It’s 3:43 p.m. on Wednesday, February 8th, 2012. I woke up around 11 a.m. this morning, watched a terrible Hellraiser sequel and then the season 2 finale of Mad Men on Netflix. A very 50/50 kind of morning, although that sort of is the theme of this journal entry.
The past couple days has had a rather surprising amount of sobering moments in the past two days. The first of, which I haven’t addressed publicly yet, have been the hate graffiti and death threats that have been going around the MSU campus. These have been incredibly sobering for me, as even though my past transgressions were not of hate but rather a desperate need for shock value attention, I have learned much more about the weight of those words from these recent incidents than from any previous punishment I’d had.
My mentality and my conscience have long been at war over what’s right and wrong. Personally, I was raised to know that any act of hate against anyone is wrong, unnecessary, and shameful. I’ve also been one to defend with my life the right to joke about whatever you want, as no subject should be off the table. Yet the line between making fun and torment is incredibly blurry, and with these threats against the Black and LGBT communities at Montclair it’s so easy to see how words and thoughts can be used for outright evil shit.
What bothers me the most, believe it or not, is that this shit is going on at college. Who the fuck is in such dire times at college that they have to torment gays and blacks? College should be the best four years of your life, period. Years of enlightment, passion, exploration and most of all, fun. And the fact that people, and I state people because these are the acts of a group mentality, have to “teach a lesson” via grammatically incorrect death threats make me realize there is a seriously misguided view of college life. How about instead of writing death threats you spend your time, I don’t know, ENJOYING COLLEGE? Go out. Meet people. Meet women. See a movie. Pirate a movie. Fuck, just don’t do that, you idiots.
And to the members of MSU who probably aren’t reading this, you have to realize this isn’t about stopping hate. Hate is here to stay, like it or not. And when you have a college that allows students from around the country to attend, you have to realize that hate is bred within regions just as much as it’s in people. It’s about quarantining the hate. Give these kids something else to do besides writing “nigger black bitches” or “Fags will die” on a dorm room door. Unite our students by giving them alternatives to bring them together. Maybe if these scumbags go to an event and meet a black or gay kid and think they’re cool, maybe that does more to prevent these things than anything else.
And I’m the last person to talk, knowing my track record. I’ve said and done terrible things in my life, and probably shouldn’t have gotten such a weak comeuppance. But I’ve learned from many of these mistakes, and I hope that these people can better themselves as I’ve tried to do.
But I digress. I’ve got other things to bore you people about than just hate crimes. For instance, Van Halen’s new album dropped yesterday, entitled “A Different Kind of Truth.” And here’s what I gotta say about it: It’s 50 percent of a great album. Diamond Dave’s voice is not for the digital era, and is nowhere near as good as his heyday. The riff’s are harder than vintage Halen, but some songs are really fuckin’ catchy and, dare I say, good. Just as many are good, others are goofy, ill-paced and even a chore to finish. Tracks like “China Town”, “Blood and Fire”, “Outta Space” and “Big River” feel like the Van Halen I know and love, whereas “She’s the Woman”, ”You and Your Blues” and “As Is” are so close to being great songs that I wish there was just a great producer like Rick Rubin or The Dust Brothers to reign this album in.
Meanwhile, tracks like “Tattoo”, “Bullethead”, “Honeybabysweetiedoll” and “Beats Workin” show us there are still flaws in this restored vehicle, and “Stay Frosty” and “The Trouble with Never” fall into a bizarre grey area where the lyrics/delivery derail what had potential to be a good goddamn song. If anything, it’s not a bad album at all, but it’s not good. If anything, it’s half and half, but then again it’s got twice the songs that these guys are used to releasing in their prime. So I’ll call it a victory, and I hope them better success with this resurgance than GnR had.
Lastly, I’ve been having a very awesome past couple weeks. Opportunites may be opening soon, and the next chapter of my life may soon begin. My creative juices have been stronger than ever, and I really do love my new screenplay, even though the latter half should use some tweaking. I have to run to work now, I’m hoping I can start tumbling again on this temporary computer. Thanks for reading once again.
It’s 1:43 p.m. on Thursday, and I’ve got work in less than 2 hours. I’m craving chinese food, I haven’t gone to community service the past two days and tonight is the highly-anticipated Karaoke Contest. It’s also 50 cent beer night, and I MUST do Community Service tomorrow, so my drinking is going to be limited.
The past week has been quite good, although my normal journal entries have lagged due to my all-too-busy schedule of drinking and eating late at night. I’ve earned a bit of money recently so I’ve been less depressed, except when I woke up this morning after a social nightmare that made me realize how cold and alone I am in the world. But that’ll probably get back to me in the future, so I’ll ignore it for now.
This week I also learned I’ll be seeing Book of Mormon for free within the next two months, so I’m very excited about that. As much as I love visiting the city, I love free stuff too and quality bonding time, so I’ve got high hopes. I also found my blu-ray copy of Insidious, which makes the fact that current film club president and professional buffoon Dandriola had to spend twenty dollarinos on a new copy. On the other hand, I must commend him for the HUGE turnout yesterday. That’s how you do a screening, motherfucker.
Other things that happened this week was a wonderful trip to the IHOP in Middletown, where we saw a Wig Store that was robbed. I wish I took the picture of the “Wig Store Robbed/Wig’s Stolen” sign, but I didn’t, and I’ll regret that forever. I also was able to enjoy my days off with my friends Danny and Big Daddy D, who accompanied me for several fun events, including last nights film screening and drinks at Fridays.
As for the contest ahead of me, I must decide what song I’ll perform for the contest. I came in second place last time, so I don’t know if I can win, but I hope I do. I’ll never turn down free money. So, I’ve been settled on Matisyahu’s “King Without A Crown” but I’ve also been debating Eddie Murphy’s “Party All The Time” and “What Is Life?” by George Harrison. It’s gonna come down to the wire, I know it.
I’ve got only so much time before work, and my 10 hour work day tomorrow is going to really blow so I need to enjoy the little time I do have. I’ll probably blog saturday and I’ll give you the rundown on the karaoke contest, my financial/love life, and of course, my impending work-exhaustion/nervous breakdown.
It’s 1:41 a.m. on a Monday Morning and my tongue is numb. Night 1 of sleeping pills backfired and now I’m stuck with a numb tongue, sorta-not-really watching Paranormal Activity 2 and trying to get the opening sax riff of “Bakers Street” out of my fucking head.
In absence of yesterday’s journal entry, I’ll use this entry to recap my weekend, as well as air my grievance with the most popular new band in rock music and talk about my problems of writing both feature films and television.
First off, I had a good weekend. From my last blog entry, I didn’t get any sleep that night so I went to work as a sleep-deprived grump. Luckily, the day wasn’t too bad, and although it was very busy at times, I was on break during most of that. I also had a short shift today which, thanks to three missing employees, was pretty terrible and rushed.
However, everything non-work related was very good. I spent Saturday Night with a Chevy’s drinks and movie trip to see The Thing with my good friend Garrett. The movie certainly wasn’t the best and certainly not the prequel that the Carpenter film deserved, but it had several inspired moments and was better than I expected. Then again, take the praise with a grain of salt because I was drunk as shit. I’ve gotta sit by the bar at Chevy’s more often. I also spent Sunday with my friends Danny, Lucas and George, indulging in the poor service of the Middletown IHOP and then going to Best Buy where I observed things I can’t afford. Yep, I’m also a second rate Tucker Max.
Today was also the day where I realized that the Kings Of Leon are not my cup of tea. Before I start with my issues with the band, I must acknowledge a few pieces of praise I have for them. The first is that they are talented, as they are instrumentally proficient and are great with composition. Second off, I can understand why they are popular, as their sound is different enough to stray away from the Nickelback-Hinder-Finger Eleven alternative rock yet mainstream enough to keep a loyal, enthusiastic fanbase. Third off, I have to give them respect for not selling out to Glee. Good for them.
That being said, I have several issues with the band, although my dumbass knows my opinion will never matter. But for whatever reason, I can’t listen to them. The music just doesn’t gel as well as most other music and it might be just because they don’t bring anything new to the table. It feels like a predetermined safe sound under the guise of innovative indie-darlingness. I really think that the group approaches their releases in their self-important atmosphere and assume that by doing what they’re doing they’ll be consistently wonderful. But it feels like the progression of music relies importantly on groups like this evolving, changing sounds and endearing hostility.
Look at the Beatles, R.E.M., Faith No More, Beastie Boys, etc. Many of music’s greatest groups only earned the respect of fans and peers by making radical changes to their sound and their approach to music. But with KOL, it feels like a group that won’t think outside the box as the fear of failure outweighs the need to grow. To me, they’re the anti-Radiohead, and their uninspired music really does nothing for me. I hope one day they’ll take their experiences in the industry and turn into a truly hopeful, reinvigorated group with a dangerous disposition. But, I won’t hold my breath.
I’ve also had a big problem with writer’s block lately as well as keeping focus on a single problem. It’s hard for a writer to devote his time and passion on a single product as we are given inspiration daily for new concepts. And it’s worse when you have to decide what medium to aim for. On one hand, writing a feature is a satisfying medium as you completely create a singular story with a three act structure and a known ending. On the other hand, writing short form or television is great for larger stories with expansive character backgrounds and consistent results. But nevertheless, those mediums destroy a writer’s technique and approach as they conflict on necessary levels, allowing screenwriters to create 1/2 written features or TV shows with no focus.
I’m currently writing a new story for a TV Drama, best described as a mix of “Bringing Out The Dead” with “The Shield”. I’ll post more details about it as soon as I work the concept a bit more. On that note, the Tylenol PM is kicking in and I must go to Community Service in the AM. Thanks for the read and expect another sometime soon.
It’s 1:55 A.M. on Friday Morning. I have work in 4 and 1/2 hours. I just put De Palma’s ‘Blow Out’ on pause so I could read an article about how handicapped men face increased risks of sexual violence. I’m also eagerly awaiting the leak of the new Tom Waits album. Don’t get me wrong, I will buy it. But I must hear it as soon as possible.
I unfortunately missed last night’s blog entry as I was victim of the 50 cent beer night. As soon as I got home at 4 in the morning after a DELICIOUS meal at Rhodes (It’s in Sloatsburg. You haven’t eaten until you’ve eaten at Rhodes.), I passed the fuck out. If I remember correctly, I did several songs on Karaoke, including a rather awful version of James Taylor’s “Mexico” and a tone-deaf version of Jackson Browne’s “The Pretender”. I should avoid all songs from the 70’s that isn’t some kind of anthem for drunkards. I did, however, do an awesome version of “The Fixer” by Pearl Jam and “White Wedding” by Billy Idol. I also am very close to doing a decent version of the Smith’s “This Charming Man.” Next week is the contest, and I try out Matisyahu. Believe it, folks.
Today was an excruciating 10 hour day at work, yet it goes by quick when you honestly don’t care about the time. If there’s anything that worries me about the economy, it’s that Halloween is taking a huge hit. It’s always been one of my favorite holidays, as it brought together neighborhoods and really allowed nerds to be weird and cool simultaneously. But nobody’s buying this year, even decoratively so. It’s easy to cut corners on Halloween because it’s not a technically (read: christian or patriotic) holiday. I hope that this isn’t the case.
As for deeper moments, I realized a few things today. First off is that I need a new place to work. I was scolded badly for looking at my phone on the clock, since I don’t own a watch. So I must arbitrarily buy a watch and wear it so that I don’t get fired. But moreso, I feel my time at work is coming to an end. I bend over backwards for the place, opening and closing and covering more areas and hours than half the fucking people in my position. And if I were to quit before the Christmas season, they’d be royally fucked. So tomorrow or Sunday I’m going to perfect a resume and start tossing it around. Even a lower paying job is better than one that doesn’t appreciate loyalty. So hopefully, I’ll be working somewhere in the film business soon enough.
Second thing I realized was that I can’t change the past. Every day that goes by, more people learn of my shitty past and I have to deal with that. And I know it’s going to make it hard for me to keep friends, and I’m going to have to figure out ways to redeem myself for every person that throws me in the fucking sewer. I can’t be mad, as I’m responsible for all of this. But I can be aggravated, as I believe that I should be judged not for what I’ve done but for what I’ll do next in life. But that’s not gonna happen, so I’ll saddle up my baggage and keep an apology in my pocket for safe keeping.
Third thing I realized today is that I really don’t have a likeable personality. I’ve got a powerful sense of humor and a reasonable head on my shoulders, but I’m often grumpy, prone to wild and sudden mood swings and too stubborn for comfort. I think if I went to a doctor I could be diagnosed with Bi-Polar disorder (as well depression and various health issues), and I can also attribute this to my probably sky-high blood pressure from my weight. But alas, I have not many great stories that I remember off hand and as a writer, I only can talk about my work so much before it’s disgustingly self-indulgent and pompous. This could be a big attribution to my lady problem, as my aspergers-esque honesty often pushes people away and most women who find me attractive are either desperate or drug addicts.
On the flip side of that coin, I truly love the person I am. I’m unfiltered, graphic and perverse but at the same time I’m someone who understands how the world works and applies logic to situations. I love my sense of humor and my plethora of mostly useless knowledge. And I know that I’m sane. As much as people want to disagree, I am, because no matter how shitty and selfish and degrading my actions may be, I will always feel regret, and that keeps me at least away from being sociopathic.
Tomorrow night, I’m hitting Chevy’s in Clifton and seeing the prequel for The Thing. I’ve heard not good things, and the CGI on display in the red band trailer was upsetting. But the script was solid, it features some great character actors as well as emerging actors and it could be surprisingly well-made. Fuck it. At least I’ll be seeing it drunk, so if it’s shitty, I’ll be feeling good.
I think I’ll close out this blog with a bit of promising news. I purchased sleeping pills, which should hold me over until next check. This hopefully leads to a regular sleep schedule which will also lead to a regulated schedule of events. Aside from Doc’s Thursdays and MSU Wednesdays, my week’s are often wild cards, where I’m not wealthy enough to be spontaneous but I’m too restless to stay put.
I’m also getting more and more inspiration to write my potential pilot, “Beach Team: Alpha”, which parodies of 90’s action television and action comedies. I’ll probably also debut the pilot script on here. I oughta reward you guys with something a bit more substantial than misanthropy.
But until then, keep reading, keep supporting and most of all, keep being yourselves. I don’t admit as often as I’d like, but I do love you guys. Your tolerance of my buffoonery is peculiar, but nevertheless appreciated.
It’s 7:37 a.m. on Thursday and surprise! I’m not asleep! At this point, I’m getting MAX 4-5 hours of sleep. That may be good, since I’ll need lots of sleep tomorrow to drink off the alcohol poisoning before community service.
I went to Montclair today for the double feature screening, but mostly just to watch Re-Animator on the big screen. It was a film I’d planned to show back when I was King Shit of Fuck Mountain and Jeffrey Combs is fucking marvelous in it. I can’t see any other actor bringing the nuances and personality flaws of Herbert West in such a unique and oddly real way. I also got to see my good friend Josef and his girlfriend Amanda, which I haven’t in months, unfortunately. I also saw radio sensation and good friend Matt Komar accompanied with a lady, which is akin to seeing Haley’s Comet. Good for him and best of luck. I’ll have to drink heavily soon and belligerently swear on his radio show.
On the car ride home at 3 a.m., I did happen to stumble upon something magnificent. As I was doing my Meat Loaf impression to various songs, I ended up writing one myself as Meat Loaf. I then morphed it into something very funny, which I’ll now be using to close my stand-up act. Yes, I’ll be the next Frank Caliendo, I tells ya!
I’m also going to have to manage my time better. I lost a bit of weight recently but that was moreso the result of poorness and a diet of canned goods rather than exercise and sleep. I am due for a flu shot, which I have no excuse as to why I haven’t gotten it yet besides laziness and a fear of being poor. I also should probably sleep when I get home at 3 a.m. rather than watch Transylmania on Netflix. God, I’m a fucking insult to all the sperm that didn’t make it to my mom’s eggs.
To get a bit serious here for a minute, I need to talk about my lady problems. At the moment I have several but we’ll get to them one by one. The first is my restricting weight. I’m no longer chubby as I’ve evolved into a much fatter, wider Ken Hanley with the much maligned and feared Fat-Back. I’m going to lose weight but outside of the Atkins diet, it’ll take a while so I’m still gonna be MegaFat Ken. This isn’t me speaking out of insecurity or lack of confidence, I’m just simply stating the facts. After all, the people have the right to know.
Second issue on the table of dating is my limited amount of options. I’ve realized finding a woman nowadays is not only hard but even harder when none are sane or without make-or-break qualities. I’ll not say which ones as not to offend any potential readers, but let’s just say there’s a ton of shit I’ll put up with as opposed to stuff I won’t. I’ve got a few options at the moment but they’re either a little bit nutty or a lot of bit interested in any better option. Nevertheless, every day comes with opportunities and who knows? Maybe my options will increase.
My biggest issue on the table is the issue of trust. Simply put, after the past 8 years, I cannot trust women. They lie, a lot more often then they’d like to admit. They’re unfaithful, but once again, can’t blame them for wanting ANYTHING ELSE besides a black-hearted obese person. And most importantly, they’re selfish. If a woman has something she wants, she’ll go to Shakespearean lengths to assure she gets it, no matter what she risks to lose nor who she risks to cross. Don’t get me wrong, not ALL women are like this. I’ve met many great and wonderful women, or have met ones with negative qualities that are the by-product of deep-seeded issues. But I can only give so much leeway for future instances before I become an American Lars Von Trier.
I’m hoping karaoke night may help me out here. After all, I can’t bring my scripts to the bar to show off nor can I entice women with prospects of a hollywood future when chance is against me. This does not mean I won’t make it to Hollywood and be successful. I know I will be, that I have complete confidence in. But it’s harder to convince the opposite sex when they can go after the ripped farm boy who works as a volunteer firefighter and will listen to country music with them.
Also, fuck country music. It’s representative of a bullshit subculture that propagates the image of living down and that being okay. Fuck it, why try to do something with yourself and explore your potential as a human being when you can ride a tractor all day long, talk about buying American goods and drink a cold beer whilst focusing on your moral values. Fuck that shit and the hypocrites who give it credence.
So, if you’re reading this, thanks once again. Please, if you have any questions or comments, contact me at the top of the page. It’s only fair that I take your criticisms if you take the time to read my ramblings. I’m a second rate Meat Loaf, a second rate Dennis Miller and a second rate Rolling Stone Magazine. All that’s missing is second rate lover, so let’s keep our fingers crossed that I meet someone soon or lose my cock and balls in an air show accident.
It’s 2:25 A.M. on a Wednesday morning and I’m going to indulge in my hobbies as I sit here in the dark, biding my time before sleep. I’m also wondering if there is anyone out there looking forward to the Footloose remake. I know my crowd isn’t exactly the crowd that looks forward to it, but I literally haven’t heard a single person go, “I want to see that!” But I’m sure someone wants to see it, so it does exist.
This is gonna be a less “complainy” journal, as we’re gonna use this talking about two important things in my life: stand-up comedy and karaoke. I lost power last night so as I had no alarm, I slept through my morning shift at work, but even that’s fine because I picked up an extra 4 hours at work on Friday, so fuck that noise. For those looking for me to become some blue collar, half-retarded Andy Rooney, just wait a couple weeks.
First, let me cover my potential stand-up comedy career. I’ve been developing several new bits, including bits about fucking Deaf People, the mentality of Cats and covering bases when ordering flamboyant sounding food. I’m working on them and hopefully I can debut it before Christmas in New Brunswick’s Stress Factory. I’ve been working on tone and delivery quite hard, as just being Ken Curmudgeon works only so far. Maybe I can be all over the place, repeating punchlines and widening my eyes so they know I’m out-of-this-world.
Second, I have to cover a sweet, dear subject, the true apple of my eye. Karaoke. As someone who wants to become a professional writer, I have to find other “hobbies” to help relieve stress and stop me from sticking my dick into anything with an electrical charge. I’ve been trying to get more of my asshole college friends to come down, even though I’ll admit it’s a bit of a drive. But it’s men’s month and that means 50 cent beers, which means I’m going to drink ALOT.
With Karaoke Thursday approaching fast, I need to come up with a game plan. I have been deciding whether to whip out my “Lady” by Kenny Rogers again. I’ve also had a hankering for some late 90’s alternative like “Jumper” by Third Eye Blind or “Sex and Candy” by Marcy Playground. I’ve been doing a lot of 80’s classic rock. I also think I should be doing my Meat Loaf impression more often.
I’ve got community service in a few hours, which I need to fucking hop on lickety splitly. Only three more weeks ‘til, HOPEFULLY, the last court date of this terrible saga, so I need 30 more hours before then. I also almost lost ALL of this blog due to my incompetence. Great Job, Ken. Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this daily, and instead be more productive. Or maybe I should, as I’ll otherwise spend my time watching Associated Press Raw Video on Youtube, like drunk driver’s crashing into school bus’s or grown men smashing tv’s with a baseball bat at Wal-Mart.
It’s 3:37 A.M. on a Tuesday morning. I’m sitting here at my laptop, trying not to pay attention to the shitty David Carradine movie I have playing ominously on Netflix. In spite of my desire to lose weight, my restless nature got the best of me, and a late night taco bell run with a friend was in order. I’m not particularly proud of this, but it was incredibly therapeutic in some ways.
I’ve been thinking a lot about sequels. I want to approach a new chapter in my life so it seems fitting at the moment. I’ve been suffering severe anxiety at work recently, as well as a looming necessity for better income and a prosperous future. I’ve also found it increasingly harder not to just fucking do drugs. I’m hoping my flirtation with sleeping pills will be the first step in this new chapter of myself, as sleep can finally give me what I need: Mornings.
But first, I’d like to talk about sequels, and why they are so significant. If movie talk turns you off, by all means, skip the next two paragraphs and attribute it to me being a self-indulgent cunt. But sequels are significant because they come to life exclusively in a world of opposing expectations and thus are as damaging to progress as they are to innovation itself.
The fact a lot of writers don’t like to admit is that sequels are often developed before the initial story is even finished. When writers create a story, they develop an entire universe as well as an endless list of different stories to choose from. In this way, sequels are often conceived by their creators with a deeper love and an expectation of trust.
But the world in which sequels are conceived are not the same in which sequels are created. Sequels rarely follow their conceived design, as their are too many interests at stake. Sequels try harder to be liked. Sequels want to go in easier, more grandiose directions. And, perhaps the most heartbreaking of all, sequels want nothing to do with their predecessors. So in the end, the concept of the sequel will forever negate itself, as it’s intentions will never match it’s actions.
So what does any of this have to do with me? Let’s say I’ve been crafting a story my entire life. It’s called The Night. In this story, I’ve been told the same thing over and over: The Day is Safe, Good and Warm. The Night is Dangerous, Dark and Cold. And over the past 8 years, life has driven me from Day to Night. Unquestionable servitude, unhealthy habits and lingering depression have become of it.
And now I have a chance to make a sequel, called The Morning. Mornings offer hope. Hope to exercise and eat healthier by adding time to my Day. Hope to have more experiences and meet new people who don’t embrace the Night. Hope to find a job that leaves me on the edge of sleep rather than desperately hoping for it.
But, knowing what I know about sequels, I’ll probably never learn from my mistakes, and I’ll still be blogging here this time next year, probably fatter, more single, and spiritually exhausted from the mental decay of unhappiness.
This is not to say I don’t have certain things that get me by. I love my friends, and once my legal escapades come to an end, I’ll be able to live a bit more freely. I love my family, who only want me to better myself, although I admittedly don’t treat them as well as they really do deserve. And my manic, twisted personality reminds me who I am and what I do, for better and for worse.
I have to wake up for work in 4 hours, so I’ll end this here. If you read this whole self-important tedious thing, thanks and congratulations. I’ve got some places to go, people to meet and it’s not going to be easy. But, let’s wait this out. Let’s see where the sleeping pills take me.
The Good, The Bad and The Guy Who Shouldn't Be Blogging
Prelude: I’m not someone who deserves attention, so if at any point you get fed up with this bullshit, tune out and think twice about coming back. I’d do the same for you.
It’s 1:04 A.M. on a Monday Morning. I’ve been out of school for almost 6 months, graduating with a BFA in Filmmaking that I probably shouldn’t have earned but an award in Screenwriting that I absolutely did. I’ve got 2 great albeit flawed feature film scripts under my belt with many more in development. Once I’ve got focus back, I’ll have them done in no time.
Focus. It’s funny how one can mention they have no focus on a blog that is admittedly one of the major distractions in finishing the scripts, on top of films, social life (albeit not much of one), the internet, and a general lack of care.
The other day, I heard a quote from the least likely inspiration that struck a chord with me. “The generation growing up today seems more content with talking about life rather than actually living.” You know who said that? Tom Sizemore. The Actor. Troubled, now stuck to direct-to-dvd action flicks and trying to stay sober. And yet, a moment of unfiltered sincerity really struck me.
I’ve been suffering an existential crisis as of late. Not so much a “Why am I here?”, but rather “Where do I go?”. I’m by no means a good person, I often bully people I can outwit and I’ve done selfish, terrible things in my past that I’m not proud of. That being said, everything I want to do I want to do for others. I can give two fucks about my sustained happiness, which is about as attainable as proof of God. But I want to be a writer to keep people thinking, laughing, interested in anything but reality.
So I want to regain my focus. I want to go upwards. I want to cut out the juvenile pettiness that seems to surround me. I want to lose weight, as, let’s face it, the world does not respect fat people. Most of all, I want to live rather than only speak of living. My financial issues (as well as my spendthrift tendencies) make this hard to do, as living is mostly spontaneous and spontaneity in 2011 costs money.
So please, forgive me if my actions bring out the worst in me. Forgive me if I don’t trust you, as I can no longer believe the intentions of the people I care about are good. And lastly, forgive me for being myself, the guy who shouldn’t be blogging.