Here I am sitting here, of course here, at my mother’s house. I am a 30-year-old man and I am living with my mother. I am also unemployed and I should be writing, I am writing, but I should be writing in a different manner and not the matter in which Christopher Holland wants me to write. Here is what happened, about a month ago Chris "invited" me to write a story for his ever-expanding webzine, wrldmrine.com. I refused this request for a number of reasons. The main reason being Chris (also the editor and chief) only publishes stories which mention his name directly, and in the manner that improves his image. I would never be able to truthfully write about kicking his ass at basketball, wrestling, and fantasy football. Instead I would have insert little scenarios where Chris, "shows me how to set up my windows outlook" and in the process makes a witty little remarks that shows my over all ignorance of all things computer related. The truth is (fictionally) that Chris Holland is a genius, not only a genius, but also an extremely good-looking athletic genius. So there it is, I laid it out on the table, sort of, why I do not wish to write a story that glorifies Christopher Holland. So why am I writing this story? I am writing this story to show that I can write. Here is how the first (imaginary) conversation went with Chris
Chris: you really need to write something new for wrldmrine
Me: I am better than you are at basketball
Chris: the site is getting really old, old like a man that is 30 years old and still lives with his mother
Me: you want to wrestle
Chris: what are you like 300 pounds
Me: I get laid a lot
Chris: you still need to write something new for wrldmrine… but if you have writes block, I understand.
And that was it, those were the magic words that pulled me right in. writers block, what the fuck is that all about? First of all, writers don’t get writer’s block, Chris isn’t a writer, and therefor he is excused for his ignorance on the subject. But to assume that I have writers block, and to throw that soft gentle-baby-brain-delicate subject of "writers block" out they’re like that, to toss it, to spear it like a dart or a javelin into my open-wound of a heart deserves some reprimand. It was a little austere, and he needs to pay for the comment. I do not have writer’s block simply because it doesn’t exist, other artists don’t suffer from "painters block" or "rappers block" therefor Chris is an idiot.
So you see this, I am writing, I am writing for wrldmrine.com, I am writing for Chris, I am writing for myself, and for writers block. I also maintain a fairly stiff erection. Not that I maintain an erection for Chris or for wrldmrine, I just want to make it clear that I do not have writes block or suffer from any sort of impotency… I am a man, some would say a superman, and If I were German I would be Uber mann. And Chris is an idiot.
Now I must admit there was a spark that provoked a little soul searching on my behalf, yes I am unemployed, overweight and live with my mother, and yes, I have recently published jack shit, nothing nada, zilch. Truth be told I have pretty much giving up on writing altogether, but yet here I am, and I am thinking, maybe a little drunk, but I am thinking about life and all the limitless possibilities. Here are some of the examples of things of could have done, and the person’s I could have been.
Looking for money I answer a pornographic advertisement in the back of the Seattle PI. Some how I enter the dark murky underworld of pornography and find out that I have a knack for it. I call Chris Holland every single day to inform him that I get paid to have sex with beautiful women.
Spend all the free time I have being unemployed to write an award winning novel. The novel would be about a man who is recently divorced, and while doing a little soul searching decides to write a novel about writing a novel. A personal discovery sort of thing in where the author realizes all of his shortcomings seeks forgiveness from friends and family and becomes a better person in the process
Chris helps me to get a job working at Microsoft as an event planner. I quickly show my tenacity for the job, and am soon planning rock and roll festivals that feature such artists as Modest Mouse, Radiohead, The Strokes, and Beck. Everybody at Microsoft loves me and I soon find myself planning events for the one and only Mr. Bill Gates. Then, while at his house, I ruin it all by getting drunk and barfing on his wife. Still to this day, (future) I am amazed that he actually has a Burger King in his house. I tell everybody at the bar this story, but none of them ever believe me.
Move to mountains with a hot Bavarian bombshell named Amber, she teaches me to use the German phrase "Uber mann"because I fuck her like the Uber Mann. We spend our whole winter drinking cheap rum and snowboarding. Eventually find that more and more guys start hitting on her. Because she is the only female on the mountain, I become extremely protective. Before the year is up, there is a terrible snowplow "accident" involving a young, [some would say handsome] lift operator named Todd. The authorities don’t discover the body until spring. I move to Mexico with Amber and learn to speak Spanish, which only makes it worse when I learn what the locales are actually saying about my beautiful girlfriend.
Realize that I am a loser, and that wrldmrine has not been updated in three weeks. Decide to write a new piece for the site, send it to firstname.lastname@example.org then call him up on the telephone asking for some extra money. Since I already owe him 60 dollars, plus 100 dollars circa 1996 of which he loaned to me outside a McDonalds in Garmish Germany, and finally, I haven’t paid my fantasy football dues… Chris denies me the money, and instead offers me his couch.
I love you Chris.