turning over a new leaf

For the month of September, I want to write something nice for a short story. I’m always writing about shitty people doing shitty things. How about this time, I write about good people trying to make the world a nicer place?

OR, How about I try to write an actual goddamn story and not shit post the entire thing?

Ya know, I enjoy fine art. In fact, I wish that I could’ve been a painter. Seriously.

I love Claude Monet. Impression, Sunrise might be the most profound thing I’ve ever seen. It really stirs the poetry in my heart. That being said, I just wish the fisherman was pissing over the edge of the boat. 🤷‍♂️

Or consider the serene scene in Georges Seurat’s A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. Would it have killed Seurat to have added a dude taking a shit in the water?

C’mon!

Unfortunately, God didn’t bless me with the skill of the brush. Instead, he made me barely literate enough to string together sentences that are adequately coherent. But words are to a writer what color is the painter.

“What the hell are you talking about?” you might ask.

I’m trying to explain how I view the world. I always try to find the absurd and the vulgar, even where most find profundity.

It’s like that time when I got REALLY high and started thinking about 90s/00s Oscar-bait films. Specifically the westerns: Dances With Wolves, The Horse Whisperer, Legends of the Fall, Brokeback Mountain, etc. And then I created a trailer in my head: Brokeback Wolf Whisperer, which was directed by Ang Lee, written by Paul Haggis, and starring Kevin Coster, Robert Redford, Morgan Freeman, Jodie Foster, Brad Pitt, Richard Gere, George Clooney, Nicole Kidman, and Paul Reubens.

I don’t remember what it was about, but I think it was mostly Morgan Freeman talking sense into a wheelchair-bound Richard Gere:

“Why are you always whispering to wolves, Silas? They don’t understand a damn word you saying!”

“Because of my broken back, Ennis!!!”

So I want to do a story like that: something sappy, something heartwarming, something that’s barely above the quality of a Hallmark movie. That’s my challenge for the month of September.

And don’t do drugs 👍

****

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a quiet life (part iii)

Look, you guys have been clamoring for this.

I don’t want this story to continue. YOU do.

Therefore I am holding you personally responsible for everything I write henceforth.

***

“You can’t use racial slurs in conference calls!” the Human Resource officer told me.

“Susan, stop,” I said, “you know how much you turn me on when you’re angry.”

“I’m afraid that you will be suspended without pay until the Board decides what to do with you,” she responded.

“I’m not racist!” I declared. “I was simply stating what the Papa John’s guy said in HIS racist phone call!”

“You are hereby suspended. Please vacate the premise.”

“Bitch,” I said as I stood up.

I was so upset that I got drunk and drove to a cockfight. As I was placing a bet, my friend Don noticed something was wrong.

“What’s on your mind Bill?” Don asked as we were sharing a crack pipe.

“I don’t know anymore Don,” I said. “I feel like I’m stalling. All I’m doing is filling my time with sex, drugs, and absurd behavior. It’s gotten me nowhere. I don’t ask for much. All I really want is a quiet life. Sounds simple enough but I can’t seem to get out of my own way. I’m lost and the walls are crumbling all around me. Is it possible Don? Is it possible that I am the problem?”

Don took a hit off the pipe and thought for a moment.

“Nah,” he finally said.

“You’re probably right.”

Then we picked up some hookers off skid row.

I’m not a perfect person

So I was dropping acid at a Hoobastank concert when I got punched in the face.

“What the hell man!” I yelled.

“Oh, sorry sir, I thought you were my wife.”

Unfortunately it was at that moment when the acid kicked in. By the time band played “Naked Jock Man”, I was on an intergalactic journey with Carl Sagan.

I woke up in the ICU and the lady doctor told me that I had a “concussion and picked up an STD.” After I was discharged, I went up to the doctor and asked:

“Hey, wanna get a drink?”

“I don’t date patients,” she replied.

“Who said that this was a date? It’s just two people getting together over drinks.“

“Sir, you have hepatitis A, B, and C. You’re on the verge of both kidney and liver failure. You obviously have a massive pill addiction. AND you have crippling diabetes. If you don’t change your lifestyle right now, you will be dead in four years,” she told me.

What a fucking bitch.

Could’ve just said “no”.