All You Fallen Worthless

Holy shit am I sauced up tonight! I predict some excellent writing is the result. Just ask Hemingway.

Got kicked out of the bar tonight.

So it goes.

Once upon a time I thought I was an influential person, a person people looked at and said ‘that mother fucker has it going on.’ They looked at me and said ‘that asshole has had all the advantages I have never had.’

Well maybe I did.

Or didn’t.

Or I know more than the rocks and waterfalls.

Or I don’t.

Where do the stars go when I’m too drunk to feel them?

Why is everything so tangible and cruel?

Puke

For a good, if not infuriating time, go to amazon or barnes and noble and search any classic book. Moby Dick, Gatsby, Huck, Hemingway, anything undeniably great, and read the customer reviews. Makes me want to load up the old 12 gauge and do some teaching! “I don’t get Moby Dick, there are only 32 pages about the hunt. What a waste of time. One star.”

Your breath is a waste of time. I don’t give a shit whether you like it or not, it is an incredible book, it’s not about whether it makes you ‘turn the page,’ get over yourself, your opinion means nothing, quit posting on amazon and start trying to understand what true literature is. Idiot.

Weak Resolve

Brahms and I are up late. Was far too drunk on New Years, resolved to never spend another New Years in my hometown. Too many people know who I am.

Finished “How We Are Hungry” by Dave Eggers and “Cathedral” by Raymond Carver. Carver is the more celebrated of the two, but I think I prefer Eggers. Sometimes.

School starts in one week and that’s about all I know.

Everything Seeps Through

I watched Avatar in 5-D today. It was mediocre. Cameron has really gone downhill with this one. I’m pretty in with Hollywood and everything, so you should get used to me referring to directors by just their last name and nothing more. If you don’t know the director by his last name than you are just an average American movie-goer, not a celebrated critic like myself.

Good news is, there have been exactly zero views on this blog since its inception. I have told no one about its creation. I am relying on a viral spread. It takes time, and I am a patient man.

Finished a first draft of a short story tonight with the help of a six pack of Moose Drool. It is what it is. I think I am slowly compiling a collection of stories that will earn me an entrance into grad school, and eventually, perhaps, a real book. The story is called “The Last Day of the World” and my mom would hate it.

What The Sun Was Talking About

Drove to the end of the South Fork the other day to watch the sun go behind the mountains and make sure Cabin Creek was still there.  It is.  The South Fork is much better than the North Fork.  I think it is because it has a dead end.  The finality is impressive; it reminds me that there are still places where roads don’t go.  It’s like hanging your toes off the edge of the earth.  I’ve decided I’m going to live up there eventually.

Heineken from the can is not as bad as Luke claims.

New Years is coming up and I suppose a new decade too.  No resolutions here, just more of the same.  Have been doing more reading than writing lately, but I don’t worry about it too much.  For some reason everything seems heavier these days, and more serious too.  It’s becoming a chore to keep myself from thinking.