Writing Cute.

Never in my 50 odd years of life have I been accused of writing anything that was cute. And for the life of me, no matter how hard I tried to, not even once was anything I wrote actually cute. Now, sure, some have uttered “How cute!” after having read what I had written, but it was always in a mocking tone and never really sincere. No, never has anyone seen cuteness in my writing; truly, even I have never found it there.

This, though it sounds like a trivial matter, I assure you, is not. This is of grave concern, not only to me, but to the planet. Yes, your very lives depend on it dear readers. Your lives depend on my ability to create cute writing. The kind of writing that crosses almost into fantasy, though it remains true to ‘real’ life. The kind of writing that will have a serial rapist fall in love with one of her victims. The kind of writing that would have the same rapist help her victim get through his troubles. The kind of writing in which the two would marry each other; in which the victim would figure out the identity of the rapist; in which love would prevail and they would remain together. Together in a relationship where the victim would role-play to keep the rapist’s ‘bad habits’ at bay.

Yes, but such writing eludes me. For whatever reason, once the topic is on paper it never actually comes off as being cute, rather it has a nasty habit of being, nothing but, absurd. Such shame. But you are wondering how this effects the planet, as you should. Well, as it happens, I’ve been sick for the past couple of weeks, as no doubt you’ve noticed by the absence of new notes. Yes, I’ve had a terrible fever that only just passed. And it was in this fever that I had the pleasure, though some maybe describe it otherwise, of meeting a peculiar young man. A young man going by the name Lev Nikolayevitch Myshkin – though you should know the spelling may be off, as I’ve never seen it written.

This young man who appeared to me, for it could have been nothing less than an apparition, begged me, in the name of all things holy, to write something cute. He said, and I quote “The world needs cuteness. It needs to look upon it and be saved.” Here, once again, I feel obliged to tell you that he may not have been using the term correctly. As it seemed that he was over-concerned about me understanding him, and thus went out of his way to use ‘appropriate’ terms, terms I could understand. However, in this caution of his, he may have done the opposite of what he had set out to do. Still I may be wrong about the matter, I was indeed in a fever, and seeing ghosts! – for crying out loud.

Well, be that as it may, it is now my obligation, as I’ve promised Mr. Nikolayevitch, to save the word, with cuteness none-the-less. With what he though I would understand cuteness as. That, my dear readers, may be a great number of things, though I think it boils down to one; one possible thing that he may have meant and I may have thought, that one thing being beauty. But this, once again, puts me in a horrible position, as you see I’ve never written anything beautiful either. Whatever is a fool to do?

(side note: sometimes I confuse a fool for an idiot. if such is the case above: I am sorry.)

-Jakob Lint