost sacrilege. I mean, he put glasses on Cormac McCarthy!

Folded paper is cool.

A fun article on opening lines in literature.

A shoebox art auction that is freakin’ rad.

God made me link to this.

Actually it was Marc Johns but you get the idea.