Last night I was faintly buzzing from the feeling of having published my latest Medium post. Not that I thought it was great or anything, just that it was done, sent out into the world, no longer clogging up my emotional and intellectual insides. “Writer’s high,” my friend said.
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A small thing I liked about A Beautiful Day... is how the fictional writer Lloyd Vogel is asked to just write a 400-word blurb abt Mr. Rogers to accompany a photo, and he can’t. He just can’t do it. He can’t fit himself into that particular box as a writer. I feel this sometimes.
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I’m a critic, I’m not a fan. I can’t pretend to be a fan. It’s harder and harder these days to make it as a critic.
9:38 PM - 24 Jan 2020
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