This was written while working an overnight shift @ a gas station a few miles off the coast…
Listening to pop artists drone on and on about being a tortured artist just breaks my heart. My creative veins start boiling with resentment. A struggle is not a new found love with pot or a new tendency towards pouring a few too many and dancing in your own urine. Although, I will admit these moments make for fantastic stories. These events make terrible songs; full of repetitive lyrics that numb the brain into submission. While these cheap songs excite us like phases of our life, college buddies, and first boyfriends we come to realize they are like cheap amusement rides. The real passion, personality, and sincere lyrics, poetry, whatever come from self reflection and self deprecation. Being able to look within yourself and become friends with your faults. Stay humble, pour yourself, your true self into your art and if it stands the test of time above the rest, great. If not? You’ll forever be a hidden treasure lurking in a shoebox under your bed for someone, or no one to find. The point and the purpose is: truth, absolution, and fearlessly presenting yourself in whatever way you know how.
You know that girl in the horror movie who is the first to die? She wears a piece of fabric that matches the dimensions of a paper towel covering her nipples and then tip toes into a dark cellar after the electricity mysteriously turns off. She continues down the steps even after the audience hears the distinctive sound of a pistol going off. Here comes the masked intruder.
A girl in a pink cardigan with class and a degree in BioChem carelessly tosses popcorn into her mouth as she whispers to her boyfriend:
“That girl is so stupid!” Her face scrunches in annoyance.
To which her surprisingly relaxed boyfriend who listens to good music and cares about the environment replies: “Hun it’s just a movie”
“I know it’s just a movie but couldn’t she as least put a shirt on?”
To which my reply is:
“Listen alright you adorable little sass mouth it might have been warm that hot summer night okay? Also that pow noise could easily be the next door neighbors car back firing. Don’t forget in this hypothetical situation I am a celebrity that had a nice enough body to get Liongate to hire me hence the revealing attire.”
Play devils advocate every once in a while, never judge a book by it’s cover, and above all else be stupid, make mistakes, be a lush. Living life by the convention of a normal level of intelligence is so mundane. Make people figure out you’re smart through weeks of drunken arguments and long metro rides and many a vegan salads later.