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Wednesday, August 5, 1999, 1:58 am
I'm in a terrible fucking mood. Of course, The Hairy Editor put me in it. Where do I fucking start? First, I have to have a long talk with him about a certain matter of being funny, and how he shockingly isn't. He then proceeds to whine about how I'm not giving the lecture to everyone else and what it comes down to is, I was trying to be polite and not directly say, "Just knock it the fuck off cause there isn't an iota in you that's amusing."
Don't you just wish that it was socially exceptable to say aloud exactly what's on your mind?
"You're a dweeb. A loser dweeb."
Then we had Group Therapy tonight. To be charitable, let's just say his prose "poetry" is, umm, complex. To be uncharitable: it's unnecessarily difficult and ultimately, childish. I mean, he's still really young and it shows. So full of idealism and et cetera, and too pig-headed to realize that the reason why no one "gets" his work is because it's simply too convuluted and unclear.
When we were through with his, he was visibly upset.
I feel bad and all, but shit... When you turn in something that's from left field, you gotta fucking expect it.
Then I find out, it was his birthday on Tuesday. I gave Overpublished his present right in front of him and I didn't realize it until Overpublished mentioned it. I even gave him a cheesey souvenier pen from Vegas and jokingly said that it was his birthday present. And I didn't realize that it really was his birthday.
So I feel bad and I feel like an ass. And the thing that really bothers the shit outta me is that I feel bad for someone who I really don't have a lotta respect for.
I'm really really fucking trying. I mean, I don't mean to condescend, but he is just plain _young_. In his developmental thinking I guess. He hasn't dealt with enough "reality moments" yet. Especially in an academic environment, and especially when you get the type of position that he does so young, and especially when you haven't exactly produced a large body of work, the chip on the shoulder doesn't get crushed that often. I seriously wonder if he'll ever outgrow the whole piss-and-vinegar phase. I mean, fuck, I was totally like that. I probably still do have a chip on my shoulder the size of Gibraltar, but the thing is, you gotta at least pretend to not know every goddamn thing in the world.
Oh fuck it. I decided that whenever I don't wanna deal with something, I'm just gonna shove it under a mental rug and use being a Virgo as the excuse.
In actuality, I don't really follow nor understand horoscopes. I've just been told countless times that "I'm such a Virgo." Well shit, if it's gonna help denial, I'm all for it.
Besides, I'll just get him a nice Star Wars action figure or something for his birthday. Nothing placates guilt like buying off someone with a Hasbro/Lucasfilm product.
Actually, I'm getting into a video game phase again. I blew a shitload of money at Toys N Joys. I bought Mario Golf but I didn't try it yet because I'm suddenly obsessed with Pokemon. And I'm totally unfamiliar with the character. I just really like the games. It's so addictive. I have to catch more Pokemon damnit!!! Me and Ball And Chain can't stop playing Pokemon Snap. She even called me at work to tell me that she caught 13 more Pokemon.
You see, on my way back from the gym yesterday afternoon, I stopped into Blockbuster video and they had the Pokemon Snap demo display. So I tried it and the game was just so fun and cute and addictive. With the speed of a slick banana, I showered and jammed it over to Toys N Joys and used one of my leftover traveler's checks.
Since I couldn't go over and play tonight (I moved my Nintendo 64 over to Ball And Chain's cause, what else am I gonna do there?), I went back to Toys N Joys and picked up Pokemon Pinball for my new Gameboy. And I came home from Group Therapy and played that for God knows how long. I'm obsessed.
And I have to go back to Toys N Joys tomorrow to pick up another game I got on hold.
Expenses, expenses...
All things considered, it was nice seeing the Great Hawaiian Hope again tonight. It fucking blows me away at what an amazing writer he is. Everytime I see him, I end up wanting to improve my work.
You know, I could practically feel the Hairy Editor's jealousy vibes swarming over the Great Hawaiian Hope.
I even got an idea for a new book that I want to try out tonight since I decided that I'll take tonight off from the gym. I've been a good boy. Three days in a row. My body probably needs the break anyway.
Maybe I'll just do some crunches.
Work off this bad fucking mood.
I should start playing Metal Gear Solid again.
My Cruel Intentions DVD came today. The six deleted scenes were actually pretty cool and interesting.
Oh and fuck! Just one more Hairy Editor bitch/complaint session.
Get this. One time, Overpublished accidently told me that the Hairy Editor called me a hack. Well fuck, not like I give a shit about his opinion, but if that's what you think, then quit coming by my workplace to bug me. I mean, just because I care about writing something entertaining (unlike him, whose main concern with his work is to either shock or make the reader feel stupid), does not make me a hack. I'll be the first to admit, I'm not exactly trying to produce thought-provoking literature. That's kinda hard to achieve when your main influences are John Woo movies, Batman comic books, and video games, but I prefer the term "mainstreamly commercial."
And umm, last I checked, I didn't see you win any awards so apparently YOU'RE in the minority you butt-fuck!
Damnit, I wanna move to Vegas already!!!!!!!!!!
Lake Placid was actually a cute movie.
How many times did I say "actually" in this entry?
