Here there be monsters (socratic) wrote,
Here there be monsters

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Quit your whining cause you're bringing her down.

Steven Pressfield wants us to believe in muses because of a radical interpretation of William Blake's poetry that he is. Steven Pressfield is a giant ass and a pussy to boot. His book is useful.

When I was like 4 years old (maybe a little older, up to 7) I wrote

"Egyptian asleep for a thousand years
What is the difference between an inch and a mile
A second and a year.
You have slept and endless sleep
All wrapped in the blanket of time."

I actually thought that was a good poem until I was like 12. I still think it's decent for an elementary school student.

I finished Pressfield's book. He compares clothes shopping to Stevie Wonder's piano playing and writing Bagger Vance (which he wrote) to the tortured paintings of Van Gogh. Prick or pussy? You decide.

I feel electrified. My brain is flooded with endorphis. My Neurons are all a buzz and they aren't going to be shutting up any time soon. For the first time in my goddamn life I feel like I can actually do it. Like I can go out there and have enough to say, and say it well enough, so that people will actually listen and more importantly that they motherfucking SHOULD listen. You hear that all you motherfuckers who will undoubtably stand in my way, try and beat me down, divert me from my task and turn me into a suit? You are doing the world a fucking disservice. You aren't going to stop me either, just slow me down. Van Gogh didn't get recognized during his lifetime. Nobody cares now. If I don't produce anything of quality at least I'll go down swinging. I'm tired of covering up and waiting for my opening. Carpe Diem. Seize the motherfucking day and make it mine. Hook hook uppercut. Time to go on the offensive.

I feel like I could do anything right now. My superego says it's an illusion and my ego tells him to shut his FUCKING mouth and go sit in the back with the slackers and the retards.

Something really weird happened to me yesterday. I was talking to Justin after free speech class, as I am wont to do, when this guy from my film class came up to me, confirmed my identity, and then said he was going to tell me a story because I was the only one around. He then proceeded to tell me that as he'd left a nearby building he'd seen a squirrel. He chased it around and sort of harassed it a little until it ran up a tree. Then he turned and saw this girl on the steps who had a look of disgust on her face while looking at him, presumably accusing him of harassing an innocent little animal.

That was the story.

I proceeded to try and engage him with a couple jokes, about how he was teaching the squirrel about the real world and how the squirrels around campus are too soft anyway. As I expanded the discussion to pigeons and postulated that the pigeon that was caught by a hawk recently on campus would have survived had someone had the guts and kindness to chase it around before so that it could have developed some survival skills he said "I gotta bounce. Give me your number next class."

I was left confused, and I am almost always the confuser in social situations. What exactly was it about that story that compelled him to tell it to me, someone he doesn't know? This is compounded by the fact that he was apparently in a hurry. I guess he could have been high but I don't know.

Speaking of Justin, when I was talking to him Phi Beta Kappa came up. He's expecting to be invited in as a junior. He said his GPA is in the top 15 at the school and he's also applying for a Rhodes scholarship. I felt no jealousy whatsoever. In fact I was kind of happy for his accomplishments and glad to know such an overachiever. I think that's further proof that I am getting into the mental role of a writer. I don't care about the grade shit and the social competitiveness anymore. I need to focus on my own creativity, screw the rest of the world.

Today I did some more filming for the project. I was so wired and high going out to do it that I was almost twirling in place with nervous energy. Frank was 15 minutes late and it turned out that tonight was the varsity show so half the college showed up in their Sunday best to go to the show, and I was standing there like a schlub in pants that are now too big for me and a dreary checkered shirt. That's the kind of situation that would have made me turn tail and run or at least freeze up with social anxiety a few months ago but I just rode it out and kept a smile on my face. It didn't really matter, I don't care what they think anymore. Eventually Frank showed up and we went off to shoot. We went to buy a pack of cigarettes for the shoot and then as we were heading into the grocery store to see what they had in comparison to the newstand we ran into LHG on the street. I nodded at her and just kept on walking. My train of thought was completely shattered of course and it felt like a punch to the solar plexus just seeing her but I was not going to let myself lose focus and I quickly righted the ship of my mind.

The shooting went pretty well. Frank's girlfriend was cold but a real trooper and a sweet woman, and some of the shots looked just beautiful. We weren't zoomed in far enough and the sound is terrible but it doesn't matter. It looks like a student film but a student film by a couple guys who know what they are doing and could get it right if given the chance. The lighting is actually quite superb in the spot we picked out. Shooting is going at a snail's pace but it doesn't matter. I love it. We shot for about an hour and a half out there in the cold and I could have gone for 10. It was just so awesome. It doesn't feel like work, it feels like joyous play. I love it. Frank has registered for the Auteur class over the summer so I'm missing the registration period. Stupid senior class center won't respond to me. Fuck them, they are evil. I'll go down there tomorrow and try to find out some information. The classes over the summer aren't so important. I am all of a sudden possessed of a certain level of patience. I'm young, I can wait. I am reborn. I can do anything! Well anything short of talking to LHG. I mean I'm still ME! I think I could actually handle her laughing in my face and telling me to take my fat fuck ass as far away from her as possible at this point, but I wouldn't want to impose on her world with my awkward self anyway. It's the whole idealized female thing I set forth earlier. She exists on another plane of reality where us mere mortals (me) do not dare tread.

Jesus H Christ the shooting was fun.

When I was lifting weights today there was serious pain in my right arm. I think something's not right with a ligament or tendon there. I only feel it when lifting but it's not a good feeling. I've given it rest but it hasn't healed up. I think after the semester over I am going to have to go to full cardio for a few months to let that issue heal up.

When I was a late teen early twenties my left elbow joint got all weird and felt like it always needed to be popped. This made me very uncomfortable and I thought it was a permanent condition as it lasted for over a year. It went away at some point. The human body is a miraculous thing.

I have a RIDICULOUS amount of work to do this weekend I think I'll get it done though. I hope I will.

I may get it done. I also have to relax and I have lots of shooting to do with Frank.

My life is a series of peaks and valleys with no plains in sight at the moment. I will ride this roller coaster out the best I can. I wonder how much of this has to do with my switch back away from carbs. Man the human mind is a mysterious thing.

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