You know, when you get right down to it, paper is a colossal waste of time. Everywhere you go, some jerkoff is just sitting there with a stack of paper in front of him, writing notes, doing work, recording some event or emotion for himself or others. You know what, man? I don’t give a shit about what you’re writing! Nobody does! Look at you, all smug and literate, recording words with ink or pencil. Acting like anything you’ve ever done in your entire life is worth memorializing. Where the hell do you get off, man?
And it’s such an invasion of privacy, the way they write things and then shove it in your face, like, “Here, motherfucker! Read this!” I don’t have TIME for that, man! You’re just flushing away your life, writing on paper, when you could be working or playing or building ships in bottles or sitting quietly. Why do you do that to yourself? And even though I don’t actually want to have a conversation with you, you paper-writer, why do you cut yourself off from me, man? It’s sad that we’ve become a society of antisocial misfits… like me.
And that’s why it’s ultimately pointless to bitch about social media.
I’m finishing the final chapter of my book (though I still have to write the epilogue… that’s okay, wrap-ups are fun to write). Mostly, I’m stunned at what a litany of violence it’s becoming. As if all the evil ignored by the protagonists was busting through the dam, drowning them in beatings, brutality, and blood. The next step, once I’m done with this first draft, is paring it down from Moby Dick size to In Cold Blood size.
So let it be written. So let it be done.
Feel free to cheer me on. I could use the encouragement to finish it by Saturday.
My wife has agreed to watch Alien with me for the first time ever. As I explained to her, “It’s one of my favorite films of all time. It’s not the greatest film of all time, but it brings exactly what it promises.”
My wife and I have yet to mind-fuck our four-year-old son and arrange to have a bizarre and embarrassing photo chase him down for the rest of his life.
What I want to know is NOT why people do things like this (simple answer, with 6 billion of us on the planet, a large percentage are bound to be goofballs), but who sat down, puffed on their pipe or nursed their tea, and thought, “You know what’s good for a kid’s development? Keeping him or her locked into an infant’s mindset.”
Actually, I take all that back and apologize, because breast-feeding is MAGIC!
Waitasecond! I fell into TIME magazine’s trap! CONTROVERSY!
