Up With Grups
He owns eleven pairs of sneakers, hasn’t worn anything but jeans in a year, and won’t shut up about the latest Death Cab for Cutie CD. But he is no kid. He is among the ascendant breed of grown-up who has redefined adulthood as we once knew it and killed off the generation gap.
By Adam Sternbergh
No one gives writing time…. Each and every one of us has to take it, forcibly if necessary, by wile, bribery, any method that works. You have to take the time, to weigh it against whatever else is happening, to give it up somewhere else, sacrifice time for other people, time for movies, time for television, fun, games, partying, sleep, or something. There is always some time every day to set aside and declare one’s own, but it requires a lot of self-discipline to seize it and keep it.
-Kate Wilhelm, STORYTELLER
I’m reading and writing at a café and this stranger comes up to my table. He looked like a nutty professor of the Asperger’s sort, the sort who couldn’t process the visual cues–the laptop, the books, the papers–that said I’m busy.
“What’re you working on?” he asks. I say “Stuff” as I stare in disbelief as he snatches one of the books off my table. “What kind of stuff?” he says. “Personal stuff,” I say with a look on my face that says, Who the hell are you, why are you talking to me, and more importantly, why are you touching my fucking stuff?
He shrugs his shoulders and walks off as if I’ve put HIM off…