New Years without consternation!
I bet you thought you’d escape without seeing something from me before the end of the year. You were wrong. Here it is. It’s now 10:34pm, and unless I get another phone call (I just got off the phone with my mother, who’s in Buffalo babysitting Orli), I’m going to tie some words together and see where it drags me.
I’m not much of a year-in-review type of guy. This has been an overall interesting year (I’ll let you define interesting). I’ve learned many things, fallen in love with a great girl, and changed a bit of what I am, making me a little happier in the process. But since it’s New Years time, and I don’t think I can continue with my resolution to stop eating beef (what was I thinking? I had a Quiznos sub for lunch, the meateater to be exact, and as I was eating I was thinking, ‘what the fuck was tunneling through my brain that made me think it was time to give up my favorite meats?’), I have to come up with some sort of resolution. I usually don’t do resolutions, at least not at New Years. I usually make life changes after my stew of worries and theories coalesce into an overwhelming brew that forces me to take some action (these are internal actions--regrettably, I’m not much of a political or take action to better society-type of person. That’s how I stopped eating veal, stopped playing video games, stopped eating at fast food restaurants, and stopped watching television (do you see a trend here?).
But I figured this New Years would be different. Now Julie (the aforementioned girl) has commented that my musings have tended to sound consternated (I too think of constipated when I hear that word). She’s right. I have been complaining and clearing my throat a tremendous amount in my writings, especially on the subject of writing. You have to remember, I’m excellent at complaining (and modest too). I practice often, and just like a comedian, I hone my act until the complaints flow nicely with the right twist of quirkiness.
Although I won’t give up complaining (I don’t think I could exist without it), I think the consternation about writing is getting old. How many times can I truly write about how much trouble I’m having writing? How painful it is? How much of a loser I am for not being able to do it? How if only I could sit down and write a story, my life would be different, and better, and there would be peace in the worlds, dogs would fuck cats, kangaroos would live without fear of those nasty koala bears, and all wars would cease to exist, because madmen would all be struck dead with a miraculous (and godsend) disease that only affects those that are insane and have an inkling for world domination.
From now on, if I have nothing to say, then I’ll say nothing, or I’ll revamp my pitiful existence or my unexciting day. I won’t endlessly discuss how difficult writing is. (It is, but the only way you’ll actually believe me is to sit down and try it. No use wasting my breath here.) I’m going to talk about all the terribly uninteresting things that happen to me. I’m sure you’re all excited to hear that I went to Burger King for dinner tonight. It was the first time I went to a fast-food restaurant in a very long time.
You see, in my mind (yes, yes, I know that everything I’m writing here comes from my mind; that’s obvious. And, yes, it would be better if I just cut out those three words instead of writing a ten line aside about how that is just stylistically awful. But I won’t), take-out should be divided into a three different groups: first, you have your fast food restaurants, e.g., McDonalds, Burger King, Wendy’s, Taco Bells, all the horrible places that I’ve foresworn. I must admit that I sometimes have wet dreams (okay, they’re not exactly wet dreams, because (a), I’m not sleeping at the time, and (b) I don’t wet myself, in either the piss-way, or the other more gross-don’t-talk-about-but-boy-does-it-feel-good-way. For me and many of my friends (stop laughing, they do exist, sort of, and not in my mind--well, not all in my mind), Wendy’s has the best hamburgers--there’s just something about all the grease they put on their food that is just downright, how does one say it, decadently delicious. Especially with a hangover, there’s nothing like a Wendy’s triple cheeseburger for coating a tender stomach the morning after a wee-bit too much to drink. Let me move on before my will power completely breaks and I head out the door. Wendy’s is open late, 2 a.m., I believe. Probably even on New Year’s eve.
Getting back to the quick foods, the second type is your sandwich shop. These are your Quiznos, Subways, and lesser known ones like Schlosky’s. I still frequent these places often, mostly because they’re healthier than fast food, just as quick, and I don’t leave feeling bloated and sick (usually--there have been way too many post-Taco Bell pukings for me to ever feel comfortable in that place again).
After those two categories of quick foods, there’s only a third, smaller category left: family style take-out. The most famous is my post-gym hangout (known as PG to those in the know), Boston Market, which for $7.04 gets me a half chicken with two sides. It’s conveniently located right outside my 24-hour fitness, so, no mess, no fuss. There’s also, conveniently located, an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet next to the gym, and when I say next, I mean it’s in the same driveway as the gym. The main driveway that leads to the gym (which, since this is Houston, is obviously in a strip-mall, in this case, the back of one, or at least the side, since it’s all the way down the driveway off the main road) passes right by the Chinese buffet. Usually, there are cars parked along the driveway, since they run out of spots in the Chinese buffet parking lot. Just so you know, there are plenty of spots in the gym parking lot. Besides Boston Market, there aren’t many stores that fall into this category. I don’t actually know of any others, but I like to think there are others that meet this criteria.
As I sit here, I’m trying to figure out where pizza falls in my three categories (that’s what you get for locking yourself into a number of categories, instead of leaving it open-ended, or at least editable--but just to show that I am fallible (yes, I know it’s hard to believe), I won’t change it. Instead, I’ll just put pizza into, let’s say, the first category. I haven’t foresworn it, though. Being from Brooklyn, it’s a criminal offense to not eat pizza (I can’t make these things up! Okay, I can and do, but that’s not the point).
That’s pretty much it. You have to search hard to find something that doesn’t fall into one of those three categories (the pizza example notwithstanding).
What does any of this drivel have to do with anything? Again, it has nothing to do with anything. It’s just the empty air swooshing around in my hollow head. These things I think about and these things you’re going to have to read about, since I’ve given up consternating about writing (at least 69 minutes from now—actually, it’s more like 36 minutes with all this editing I’m doing--shhh).
I just finished watching Chasing Amy, another excellent film by Kevin Smith. His stories are very real feeling, even if the acting always seems amateurish (it might be because of his direction). The movie was about three characters: the main character, a comic book artist, a woman he falls in love with, who happens to be a lesbian comic book artist with a dirty, dirty past, and the main character’s roommate, another comic book artist who’s trying to protect the main character from getting hurt. There’s a lot more to this story, but I don’t want to ruin it. The story is simple, but the dialog and the asides (stupid but simple asides) make it fun to watch. Kevin Smith also doesn’t torture the audience. There was a scene where it would have been very easy (and cheap) for the main character to think the lesbian was gesturing for him to join her on stage. She was instead motioning her former lesbian lover. A lesser director (and writer) would have stretched that misunderstanding and tortured the audience. I hate that. Kevin Smith played it short; he made it obvious and then moved on. That’s how it’s supposed to be done. There’s no need for a Three’s Company moment (boy do I hate those!).
I’m really looking forward to starting this next story. It’s going to focus on characters, more specifically an outrageous character, with an identifiable, defining characteristic. Something that’ll make him stick out. (I think I’ve said this already.)
Speaking of stories, I’m going to watch another movie now. They inspire me to write drivel, and inspiration is always good. As soon as I get over this damn cough and cold, I’ll be a much happier camper. My web site has come a long way in three weeks. I’m rather proud of it now. Just a few more pictures to post, and I think I’m going to put away the tweaks for a bit. Maybe I’ll actually concentrate on doing work at work (as if—where did that go? I loved hearing bitchy girls say that).
Happy New Years!
