MARCH 17, 2008 - THE BURDEN OF BEING A WRITER

On train....Sofia, Bulgaria >> Belgrade, Serbia >>> Budapest, Hungary

Writers are just as lame as they are burdened. Maybe one begets the other; of which I'll explain later but right now I really just want to talk about the burden.

I've noticed that since I really started to invest in my writing that the more I write, the more my writing becomes relevant and the less relevant I become. I mean, I think everyone wants something interesting to say -- but writers, more or less out of obligation, take it one step further because they actualy have an audience. Oh my, it's such a redeeming predicament to be in; and my audience's eyes and attention validate me more than anything else.

Real quick...I'm on a train to Budapest, from Bulgaria just entered Serbia, sitting along in my 2nd class bunk and have 18 more hours till arrival. I'm going to make myself a little cocktail to chillax and maybe make this entry a little more interesting)

Dude, so anyway, as much as I appear to not give a fuck about what people think of me, I do have to weigh it, at least. Ok, what I'm saying is I don't give a fuck what people think of me so long as I stay relevant to the people that matter to me -- my audience. So, with that burden, I push myself to extremes and throw myself into ridiculous situations so that I'll have a story to tell. For example, when I had my surf accident I had three main thoughts after it happened:

1) Am I going to die?
2) I am going to be ugly.
3) This is going to make for a good story.

And with this Europe trip, I thought:
1) Fuck, I'm scared.
2) I am going to have a unique experience
3) I (as a writer) will produce an intimate read.
4) I (as a person) will lose my relevance to the reader.

Distance = Rate times Time

But whatever, I do it because I am granted (and grateful for) an audience. The hell, I'll exploit myself for a good chuckle or rolling of the eyes, right? This whole trip has been totally fun, adventurous and challenging; and I've already reached a lot of milestones in my self-development. Best bars, days in solitude, (after spending time in Turkey) letting go of the notion that all men with well-developed mustaches have shetland pony penises and earn their living in erotic entertainment. By the way, the last one did wonders for my self-esteem. And hopefully I'm making for a good story.

But that's the burden of a writer, and at the end of the day, all I will have is a collection of good stories. But the lameness of it, it's everywhere. It's in me thinking my thoughts and observations on life warrant, so much attention, that, it's worth people sidestepping their own thoughts to acknowledge mine. Writing is as lame as me, staring out the fucking train window right now, hoping to find inspiration through the thicket of trees or the grayed water. It's in my losing my job and spending the severence package in snow, sweaters, mayonnaise...on people's couches, not on people's minds, and not in people's pants VERSUS going to Thailand as an American citizen, that speaks Thai and loves Thai food...stumbling through sand, surfing in warm water, swimming in women Everyone I've met has said, "What the hell are you doing here in Bulgaria/Kiev/this shit when you can be in Thailand?"

I usually reply, "Shit, I live in Los Angeles, near the beach..you know those palm trees?"

slight pause...

"They're EVERYWHERE."

Though, they all make valid points and their arguments are seamless. I guess I try too hard, too often. To be me, I guess. I mean, for at least a good chunk, times and life have been difficult. So when they follow up with, "Why would you submit yourself to this? Why would you leave Los Angeles and come here?" To that, I answer,

"I'm here because I'm a writer."

Now tell me, how lame is that?