“Very often, single people don’t do shit. They do nothing, all night long. They sit in a recliner and watch TV. I’ve probably watched more television than anyone you’ve ever met, and I don’t even own one. Terrible shows, good shows. Golf tournaments in Cancun. C-SPAN. Hours of Oprah. Law and Order. Lonely people love Law and Order, for whatever reason. They prefer the straight narratives. They’ll also rent the entire run of a TV series on Netflix, and they tend to rent whatever Netflix promotes as popular. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen every episode of The Wire, but never in the proper sequence. I have no fucking clue what’s supposed to be going on there.”—
Chuck Klosterman’s The Visible Man. I feel this speaks for a lot of us.
The television buzzed, turning itself on and broadcasting a series of static images. Pictures jumping from black to white, silhouettes forming and disappearing. Four boxes split the screen into quarters, each showing the perspectives of four different people.
“Observation is the best tool for a writer. If you listen real closely to the world around you, you can hear all sorts of things. You’ll hear how the world once was. The wind will carry the whisper of honesty on it. You’ll hear better if you just listen and you’ll see better if you just look.
“Fewer people shut down their computers anymore, and who can blame them? The moment that monitor goes black, you’re looking at yourself, not smiling, not anything. Here’s your worst-ever passport photo enlarged to life size. Swimming behind the eBook words of Jane Austen, that slack, dead-eyed zombie face, that’s yours. That’s you.”—Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters Remix.
Top Five Albums (In My Opinion) Of All Time, a list compiled on Monday, June 18th at 9:30am
In no order, because I’m lazy:
Let It Bleed, The Rolling Stones
Without A Sound, Dinosaur Jr.
Abbey Road, The Beatles
The Clash, The Clash
Highway 61 Revisited, Bob Dylan
These are all my opinion as of this morning. The list could be different in an hour and was definitely different an hour ago. These are all solid albums where, no matter what I’m feeling, I can listen from the first track to the end of the last track, unabridged and non-stop, no matter what. You probably disagree and, frankly, that’s cool. What’s your current top-5 of all time list?
I’m quite fond of the English YouTube game commentators, The Yogscast. I spend a lot of time watching their videos and laughing, or being amazed by some of the Minecraft structures that their teams build for series of their’s like “The Shadow Of Israphel” or Sjin’s “Let’s Build A ____”. Lately, I have been thinking that if the lot of them were to come to NYC and do a live show, maybe booked with fellow nerdy comedians (Dan Harmon, PLEASE), regardless of how many people in the immediate NY Metro area are aware of these Brits, it’d be a great show with a hot crowd.
I tried to send this to their main channel on YouTube, but (because they’re quite popular) they had contact locked unless they have you marked as a contact. I am not a contact.
Here’s the letter, now an open letter, to them, pitching my idea for a Yogscast Live Show at one of New York’s hot underground comedy clubs in the future.
Redsky. A short-story that works as a prequel to my next major project, Voids.
“You should always at least try to understand the origins of all things,” The Man In The Tweed Suit said, chewing on his twenty-minute old straw. “You’ll never know when things are hiding in plain sight.”
The Man In The Tweed Suit wasn’t tall, but he also wasn’t short. He had grey, close-cropped hair and dark skin. His gut puffed out above his waist-line like a puffer fish in defense, but he wasn’t fat (if we’re going aquatic, he wasn’t a whale or a manatee).
He had finished his chocolate milkshake an hour ago but he continued to chew and suck on the straw as his ‘75 hatchback idled in the vacant parking lot of the Sharon Road Diner in Redsky, New Jersey.
He was in Redsky for business, but it mostly felt like he was passing through. He’d only be here for a day or two.
“I’m a journalist,” he said. “For a nationwide conspiracy magazine. I travel the country, seeking the weird and the unusual. There’s a big difference between the two.”
Katrina was a seventeen year old runaway from eastern Virginia, headed for a new life in New York City. All her life, she wanted nothing more than to be an actress on Broadway. Somewhere between D.C. and Baltimore is where Katrina successfully hailed a rusted hatchback and told the peculiar man driving it that she was a nineteen year old stranded out these ways because her asshole boyfriend had ditched her after a big fight.
“We were heading out to Florida, from the City, when we got into this big confrontation about fidelity and he got pissed, telling me to get out of the car and walk home,” Katrina said. “That fucker.”
So did someone break your heart recently, or are you just lonely always? Because dude, you gotta stop mistaking a heart on your sleeve with confidence. Girls might be into that shit, but women aren't.
No. Also, I never said anything about confidence. You are silly, anon.
EDIT: Maybe I’m exhausted (I am) but, I have been trying not to let this get to me which is proving kind of impossible. You see, I never get anything in my ask box, anon or not. I have never claimed to be a confident person (in fact, I am a self-described self-loathing, slightly narcissistic, lonely (yes, lonely, I’ve been single since 2006, for christ’s sake [and, yes, before you get on about it, I do know that’s my own doing, shutup]) guy who has no idea on how to talk to ANYBODY (girl, guy, straight, gay, bi, trans, whatever). While, sure, I may have my negative quirks that’d detract people from maybe being friendly towards me, I never thought that somebody would take the time to send such an unintentionally cruel note to me. I know that this, whatever, was meant to be kind of a “hey, dude, piss off with your melancholy bullshit, you’d be great if you weren’t so happy in your sadness”, and it may have even been from a girl that I am or was interested in at one point (more than likely wasn’t, but because it’s anon, we’ll never know). Even though I know this, it still hurts. Why would someone take the time of day to say such things to anybody about anything? We should just allow one another to be who one another are, regardless of who one another are. Stop involving yourselves in the lives of others and live your own life.
I am happy. No, nobody has broken my heart recently, no matter what I may whine on and on about (I’ve only been on two semi-dates in recent months and those went fine; or, rather, fine enough, I guess). I am lonely always, but I’m fine with that. It’s not a harmful lonely, just something on the inside that’s always there, always has been there, and probably always will be there. I have never said that my sad-sack heart on my sleeve was confidence, I have never (never) claimed to have any sort of confidence. I don’t post on here to attract girls or women or men or boys or dogs or cats or whatever, I post on here for me. If you like it, great. If you dislike it, stop following me. I don’t care either way.
Also, for the record, most things that I put in quotes without a source are exerts from my writings that I’m narcissistic enough to post but not confident enough or crass enough to source myself for.
Why bring up confidence if you’re going to ask me anonymously?
“All of this has made me realize that I’ve done nothing but talk about myself. My likes, my dislikes, my tastes and my lack of tastes. All me. All me. All me.
It’s not my fault, they don’t teach you how to talk to women in school. Ask Danica, Wynona’s cute friend who teaches seventh grade science and english.”—