Not that I really don’t care. It’s just at this very moment, I’m not too happy with the redundancy of things.
I just got done reading the story of Stan Lee. Actually, several stories concerning Stan Lee. Here was a guy that for the bulk of his life, was living as one thing- a writer, and wanted to bust out and be something more. He wanted to be the next great American Author. Like a Mark Twain or a Mary Shelley. He was surrounded by people in every walk of life, that took risks and did something that brought them great fortunes. Men that eventually owned islands. Men that made great careers and owned portions of cities. Here he was, doing some writing for comic books.
For most of his life, he wanted to be something more, and when the time came for him to step up to the plate and do contrary to what he has always been doing- he came up with the Fantastic Four.
He’s a guy that from 18-mid 30’s, he was putting up with the bullshit of doing the same thing for a guy that just wanted to maintain the status quo- day in and day out. Sometimes I feel like I’m kind of the same way- just doing the thing of surviving until I can get that opportunity to make it somehow. I have no idea when that will happen though, and I guess that’s where most of my anxiety is right now.
Here’s the thing. I’m an informal writer. I know that. I’m not one for diction or grammar or any of that proper shit. I will say you as oft as I feel I need to in a sentence, because I want you to be in as much of the story as possible. I don’t want to have just me at the garbage dump shooting rats, I want you to somehow relate with me in that experience. Like when you’re hunting for a cockroach, and the damn thing starts scurrying away from any kind of light you shine on it. I’m sure there are better ways of carrying you into the story so you’re there with me, but I like the shortcut. Or I’m not too exercised in the other way, so it’s a shortcut for me, at least in a style of writing. Otherwise, I’m looking at taking things to a next level with my writing, and it’s a rough going because having sort of a sense of establishment is a dangerous thing. Complacency can be a threat to your existence, your growth, and your security.
Things change. Things grow. Just as the babe takes on words and learns to speak, so businesses and corporations must take themselves out of infancy and learn how to manage the bigger leagues of things. Goldman Sachs was probably some rinky-dink bank in some brick-house somewhere before they got enough capital to get the motors running on full speed. Kellogg’s was grains and shit that got around to other areas of the market. I could probably take a look at all the history of anything and see their infancy stages to where they are today. Companies that at one point could hardly handle overhead expenses, much less feeding those that worked for them- but they made those sacrifices to their own well being to get it rolling. Later, and even much later in life, they were getting into more substantial areas of the market, and eating better things. But they were carrying on more work. But they were carrying more workers. The work became complex, but they got more people in that complexity to work it out for them.
What I’m trying to say is- I’m struggling right now. I’m a late-bloomer, wondering where my break will happen. I’m alone. My only company at night is hopefully a well-done porn vid and a burger from one of the local joints ‘round here. If it isn’t well done, or the burger sucks, then whatever. I hate the solitude sometimes. I wish I could move on, and just go on a fuck fest, but deep down I know that isn’t me. I could never treat a woman like that, even though somewhere in the most reasonable areas of my mind, I’m sure that’s the attitude the porn industry and its viewers have towards women. That’s probably why I’m losing a lot of interest in porn as well- because as beautiful as the women are that are in it, I know it’s all bullshit. I know they are all viewed as objects rather than people of substance. That’s probably why they are treated in such a manner, because everyone around them has debased them to that level.
So amongst the litany of thoughts, that is what is floating about this evening. I’m tired of the redundancy of things. Work. School. Home. Food. Porn. Part of me wants to, as Stan Lee was most inclined during his life, to say fuck it all and start on something new. I would like to write as freelance for someone and get the ball rolling in another direction. And I’m sure a lot of my friends and family would be happy with me doing that. Yet, here I am, putting up with the daily same shit. Yet, I’m asking myself why. Do I see as lucrative an end as with Stan in his day? Do I note in me a fire that continues to burn brightly for a cause that has somehow lost its luster and former glory?
Thing is, Stan had a wife and a kid. He had to stay, and make something of it. In fact, it was at the insistence of his wife that made him ultimately stay and create the Fantastic Four.
I don’t have that. I don’t have anyone in my life, on that constant basis pushing me to do more. To do better.
I need to sleep on this.
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