Thursday, July 23, 2009

Writers Block

I’m sitting here banging away on my laptop, praying to God that I can write something legible, humorous and with at least an ounce of literary merit. The problem is I’m in a funk, and although I can think of topics to write about I either can’t express these ideas clearly and humorously, or I just can’t finish what I started. This lack of production has really gotten me down and I’m desperate to turn things around. That being said, I think I have an idea on how to regain my confidence and sharpen my edge. I’m going to do what all the great writers before me have done. Writers like Thompson, Camus, Burroughs, Poe and Wilde. That’s right… I’m going to take lots and lots of opiates.

I know what some of you are thinking, “Dan, you sexual idol, you can’t take drugs. You can’t. You just can’t! Think of the children! Think of your mother!” I’m sorry ladies (I’ve long since determined guys don’t read my ramblings) I’ve made up my mind. I’m a perfectionist, and I’m determined to give you a product worth your valuable time. I’ve weighed all the options, and this is by far the best way for me to give you what you deserve.
Let’s face facts as well; this is going to be the most fun way to solve my writer’s block. Of course let’s hope I don’t over dose, have a heart attack or have some jackass drug dealer swap my mushrooms with marshmallows dipped in LSD. I think if everyone holds up their end of the deal (I take the drugs. My dealer gives me good drugs. My friends make sure I don’t choke on my own vomit) we’ll get out of this whole experiment with some really awesome essays, some great stories and no lasting addictions.

I don’t want to sugar coat this, things could get ugly. Like Thompson and Burroughs I might begin to develop a fascination with military grade weaponry. I may also decide to travel with a Samoan attorney, I’m not sure. These are things that the drugs will decide. All we can do is speculate and come up with contingency plans.

Let’s set up some ground rules. If I start to develop eccentricities, such as referring to myself as the Emperor of Wisconsin and Protector of Mexico, let it slide until I start printing my own currency. Everything I write while on the drugs needs to be saved. To you it may seem like crazy babble, but to existentialists and aged, drug ravaged hippies it maybe a new religion (cults are big money). Keep Yoko Ono the fuck away from me. If I say I’m going to cut you, I’m going to cut you. And finally if I begin to find myself in homosexual orgies, please get me into rehab right away (especially if it looks like I might be a bottom).

All right, let the adventure begin!

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Network Chaos

So our computer network is down, which means the only thing I can do on my computer is make rambling Word documents and baffling spreadsheets. None of this would be so bad if it wasn’t for my desire to avoid actual work and cruise the Internet until someone of authority noticed. Looks like for the time being I’m stuck shuffling papers around on my desk while crunching mercilessly on a stale bag of BBQ flavored trail mix.
It’s times like these when I wonder what our pre-Internet age counterparts did in the olden days of 1964. I bet they just puffed on smooth cigarettes and told misogynistic jokes to each other. Surely productivity was an invention of the Internet.
So here I sit, pecking away at a $700 typewriter debating if I should dust my desk with the Chlorox wipes or the Windex. A few of my co-workers have chosen instead to binge eat on whatever morsels are lying about the department. I sense this is how crack addicts cope when they’re unable to achieve a fix. Little does anyone know that I have a closet full of candy. If this outage persists I may be able to exploit this advantage and become their god.
I’ve begun to sculpt plastic figurines depicting my godly heritage to quell any heretics. Thankfully I’ve been able to mine the plastic from the laughably anatomically incorrect skeleton near my desk. Seeing as how only I have this valuable natural resource in abundance I am able to hold a monopoly on idol creation. Yes, yes, I and only I will tell them who to worship. I am the prophet god Dan!
Blasphemy aside I’m searching for meaningful things to do. I’ve taken to randomly texting my friends the details of my current situation. Sadly none of them are awake. I need to get new, not so sleepy friends.
I wonder what other people are doing to keep themselves occupied. They’re probably building fortifications. I should build a fort as well… and weapons. I must arm myself to defend against marauders who would love to do nothing else than steal from my candy closet. I could make a weapon out of my stapler, but I feel that’s what they’re expecting me to do. I wonder what sort of weapons I can create with what I have on hand: White-Out, canned air and butane lighter.
I’m beginning to flesh out the creation story for my new religion. I’m not sure what angle I want to go with. Is everyone the byproduct of my wrath and vengeance against a pantheon of gods, or is everyone a deliberate creation? I’m not down with the whole free will thing, though. That garbage is getting left by the wayside. I think for my flood story the protagonist’s name will be Alfonzo, and the flood won’t be caused by man’s wickedness, but because I forgot to turn off the water for some do it yourself plumbing. There’ll be a moral in that: Thou shalt always check to see if the water is turned off before removing a faucet. My new religion will be pretty practical. A few other commands will be: Always put the keys on the key rack turn off the lights when you leave the room, and always tip you waitress.
Oh, hey, the network is back up. Lata skaters.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Dream Malady

I have this dream where I throw this amazing party, and amidst a hushed ambiance I descend a staircase in a flowing formal gown. Serves me right for falling asleep during a "Pride and Prejudice" marathon.
I absolutely hate it when you have a very realistic dream in which you accomplish a lot of stuff. You dream you worked hard on a project or you flirted with this cute girl, and got the nuts to ask her out on a date, and had an amazing date which culminated on a bridge somewhere overlooking the sunrise. Immediately after the dream you want to test out and see if any of the crap that happened in the dream "took" in real life. Sadly you realize that all that work in the dream translates to jack in real life. Or maybe you decide to take some of the things that did happen in the dream and try to make them happen in real life. For instance let's say that in your dream you have this solution to a problem at work and your solution was greeted with enthusiasm and praise in the dream. But when it comes to real life your solution is met with baffled looks and your boss puts her head in her hands and mutters, "you fucking moron" under her breath.
I wish that life had a free dream pass. Like once a year you're allowed to document what you accomplished in your dream and are at least given partial credit. Like if you did have an amazing date with a girl you can tell her without her thinking you're a creep-o. Or you can tell your boss that you worked really hard on this looming project in your dream and that should definitely be considered in your next review.
It's about damn time that we get credit for the thought, since isn't it really the thought that counts? Everyone has these dreams, it's only fair we are allowed the chance not to feel so damn pathetic after having them.