Tuesday, October 23, 2007
If only I were a bit more ... or less
A recent post of Wendy’s (cursed with an okay memory) really struck a cord with me when she said that she‘d like to be a bit cleverer, or a bit less clever so she wouldn‘t care.
I so know what she means. I’d rather be cleverer obviously, but otherwise I’d like a self-defence mechanism - like deteriorating eye-sight, which puts a nice soft focus on wrinkles - that made me completely unaware that I wasn’t as clever as other people. Her post reminded me of something I started ages ago after reading Dorothy Parker and feeling depressed that I’d never write anything that good. So I started a limerick about this yearning to be cleverer, trying to incorporate the witty retort she sent to her editor who was chasing her for copy while she was on her honeymoon: Too fucking busy and vice versa. A week later, I was still staring vacantly at my pathetic two lines: Oh I wish I were Dorothy Parker/Though the differences couldn’t be starker…
I went to pottery classes once, but I didn’t want to make the stupid little mug with a finger and thumb patterned rim that the tutor recommended - if I couldn’t make a Grecian urn I wasn’t making anything, but I couldn’t, so I didn‘t.
I know someone who deals with his inadequacy by not only comparing himself with less intelligent, less clever people, but actually seeking out their company just to make himself look good. I tried that but I couldn’t find any. No, I compare myself with gifted people and consequently am doomed to a permanent feeling of inadequacy.
Here are a few more gems from Dorothy Parker’s repertoire that I wish I'd written , although it wasn‘t just her one-liners that I liked. She also wrote some very sad short stories:
on being challenged to use the word horticulture in a sentence:
You can drag a horticulture, but you can't make her think.
I'd rather have a bottle in front of me, than a frontal lobotomy.”
Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly goes clean to the bone
I dream of a rural life - raising cheques.
Salary is no object; I want only enough to keep body and soul apart.
I so know what she means. I’d rather be cleverer obviously, but otherwise I’d like a self-defence mechanism - like deteriorating eye-sight, which puts a nice soft focus on wrinkles - that made me completely unaware that I wasn’t as clever as other people. Her post reminded me of something I started ages ago after reading Dorothy Parker and feeling depressed that I’d never write anything that good. So I started a limerick about this yearning to be cleverer, trying to incorporate the witty retort she sent to her editor who was chasing her for copy while she was on her honeymoon: Too fucking busy and vice versa. A week later, I was still staring vacantly at my pathetic two lines: Oh I wish I were Dorothy Parker/Though the differences couldn’t be starker…
I went to pottery classes once, but I didn’t want to make the stupid little mug with a finger and thumb patterned rim that the tutor recommended - if I couldn’t make a Grecian urn I wasn’t making anything, but I couldn’t, so I didn‘t.
I know someone who deals with his inadequacy by not only comparing himself with less intelligent, less clever people, but actually seeking out their company just to make himself look good. I tried that but I couldn’t find any. No, I compare myself with gifted people and consequently am doomed to a permanent feeling of inadequacy.
Here are a few more gems from Dorothy Parker’s repertoire that I wish I'd written , although it wasn‘t just her one-liners that I liked. She also wrote some very sad short stories:
on being challenged to use the word horticulture in a sentence:
You can drag a horticulture, but you can't make her think.
I'd rather have a bottle in front of me, than a frontal lobotomy.”
Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly goes clean to the bone
I dream of a rural life - raising cheques.
Salary is no object; I want only enough to keep body and soul apart.
Comments:
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Dorothy Parker is quite something to aspire to. She was a serious quip factory, that one.
# posted by 
: 2:29 pm
: 2:29 pm
You're right Ed and I now realise this was a blog I shouldn't have written, not least because Ted walked in the room this morning and said: "I've thought of a line for your limerick" Aagh.
Argh! He didn't! Actually, it's probably a good thing that Cliff's away at the moment as well.
I have to admit that I tried to finished the limeric too, but gave up because I couldn't think of anything good. I wrote a limeric a couple of months ago. At least yours has a few real words in it: http://wenders.vox.com/library/post/just-for-theresa-because-shes-having-a-shit-week.html
I think you're plenty clever enough. You write beautifully. What's brilliant is that you're not clever-clever.
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I have to admit that I tried to finished the limeric too, but gave up because I couldn't think of anything good. I wrote a limeric a couple of months ago. At least yours has a few real words in it: http://wenders.vox.com/library/post/just-for-theresa-because-shes-having-a-shit-week.html
I think you're plenty clever enough. You write beautifully. What's brilliant is that you're not clever-clever.
# posted by : 12:34 pm
: 12:34 pm << Home
