Why Writers Are Dicks

[Michael P]

In association with the producers of Tales To Mildly Astonish (http://talestomildlyastonish.blogspot.com/) , the best blog you don't care about, comes the following:

So I'm on the train home yesterday, and there's this guy. He's bald. And not one of those guys who looks good bald. In fact, he might have been a cancer patient, which makes this even worse. Because I could not stop staring at his head.

This was not open-mouthed gaping. It was not horrified fascination (well, not entirely). This was research. This was an interestingly-shaped head, and I had to remember it. Why? Because someday I might need to describe an interestingly-shaped head in words, and I had to think of those words and commit them to memory now.

So I stared. I stared like his head was Alysson Hannigan's perfect breasts. I studied the shape of it, noting how the angle of ascent, the angle of descent, and a plane through the center of his head made a textbook scalene triangle. How there was no trace of stubble whatsoever. How I imagined I could almost see the crennelations of his brain under the scalp. How he looked like a young Dr. Sivana. Imagining where the hairline would be if he had hair. The bumps, the lumps, the curves, the slopes, converting it all to words and committing those words to memory, where they would wait patiently until I needed them. Hell, I composed half of this blog entry.

I didn't stop staring until I noticed that he'd noticed me staring. And even then, I snuck quick glances all the way home. To his credit, the guy didn't say anything, but he probably wanted me dead by the time I got off the train.

My mother would have been mortified. This flew in the face of everything she ever taught me about tact and public comportment. It was probably the rudest, most insensitive thing I've done all year, and that's saying something. But I don't care. I had to do it. That's how my brain works. Every person, every object, every little human tragedy is subject material, to be analyzed and stored. You are all fodder for my imagination. Even the people I love most in the world, even the eventual lifemate I pray each night I will find before my heart gives out from the search, are my lab projects, my study guides, my life models. You have to be. Because I have to be a writer. It's who I am.

So if you see me on the street, or the subway, or in a crowded store, or across the table, or lying next to you in the early hours of the morning, and I'm staring at you, into you, with my head cocked slightly to the side, and the look in my eyes sends a cold shiver up your spine, please, forgive me. I don't mean to scare you, or make you uncomfortable. I just can't help myself.

[i_mmmchocolate]

God, you're weird.

I'll be in the city Saturday.

[Noah Johnson]

I thought Gaiman nailed it in "The Tempest", in which Shakespeare laments how being a writer has made him a bit of a prick, as he can't do or feel anything without taking mental notes on it for use later.

[JeffreyWKramer]

So I stared. I stared like his head was Alysson Hannigan's perfect breasts.

You seriously need to get some sex, stat.

Won't one of the CBR ladies help this poor guy out? I'm sure doing so would garner some Corrie votes, or at very least some CotM ones.

[SUPERECWFAN1]

Thats funny. But I'd stay away from " Over Staring " at some guys who are bald. One may think your hittin on him and have 2 reactions.

1.Kick your ass.

2. Ask you out.


;)

[west3man]

In association with the producers of Tales To Mildly Astonish (http://talestomildlyastonish.blogspot.com/) , the best blog you don't care about, comes the following:

So I'm on the train home yesterday, and there's this guy. He's bald. And not one of those guys who looks good bald. In fact, he might have been a cancer patient, which makes this even worse. Because I could not stop staring at his head.

This was not open-mouthed gaping. It was not horrified fascination (well, not entirely). This was research. This was an interestingly-shaped head, and I had to remember it. Why? Because someday I might need to describe an interestingly-shaped head in words, and I had to think of those words and commit them to memory now.

So I stared. I stared like his head was Alysson Hannigan's perfect breasts. I studied the shape of it, noting how the angle of ascent, the angle of descent, and a plane through the center of his head made a textbook scalene triangle. How there was no trace of stubble whatsoever. How I imagined I could almost see the crennelations of his brain under the scalp. How he looked like a young Dr. Sivana. Imagining where the hairline would be if he had hair. The bumps, the lumps, the curves, the slopes, converting it all to words and committing those words to memory, where they would wait patiently until I needed them. Hell, I composed half of this blog entry.

I didn't stop staring until I noticed that he'd noticed me staring. And even then, I snuck quick glances all the way home. To his credit, the guy didn't say anything, but he probably wanted me dead by the time I got off the train.

My mother would have been mortified. This flew in the face of everything she ever taught me about tact and public comportment. It was probably the rudest, most insensitive thing I've done all year, and that's saying something. But I don't care. I had to do it. That's how my brain works. Every person, every object, every little human tragedy is subject material, to be analyzed and stored. You are all fodder for my imagination. Even the people I love most in the world, even the eventual lifemate I pray each night I will find before my heart gives out from the search, are my lab projects, my study guides, my life models. You have to be. Because I have to be a writer. It's who I am.

So if you see me on the street, or the subway, or in a crowded store, or across the table, or lying next to you in the early hours of the morning, and I'm staring at you, into you, with my head cocked slightly to the side, and the look in my eyes sends a cold shiver up your spine, please, forgive me. I don't mean to scare you, or make you uncomfortable. I just can't help myself.At least you have the "writer" excuse for observing so closely.

I'm just fascinated by people - their looks, mannerisms, opinions, reasonings, etc.

[Joe Rice]

God, you're weird.

I'll be in the city Saturday.

Party at Rocketship.

[Jeff Brady]

Act like you don't notice that he knows you're staring. Let your eyes glaze over like you're lost in thought. If he says anything, just say you were meditating and weren't paying attention.

Also, turn on the character recognition filter for the comments in your blog. You got spam.

[Michael P]

Party at Rocketship.
She doesn't "do" Brooklyn.

[Jeff Brady]

She doesn't "do" Brooklyn.

She's a heathen!

[Paul McEnery]

I thought Gaiman nailed it in "The Tempest", in which Shakespeare laments how being a writer has made him a bit of a prick, as he can't do or feel anything without taking mental notes on it for use later.
Hah. I've got it even worse.

I'm writing a book about religion and psychology.

I don't just take mental notes, I take case notes.

On all my friends.

[west3man]

She doesn't "do" Brooklyn.
Too many porn subliminals, today.

[Joe Rice]

She doesn't "do" Brooklyn.

That's the most retarded thing I've read since Morts said he wasn't white.

[Tadhg Adams]

I don't just take mental notes, I take case notes.

On all my friends.

Goto SDCC. The CBR people alone will give you more material than you'll know what to do with.

[BlairH]

Tom Clancy isn't a dick I assure you.
Alan Moore on the other hand...

[Joe Rice]

Tom Clancy isn't a dick I assure you.


Not much of a writer, either.

[Tadhg Adams]

Not much of a writer, either.

What are you talking about? Bear and the Dragon was FABULOUS. It was 1000 pages of rambling racist prose, it doesn't get better than that, my friend.

[Anthony]

She doesn't "do" Brooklyn.
???

Everyone must do Brooklyn at least once in their lifetime. I was born there dammit.

Oh and I do the same thing. I just use sunglasses to mask it. Though your definition for perfect breasts are a bit...lacking.

[BlairH]

What are you talking about? Bear and the Dragon was FABULOUS. It was 1000 pages of rambling racist prose, it doesn't get better than that, my friend.

hehe yeah.
"All Russians are incompetant"
"All Chinese are evil"
"All Americans are awesome"

[Fabian]

What are you talking about? Bear and the Dragon was FABULOUS. It was 1000 pages of rambling racist prose, it doesn't get better than that, my friend.
Sounds like my cup of tea. Library here I come

[BlairH]

Sounds like my cup of tea. Library here I come

Heh. Count yourself lucky that -at worst- you'll read it and return it to the library. I actually have a copy of the offending novel!

[Fabian]

Heh. Count yourself lucky that -at worst- you'll read it and return it to the library. I actually have a copy of the offending novel!
You clearly have not heard how offensive I get in person

[Grant]

In association with the producers of Tales To Mildly Astonish (http://talestomildlyastonish.blogspot.com/) , the best blog you don't care about, comes the following:

So I'm on the train home yesterday, and there's this guy. He's bald. And not one of those guys who looks good bald. In fact, he might have been a cancer patient, which makes this even worse. Because I could not stop staring at his head.

This was not open-mouthed gaping. It was not horrified fascination (well, not entirely). This was research. This was an interestingly-shaped head, and I had to remember it. Why? Because someday I might need to describe an interestingly-shaped head in words, and I had to think of those words and commit them to memory now.

So I stared. I stared like his head was Alysson Hannigan's perfect breasts. I studied the shape of it, noting how the angle of ascent, the angle of descent, and a plane through the center of his head made a textbook scalene triangle. How there was no trace of stubble whatsoever. How I imagined I could almost see the crennelations of his brain under the scalp. How he looked like a young Dr. Sivana. Imagining where the hairline would be if he had hair. The bumps, the lumps, the curves, the slopes, converting it all to words and committing those words to memory, where they would wait patiently until I needed them. Hell, I composed half of this blog entry.

I didn't stop staring until I noticed that he'd noticed me staring. And even then, I snuck quick glances all the way home. To his credit, the guy didn't say anything, but he probably wanted me dead by the time I got off the train.

My mother would have been mortified. This flew in the face of everything she ever taught me about tact and public comportment. It was probably the rudest, most insensitive thing I've done all year, and that's saying something. But I don't care. I had to do it. That's how my brain works. Every person, every object, every little human tragedy is subject material, to be analyzed and stored. You are all fodder for my imagination. Even the people I love most in the world, even the eventual lifemate I pray each night I will find before my heart gives out from the search, are my lab projects, my study guides, my life models. You have to be. Because I have to be a writer. It's who I am.

So if you see me on the street, or the subway, or in a crowded store, or across the table, or lying next to you in the early hours of the morning, and I'm staring at you, into you, with my head cocked slightly to the side, and the look in my eyes sends a cold shiver up your spine, please, forgive me. I don't mean to scare you, or make you uncomfortable. I just can't help myself.

That was you? I'm so going to kick your ass Pullman.

[Solaris]

Dudes---Michael is posting from someone *else's* blog.

Artists do this, too. Just as an architect will intently study an interesting building, in order to learn it, get ideas from it, admire it's details---an artist will study people, as well as surroundings.

Being both a writer, and an artist, I tend to do a lot of staring and thinking (and listening to other people's conversations as well). It just goes with the territory.

If I catch someone staring like that at me, I'll usually ask them something funny, like "It seems like you're staring at me---do I have a piece of spinach in my teeth or something?" to break the ice. :) Frankly, if a writer or artist finds you interesting enough to try to store into memory, it's *usually* a compliment (unless you're being a complete dick about something with someone else).

[Joe Rice]

Dudes---Michael is posting from someone *else's* blog.


Dude, no he isn't. That's his.

And I don't think any of us really think he's a jerk for doing this. We're just razzing our pal.

[Grant]

Dudes---Michael is posting from someone *else's* blog.

Artists do this, too. Just as an architect will intently study an interesting building, in order to learn it, get ideas from it, admire it's details---an artist will study people, as well as surroundings.

Being both a writer, and an artist, I tend to do a lot of staring and thinking (and listening to other people's conversations as well). It just goes with the territory.

If I catch someone staring like that at me, I'll usually ask them something funny, like "It seems like you're staring at me---do I have a piece of spinach in my teeth or something?" to break the ice. :) Frankly, if a writer or artist finds you interesting enough to try to store into memory, it's *usually* a compliment (unless you're being a complete dick about something with someone else).

It's his blog. I've visited it before. If you click Michael's homepage that's where you go.

Anyways I've done much worse then staring. In my college writing class if I was stumped for ideas I just brought a tape recorder with me, hid it in my pocket and recorded any interesting conversations I heard.

[Tadhg Adams]

And I don't think any of us really think he's a jerk for doing this. We're just razzing our pal.

Except Grant. He was serious.

[Grant]

Except Grant. He was serious.

Yes I will punch Mike and kick him several times in the stomach if he even glances towards my direction again.

[Solaris]

Dude, no he isn't. That's his.

And I don't think any of us really think he's a jerk for doing this. We're just razzing our pal.


Argh---I sit corrected. :D

Okay, so it's Michael who's doing the staring... now Michael, don't think you're gonna just get away with it, next Dragoncon, when I catch you staring avidly at my boobs.

:D

*When* I catch you, I will then demand a 500 word descriptive essay on the scenery you have been so perusing, to be slipped under my hotel door no later than 1800 hours.

*chortles*

(And yes, Joe, I knew you guys were just razzing him---sorry that didn't come across in my orig. response.)

[i_mmmchocolate]

Wait, is it this Saturday? The Fingerman signing?

[i_mmmchocolate]

Where's Rocketship located?

Please include cross streets and any significant landmarks too. Anything helpful really.

[Jeff Brady]

Rocketship map (http://www.mapquest.com/maps/map.adp?searchtype=address&country=US&addtohistory=&searchtab=home&address=208+Smith+Street&city=Brooklyn&state=NY&zipcode=)

Rocketship Home (http://rocketshipstore.blogspot.com/)

[i_mmmchocolate]

Fantastic. Are you going?

[Joe Rice]

Wait, is it this Saturday? The Fingerman signing?

Aye aye, Cap'n.

[Joe Rice]

It's also just three or so blocks away from the Bergen stop on the G and F trains, if that helps.

[i_mmmchocolate]

Excellent. Ed will be there too, if I recall.

[Joe Rice]

Excellent. Ed will be there too, if I recall.

Yup. And my "lil sister" is dragging Lisa, too. Probably with special cookies in tow.

[i_mmmchocolate]

This is getting better and better. When does it end?

[Joe Rice]

The party or the betteration?

[i_mmmchocolate]

Both actually.

[Joe Rice]

The answer to both is "When Michael arrives."

HEYOOOOOO!!

[Ed Cunard]

Excellent. Ed will be there too, if I recall.

Yep. Barring catastrophe, I'll be there. I think Jeff Brady's roommate may be going too.

Hey, Pullman! Come to Brooklyn!

[i_mmmchocolate]

I'll be there with bells on.


Not literally.

[Joe Rice]

What, no high-fives for my old school/high school style burn? That was CLASSIC!

[Ed Cunard]

What, no high-fives for my old school/high school style burn? That was CLASSIC!

I'm still saving up for the awkward ass grab tomorrow.

[Typo Lad]

You seriously need to get some sex, stat.

Won't one of the CBR ladies help this poor guy out? I'm sure doing so would garner some Corrie votes, or at very least some CotM ones.

Lena DID say she was gonna be in the city this weekend...

[Typo Lad]

Hah. I've got it even worse.

I'm writing a book about religion and psychology.

I don't just take mental notes, I take case notes.

On all my friends.

Man am I glad I'm not your friend.

Wait... that came out wrong...

[i_mmmchocolate]

Lena DID say she was gonna be in the city this weekend...

You're gross.

[Typo Lad]

You're gross.

No, I'm perverted.

Gross would be "Hey, Petland has Hamsters on sale..."

[Ed Cunard]

No, I'm perverted.

Gross would be "Hey, Petland has Hamsters on sale..."

And you can get the sick ones on discount.

[Davideaux]

WriterBoy be writin'.

[Joe Rice]

Lena DID say she was gonna be in the city this weekend...

You just crossed that border into Ickville. Seriously, I don't think that's appropriate.

[Paul McEnery]

Man am I glad I'm not your friend.

Wait... that came out wrong...
Why would I want you for a friend?

You're well-adjusted.

And that throws my entire theory. Apparently, all you need to be sane is a ludicrously restrictive religion and a hot wife.

I can't sell that.

[Typo Lad]

You just crossed that border into Ickville. Seriously, I don't think that's appropriate.

I'm sorry if I offended you. I've been doing the Lena/Michael jokes for well over a year now. To date they ahve not been offended.

Miss mmm, let me know if I crossed a line and to the delete files it shall go.

[Typo Lad]

Why would I want you for a friend?

You're well-adjusted.

I want this in writing, signed and notarized.

And that throws my entire theory. Apparently, all you need to be sane is a ludicrously restrictive religion and a hot wife.

I can't sell that.

No, because she's not for sale.

Oh wait, did I miscomprehend?

[Ed Cunard]

I want this in writing, signed and notarized.

Well, you don't really need that. I've heard about your... member. And I imagine that if it's not visible under the pants you wear, that you're well adjusted.

[Joe Rice]

You're gross.

Maybe I took this the wrong way.

[i_mmmchocolate]

Maybe I took this the wrong way.

Nope, it's definitely gross and embarassing.

[Slam_Bradley]

It seems this is less about why writers are dicks and more about why Michael is a dick.

[Joe Rice]

If I may be so bold, it's one level of embarassing to make crushy jokes, but sex takes it a bit too far.

EDIT: Forgot my second point, durg. If I recall correctly, Lena's always made it pretty clear that the internet flirty thing is just as gross and lame to her as it is to, well, me. Am I right, Lena? I remember thinking, "Finally, another girl here not out to soak up the attention of male comic fans."

[JeffreyWKramer]

I'll be there with bells on.

Now I'm imagining you in a jester outfit.

Not literally.
Darn!

[Grant]

If I may be so bold, it's one level of embarassing to make crushy jokes, but sex takes it a bit too far.

I thought taking it too far was Typo Lad's schtick.

[Paul McEnery]

I thought taking it too far was Typo Lad's schtick.
Let's pass over the fact that Morts's schtick is bigger than ours.

[Joe Rice]

I thought taking it too far was Typo Lad's schtick.

Not when he doesn't realize he's done it.

[Typo Lad]

Nope, it's definitely gross and embarassing.

Sorry.

I owe you a free punch, no whining even.

[Michael P]

Argh---I sit corrected. :D

Okay, so it's Michael who's doing the staring... now Michael, don't think you're gonna just get away with it, next Dragoncon, when I catch you staring avidly at my boobs.

:D

*When* I catch you, I will then demand a 500 word descriptive essay on the scenery you have been so perusing, to be slipped under my hotel door no later than 1800 hours.

I find this arrangement acceptable. *dodges bokken*

[Typo Lad]

Not when he doesn't realize he's done it.

Yes. My goal is to be a lovable ass... not a smelly one.

[Slam_Bradley]

Yes. My goal is to be a lovable ass... not a smelly one.


Might I suggest the scented toilet tissue.

[HomerJay]

Let's pass over the fact that Morts's schtick is bigger than ours.
And circumsized as well.

[Typo Lad]

Might I suggest the scented toilet tissue.

It gives me a rash something aweful.

[Dreadstar]

... I remember thinking, "Finally, another girl here not out to soak up the attention of male comic fans."

Talk about your noble motives! You still don't want to share, do you?

EDITTED FOR UNFINISHED THOUGHT!

[Grant]

EDIT: Forgot my second point, durg. If I recall correctly, Lena's always made it pretty clear that the internet flirty thing is just as gross and lame to her as it is to, well, me. Am I right, Lena? I remember thinking, "Finally, another girl here not out to soak up the attention of male comic fans."

I think it's okay if Michael does it though because he's obviously into bald dudes.

Watch your Inbox howyadoin!

[Paul McEnery]

Sorry.

I owe you a free punch, no whining even.
Where's the fun in that?

[i_mmmchocolate]

If I may be so bold, it's one level of embarassing to make crushy jokes, but sex takes it a bit too far.

EDIT: Forgot my second point, durg. If I recall correctly, Lena's always made it pretty clear that the internet flirty thing is just as gross and lame to her as it is to, well, me. Am I right, Lena? I remember thinking, "Finally, another girl here not out to soak up the attention of male comic fans."

Definitely. I can't remember what thread(s) it's been discussed, but Internet flirtiness is definitely not my thing. Especially since it can be misread and give the wrong impression on who and how I am in person. I'm just here to socialize, learn about comics, generally have a good time. It just gets a bit uncomfortable when stuff like that is said. That's all really.


Sorry.

'Tis okay! I know you didn't mean it maliciously or with bad intention.

I owe you a free punch, no whining even.

Y'know...with Punchy here we will be having quite a few meet ups...so, yep, I'm so punching you! Must remember to bring a camera.

The caption of the photo will be: "LENA SEEKS REVENGE!!!"

[Jeff Brady]

Fantastic. Are you going?

I seriously doubt it. First, Joe decieved me about the Ciao Bella Dulce de Leche ice cream, and I'm a little peeved. ;) Second, I'm still sick. I don't want to spread the plague any further.

I'd really love to go, though. I have the Beg the Question HC and I'd love to have Bob sign it.

Oh, and to meet all you fine people, too, I guess.

But if I wake up feeling not-so-dizzy, I may show up. Ya never know.

[i_mmmchocolate]

Second, I'm still sick. I don't want to spread the plague any further.


Don't be silly; I'm still recovering from a head cold AND I'm going. My intention is to spread the plague.

[Jeff Brady]

Don't be silly

Being silly is what I do best! Wait till you see me walk!

Seriously though, I may show up. It just depends on how much like shit I feel.

[i_mmmchocolate]

Seriously though, I may show up. It just depends on how much like shit I feel.

And look. Don't forget look. That comes with being sick too.

[thik_3rd]

allyson hanigan has perfect breasts now?

[Jeff Brady]

And look. Don't forget look. That comes with being sick too.

Pfft. I look like shit every day. Yesterday I was three shades paler than normal (which is what I'm back to today). I'm amazed that my voice (scratchy as it is) came back along with my pigment.

[Solaris]

I find this arrangement acceptable. *dodges bokken*


Wrong! It's DB with the bokken---*I* have the cat-o-nine-tails.

:D

[JeffreyWKramer]

Wrong! It's DB with the bokken---*I* have the cat-o-nine-tails.

And Michael probably wouldn't want to dodge that.

[i_mmmchocolate]

I'll be with some out-of-town (DC) friends tomorrow afternoon- they called up last night. If I go I'll bring them along- James and his cousin.

[Jeff Brady]

Did anyone else go? I was there for an hour, started to feel dizzy again, and left. It's a really nice shop.

[Ed Cunard]

I had to cut out early, and got there late (man, did I get lost--I'm dumb), but I had a great time. Definitely a nice shop.

[i_mmmchocolate]

I feel like such a bum, I didn't go; I had a date with an old chummy (aforementioned) friend. I just couldn't say no.

I had to cut out early, and got there late (man, did I get lost--I'm dumb), but I had a great time.

See, that never would've happened if you took the NY State Thruway!

[Tages]

Why would I want you for a friend?

You're well-adjusted.
Which means I must be perfect.

[Paul McEnery]

Which means I must be perfect.
Undoubtedly.














Though frankly, that would have been a better reply to the issue of Alyson Hannigan's breasts.

[howyadoin]

So if you see me... lying next to you in the early hours of the morning...There's a thought to keep you awake at night.





Hmm, that didn't come out sounding very good, did it?

[Paul McEnery]

There's a thought to keep you awake at night.





Hmm, that didn't come out sounding very good, did it?
Um...

It's because he snores, right?








There. That gets everyone out of a pickle.