October 29, 2017
Notes To Future Biographers
Looking over the literary landscape, one sometimes gets the feeling that there are two kinds of writers: those who write, and those who write biographies about those who write. It is inevitable that even the most obscure writer will have a biography written about him or her, if only because there is only so much one can say about James Joyce before one fervently wishes to drown oneself in a vat of dog shampoo.
Not being James Joyce, sooner or later somebody will want to write a biography of me. For those in desperate enough need of a Masters thesis topic to do so, I offer these notes in the hopes that you will portray my life accurately:
I wasn't a homosexual. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) I wasn't in denial about being a homosexual. Anybody who looked at my clothing could tell that immediately. It wasn't that I was unaware of fashion; it was just that I preferred to use the precious moments of my life to obsess about other things. (Not that there's anything wrong with that, either.)
When I say "obsess about other things," I do not, of course, refer to the kind of obsession that results in substantial property damage and/or loss of life. I mean the good kind of obsession, the kind that keeps life interesting enough that you don't have to pursue the bad kind. It's more like a very, very, very passionate hobby, really.
I never had a relationship destroyed by Angelina Jolie. We could never get our schedules straight. I wasn't a gaffer on Paris Hilton's sex tape. I mean, really: you'd think that a billionaire heiress would have sprung for better lighting! I did star in a sex tape of my own, but it won a Droopy Award as the worst hardcore film of the year; all of the copies were subsequently melted and made into genital-shaped earrings that were sold out of carts in Times Square. (To be fair, my genitals were not the model.)
I wasn't an alcoholic. I took a sip of wine on the Sabbath and at Passover Seders until I was old enough to stop, at which point I stopped. I had a beer once when I was at University and decided it was the vilest thing I had ever put in my mouth. (Yes, I led a somewhat sheltered life. Not that there's anything wrong with...well, anything that did or did not happen to me.)
I used two inhalers for asthma, and the occasional antihistamine when my allergies were bad. The only substance I could be said with any reasonable honesty to have abused was chocolate. If that's wrong, I don't want to be right.
I never bribed a politician to do something inane in public so that I would have something to write about. I never had to. I never slept with anybody in the publishing, film or television industries to further my career; one look at my career would prove the truth of that statement. I was never tempted to kill my rivals in order to promote my work; I did often think of killing Linwood Barclay, but that was just to put him out of his misery.
I never ran over a pedestrian with my sports car, fled the scene and got my politically connected father to cover the whole thing up. I did drive for a few months. The worst thing that happened was that I hit a patch of ice and slid into a parked car at about five miles an hour. Oddly enough, this soured me on the whole "driving = freedom" equation, and I never drove again.
I was never much good at math, anyway.
I never abused my family's Mexican maid. Come to think of it, my family never had a Mexican maid. I never abused the Mexican maid my family didn't have. Okay, I may, on occasion, have tortured the English language, but, to be frank, it was a willing victim.
I must admit, to my ever-lasting regret, I did not score the goal that won the 1972 Canada versus Russia hockey tournament. I didn't hit the home run that won the first ever World Series for the Toronto Blue Jays. I wasn't the one who unseated Tiger Woods as the highest earner on the PGA tour. I, uhh, did have a shutout as a goalie in a game of road hockey when I was 12, but that would probably merit no more than a few words in any real, self-respecting biography.
Good luck finding something interesting to write about...
Welcome, Science Fiction Fans!
If you came to Les Pages aux Folles curious about my writing thanks to science fiction or fan fiction, welcome! You can find the complete text of Alternate Reality Ain't What It Used To Be,
What Were Once Miracles Are Now Children's Toys
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, The Street Finds its Own Uses for Mutant Technologies
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Welcome Back My Friednishes To The Show That Never Ednishes
I now have a Facebook author/fan/whatever you want to call it page: Ira Nayman's Thrishty Friednishes
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Would you be interested in immortality?
The Alternate Reality News Service (ARNS) has two advice columns: Ask Amritsar, a column about love and sex and technology, and; Ask the Tech Answer Guy, a column about
technology and anything except
love and sex. It's a thing with him. Don't ask. ARNS is now soliciting questions for these advice columns from readers. That means you! If, after reading any of the columns, you are inspired to write a question of your own, please submit it to firstname.lastname@example.org
! (Without the exclamation mark, because that would just be rude.) If your question is selected, your name and a link to your Web site will be posted on this Web site, which, at almost 14 years old, may not exactly be immortal, but is pretty darned long-lived. So, okay, maybe we oversold it a bit. But, what the heck? Have fun with it. We look forward to reading your questions!