Creativity is hard to measure and hard to generate. Society reveres the product of creative genius for centuries after that flash of inspiration first strikes. But no one really knows how to be creative. Creativity Does Not Equal Intelligence What’s funny is that at a certain point intelligence is unrelated to creativity. Not to say… Continue reading How to Be Creative
Copywriting sounds like a lot of fun for a big paycheck, but in reality it’s got a dark side too, like most things that glitter gold. Here are the ten worst things about copywriting today: 1. No One Reads Your Blog: Once regarded as an online outlet for teenage diaries, these days it’s nearly impossible… Continue reading The 10 Greatest Pitfalls of Copywriting
I am in Greenpoint, off Greenpoint Avenue, waiting to meet my girlfriend at Paulie Gee’s for dinner. Moonchild is meeting us too, and then we’ll go to that bar that has two for one drinks on Tuesdays, Matchless. Moonchild is moving out of New York because she wants to live with her boyfriend and she’s unemployed and can’t get a guarantor.
I went to Cafe Grumpy, and I kept thinking Lena Dunham was going to walk in. I saw a guy in a black down coat with the word Girls on the back of the collar and decided that was consolation enough. I didn’t want to get another coffee but I had been at Cafe Grumpy too long. There was a girl sitting across from me reading Tom Jones. I wanted to say, I read that. But I didn’t. I chose not to get a coffee because I am afraid of becoming a caffeine addict. So I went to Word, then I skated down Greenpoint Ave. to some bar at the end of the street.
There were two fat guys sitting at the bar with an open-faced hamburger and all of the food on the menu cost eight dollars. I asked the bartender if there was a happy hour and she said, “Hey hun, what can I do for you?” “Do you have happy hour?” “Happy hour startth at theven. We have fish tacoth for a dollar and a dollar off all drafth.” “But no happy hour now?” “No, thorry.”
So I left and skated up the street to a beer store with a fire-burning stove. The guy who works here asked me about my iPad keyboard, and then a dude with a papoose strapped to him walked in with his wife. She’s wearing clogs and eating candy from a jar next to the cash register. They can’t be more than thirty-two, a good child-bearing age.
Shoplifting From American Apparel, I enjoyed. But it was because of the style, not the content. I didn’t enjoy the content at all. It is about a writer who is full of himself and cycles through different women in a vain search for meaning, which ultimately is supposed to be life-affirming. The only parts of the plot I enjoyed were when he was arrested for doing as the title suggests.
But the bare bones style, parable-like, that I liked. The symbolism of a cell phone low on battery. This novella offers a new set of signs for our technological world. The only problem is that they’re still so new, they can be confusing. Like, a castle is an easier symbol to interpret than a Macbook. And that is why the novel often feels so devoid of meaning.
I like to suffer. It is an antidote to illusion. Even when I am worrying, to remind myself that I am suffering and that eventually I will feel better, helps me deal. Am I crazy? Let us recall the dominant paradigm– avoid suffering. After all, who wants to spend weeks in bed sick, in pain… Continue reading Why I Like to Suffer
Daniel walked to Roshan’s shop slightly after six. He waited there and watched the end of what must have been 2012, a clearly terrible movie despite the very nice notion of all surviving humans returning to the continent whence they originally came. Roshan played bad Indian music and showed him pictures of attractive American girls… Continue reading Daniel Adler At An Indian Wedding
Westerners always smile about India. “Go there,” they say, “then you’ll see. I spent three and a half months. The smells, the colors. Oh, I’m jealous. You’re going to have such a great time.” Others take their experience in the subcontinent the way you’d take a beating. “Don’t look them in the eyes,” they say.… Continue reading Daniel Adler Lands In India
When I first heard that Brandenburg Concerto, I must’ve been in my crib, freshly fed off my mother’s breast. And lolling there, in the early autumn light I felt the rapid pleasure that my parents must have felt the year prior, that primal urge from heavy-veined leaves ripening, ripening and falling, that incited them to… Continue reading Why I Am A Writer
We begin again and end again, begin again, end again, begin again, hoping that this time it will hold a new secret, a deeper love, a more refreshing swim, a tastier mussel. Is it the search and relentlessness we seek and enjoy? Or is it an end in itself? What if Buddha was wrong and… Continue reading Daniel Adler Writes A New Chapter
Julie, Matthew and I sat in the kitchen and read “Endgame” by Samuel Beckett. He wrote classic literature all right. Words that come and seem the same but they cannot be removed, unless to change the meaning of the sentence. To have faith in humanity is important. The skeptic’s glasses show skeptical a world. It’s… Continue reading “Endgame,” Electrify the Soul
It felt like spring this morning. There was a birdfight and the window was open for a little breeze. The sky is blue and the light filters through the blinds, casting a long golden bar on the floor. Is it New Year’s Eve, really? I’ve written a lot this year, more than 150 posts, and… Continue reading The 10 Best Blog Posts in Daniel Adler’s Internet Warehouse of 2011