Tag Archives: Jenny Lawson

Literary Excuses

16 Sep


Today I finally finished Jenny Lawson’s laughtrack to her life, and realized that aside from a spectacular session of reader’s theatre that The BFF and I entertained one another with, over Whiskey and cigars the other day…it was the first book I’ve finished reading in prob’ly upward of three months.

…That shit is ridiculous.

…And I totally know whose fault it is, too:

The summer.

J.J. Abrams.

And you.

…The reason I haven’t finished a damn book in so long is because there is sunshine out there…and that almost never happens in this state…and I NEED to freakin’ be out in it, every second that I possibly can

…And when I’m not outside, I am prob’ly glued to “Alias” for the first time…wondering how in the hell I have lived this long on earth without finding out that J.J. Abrams is prob’ly the magical movie “third” in writer-imagination-kickassness, right after Sorkin and Whedon. But no matter how excited I get about it and wanna tell someone, they’re all like, “Uh. Yeah. Everyone already knows that, dumbass.”


…My next reason in actively forsaking the written novel/history/biography/NY Times Best Seller, is that I’ve been glued to the fucking computer since first opening this blog. 

For some reason I thought it would be a great idea, and not at all stressful, to blog every single day…whether I happen to have something to comment on or not.  Which has already gotten me into a ton of sticky wickets due to the fact that (in case you aren’t a full-time reader)…my life ain’t all that spectacular. 

…If I had to compare apples to oranges, I’d say that’s exactly like doing a one hour stand-up improv routine, every. single. day. I have no idea where the material is supposed to materialize from, but I’m standing here on the damn stage…with the mic on…so I better just come up with something…and kinda quick…cuz I have to do this all over again, tomorrow.  And since you all are in the audience, (and keep insisting on reading it), I figure you’re basically enablers. So really, it’s all your fault.


…I keep waiting for the inevitable anxiety attack that this will bring on, as the days pass, and I start rehearsals on top of work. Which leaves only about enough time to take a shower, eat one meal a day, and schedule my pooping time (because I can’t “poop” just anywhere, you know…and that takes some serious navigating and preplanning.)

Meanwhile, rehearsals start this Saturday, and I have no idea how I’m gonna make all this fly.

…Which is not to say that I don’t enjoy the challenge it presents: the fact that I often have to just pull a theme outta my butt and run with it, or mix up the media presentation a bit, or figure out how to spin something that is still a bit too raw at the moment, into something we can all laugh about less than 24 hours later…when you’re reading it from your phone, while undertaking your morning after-coffee BM.  (A lot of you do, and you know it, and I’m totally okay with it. Really.)

…Anyway.  What I’m getting at is — this isn’t just a “chore” thing.  Only sometimes it is.  Like when I’m tired.  Or grumpy. Or traveling.  Mostly it is an enjoyable clean slate for the day, on which to scribble upon.  But I DO miss a paper book in my hands.  And I DO need to make more time (somehow) to continue to study from them.  And I DO have lines that need learning.  But I DO think I can fit it all in.  And this is my accountability clerk, jotting it all down in ink (is it still “ink” when in type on a screen?)…so that I will remember my pledge and uphold it.

It may be something as simple as streamlining. Less words per day from my brain, in order to have time to soak up others’.

…Which I can live with.

What I can’t do is another three months and only one novel checked off the “read” list from the three-zillion-and-one piled up beside my bed, waiting to be next. 

Don’t forsake my education…even while I practice what I’ve learned.

I need both.  All the time.  It keeps me centered. And focused.


How To Get Book-Famous

22 Aug


I’m reading this book right now. 

…Because she got famous doing what I wanna do, which is essentially to turn this whole blog thing into my main income.  Or at least a decent supplemental one. 

It’s first week out, the book was on the NY Times Bestseller List…which I think we can all agree is amazing…and she now travels the country on her publisher’s dime, to sit at tables and sign her name inside book covers, while reaping real-world scenario materials for her next Top Seller.

I could handle this kind of life, if it accidentally on purpose happened to me, is what I’m saying.

…Of course, it never would happen.

…Because what I have discovered while reading her words out loud, (in-between the times I can’t, because I’m crying too hard in hysteria and peeing my pants a little), is that ultimately, I just did not have a fucked-up enough childhood to qualify the kind of success she so rightly deserves.

My Dad never ONCE stuck his finger up the butt of a dead rat, thus transforming it into a very disturbing puppet.

I may NOT have had a lot of money growing up, but Mom never rubberbanded bread sacks to my feet in lieu of snow boots and sent me off to school that way.

…I never lived in an asbestos lean-to, connected to my Father’s taxidermy shop…found dead carcases with their entrails taking up the whole bathtub, or helped run a transient hotel for orphaned and wounded wild animals that at any second could turn and rip my face off.  Just “because.”

…People like David Sedaris, Augusten Burroughs and this chick, are almost guaranteed book sellers, on account of their totally unbelievable upbringing and various proceeding mental breakdowns and coping mechanisms.  They are like the Royalty of making the best out of really screwed up and scarring childhood situations.  In this kingdom, I’m but a mere Pageboy or Scullery Maid in comparison.

Not that “competing” against these people, is the goal…but there is definitely a “niche-following” involved in Memoir Essaying and I think I lack the total package deal to fit in properly.  I can certainly go off on sick and dark circumstances, while generously peppering my personal philosophies on the proper shelving of movie collections, and organizing of junk drawers…but I don’t think that’s quite enough meat in the stew of requirement.  The best ammo I have to use in this case, involves The Brothel here…and unless I want to get my ass sued off (which is no small feat with the podonkodonk that I’m sportin’) …it’s pretty much off the board when I go public with who I really am.

…Which is too bad, really.

It all comes down to the fact that I was horribly abused, neglected, warped, and fucked with by the wrong people.  If it was my PARENTS, I could write it all out and make a mint, (with the understanding that at least part of the sales of said book would go toward keeping them in a manner to which they would become “accustomed.”)  But it wasn’t. It was my JOB that did it.

…There is no dotted line of permission, or amount of pay-out, that will allow me to pass onto the next round of using what I have been forced into while working here.  Unless said book is a total unqualified success equal to Jenny Lawson’s Freshman work…I will be immediately fired and totally unemployable for the rest of my life…due to the fact that (apparently), I spend all my down time dissing my place of business surreptitiously with wild abandon.  Even if it’s true.

…I mean, I’d get fired even if the book was a giant success, true…but I would care a lot less in that instance.  Until the legal paperwork would start flying in, and I’d find myself being sued for roughly the exact amount of money which the book would have accrued, thus leaving me pretty much where I’m sitting right now, only not literally, and maybe a little more famous for it.

…Like Donald Trump every time he goes bankrupt again.

I don’t think I could handle that level of almostness in making something of myself, then lose it all.

…But then, if it spiralled me into some great, mistrustful, fist-shaking-at-fate rebellion over the whole ordeal…I could write a Memoir about that.

…Maybe I should look into it.


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