Ok, there is actually some shame... in fact I am feeling a tremendous amount of shame right now. It is not my usual shame for the way I look, or the things I say or the incredibly small manhood that I possess. Today's shame is something a bit more fixable, which is totally not true about my other shames, despite what the emails I receive might lead me to believe.
Today is Friday, and on the blog that means stories from street level. The original idea behind the theme was to gather stories about what is really going on in the world from the perspective of the people living their lives in a more realistic way.
All too often I read books where characters are from the streets or have some sort of street cred, yet the writer only understands these people through the tint of their car window, or the fade of the yellowed pages of some socio-political handbook on how to be a better bleeding heart liberal. It irks me sometimes to think that this is how they see the lives of those who I know so well.
I also wanted to give a platform, not only for myself, but others who might have stories in their head from their past that they feel a need to share, sort of a therapy thing in a way.
This morning I sat down to begin writting a story. I wanted it to come from the heart and from the vantage point of a person dealing with issues that just aren't prevalent in the burbs...or at least from a different point of view.
I sort of grow tired of listening to angry white boys from the suburbs bitching about their lives in song. I think that might be one of the reasons I like Saliva, they can at least admit where their anger comes from and how they shouldn't pretend it is anything more than it is.
I wanted to write something touching and gritty and real. Then I wanted a donut.
Nothing came out of the whole thing because I decided to masturbate rather than go for a donut, but there was nothing good on the porn sites, and I accidentally clicked on a video about trannys which sort of ruined the whole experience for me. They sneak them in to the damn websites now like they did in the porno mags. You're cruising along enjoying a nice pictorial of a young lady with massive boobs in a corn field, or a young lady with massive boobs in a bar, or a young lady with massive boobs in a sports car and all of a sudden there's a picture of a nice young lady with massive boobs and a giant man handle. Seriously. It ruins the aesthetic. I never understood the idea. Are gay dudes so repressed they need to masturbate to straight porn with a hint of naughty, or is it more a straight thing where guys just don't want to admit they just want to take a shot in the mouth to see what it's like? I digress a little here, but it happens.
The point is, I was unable to write.
I have made great strides in my life, overcoming several obstacles and putting my behind in the past.... hey does making a Lion King reference balance out the detailed porno thing? Again, the point is that I have come so far that trying to think in terms of the street level character is difficult and causes me to desire donuts, which are completely unhealthy and not at all the direction in which I should travel given the fact that ugly people are turning me down for dates.
This is all just an incredibly long winded way of me saying I can't fulfill my obligation today. I have a strategy though. Tonight, at the crack of dusk I will venture forth from my comfortable location clad only in jeans and a hoody. I will seek out street life and street civilizations. I will boldly go where no classy man has gone before.
I need to commune with my nature because it has been far too long. I have spent far too much time locked in my attic writing space dreaming up new things to write about and it has left me a softened old husk of a man.
Tonight I shall brave the wilds of drunken teenagers, shambling bums, women in tight skirts, jackasses in I love Jersey shore muscle t's, and I will report my findings.
I shall brave the urban jungle as I once did. I will slip unnoticed through their ranks and really get back to where I should be. Though I have come a long way, and I would not willingly go backwards, I feel a kinship to this sort of thing, a legacy that bleeds through my impassioned writing should come out and play. This legacy should be the real heart and soul of all the things that make up me. I should stop pretending that my place is here, in the confines of my apartment, or in the inviting warmth of friend's insulated locales. My place is with my people.
Tonight I shall go walkabout.
P.S. Though this is sort of a lame post, I am somewhat proud of it because of all the references. I said somewhere in there some nonsense about being all the parts of me, and in this post I think I achieved it. Self deprecation, Kevin Smith, Star Wars, Star Trek (which sucks btw), music, dirty humour, clean humour, and self recrimination. Yay me!
No comments:
Post a Comment