On November 28th at The PIT my sketch group will be doing our forty minute debacle on fame entitled: Rachel and the Elf Present: Fame: I Wanna Live Forever, I Wanna Learn How to Fly; A Rachel and the Elf Production featuring Rachel and the Elf.
But this is a story about circles.
It was early June. I wanted to write for money. It didn’t need to be much money, but I needed to brag that people were paying me to write. The way I was making money was by shelling out Veggie Reubens to people who were getting paid to write. They were getting paid to write blogs.
I started doing some research and found a website that seemed open to new ideas and I was full of new ideas. I wanted to contact them, but I wanted to make sure they were willing to back the type of shit that I’d be writing. Then I found this article. It was great. I read everything that the feces pusher wrote. She was brilliant. I loved her work. I thought: I will write for this website, then there will be a writer’s meeting and I will meet this girl and then we will talk and I will compliment her on her work. Then that will be the end of it because anything more is frightening. But that was enough. I wanted to compliment her in person on the article she’d written – on the articles she was going to write. Mostly I wanted to be as famous as her. Have people reading my writing and thinking: “Man, if only I were cool enough to compliment him in person.”
Then I got the job. I started by writing about Urban Legends, and then I began writing Fantasy Basketball advice, and now I’m a staple at this website, and people have contacted me personally to compliment me on my work and it both doesn’t feel nearly as good as I thought it would and feels really fucking good. I have fantasy basketball fans. Y’know how cool that is? No, you don’t. Because you don’t have fantasy basketball fans.
Then I went back to her to read her latest article. It was good. It was great.
But that’s not the point. The point has to be about me.
I read the comments and one of the comments said: “I recently read a quote that said ‘the opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference.'”
I said that! Am I the only one to say that? No. Did he read it from me? No. Did I even say it in those words? No. But for a split second I thought someone was quoting me, and it felt good. Real good.
Here are some quotes you can use around the office or in your writing to prove a point if you want. Call them Nissesques (because that’s difficult to say and I want you to work hard to love me).
I just spent 10 minutes thinking of only one quote, here it is:
- The smell of jizz is either the sweetest smell of beauty and triumph or the sweetest stench of depression and loneliness.
Guess what I spent that 10 minutes doing.