Wednesday, March 17, 2010

It LIVES!


Alas, I am back. My little hiatus was brought on by a sense of stage fright. My overall purpose for this blog was to chronicle my experiences as a struggling writer trying to adjust to LA and what not. The only trouble was... I wasn't in LA yet! So rather than bore all three of you, and bore myself with stories of how lame the suburbs of Chicago are, or how my Mom believes my cat to be a homosexual, I chose to forgo blogging until I completed the move.

WHICH I HAVE! I'm sitting in a Starbucks on Ventura Ave because that's what fancy writers with MacBooks do in LA. We sit at Starbucks and get off on people watching us write. We're like narrative exhibitionists. This is true for those of us writers who are in our hearts, failed actors. We still get the attention (even if it's in our minds) but we can eat all the glazed donuts we want cause no one looks at the writers! Horray! The system works. True to the core writers are way to nervous and jittery to even contemplate leaving the safety of their computer chair let alone go to Starbucks. A perfect example of this is Alan Moore. Take a look at this guy. He wrote some of the most prolific and awe inspiring graphic novels of all time; Watchmen, V for Vendetta, The League of Extraordinary Gentleman. But he doesn't seem like the kind of guy you'd see waiting in line behind you at Crate and Barrel. Alan Moore is a few bloodstains away from being that asshole who works at a haunted house and creeps up behind you, waiting for you to turn around. But his giant crumb trap and deep set eyes, withered from years of staring at computer screens and blank paper, are like creepy badges of courage in my eyes. There's integrity in that anarchist's face; an integrity that I admire. And even though I'd call security on him if I saw him at an airport, I'd respect him still. This is the TRUE face of every writer. Whether you be an exhibitionist like myself, or a rodent like recluse watching people through your Venetian blinds, this is what we all look like on the inside. Aren't we pretty?

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