The Angst of Being a Good Reader

There is a moment as a reader when you stop reading, sit back, and realize that not only are you not Tolstoy, Garcia-Marquez, Dostoevsky, the Brontes, Melville, Faulkner, O’Connor, Shakespeare, Homer, Murakami, Fitzgerald and all the gang, but you that you never will be. And this is depressing because they seem like such a cool gang, and you really want to join. But, like the kid bringing a garbage can lid to the snowboarding slopes, you’re hopelessly out of your league, and skulk on home to watch cartoons and eat packages of orange cream push-ups and watermelon bubble gum, wondering what it might be that causes the difference between you and the Flying Tomato.

-C.

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