I Have Nothing But Time (To Write In My Blog)

I just got finished watching Fight Club for the first time in years.

While i've probably outgrown the pseudo-anarchistic themes that so captivated me when I was fourteen, I am kind of depressed that I will probably never in my life write anything as cool seeing the last thirty seconds of that film for the first time.

It also made me remember how freaking good Frank Black is. Isaac Brock could learn a thing or two about yelping from him.

One thing that I notice about myself when I watch movies or read books like that, ones where the main character thinks or acts in super unusual ways, is that for like thirty minutes after, i tend to emulate that sort of, i don't know how to explain it, like escapist way of thinking?

You know what I mean, where, while thinking you do it in choppy, almost disingenuous bursts, where you're almost thinking as a character, not as yourself?

The following films/books make me do it.

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Catch-22
Fight Club
A Confederacy of Dunces
other things like that.

Catch-22 was the worst, after reading it, I would only be able to think in twenty word sentences for what was probably an unhealthy amount of time.

Regardless. Fight Club has gotten me a little ruffled, like a word slinging chicken. (Boggle player?).

It is because, I, as I always do, wikipediaed the film/novel as I watched and came across this little quotation by
Chuck Lastnamenotworththeefforttolearntopronounceexceptwhentryingto
soundcoolinfrontofgirlswhoarethemselvestryingtosoundcoolbynamedropping
amaleorientedauthorwhointentionallywritesbooksthataredisturbingandpromote
antisocietythemesbutmostlikelywasjustliketherestofusbutneededawaytoget
publishedbutmaybethat'snotgivinghimenoughcreditmaybehesincerely
believesinhisnovelsandpeoplethatreadthemreallydogainsomemodicumof
selfsatisfactionandidentificationwithhischaractersregardlessthenameisdifficult

The quotation is as follows, "all my books are about a lonely person looking for some way to connect with other people."

Good work, Chuck. You just wrote up my hopeful future career more eloquently and concisely than, more than likely, I ever could.

The point of this.

Being famous is hard.

I know that most of you don't have a wildly successful e-diary, but for those of you that do (arianna huffingtion, kanye west) you know exactly what i'm talking about.

Despite the fact that I am the most clever man to ever put flesh and nail to half-inch by half-inch plastic, there are other clever people that may draw the public's attention, thus reducing the amount of attention that I, quite frankly, deserve.

This is unsettling.

What if my dreams are realized, and I write a super-duper awesome book that is popular not just among elitists (dave eggers), nerds (cormac mccarthy), and retards (stephanie meyer), but also people who don't annoy me?

This will work toward some of my plans. Particularly the one where I marry my best looking female fan and build a modest fortune, but what then.

Above all, I deserve the adulation of my people. What if I can't repeat my success? I think I would feel very constricted, also lame.

This bothers me. Being famous takes a little work. Not if you're an actor or some other essentially talent-free fame siphoning star-monster, but someone legitimately famous. (Authors musicians, and filmmakers only; designers, poets, etc., don't count because no one outside of a specific (lame) circle cares what you do).

Stephen King says the key to authorial success is writing for two hours a day.

Listen, King, there's only one thing I do for two hours a day, and it's make fun of people and/or watch television.

This makes me concerned.

I don't know if I can deal with the expectations. What if I run out of ideas, what if no one gets what I'm saying, what if my hoes move on to the next hotshot young genius?

I worry about getting ulcers.

I don't know readers, life seems like too much hard work. But when I'm not working, I'm bored, much like mick jagger and crack cocaine addicts, I can't find any satisfaction.

Another thing that worries me, is about being able to emotionally connect with people. (Another thing that worries me is if that long name a few paragraphs up will jack up the formatting of this entry).

Like, I am concerned about sounding forced and cheesy. I can go back and read something I wrote months ago, that was written with absolute and total honesty, and I won't feel anything, except maybe pride at a particularly precocious piece of phrasing.

I am curious if maybe emotional impact is a learned skill?

Like comedy. You can say something, and you can appreciate that it's funny, but you would never laugh at it, but vocalize it anyway because you know that other people will appreciate it with their sweet comedy receptors.

Or maybe i'm just pissy because i legitimately feel like the quality of the Magic Blog has dropped off in recent months.

It's the same old shtick. Kyle is sad/irritated/humorously narcissistic/making attempts at non-sequiterial humor. It all feels a bit stale and stagnant and silly and stuck and soft and sad and lazy.

Why am I not an innovator readers? Why do I not tell clever little tales that make you squint your face and fall just a little bit in love with me? Or perhaps dark epics with post-apocalyptic themes that warn of the perils of consumerism or global warming or overfarming? Maybe even some personal stories where I grow and you learn a little bit about yourself?

It just bugs me. If I can't be funny, why can't I be earnest?

If I end this with a question will it seem self-absorbed and stupid?