the interview game

This is one of the little games that has been jumping around from blog to blog these days. You ask someone who has been interviewed by someone else to interview you. You, in turn, offer to interview people who signify their interest in the game. I had asked Transience to throw me some questions. Here they are.

Trans: you once said to me that my words would make pablo neruda green with envy. what would they make ee cummings? explain why.

Me: e. e. cummings would want to sleep with you.

I don’t know if you like him or not, but I guess he’d like your style. His crisp words and stark images that fall out like strands of wiry hair from a senile head call to mind your own writing style. Grace on paper. Passion in ink. Call it what you will. I guess you two would get along well. Also, you might want to teach him to drink tea with milk. I’m assuming, of course, that you like his style, too.

I’d stop now before your ego starts to bloat.

OK, you can laugh out loud now.

Trans: you like anything to do with the ass. aside from love potions you would fashion into suppositories, what are the other things you would shove up your deep, dark realm?

Me: Oh do I? I never noticed that. Maybe I’m still stuck in Freud’s anal stage and never progressed from there.

I’d love to shove up my ass shredded pages from The Purpose-Driven Life or The Alchemist or any of those feel-good books. That way, I won’t have to bring toilet paper the next time I go to the bathroom. I just have to shit it out together with my feces.

Trans: let's say you are agnosticism's harshest critic. write a scathing, 150-word letter to me that will make me feel shame for being an agnostic. use anouk, my real name, in your salutation.

Me: my dear anouk,

Let me get this straight, you’re fucking with things you don’t understand. What kind of alien philosophy are you harboring? Agnosciti—, see! I can’t even spell the damned thing. I’ll tell you what, God loves you more than anything in this whole god-damned world. He gives a shit about you all the time. Why don’t you give him a chance to show you how much he loves you, you worthless, unbelieving piece of stilettoed shit! After giving you everything—and that includes your excellent facility with the language—is this how you’ll thank him? Such an ungrateful animal you are! If you must know, Kafka cannot lease you some prime property up in heaven. For all you know, that Kafka guy is metamorphosing into a cockroach in Hell at this very moment, to the delight of Satan. Maybe you should start reading your bible more than Kafka (refer to answer to Question Number 2 for ways to dispose of this evil book) so you’d get to understand the mysteries of resurrection and shit. God died for you, remember that. If your best friend saved your ass (there goes the a-word again) from sure death, would you slap her and call her a bitch? Think about it. You still have time. Repent and be saved. And don’t forget your tithes while you’re at it.

Love and prayers,
Chris

Trans: i will ask you to woo me with a five-line verse written in german. or french. your choice. provide a translation, please.

Me: My French-speaking readers—especially Elsa, who is a true-blooded Parisian—may want to correct my grammar here.

Je n’écris pas comme Kafka
Je ne pense pas comme Marquez
Mon cerveau raconte n’importe quoi.
Mes mots ne blessent que le vent mourant
Mais je peux te déshabiller et lire ton âme.

I don’t write like kafka
I don’t think like Marquez
My mind talks nonsense
My words scathe nothing but the dying wind
But I can undress you and read your soul.

Trans: if there is one question you would not want me to ask you, what would it be? provide the answer to this question.

Me: Where are you headed? I hate being asked this question because I simply cannot answer it. I’m always floating without knowing exactly where to go or how to proceed, be it in my professional or personal life. It’s perhaps my juvenile indecisiveness that constantly claws at my already scratched-up mind, or soul if you will. As a kid, I had once wished to die right after college because I didn’t know how to lead my life after school. School, at least, provides you with a set and rigid framework that you can easily breeze through. Give it your best shot and you’ll easily graduate with honors. But life is a lot trickier. I am still very much in control of my life, still the proverbial “master of my fate and captain of my soul.” But as to where exactly I’m sailing remains to be known. I pick up my cues from the stars or the whales that dance around my ship.

Ok, here are the rules of the game:
1. if you want to participate, leave a comment below saying interview me or any other permutation of the phrase.

2. i will respond by asking you five questions—each person’s will be different.

3. you will update your site with the answers to the questions.

4. you will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.

5. when others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions. and so on and so forth. this is a redundant rule but i guess lists look better when they come in multiples of five.