The Lies We Tell (and The Blanket Acceptance of Them)
"We're all such a pack of liars," he said at one point. "We go to some show that we think stinks and afterward we tell them 'Good show!' as if these people don't already know their show stinks. We lie to each other all the time."
He was right. We do constantly lie to each other and then we accept these lies because we're supposed to—as if by lying and accepting the bullshit, we are providing grease to the friction of social grace. We lie and acquiesce to the lie because it makes us feel better.
Is It Art or Is It Competitive Therapy? The Paradox of the Slam
I love poetry. My wife is a poet. I love listening to poets recite their poetry. I have amazing memories of Marc Smith thrilling me with his almost preacher-like facility with the spoken word.
I am frequently torn by the child he birthed: Slam Poetry.
Jake and Caroline’s first date was at The Whistler. They talked about Ronnie, how much they loved The Diplomat, and debated the better ride-share service, Uber or Lyft. She was Uber, he was Lyft. They got wasted on Sazeracs and had sex at her apartment. It was incredible for both of them. Caroline stopped taking sex advice from Ronnie.