Tag Archives: Videos

“The Consumption”

The poor boy was afflicted at birth
Bitten by the creative bug
Bugging others
With his hypersensitive sense of humor

The poor boy,
Sick in the head,
Never sought treatment
He went mad instead

Drove others mad as well
Had little friends
That by night, danced in his head,
And by day, went to bed

Soon, this poor boy
Really got loopy
Decided that he
Wasn’t insane

By day, and by night
He drove himself mad
With letters on a screen
And dreams that he had

Day in, and day out
His failures mounted
Time fading fast,
No dollars to be counted

Still, he dreamed on
Of making himself laugh
Writing good stories
And the occasional poem

Mike Judge taunted him
And Pewdiepie, too
Many people did
And so few knew

The poor boy was hardheaded
Ignored all diagnoses
He wasn’t sick!
He was destined for show biz!

In his heart, he knew
That they’d all care one day
That he was born to express,
Longed for the stage

He danced and he sang
To all that would listen
With every watching eye,
His own would glisten

He waged battles in his head
Each side had a general
There was only one war,
But multiple agendas…

The poor boy ran around
In his own head each day
For no recognition,
And certainly no pay

What was his dream?
Was it to dance?
Was it to be a homebody
With no pants?

He talked and he talked
He danced and he sang
No one else around,
Just doing his thing

He was Elvis in the shower,
Michael Jackson while mowing the lawn
Jordan while exercising
While in spirit, Rick Vaughn

He longed for the stars
Compelling dark fiction
Looking for laughs
From all that would listen

The stress in his head,
The fears and the doubts,
Kept him silent,
Kept his words from coming out

He had to battle himself,
And prove to the world,
That his words had meaning
And resonance

The desire to create
Always consumed him,
And he wanted to be talented
To all that knew him

Disturbed – Down With The Sickness Parody (DISCRETION ADVISED).

Insightful.

“The Garlic Journal” Announcement

Now is as good of a time as any to announce “The Garlic Journal”: a parody of “The Onion” that reads more like a personal opinion piece. Basically, I intend “The Garlic Journal” to be joke articles where I take extreme positions that I don’t honestly believe for comedic effect (or for satire). “The Garlic Journal” is intended to enrage and get people laughing (or, more importantly, thinking, if they are actually capable of it (which I am not anticipating to be the case most of the time. At least I’ll get a good laugh out of it all)). Basically, a more extreme version of what I already do.

I already pretend to be a monster on Youtube. I plan on continuing this, and trying to work on getting better with video (but it will be a slow process). The writing will be similar to that. I plan on writing joke articles in defense of pedophilia, racism, and political assassination, to name a few subjects. I hope that my human right of free speech will be protected. It is quite scary. The more oppressive the United States government becomes, the more terrifying it, obviously, is. And, based upon the way the current political climate feels among the citizenry, this trend is going to continue. Political correctness and statism are leading America straight towards totalitarianism, and it remains to be seen if the diligent minority will be enough to keep the Republic from collapsing completely. But, nonetheless, I am going to write joke articles. I’m going to express my natural human right of free expression. I hope that people will support my right, even if they hate my sense of humor.

And, for the love of God, I hope that no one finds out where I live, and that some maniac decides to try to kill me, as I know will be the case someday. I fully expect to end up like Larry Flint; or, at the very least, Martin Luther King Jr. Is it worth it? All I can say is that I feel incomplete without it. There’s a part of me that deeply wants to do this, in spite of the risks involved. There’s something about expressing your rights freely in the face of dangerous threat. It’s perhaps the most exhilarating feeling there is.

“I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.” – Evelyn Beatrice Hall.

We mustn’t let the evil people win.

“Give me liberty, or give me death!” – Patrick Henry, March 23rd, 1775.

Offend the Fuck Out of People.

Purpose

I have a tendency to write about “human nature”, but for this piece, I will try to focus solely on myself. Sometimes, I feel brain-dead. I feel as if no stimulation is entering my brain, or that the stimulation that is still, for all intents and purposes, is not enough to alleviate my “brain-dead” status. And it isn’t anyone’s fault but my own.

It isn’t that I don’t have things to do. I have plenty of things to do. But I’ve written about this problem before. It’s partly a commitment issue. A fear issue. An independence issue. I am fully aware that my decisions now will affect me forever. And that weight often produces a crippling anxiety within me that freezes (or, at least, limits) my decision-making ability.

It isn’t that I’m not making decisions because I’m anxious. I’m just making anxiety-induced decisions. It’s a type of homeostasis: a comfort level. A security issue. This safety net conflicts me. On the one hand, I have set routines which, although not perfectly ideal, are, at least for the moment, tolerable practically. There are still bigger hopes and dreams, but the routines are tolerable. But, at the moment, I find myself asking what my purposes are. I don’t want to get caught in a routine where I don’t think about my life and what I’m doing. I don’t want to become an automaton: I want to actually think of what purpose my actions have, and what I wish for them to lead to. And the best way for me to do this is philosophically. A big part of this, I believe, are three things: independence, commitment, and acceptance.

Independence

I am becoming better at the “independence” part. I do not feel as gullible as I did when I was a child. I’m making progress. I’m writing my own independent thoughts. Trying out various things to gain internet attention. Listening to the advice that others give me, but still making decisions that I feel like are my own, whether I apply their advice or not. There’s a lot of creative independence in my life, but even this has started to become “automatic”. A large part of this has to do with how few people care about my work. I’ve already decided that I do my creative work for myself, and whatever I enjoy doing, but I still dream of making my creative endeavors a career. Laugh if you wish. Suggest all you want. But I can’t get this idea out of my head. I can’t get the thought of writing and making people laugh for money out of my head. I don’t want to know what my life would be like without these thoughts. I don’t care about making more money if it means I hate my job (there’s obviously a bare minimum amount of money which I must make to sustain my life, and if it fulfilled what I’m looking for in this piece, I obviously wouldn’t be writing this). It’s obviously “about the money” to a certain extent, as I’d like to get paid for what I like to do so that I don’t need to do anything else to sustain myself. But that figure may simply be as much as I’m currently making (which is on the low-end of five figures). So it isn’t about being rich (although who could reject that?): it’s more about the labor. Enjoying the labor. Feeling a sense of purpose with my life’s work. That’s what I’m after more than anything.

I’ve written about my lazy nature here. And it is difficult for me to feel independent when everyone gives their advice. Of course, I listen to most of it, even if I don’t take it. But it never feels like something I need to do. The problem is the uncertainty factor: the future is always uncertain, to varying degrees. Although some people are better at predicting certain things than certain others, there’s still no “perfect blueprint” that everyone must live by in order to be “best prepared for the future”. If that were the case, then we, as humans, would not feel free, but would rather feel like pawns in the “grand scheme”. We, as humans, have wills, and make decisions. This is what we do. This, indeed, is a large part of actually being human. When faced with an uncertain future, we combine our desires and our forecasting abilities to make decisions to maximize our level of happiness, and then we gauge the results as they come in. That’s all we do, every single day, for our entire lives.

Leaving “desires” aside, and not trying to say which desires are “more valuable” than others, how do we determine whose decisions are better than others? In other words, how do I know whether or not my decision-making process is better or worse than anyone else’s decision-making process? First off, I have my own desires, which I will use my decision-making ability to try to achieve. And sure, I’m sure there are people whose decision-making processes would be better suited for me to achieve my own desires than my own decision-making processes. But how do I know? How do they know, and how do I know? How do they know they are right, and how do I know they are right? How do they know I’m wrong? The only answer, in practice, is to test the hypotheses: do it my way, and do it their way.

This poses some problems, however. There’s time constraints, as using multiple complex methods to achieve complicated ends can take more than a lifetime to achieve. There are people who spend their entire lives mastering crafts and skills to achieve their goals. If they are already spending their entire lives doing this, why should they listen to anyone else, and do it their own way and the way of the one suggesting the new way? The time and effort that it would take to do this for even two different ways can take too much time and effort to do effectively. But what about the individual desires of the one acting? What if he doesn’t want to do it the other way? Why are his desires seemingly neglected in almost every single piece of advice given when it comes to making decisions, career choices, etc.?

Of course, there are many people with lots of life experience who know things that others don’t: people with skills in various industries, who have had enlightening experiences that have guided them positively throughout their entire lives, and who are simply wishing to share that positivity with others. But the point is that each decision ultimately comes down to the person making that decision, and he or she will have his or her own reasons for making that decision; indeed, each individual has their own desires, and this is the most important part. Each individual is born with desires, and these desires happen to be diverse. Therefore, there will be no “universal blueprint” to satiate the desires of everyone. So what is one to do? That is up to the individual: one must decide, for himself or herself, what he or she believes to be the best course of action for him or her.

…And that’s that. There will be regret, mistakes, triumphs, and jubilation to be had along the way, for all participants in “life”. That, I think, is the ultimate point. There will be “ups and downs”, and the point is to figure out “Why am I here? What am I doing? What is my purpose?”

That is the eternal question.

I see that I have failed in my initial goal to talk more about myself than “human nature”, so I’ll close with this: What is my purpose? Why do I feel like I am here? What do I want?

I can’t say that I know what my “purpose” is. I can give what my purpose is for particular actions, but not for my overall reason of existence. Obviously, the purpose of my actions, as stated above, is to attempt to maximize my happiness. What makes me happy? Dreaming of getting paid for what I love to do. What do I love to do? That’s a deeper question that I don’t think is completely answered yet. At the moment, I enjoy writing. Things like this. I like making myself laugh, and sharing those thoughts with others to try to make them laugh as well. How do I get paid for these things? And can I? I have no idea.

But it is my purpose to find out.

How do I know when to “quit”? How and when will I know whether or not I have “succeeded” or “failed”? Once again, I do not know. I will only know that when the time comes, and right now, my only purpose is to dream of having a career that makes me happy, do what makes me happy, and then work on making money at that by, somehow, getting people to care. It’s very tentative, as, as I’ve said, I don’t really care if people like it or not. There’s an obvious conflict: if I don’t care, then how do I expect to get paid? For one, I don’t think that me caring has anything to do with whether or not people find the work “good”: they will find it “good” or “bad” independent of how I feel about them (although perhaps if I said “I hate any fans I may have”, they may decide to hate my work from that point on). But I’m confident in my abilities to create work that people will like. What evidence do I have to justify this claim to you? My response is: I don’t care about justifying my response to you. My goal is to make it happen in order to prove to you that I can do it. I simply want to prove “everybody” wrong. More than anything, that is what I want. I want to do it simply because of the voices that tell me that I can’t, or that I won’t. They are as big of a motivating factor as any, if not more so. I want to prove everybody wrong. That is a major purpose of my work.

Obviously, I want to enjoy my work, and I want to get paid to do it. I enjoy work like this, which is simply a writing down of my thoughts, which are too complicated to organize in this piece (I can’t tell you “what my thoughts are”: you simply have to read things I have written). I enjoy making myself laugh. I suppose I’m simply looking for “like-minded individuals”. If I can’t find that, then I’ll settle for vitriol, as long as I’m known of (you can’t get paid if no one knows who you are. “You also can’t get paid if no one likes you.” See, vague phrases like that are dumb. It is very rarely that someone is universally hated. Even someone “universally hated” like Trump (Trump parody 1, Trump parody 2) is beloved by many. This is simply hateful, stupid language to use by miserable people who want to bring others down (I know this from intimate experience)). So, as I have said many times, and will say again, my purpose is to get paid for work that I enjoy doing. I enjoy writing jokes, making myself look like an idiot, and, from time to time, trying to sound intelligent (like I’m trying to sound in this article). I still have a desire to write fiction, but it is so much work that I don’t want to exhaust myself by bringing it up in this piece, so I’ll end my discussion of fiction here. I don’t know when or if I’m going to “call it quits”. I don’t know when or if I’m going to change careers. I do not know. All I know is that I want this, and I’m going to do it and see what happens.

*insert “Not everyone gets what they want”, “Sometimes, you have to compromise”, and other pieces of advice here. My secretary will be ignoring you shortly.

And, I will conclude with this: once again, who is right, who is wrong, and how do we really know without extensive experimentation that isn’t really worth carrying out in the long run?

Commitment

Commitment is very intimately related to independence. Indeed, if I commit, it will be me that does it. What am I talking about here? What am I wanting to commit to?

I’m wanting to commit to the work that makes me happy. I want to work on my projects at my own schedules, which I do. I’m typically lazy, but, as I stated above, my routines are becoming stale, and I need a change. I think this is going to involve becoming more committed to my work. My work exhausts me, and I hate that. No one cares about my work, and I hate that. But I still want to do it. It almost feels like all I want. I can’t describe the rate at which I want to work on my work: all I can say is that I don’t want the load to drive me crazy, but I also actually want to get things completed. I don’t know how to pinpoint it more than that. Most days, I don’t really want to work on it. It’s exhausting, and I think “Why would I do this right now? I won’t be getting paid for it. So why put that much effort into it?” And so, I don’t. And I consume the works of others instead. And I do this until my routines become too boring, and then, I start to write the things that are on my mind, like I’m doing here. Or, I bring that thing that made me laugh to life. And then…that’s it. Again and again, over and over. I haven’t figured out how to commit to this yet. It feels more like a hobby, when I feel like I want it to be my life. But I’m afraid of committing and later finding out that I don’t really want it anymore. That fear prevents me from committing to a lot of different decisions. I believe my raising has a lot to do with this, as my parents always told me to “do something different” than they did. I interpreted this to mean actually liking my job, even if that isn’t what they meant. And I’m going to keep this interpretation.

Although, in the previous “chapter”, I discussed how I want my own independence (and I’ve written about it here), I’m still terrified by it. The truth is, many of these routines are comforting to me, as I feel like I know what to expect, even if what I expect is less than desirable. There is something terrifying to me about committing more time and energy to writing, acting, and comedy. A large part of it is the unknown factor. And the regret factor. What if I become elderly, and regret and lament all of the years I spent doing this stuff? It’s a very complicated mess that I haven’t quite figured out, regardless of the gusto with which I wrote the first “chapter” “Independence”. I get bogged down with the amount of time and effort it takes to complete something, and then, I “take a break” (or “quit”). But then, once again, the routines bore me, and I come back.

Something that terrifies me is maybe I’m not as “committed” to all of this as I wish I was. Perhaps none of this work truly is a “life-or-death” matter. I think I wish it were; that way, I would feel more compelled to actually do it. But the truth is that the work exhausts me, and I don’t want to do it. But then I get bored, and want to do it. It frightens me that maybe I’m not truly a writer, because then, that begs the question: “What the fuck am I?!” And that triggers the immediate post-high school graduate existential crisis of “What am I going to do with my life?!”

As I’ve stated, my purpose is to make a career out of what I like to do. And I’m doing what I like to do. I like to write, make people laugh, etc., which I’ve stated ad nauseam. But how committed am I to all of this? Is this just some hobby? What is it? At the moment, it is a way for me to pass the time and not feel a crushing level of boredom. But will it ever be more than that? The lazy side of me wants to make it a career, but I don’t know if it ever will or not. But my perspective about that is that if I like doing it, then I might as well adopt the “I’m going to try to make this a career” attitude, because I’m going to do it whether or not it becomes a “career”. So, from my perspective, adopting the “I’m going to make this a career” attitude gives me nothing to lose (although, of course, people will say I could be learning a more marketable skill, etc. etc. I’ve addressed all of this above in the “Independence” “chapter”).

I’ve written an article on laziness called…”On Laziness”…, but there is another aspect of my laziness that I want to write about here. As smart economists know, being productive is not the same thing as working hard: you work harder digging with a spoon than a shovel or a bulldozer, but you aren’t as productive. And I realized that early on, working hard wasn’t really all that it was cracked up to be. This was particularly apparent to me in school, involving reading. Due in part to the fact that I was intelligent, and didn’t need to put in a lot of effort to get the answers “right”, I never really “worked hard” in school. At one point, I tried to make things harder because I was bored. But that felt stupid to me, so I stopped. But the work became so boring, and never fulfilled my “philosophical side”, that I stopped caring. I barely passed, and started to fail more. But it didn’t matter to me, because the subjects sucked. It still doesn’t matter to me. I only wish that I had been around subjects that I actually cared more about, but educational reform is a topic for another piece (and for other people). Once again, this goes back to the “desire” portion of this piece, its individualistic nature, and why or why not some desires are “more important” than others.

But why work hard on something that you don’t care about? For a long time, I didn’t really know what I cared about. I just went through the motions (as I feel like I still do most of the time). But I didn’t care, so I stopped working hard. When it was easy, I tried to make it hard. And when it actually got hard, I just stopped caring. I don’t have any regrets about this, as, as I’ve said, the subjects were boring and uninteresting to me (I know you are going to tell me how I should’ve paid attention to things I didn’t care about, but I’m going to ignore your advice by ignoring you right now, other than this small response sentence).

I don’t really know what I’ve cared about. I’ve cared deeply about philosophy. I care about economics. I care about money. And I care about being happy. I care about maximizing the time that I do things that I enjoy. Other than that (and, of course, friends, family, and a general wish for good for mankind), there isn’t much that I care about. I’m still figuring out what I like do to, and figuring out what sticks.

Acceptance

The final “chapter” of this piece is acceptance. My first thought is people saying that I need to “accept” that I’ll never become a professional writer, that I’ll never make it big on Youtube, etc. etc. But, once again, none of their alternatives make me happy, and why in the fuck would I purposefully make myself less happy than I am currently? Don’t we all live to be as happy as possible? Isn’t that what we want? Isn’t that why we work? Isn’t that why we want families? If it isn’t, then why in the fuck are we doing what we’re doing?!

I’m not so naive to suggest that absolute, complete happiness is possible. You’d be an idiot to suggest that that is my point. However, if we do not take actions to maximize our happiness, then why are we even fucking alive? What is it that we are actually doing if we aren’t trying to make ourselves happy? And what’s the point of what we are doing? Few people I’ve encountered have a satisfactory answer to those questions. Indeed, few people I’ve encountered even truly understand those questions.

So if I’m not talking about “picking a different career” acceptance, what type of acceptance am I talking about? Well, it isn’t “picking a different career” acceptance yet. The first acceptance is accepting that I am not “famous”. My work is not renowned around the world; my words are not “massively influential”. I stock groceries for a living. That is my life. (Yes, these words are coming from a grocery stocker. If that makes you more impressed, I’ll gladly reveal that to you. And even if they don’t, I may find your response entertaining, so I’ll let you know, anyway). My hobbies include watching Youtube videos, and…eating. I get too mentally exhausted to read as much as would probably be beneficial to me. Same with writing, making videos, etc. I watch content from other people that makes me laugh, post a few jokes every now and then, play some video games every once in a while, and act stupid for 10 seconds at a time in internet videos. And that has been the “routine” for a long time now. And it is becoming stale.

The solution to that, as I’ve said, is writing more like this, figuring out how to make my fiction better (on my own accord: I do not want to be “taught” from someone else), and working on making more (and funnier) funny videos. Of course, I have to accept the fact that if none of it ever goes “viral”, I will be putting a lot of time and effort into things which will never make me the money that I wish would. And I will have to decide if I will do something different, or stay the course. In my opinion, it is too early to tell. I believe very deeply that I can get people to pay attention to me. I believe that I can get people to find my words insightful, as I believe some people will find this. I believe that I can make some people laugh, through Twitter hashtags and Youtube videos. I believe these things deep down. And doing them makes me happy. So I have incentives for doing these things, even if I’m missing out on “truck driving money”, etc. I accept the fact that no one but me really cares about what I’m doing right now. I accept the fact that nothing I’m doing is making me any money. And I need to decide how much more time and effort I’m going to invest in these things that I enjoy doing. I don’t ultimately know the answer, but I want to keep doing these things if they make me happy; and the thought of seeing my creative visions come to life, and adding more and more completed visions as time passes, and thinking of the possibility that some people might actually like them, and that enough of those people will eventually give me enough money to live off of, is enough for me to keep doing it, regardless of how “realistic” any of these dreams actually are……

Highly Sensitive Mind.

Murray Rothbard.

Even more Murray Rothbard.

On Boredom

I decided to write this article on a day when, no surprise, I was bored. To remedy this problem, I decided to drive to McDonald’s: my deadly way of typically dealing with boredom (not only is eating when you are bored deadly; but eating at McDonald’s? Premature death, here I come). I debated it briefly, as I know how unhealthy McDonald’s food is. And I had already eaten there the day prior. But, after a few minutes, I decided to, anyway, and left the house full of guilt.

On my way home, I contemplated my boredom. I remembered that, throughout most of my teenage years, I experienced extreme boredom, with little stimuli to remedy it. Boredom led me to start writing again after many years, back in 2012. But there are some complicated things that arose in me on that way home from McDonald’s, and I’m going to attempt to write them all out here.

After I remembered how bored I used to be, I thought of all of the different things that I am able to do today. Particularly, I enjoy writing, making Youtube videos, and writing jokes. That’s what I enjoy doing, and I dream of making money at all of these someday. But then I realized that, for some reason, I get bogged down with these things. Not bored, but just…unmotivated. Why is it that I’m not working on what I like to do? And the answer was the amount of work involved.

I come up with ideas, but rarely complete them. Coming up with a good idea is the easy part, but I’m always so unmotivated to complete them. And I don’t know why. It’s some kind of commitment issue. I realize that at the rate at which I come up with ideas, to complete them all, and as well as I would like to, would require a fulltime, life commitment to these projects. And I have always been terrified of spending too much time on one thing to the detriment of doing other things. I feel like that was taught to me at some point (and conservatism prevented me from dedicating my time to anything other than God, and that’s probably a huge part of it as well). But I’m in a constant state of boredom, and, typically, I have to rely on myself to get myself out if it. I am a consumer of the works of others, but no one can entertain me like me.

I already wrote an article about my laziness, but my laziness causes a conflict with my boredom. I said in that piece that I typically create things when I’m at my most bored. And I’ve stated that a main reason for my creativity is to entertain myself. But, I believe I’ve said before, something is missing. My work ethic and time commitment to my projects is lacking. Part of this is I like relaxing, having fun, and consuming the works of others (as long as they entertain me). But sometimes, the well runs dry, and I need to do something for myself. But I’m lazy about my work. My ideas require a lot of skills that I currently don’t have, and that’s what is most frustrating about this. I work on the simple things, which are fine. But the really good stuff is the stuff you put more work into. But that would require me knowing how to use my software editing program more than I do, which means I need to learn it, and it aggravates me to have to learn certain things that I don’t already know. I don’t know why that is. Maybe it pisses me off to be stupid, so I remain in ignorance to somehow pout? I don’t know. All I know is that I’m too lazy to learn how to do it to the level that I need to create what I want to create. But I think there’s something more to it as well.

I think a great deal of it goes back to my own personal history with religious conservatism. For some reason, I have always seen working towards a goal as something to be avoided. I think it has to do with being taught that I should focus more on Heavenly rewards, and not Earthly ones. I think I have trained myself, over the years, to hate “Earthly” rewards. And if working is what gets you those Earthly rewards, then I don’t need to work. It sounds stupid now, but I really believe that I have trained myself to do this over the years. And when I finally realized that I needed a job so that I could have money so that I could have a car, etc., I started studying economics to give myself a perspective about money that wasn’t the religious one that I had developed prior. Although I’m naturally a lazy person, religious conservatism taught me to hate working for goals (unless those goals were religiously-oriented). But now, I have so many different things that I want to do, and I need to find a way to get over this pious hump.

I realize to many people, all of this “religious conservatism” talk is gobbledy-gook. And, for your sake, that’s probably a good thing. You don’t want to be able to intimately relate to my words about religious conservatism, because all they do is stunt you, and make you feel like shit. So you aren’t fucking missing out on anything. Consider yourself blessed.

So I have this bias against completing goals. Like I said, if the goal wasn’t “God-oriented”, then it was sinful, worldly, and should be hated and condemned. I don’t believe that today, but the problem is that emotionally, I’m still stuck back in those old days. It’s similar to knowing that McDonald’s will kill me, but eating it anyway. And hating myself for it afterward. Something has to click for me to stop eating at McDonald’s. Maybe it’s a heart attack. Maybe it’s actually learning about how the body works, and ignoring my religious history with the body and medicine, which, for some stupid reason, was me repeating stupid phrases about God in an echo chamber within my head instead of intently paying attention to the body, how it works, and how to take care of it when I first learned about these things as a child. Seriously, anything “worldly” I ignored. I know that’s fucking stupid. And I know not everyone can relate to that. But fucking welcome to religious conservatism; welcome to the fear of God.

So now, I sit. Full of ideas. Videos that make me laugh, things to write. But I don’t fucking do them. Because it involves sitting and thinking; starting, elaborating, and completing. The biggest hurdle I have, in my opinion, is the religious conservative hurdle. Once again, I know not everyone can understand this. But the idea of putting so much time, energy, and passion into a project triggers my old “that’s a sin” reflex, and I have to train myself to stop doing that. Because nothing is getting done. It’s so fucking stupid. And disastrous. And I hate the conservatives that put those thoughts into my head. (Hell: maybe they were my own brand-spanking new shit ideas. I don’t know). But I have got to find a way to dedicate more time and energy into my works. I’ve got to find a way to organize all of this shit, ignore the previous religious fear, and dedicate all of the time that I want to into my works. It will typically occur when I am the most bored, but I’m tired of only skimming the surface with my work. I know I have the potential to create more work at a faster pace, and create more meaningful work. Better work. I know it’s in me. And it’s going to take a lot of work to get it out of me. But I fucking want it. And I need to find my own, healthy perspective about my work, so that I have goals in mind, and can work towards them. This is going to take some time, as unraveling prior shitty thoughts is always hard (I think of poor people raised in an Islamic world, and realize that they have, perhaps, a harder time than anyone unraveling the shit taught to them, as they are taught violence to a degree unlike anyone else in the world: absolutely senseless, deplorable violence). But I want to dedicate my life to writing, and comedy. I really do. Of course, 10 years from now, I could change my mind. But right now, all I want to do is write, and make myself laugh. That’s it. And I’m fucking tired of not doing it.

As I have always said, I need more practice sitting, thinking, organizing, and I need to find a way to dedicate myself to all of this full time, so I can get it all done, and so I can stop being so fucking bored and miserable all of the time, because this is the shit that makes me happy.

I don’t have anything to add about getting paid for all of this garbage at the moment. Although, I think there is a part of me that gets discouraged that my work is not as popular as is my goal to make it (only for financial purposes), and that prevents me from working as fast or as hard. But that’s a topic for another piece.

I’ve got a whole life of work ahead of me, and I need to figure out how to actually fucking do it……

Insightful.

McDonald’s?

More McDonald’s?

On Reading

It seems only fair that, being a writer, I should write something about reading, as writing is meant to be read. I write because things are within me that I desire to get out. The “getting them out” provides a relief and satisfaction to me. And, after that, I desire to have them read by others. I don’t particularly care for praise. There is a momentary “feel-good” moment, but it is incredibly short. Likewise, I care not much for criticism. Obviously, I do not care for criticism that I feel is unwarranted. And I may read a criticism and say the critic has a point, and I may or may not decide to adapt based on the criticism. But the opinions of others do not matter very much to me as a writer. I do not write to be read. I write to write. I write for me. Readers only matter to me to the extent that I receive payment from them. Money from the reader is the best satisfaction that the reader can give me. And I am not willing to compromise on my personal satisfaction of a completed piece of writing to try to make the writing more popular to attempt to make more money from the piece. The piece will be written in a way that I enjoy, and then it will be attempted to be sold, regardless of how many are ultimately sold.

So considering my “disdain” for readers, how do I feel about myself as a reader? Well, for one, I am far from an avid reader. Perhaps it is because I am “stupid” (I don’t really think so), but I do not read that much. I spend more time consuming music or internet videos than writing. And I am perfectly content with doing so. I’ll miss out on “everything” and be perfectly content with that. I’m content with my current “entertainment-consumption”.

The only exception to this comes in the form of reading non-fiction: in particular, pieces about economic theory. I am interested in economic theory because, for one, I believe that it will help me acquire more financial resources, and two, I have a natural desire to try to understand “how the world works”. I have a desire to learn about money, jobs, and why it all takes place: why it all happens. And after discovering that this subject was called “economics”, I began studying economics, and economics (mainly economic theory, at the moment), takes up most of my “reading time”.

I’ve discussed my childhood experiences with reading several times, and how I grew to dislike it because of school. And I’ve also discussed my lazy nature. But how do I feel about fiction? How do I feel about subjects that aren’t related to economics?

For one, the problem that I’ve had with fiction is that I’ve never been able to understand the motivations of the writer. Even as a child, this fact bugged me. When we were required to go to the library to check out books to read, I could only think Why did this writer write this? Why does this book exist?”, and I couldn’t concentrate on what was actually within the pages, because I could only think of that question. That’s how my mind works: I get stuck on “whys”, particularly philosophical ones, and I can’t concentrate on anything else until I get a satisfactory answer for the question. I am perfectly content with this. It’s simply in my nature to be this way, and I enjoy it.

I suppose that I never started to understand “why” writers write until I began to write myself. I had a desire to write a fictional story about a serial killer, and I did. Then, I published it, and it didn’t sell well, while I accumulated some negative reviews in the process. (Around this time is when I started to become interested in economics as well). I kind of just let everything “sit there”, without making changes to the pieces (I wrote a couple of more shortly after this, with a limited number of mixed reviews; mainly negative, however), and waited to see what would happen. And, as I should have expected, nothing much did. But I’ve learned a lot through the experience, and I continue to learn in my “creative business” journey: mainly, through observation and self-reflection, rather than a direct attempt from someone to “teach me”.

I enjoyed writing when I was a kid, and mainly only did so when I was required to in school. But I loved it when I started it. It was a very enjoyable experience, and I wasn’t that bad at it. But it took me many years to start writing again after elementary school. The first time I ever wrote fiction was either in 2000 or 2001 while in elementary school. I do not remember the prompt, but it was something about being visited by aliens in my backyard, and being scared shitless by seeing them through the window. It was very vivid to me. It was alive, and I put it down on paper. I didn’t have enough room to finish the story. All of the teachers were very impressed. I knew that being a writer was within me.

But later on (I can’t quite remember how much later on; maybe months, maybe years), I tried to either rewrite or expand upon that initial alien idea, and I couldn’t (I didn’t have my initial writing in front of me, but that wasn’t the problem). I don’t think my imagination was developed enough (it’s an odd thing to say that a child’s imagination isn’t developed enough, as, typically, a child’s imagination is as vivid as any human’s can be, with imagination dwindling as one gets older). Or perhaps the problem was one of organization. I can remember not knowing how to start the story. So I sat there, and sat there, and sat there. Wrote some shit down, and didn’t know where to go with it. I liked what I had written, but I had no idea what to do with it. And I think I cried. I think I was sad about that. I think I hated it, and crumpled up the paper and threw it away. I can’t quite remember, but I know that I was angry and sad that I couldn’t elaborate anymore on what I had written. And I didn’t start writing any other piece of fiction until either 2011 or 2012.

When I started writing again, it was because I was bored. I had no job (as I didn’t understand why I needed one; this was when I started studying economics, to learn what was happening in the world before I just jumped into it (I try to do that, but I also have a tendency to jump into things when I don’t know what I’m doing, so my decision-making process is inconsistent, to say the least. Depends on how badly I want or don’t want to do whatever it is)). I had been playing sports video games for years, and I was doing the same right before I started writing “Torture”. It was NHL 2K7. (You can very clearly see some influences in the beginning of the story). Madden 2005 was the first sports game that I became obsessed with. I had played a few before then (Triple Play 98, MLB Slugfest 2003 and World Cup 98 were some of my favorites before then), but Madden became a new type of obsession. I played and played and played. And I branched out to other sports as well. I played NFL, NBA, MLB and NHL sports games, and tried to find a way to make them “equal” to one another (I guess a type of OCD, but maybe not). My home state of North Carolina didn’t have a baseball team, and having franchises as the “Charlotte Bobcats” (as they were at the time), “Carolina Panthers”, “Carolina Hurricanes”, and “Atlanta Braves” bugged me (even the “Charlotte” and “Carolina” difference bugged me). As I said, maybe it was obsessive-compulsive disorder. But it bugged me. I’d play one NFL game, 5 NBA games, 5 NHL games, and 10 MLB games, to try to get all of the seasons to finish in order. I also started separate files so that I could play as different “areas” (Detroit, Minnesota, etc.). I only remember finishing a few seasons, and I didn’t feel satisfied once they were over. The first season that I finished was a Pittsburgh Steelers season. I believe the next that I finished was a Tampa Bay Buccaneers season. I finished a few more after that, but I would always end up deleting the files before I finished the seasons. It wasn’t satisfying to me, for some reason. Later, I tried to start a spreadsheet to keep track of the stats from season to season for the different sports, but eventually, it felt pointless to me. Finally, one day while playing NHL 2K7, I thought “Oh yeah. I used to like to write. Let’s do that again.”

I always start writing when I’m at my most bored. I start creating things myself when no one else’s “creations” are satisfying me at the moment. I enjoy watching Youtube videos (mainly of people playing video games) because I enjoy observing the different personalities of the people playing the games (I also enjoy watching the games as well). I enjoy the fact that many of the people that I watch have made playing video games on Youtube their fulltime job (of course, I’m trying to get in on that action as well, as is everyone else). I enjoy the jokes that they tell (if you’re new to the medium, you just play a game and you talk: make comments about the game, tell jokes, goof off with friends, etc.). And I enjoy the friendship dynamics between the players. I can’t really explain it that well. All I can say is that if you don’t understand the appeal of it, try watching a few, and if it isn’t “clicking” with you, watch a few more (because there’s probably many out there that you won’t like, as so many people are doing it at the moment). But keep looking until you find that person that just “clicks” with you. Watching people play video games on Youtube is an incredibly social experience: very light-hearted and entertaining to me. But when I’m not watching Youtube videos, I’m writing jokes on Twitter.

Those two things occupy the majority of my time. (Oh yeah, and listening to music while I write jokes). I do not read that much fiction. When I watch Youtube videos, I try to figure out how I can relate the success that the Youtuber has achieved to myself. What about this Youtuber has made him successful, and what am I willing to do that relates us together so that I can attempt to attain his level of success? (I also enjoy laughing at the entertainment that they provide). But I watch the Youtube videos, and try to apply something to myself from them, to try to figure out what makes them successful, and how I can adopt that into my personality.

I don’t feel that way about reading. I think that, intrinsically, I know that I will never be as good as many of “the best” writers out there. And that’s ok with me. I feel like I have more potential as a Youtuber than as a writer, because Youtube as a business model is, in my opinion, easier. The visual media is easier to create than the written word (at least in some ways; sometimes, it’s the opposite, particularly when you get into software editing effects). Also, writing just requires a lot more thinking to me. A lot more patience. I’m not that patient, and I do enough thinking as it is. I don’t need to write down everything that I think (you’ll probably think this if you follow me on Twitter). I spend a lot of time just thinking. Also, I think that I have more potential as a “Youtuber” as opposed to a writer because many people are like me, and just don’t have the patience to read, and would rather watch a flashing screen. (As I said, maybe I’m just an idiot for not reading, but I don’t think I’m as stupid as some people would think I am based on how much I’ve said that I do not enjoy reading).

I feel like I have more potential as an “internet entertainer” (an “internetainer”, if you will) than as a fiction writer. The former is easier to do than the latter (at least as far as the product you are creating is concerned), and takes much less time to do so. It takes much less time to write a string of jokes on the internet than it does to begin writing a new piece of fiction, or continuing an old one, or editing, etc. And my attempt is to write jokes on the internet consistently enough so that people want to keep up with them, and then, they are introduced to the other things that I have on the internet: particularly, the Youtube channel (and, to a smaller extent, the fiction (“smaller” at least for now: we’ll see which direction things go in in the future)). The reason that I spend so much time on these things is that I want to try to make a little bit of money through the Youtube channel, and gaining online attention through jokes is how I’m going to do it.

And this takes a lot of time. Watching the videos of others, making my own, and writing jokes takes up the majority of my time. And I’m ok with that. As I said, my reading interests are narrow, and writing is an exhausting process for me, so I take long breaks from it. But I feel like I’m working towards something: I’m working towards gaining an “online following”, and working towards getting paid for it. That’s what I feel like. And I have future plans for videos, pieces of fiction, etc. The point is trying to sell them (trying to sell the pieces of fiction, and gaining attention on the Youtube channel to get paid through Adsense). I work on them because I have a goal in mind (plus I just enjoy doing them).

With reading, I feel like there is no end goal (as opposed to the reading of non-fiction pieces about economics). To me, reading a piece of fiction isn’t going to help me achieve my goals. Now, you may be saying “Cody, won’t reading good pieces of fiction help you become a better writer?” Well, I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt. But 1) I’ve already stated how I feel about reading, and 2) I want to feel extremely independent in my writing. I don’t want to feel “influenced” by others. I want my voice to be my own, and I’m not looking to “get better” by reading the works of others. I do not care about that. I am confident that I will become a better writer through practice. I don’t want a “teacher”. I want this to be about my own personal experience with writing, and considering that I do not enjoy reading fiction that much, I will not do it. And I do not wish to read simply as a way to make my own writing better. Even if I’m “wrong” (whatever that means), this is what I’m going to do.

And I know that many of you avid readers will think I’m crazy. But this is how I wish to spend my time. And this is how I’m going to do it. I understand that many of you like to spend most of your time reading. Do what you want. And I’m going to do what I want.

And I accept the fact that, more than likely, everything you write is going to be better than everything I write.

…But I’m still going to do it.

I’ll see you on the marketplace.

Insightful.

Excerpts from my fiction.

My poetry.

Inspiration

Are you a creative type? If so, under what mental circumstances do you create? Do you wait for inspiration? Or do you go out and seek it? Does the inspiration come quickly? Or are there long gaps in between? Do you have to work hard to get the idea? And if so, under what circumstances do you begin to work on it afterwards? Once you have what you believe to be a good idea, what makes you work on it? Inspiration? The prospect of the final product? How often do you work on it, and at what interval?

As I sit in my room, at 4:30 in the morning, awaiting another afternoon shift in retail, I can’t help but ponder my current position. I think of all of the work that I must do, and how uninspired I feel to do it. Although I should be sleeping, I can’t help but want to do something. But at the same time, I don’t really want to do it.

I don’t want to feel like I’m not working on anything. I always want to feel like I’m doing something productive: something that will make me money down the road. But I’m not willing to compromise and do something that doesn’t make me happy in order to make that money (besides, apparently, retail). The idea of “selling out” or doing something that doesn’t make me happy in order to make money does not appeal to me. I’m only willing to “sell out” at the bare minimum: sure, I’ll stock shelves for some money. But, personally, I’m not willing to do much more than that.

Friends and family think I’m crazy. And maybe I am. But if the political philosophies that I have been studying for the past few years actually mean anything to me, then I need to make my own decisions in my life and live it.

I always dread hearing what someone else has to say in response to something that I have said. Most of the time, I just really don’t want to hear it. My life may spiral downward because of forces that I’m currently unaware of. Perhaps, others will gloat, or at least say “I told you so” while lending out a helping hand. But I’m just not happy. I’m just not happy with the common words that I hear, so, I believe that the only solution to this problem is to create the words that make me happy. Hmm…that’s good. Please don’t steal it. I’m in that terrifying stage of young adulthood (honestly, you’re always a byproduct of your decisions) where my life could go in many directions, with the majority of them seeming to be shit. Well, it probably will be shit. That is my expectation: that my life is going to be dreadful. I don’t want to hear a goddamn word about rainbows and sunshine. It’s my life, it’s my perspective, and I want it to be dark, if only for the laughs that can come out of it.

Perhaps, I truly only am writing this because I’m tired of hearing the words of others. Honestly, I don’t want to hear anyone’s thoughts on this. But this doesn’t do me any good if it stays on my computer, never published on the internet. It only does me good if it causes someone to say “Hey, that was good. I need to read more of what he writes! And then, give him money!” Once this is completed, that’s the only way this will do me any good. While I’m writing, it’s all good. It’s all therapeutic. But once it’s written, it only has value to me if it is marketed or sold. Because I don’t need to reread what I have written to know what I already think.

I respect advice. I’ve respected it for a lot of my life. I didn’t always take advice, and often, I either found it poor or later on found it to be helpful. But I don’t want it anymore. I’m not happy with what anyone is saying to me. And, personally, I find this to be a problem. Right about now is when someone would say “You can’t always hear what you want to hear.” And I understand your point, but you’re missing mine. You can control a good deal of it if you want to by doing what I wish to do at this point: just tune it all out.

For some reason, I’m just a terrible independent decision-maker. I’m hoping that this is only due to my youth, as the majority of my life has been spent in it, and I’ve made some terrible decisions up to this point. I know that I will always make poor decisions, but I’m hoping that they just become more sporadically spaced as time goes along. I hope that I’m not a “social degenerate”, someone who has “thrown his life away”, who “should’ve learned something worthwhile when he had the chance”, who, instead, lived a grandiose life of dreams regarding-what was that comedy bullshit he wanted to do again? Oh yeah, who cares. Never heard of him. And yeah, he ain’t a King or Rowling, that’s for sure.

The point of this is that I don’t want to seek external validation for my decisions anymore. I spent more time trying to get my father to believe in me like I believed in myself than I can recall. And I understand that he knew a lot that I didn’t. But I don’t think my dreams are completely unfounded. I don’t think my self-confidence is delusional. I don’t think my desires are childish. But I need to figure out what the fuck I’m doing. I have a small sense of it, but I think something is running deeper in me than I’m currently comfortable admitting to myself.

Perhaps I’ll be working in retail on into my 40s, knowing no other career than cereal stocking. That’s a good possibility, from my current perspective. Perhaps if I had only taken the advice of x, I could be making five times more money in my thirties than I’ll make by not taking their advice. Perhaps I’m the only fucking person in this world who doesn’t understand my life direction. Maybe everyone else is right but me. But I can’t listen to them.

I may be delusional, but I’m not stupid. I may be overconfident, but it’s not completely unjustified. I’m a terrified individual. I’m terrified of a tire blowing out as I cruise along the interstate. I’m terrified of my teeth falling out due to drinking too much soda. I’m terrified of my window of opportunity closing as I age, wondering if I’ll regret ignoring the sagacity of my elders. I’m terrified of what type of person I will be in the future. I’m terrified of becoming the type of person I hate. I’m terrified of spiders. I’m terrified of not knowing how to function as an adult. And it wouldn’t be the fault of my parents, because Lord knows they tried to teach me. I just ignored them, for the most part. I listened to them (at least somewhat) when it came to being a good person, but not when it came to, for lack of a better term, “life skills”. Practical skills involving physical labor. My laziness today is the same laziness from when I was a kid. It’s just there. Perhaps it will chain me to a life of minimum wage jobs, but I think I’m good enough at something to escape that life. But what is it? I think writing is part of it, and I think comedy is part of it. It better be, because that’s all that I have.

I love my family to death. I love my father, my mother, my friends. But I don’t want to take anyone’s advice. I’ve done that enough. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn’t, but I don’t want to do that anymore. (I repeat myself so much from piece to piece. Oh well). I want to stay up past 7:30! I want to…no, I’m kidding. But I don’t want to take anyone’s advice right now. I don’t know when I will want to again. But I don’t right now. I appreciate it, but I don’t want to take it. I suppose this piece is a real bellyacher, but maybe it’s just self-therapy. If it is, then I don’t understand why in the fuck I’m publishing it.

I try not to write unless I have some stuff pretty well formed in my head already. At least when it comes to non-fiction. Fiction is a much more spontaneous process. And when I’m not doing something productive, I’m dreaming of future spoils. Isn’t that the life of the creative? You either create, and dream of spoils, or you create and have spoils. Very rarely is there any middle ground in that regard. I spend more time dreaming of fortune than working on what I wish would obtain said fortune. So I guess I have a pretty good ratio going.

The “problem” is that I believe I can do it. Deep down, I believe I can do it. I blame my parents for that one. I was always told that “I could do whatever I set my mind to.” And dammit, I believed them. For better or worse, I fucking believed them. And I have my mind set on becoming wealthy through writing and comedy. And that’s what I’m going to do. Nothing else will satisfy me: my mind is made up.

I’d love to tell you that I spend countless hours, days, and even weeks working on something. And I guess, in some sense, I do. It isn’t always writing. Sometimes it’s a comedy video for Youtube. But I would like to believe that I spend a large majority of my time observing. Observing people who do or have done what I wish to do, and trying to take something from them. Something valuable. Something that I can apply for myself. Seeing what I have in common with those that are doing or did what I dream of doing. I listen to their life stories, looking for similarities to my own. Looking for anything that makes me feel like I’m on the right track; that I’m on my way to doing what they do. And I would like to think that I’ve already learned a lot along the way while doing this, with a lot more to learn coming up in the future.

But one thing that stops me is my own financial failures. Time and energy are very valuable, precious things. And unless you love to do something for it’s own sake (or even for someone else that you love), you aren’t going to spend a lot of time and energy (or even money) doing something. A large part of my dream is dreaming of wealth. And the longer it doesn’t show up, the more my dream changes (or the more depressed I become). Right about now is where you’ll tell me not to care about money, and right about now is where I’ll tell you that I’m ignoring you. Also, right about now is where you’ll tell me why my work isn’t any good, and tell me that’s why I’m not making any money. I’ll refer to you to a previous sentence as to what my response will be.

But something that runs deeper than all of this is a personal conviction that I have that states “Do what you want to do.” This message, in all honesty, may have nefarious roots, but it has become an ingrained part of me for so long that I don’t think I can truly think any other way. I made up my mind at a young age that I was going to try to get paid for something that I wanted to do. I decided this, honestly, in part due to television news broadcasts which scolded CEOs for the amount of money they made. I decided that I wasn’t going to care about money (plus, I believed these same newscasts which stated, in effect, that making money was “ripping people off” (something I now know to be a lie)). Also, an even bigger part of this conviction came through the constant coverage of celebrities. I wanted to become a celebrity…

I wanted to become rich through becoming famous. This is still true today. I saw a bunch of people making a bunch of money by doing things that I thought I could do, and I wanted to do it. It took me several years to figure out exactly what I was going to do, and how I was going to do it, but that’s where I stand today. “I can do that.” That’s been my mentality. Everything that I wish to do for a career began with “I bet I’d like to do that” and “I can do that.”

Of course, I’ve learned along the way that it is harder than I expected. But another part of the reason that I decided to “do what I want to do” is because I had a feeling that only doing something for money when you don’t enjoy what you are doing will suck the soul out of you. Of course, this is what most people with a job do. But I’m only willing to do this to a bare minimum. There are people out there who get paid for doing what they love, and I know I can do that, too.

I don’t need anyone else to believe in me. This, I guess, all started that way, but I don’t need it anymore in order for it to continue (although it does feel good when someone does). I have enough confidence now to believe I can make careers out of everything that I want to make careers out of. The seed has been planted, for better or worse, and I can’t foresee it coming out of the ground anytime soon. Perhaps I’m objectively overconfident. But I’m going to make a choice to determine that I’m just-the-right-amount confident.

So I believe that I have the talent, and I have the desire. So one would think that I work nonstop. And in a sense, I do. But there’s so much work that remains unfinished that I felt the need to explain it for myself in this piece here. Why do I have so much unfinished work? Well, for one, many things “take a back seat” to other things. “That’s a good idea. Write that one down, so you don’t forget it. But I’m actually in the mood to work on this. Now I’m bored with this, I want to work on this. Now this is completed, but here’s a new idea. I don’t want to work on that one now, either, so I’m going to work on this new idea.” It kind of comes down to waiting to be in the right mindset to get something done. Perhaps it’s an extreme application of “Don’t do what you don’t want to do.” I’ve never liked the idea of forcing myself to write when I didn’t feel inspired. When I didn’t already have something to say that I wanted to say. I felt like the writing wouldn’t be as good, it wouldn’t be as fun, and I didn’t want to do it, because that would defeat a large purpose of why I wanted to do it in the first place: because I wanted to do it. And I still feel this way today.

So the way I work is that I work on smaller things while making a note of bigger things to do, and putting off many things while working on a wide variety of things. I have projects that are now years old that have nothing done on them more than “Hey, remember to do this. This is about this.” I think a part of that is waiting until I know what I’m going to do before I start to do it. I don’t want to start writing when I don’t know where something is going to go. Then, once I do, I let the creative process take me away until I at least get some semblance of that, even if unexpected things occur along the way. I sit around, waiting to feel “inspired” (something that financially successful writers probably hate, telling hopeful writers to “keep writing even if you don’t feel it, and finally something will stick”, or something like that. Something about putting in your dues…)

But instead of telling myself to write x amount everyday, and instead of telling myself to work on one specific project before starting on another, I let myself wander. I work on many projects at once, and few of them get done in a timely manner. And I’m kind of ok with that. A part of me wants to get more work done, but I don’t think my work would be as good if I treated it differently. I enjoy being overtaken by inspiration, and then not being able to control my desire and my execution of writing, and perhaps this is dickish of me, but something seems dishonest (at least to me) about forcing words to come. If you have to force words to come, you aren’t a writer. Well, at least, probably not a good one. Perhaps that’s unjustified, but it’s my feeling nonetheless. Writing is very spontaneous for me, with only an idea of what a piece is going to be about. The rest comes through inspiration (and, usually, immense boredom with everything else around me). But the question that I want to ask myself is this:

Why doesn’t inspiration come to me more often? I have enough ideas to keep me busy constantly. But I never feel inspired to do them. Once again, right about here is when an “established writer” will tell me that I need to put in the “elbow grease”, that everything isn’t going to be “squeaky clean”, and other cliches that I want to ignore. I don’t understand inspiration. I feel like I’d love to be able to write as much and as well as “greats”. And I’m sure that a lot of those writers are up to their necks in “elbow grease”. But I wish that I could do that spontaneously. I almost don’t want to work for it. Maybe that means that it never comes. But this is the process that I’m going to abide by until further notice. It kind of does suck, because of the amount of unfinished work. But I want my visions to overtake me; I don’t want to pick them out, because it doesn’t feel good to me. I believe that my best work comes when I’m inspired, and can’t control myself, and it just comes out. I don’t envy writers who sit staring at a blank screen, waiting for an idea to come. Fuck that shit. I’m only pulling out the screen when I can’t keep the words from flowing. And I hope that never changes.

But what causes the inspiration? Boredom. A lot of pondering. Desperation.

I can’t think of any other way to create good ideas…

I prefer organic ones as opposed to manufactured ones.

So I’m not going to be as productive as some.

But maybe I can compete with quality over quantity…

Well, at least I believe I can, anyway…

Now, we’ll let the market decide my fate…

…I’m no longer as optimistic.

A Declaration of Independence.

The Rantings of a Crazed, Lunatic Writer.

How I Can Become A Better Writer.

The nature of writing is that you have to do it: the exhausting nature of the work which I wish to accomplish.

Boston – Foreplay/Long Time.