Sunday, May 12, 2019

Revenge of the quotes from someone, inscribed in fake stone

I read. I read everything and anything. I read signs, labels, found scraps of paper, anything I can get to in any book in a couple spare minutes, everything ever scrawled on the Internet, good novels, bad novels, and the things I wrote myself, which, frankly,  I read over and over and over. It is not a mark of particular distinction.  It's a condition.

Today my wife and I were in a garden store. They had some small pillars made of fake stone with quotes on them, unattributed quotes, the worst kind. Who wrote these? Why? Did they have a job doing it? Did they collect pseudo-wise quotes in a little book like the one I keep in my pocket, and then decided to make a business out of their collected oeuvre? Did they have a job in a dreary office somewhere, nine to five, coming up with quotes that higher ups then assigned to be placed on urns, craft store framed aged wood, t-shirts, aprons, and yes, fake stone pillars for garden stores? Did this person think they were a good writer? A great writer? Pithy?

Because I read (see above), I meticulously went through and read every single one of the different sayings on the fake stone garden pillars. When I came to this one I wrote it down in the little book I carry with me at all times. It was all in caps:


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