Ok, so my dad is awesome, I've said it before. Writer, high school english teacher, reverend, NRA member, all-around weirdo. (And you wonder where I get it.)
Apparently, long ago in November (the 13th or 14th I think) I made an entry here that I tried to save to disk and apparently it worked. Also, I left it at home, and he found it this morning. Normally, considering some of the stuff I write here, I'd be quaking in my boots. (No dad wants to see his daughter writing about her sex life to a bunch of strange wolves brought together by a love of hot naked chicks and uber-liberal news stories (even though he's waiting for the Revolution on pins and needles himself)). In any event, this is what he wrote me this morning:
"Kiddo:
I was cleaning off some diskettes this AM and ran across this little diatribe.
I didn't know what it was at first, as it is unnamed, but I started reading and could not help myself to stop.
I haven't read much of your recent work and I must say that your command of language, though in a very different vein, equals my own. The "disenchanted" shithead TONE is more muted and humorous in YOUR prose (a big plus with regard to audience reception). Your command of syntax, modifiers and verbs is quite remarkable.
I don't know whether to be genetically proud, or jealous. I do feel vindicated however because I know for CERTAIN that voracious readers like yourself, become fine writers. I am RIGHT, yet again. (Little things mean SO much)
We should talk about doing something together. I have lots of ideas, but little energy.
I think a children's book about Zeke ("Dead Cat Walking"?) would be a no brainer, but when we get together, I'd also like to talk about some more fiction possibilities.
Anyway, great stuff, and I thought you might not have a copy so here it is.
Daddy-O"
I feel great today.
Apparently, long ago in November (the 13th or 14th I think) I made an entry here that I tried to save to disk and apparently it worked. Also, I left it at home, and he found it this morning. Normally, considering some of the stuff I write here, I'd be quaking in my boots. (No dad wants to see his daughter writing about her sex life to a bunch of strange wolves brought together by a love of hot naked chicks and uber-liberal news stories (even though he's waiting for the Revolution on pins and needles himself)). In any event, this is what he wrote me this morning:
"Kiddo:
I was cleaning off some diskettes this AM and ran across this little diatribe.
I didn't know what it was at first, as it is unnamed, but I started reading and could not help myself to stop.
I haven't read much of your recent work and I must say that your command of language, though in a very different vein, equals my own. The "disenchanted" shithead TONE is more muted and humorous in YOUR prose (a big plus with regard to audience reception). Your command of syntax, modifiers and verbs is quite remarkable.
I don't know whether to be genetically proud, or jealous. I do feel vindicated however because I know for CERTAIN that voracious readers like yourself, become fine writers. I am RIGHT, yet again. (Little things mean SO much)
We should talk about doing something together. I have lots of ideas, but little energy.
I think a children's book about Zeke ("Dead Cat Walking"?) would be a no brainer, but when we get together, I'd also like to talk about some more fiction possibilities.
Anyway, great stuff, and I thought you might not have a copy so here it is.
Daddy-O"
I feel great today.