A million little annoyances

As I sat in the Marjane Satrapi talk last night, I realized how funny all these talented artists are. She was funny, as was James Turrell; Orhan Pamuk was very, very funny. Not silly funny, but smart funny. I wonder if there's a relationship between their humor and sensibilities and their creativity. And I also realized that I'm not funny. I don't mean that I'm not funny in any way, shape, or form, I'm just not funny when it comes to talking about my work. Which is how these other artists are, they're funny when they talk about their work. Here, on this blog, where I talk about my work, I write in fingerstothebone dry style; and my artist statements and blurbs are pretty humorless, too.

Just in case that there's a connection between funny and creativity, I'd like to try for some funny. Maybe funny and creativity feed each other. Today was a perfect day for me to practice funny. As the title suggests, it was a day of a million little annoyances. No accidents, no illnesses, but lots of those annoyances that, in the hands of a funny person, could make a really funny post.

I realize that it would still not be funny about my work, but it would be good funny practice. All day I've been thinking about this, thinking how I could phrase things, present things, or highlight certain things. And I came up with...nothing.

And now I'm just too darned tired to think about funny. I think sleep trumps funny.