Meet Joe Blech

I've been in LA for a couple days now and I have had a good time listening to names being dropped and dreaming of seeing John Mayer in some coffee shop or something. However, I have given up on seeing John and will instead focus on how I met Joe.

I met Joe at a huge industry bonfire that he invited himself too. Joe was the star of his own internet television series in Chicago. Joe got let go a few years ago.

When you can't make it in Illinois, LA is a great idea.

Joe doesn't work or have a car (car's are more important than food here) and somehow finagled his bitterly entitled personality into the back seat of my friend's car while we drove across town from the beach party we were welcomed guests at. It was my fault that Joe was riding with us, but it was my friend's fault for not pulling over on the freeway to kick Joe out of the car.

It's a sad thing to hear a person's soul leave them, but when it does, you will hear "I hung out with Gunther from Friends." Gunther was a secondary character who worked at the coffee shop the cast of Friends liked to hang out in for the series. Sometimes Gunther wasn't even working there when they were hanging out... and no one who watched the show thought "I wonder if Gunther is sick today." Gunther sucked and so does Joe. Joe was a representation, to me, of the worst kinds of people in LA. People who feel embittered that they haven't made it, instead of checking their premises and realizing they have no exceptional gifts to catapult them out of the reality they wish to escape. I know there are sad people out there, but there are starving, beaten children... any pity or compassion I have is reserved for my own charity: taco carts. People expecting something they don't or can't earn just piss me off. I don't know a lot of people named "Joe" that I like- even Trader Joes is questionable, but I am positive I will never name anything Joe... unless it's gross.

I overheard this other guy, a new agent at the bonfire talk about how he probably wont date for a year because his car isn't nice enough. Can you imagine what he will expect from love when he is behind the wheels of a Maserati?! I think it will involve a lot of blow jobs, threesomes and anal.


I <3 SF

See the Forrest For The Gump

I am on a computer with a defunct 'R' (the '5' just flipped over when I typed that) and sometimes it doesn't click, which makes me grumpy or "gumpy"- which I like a lot more. When I'm "gumpy", it negates "grumpy" because "grumpy" is way more Lieutenant Dan and, let's face it- I'm feeling pretty "gumpy"... RUN SENTENCE RUN!

I have been sans laptop for a bit now and haven't made as many improvements as I thought I would... I can barely speak French and I'm only 200 pages in to reading Atlas Shrugged for my second time. I still have things getting in the way of myself and my goals. They aren't things outside of myself, but diversions I imbibe in to avoid living in the moment or being productive. I am aware of them and the hollow results they bring, but I engage for as long as I can before exhausting all of my vitality. It's not "why?" I do it, but "how can I get on with it"? Surely there is something I can blame it on, leaving me unaccountable... oh yeah, there isn't. When did THAT happen?! I feel like all I want to do is be alone or at a comedy mic. I do 6 shows a week and other than that, would prefer to be anonymous in public- to everyone. Community makes me want to live on a boat, but who could I tell my jokes to? They aren't my jokes, they're the Collectives'. If that is true, then what is the credit I get for telling them? I don't even care right now... I want to be on a boat, just like Forrest Gump. If this computer had its way, it would be a "shimp" boat. Hilaious.

There isn't a whole lot funny about wanting to be alone all the time. I have crushes, but I resent any distraction they impose to my psyche... where would I fit in a date when I barely see established friends? I wont date because I would only resent someone from taking me away from my own focus. I am also a little raw from my heart being broken by a beer cozy a couple months ago (that's right computer, a "bee cozy" does sting). I feel like I can't talk about it because there is nothing to say and maybe that's why I want to be alone all the time. What can you do when you get foiled by a beer cozy besides can it and chill out for awhile. Reading Ayn Rand doesn't help me want to talk to people either.

I am writing to write, to produce, because every time I think about the week and a half that passed since I produced a blog, I feel betrayed by myself and that makes me gumpy.