The Mavs tried to take advantage of the situation. When the annual league revenue increases stopped and a luxury tax loomed, teams adjusted their financial profiles. To get under the tax threshold, they offered good players packaged with horrible contracts. We took them. We hoped the talent would get us a championship before the number of bad contracts we took on in trades caught up with us.
It didnt [sic] happen --Marc Cuban
And that is why I cannot write. That is why I can’t seem to update this blog. I have not written because I sound like Marc Cuban. Marc Cuban writes like this. And that annoys me. He is the owner of the Dallas Mavericks, a team that I really enjoy. He seems like a nice enough fellow, but I think he is a dork when it comes to writing. And I write like him. Like that, short sentences mixed with long, to create a fake rhythm.
Then he has a pretentious paragraph.
His writing is choppy, and not good. What he writes about is fine enough, and it’s not bad either, but he could not be a professional writer. And I write like him. A lot like him actually. Very sadly, I want to write more like the writer of a web comic, Tycho at http://www.penny-arcade.com/. His prose always keeps me reading, even about the most boring topic. I never thought my life would reach a point where I am idealizing a comic writer.
So I will no longer write like Marc Cuban, starting with this sentence, so get used to long and confusing sentences. My days of trying to mimic a bad Hemmingway are over, periods will be denied, commas will be overused, mistakes will be made, and readers will stop reading. I have no style, and that will continue to be true, but the semblance of style that I do have, will be longer and even more contrived. Pretentious to the max, I may even get a thesaurus, or, a word a day calendar.
The second reason I have stopped writing is the same as what I spoke of after the rain. Everything is in flux, where a true writer shines, and I simply do not. I was watching the Daily Show (brought to me by my new internet), and Jon Stewart accredited a solider in Iraq’s gritty writing to him having written it during the war itself, rather than after the fact. I could not do something like that, I just feel like I am talking about nothing, because so many lines of thought, or belief, will just get chopped off.
“Does she really hate me?”
“Is she going to get fired?”
“What is the Chinese word for confused?”
At least half of those will remain unanswered, and knowing that, I don’t ask them. I mean, I would not want to leave a reader hanging or something. Instead, I wait until after everything gets answered, or not, and then I write about things that turned out to matter. However, I can’t leave something that might not be significant, I would be a terrible mystery writer.
Next, I have not put anything up because when I have the mood to write, I am dedicated to writing terrible personal statements. That is my new hobby, making as many bad, unreadable, unusable personal statements for law school as my tired fingers can churn out. By the time I send my personal statements, my delete key will be rounded down to a nub.
The problem is that I have psyched myself out, I often think that Stanford or Harvard should not let me in; and if I don’t believe that, how the hell will I make them believe that? Look Stanford, you can probably do better me. The next application will likely be a gay racial minority with a 175 LSAT, a 3.97 GPA, who is a firefighter, let that person in. In fact, let everyone in you would normally, and me. See, that would be really easy, you just admit 178 students + 1. It’s a good idea, because you get me, and I am cool? Right…Right…Stanford?... It feels like an awkward date, the personal statement is the only dinner conversation I get to try and attract a girl that may simply be out of my league.
The last reason I am not writing, there are too many things to write about. I have eight or nine documents of half written entries. Things that I simply have to write about but I just can’t put into words deserving of the situation. I have worked with the meanest person I have ever worked with. I am meeting all kinds of people. I am eating all kinds of things. But everything I write seems to patronize what I am writing about. The only thing I feel comfortable writing about is how bad my writing is. I will continue posting things, and trying to make my sentences longer, or something; and I will try to have a real post very soon.