2002-11-13 | L'Histoire (a suivi)

The Sunday paper is also full of tons of trashy articles, too.

I don't own many books, and the majority of the ones I do own didn't make the trip with me.

So for now, I have my magazines. Oh, my beloved, filthy, books for the dumb. I would like to thank the post office for forwarding my mail promptly, providing me with countless, sometimes clueless opinions of others, which I use to create my own alternate universe, where most everything is just plain unadulterated fun! I usually live my life like this in the "real" universe, but recent developments have sort of halted production, for now.

When I was filled with daily, non-stop action, Sports Illustrated used to go almost directly to the garbage can, with only half of it actually perused, and only about a third of it actually read. But in these down times, every page is shiny and abundant. A cornucopia of riveting journalism. Every page a thesis on Kurt Cobain, or Conan O'brien, or Andy Kaufman, or.......Urkel...?

In other words "FUN! FUN! FUN!"

This normally simple magazine, now paints complex pictures in my head that would someday be auctioned off to unsuspecting....idiots!...who actually think it's "art". Well, I guess it's MY art. The pictures in my head are the most abstract you've ever seen, even though i'm the least trained "artist" you will ever meet. I prefer to use my own style. (or lack there of) But some people think my visions are beautiful. That's how art works, right? Somebodies peice of shit is somebody elses Kandinsky.

The authors of these magazine articles, become MY classic authors.

Rick Reilly is my P.J. O'Rourke

Bill Scheft is my Kerouac

Charles R. Cross is my Hunter S. Thompson

Gideon Yago is.....well...he's annoying as hell on the tube, but in print, he can be quite comforting. I must admit, I didn't like the man when I saw him on TV, but the more I read him in SPIN, the more I condone him. I don't have enough time or energy to rant about how much his tv persona annoys me, but his writings aren't all that bad. Even though he's repetitive, obvious...he's tolerable, because he's so mild. It just sucks that writing is his job, and he gets paid to write about his favorite things, or make fun of stuff that I, personally have already thought of six months to ten years ago. That's how life can seem unfair, and it's also a testament to how lazy i can be.

I should, by all accounts have a job like that by now. Sadly, I should have one at least ten times better.

- premature ejaculation | tantra +