As I just described to my girlfriend: I am, like, eyeclosingly tired. Yes, not only is that an adverb–the supposed bane of all good writing (*cough* bullshit)–but it’s not a real word at all. I think people take the NO ADVERB rule too far. You’ve got to have them sometimes.
I had the same discussion in my head between my creative voice and the counter-balancing quality control editor voice. It went something like this:
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Writer Joe: I jumped high.
Editor Joe: No, you leapt.
Writer Joe: No, bitch. Maybe to ME, “leapt” means I jumped FAR, and so the whole purpose of explaining my altitude is now lost to my audience.
Editor Joe: Fine, you bounded.
Writer Joe: Wrong again. “Bounded” means I took long continuous strides one after the other. I fucking jumped HIGH, so get the fuck over it.
Editor Joe: Clumsy writing.
Writer Joe (stabbing Editor Joe with a red marker): HOW’S THIS? HUH? WHAT KIND OF STAB IS THIS? IS THIS JUST A STAB? JUST A PLAIN OLD STAB? NO MODIFIER TO FURTHER ELUCIDATE THIS STAB?
Editor Joe: You’re stabbing too deeply!!!
Writer Joe: Deeply? Deeply, you stupid shit? Deeply? Is that an ADVERB I’m hearing?
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Don’t worry, Editor Joe was fine. It took him a little while to recover completely, but he’ll be top notch in the morning. Anyway, I’m tired. It’s almost like a “coming down with something” tired, but I refuse to let that happen. I’m going to keep drinking water and plugging away like I don’t feel anything at all.
What happened today is that I kept waking up after 2 hours of sleep, so after three times of that, I gave up. That makes six hours, all cut apart. I had a kind of crazy dream in and out that I was in a city with lots of gunfire. I was a brave little son of a bitch though, ducking behind things and navigating my way around obstacles. I’m usually pretty indomitable in my dreams save under rare exception (i.e., dreaming about my teeth falling out is about the only thing that still scares me when I sleep). So between crazy dreams and half-completion of every REM cycle I entered today, there’s probably a non-“I’m getting sick” explanation for be to be as tired as I am.
Then there’s this happy page, but you know all about this one if, in fact, you are reading this right now. You know–for instance–that this space fluctuates between the kind of sophomoric rambling I’m doing now and over-poetic, Wordsworth-esque (Trust me, that’s more self-deprication than self-praise since I think Wordsworth was a hack) personal essays.
(EDIT: this is all terribly wordy sophmoric rambling. Most of it is now archived on editorialjoe.com)
So yeah, that’s what’s going on in the life of this Hack You Know and Love. As Master Shake of ATHF fame would say: “Well…that was good. My teeth feel gritty, and I’m going to go lie down.”
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Editor Joe: I got it. You vaulted.
Writer Joe: Dude, you are really pushing it.