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April 07, 2009

Writing Phases

There are many phases to writing a television series. The one I am in right now is called the “Everything is Terrible” phase, in which everything I write I believe to be, or is in fact, terrible. Yesterday’s phase was “Is This Terrible?” in which I write something I believe to be good. Upon looking at it the next day, however, I find myself asking the following question: “Is This Terrible?” Because of the phase I am currently in, the answer is inevitably yes. Yes, it is terrible. Fortunately, these phases do not last long.

Tomorrow may very well return me to the “I Am A Genius” phase, in which I write a single joke which gives me the temporary illusion that I am a genius, much the way a snort of cocaine gives the user the temporary illusion he is a genius. (I’ve never tried cocaine but I’ve heard.((Double parenthetical: this is true. I have not, and will never, try cocaine.(((Triple parenthetical: unless it was really good shit.))))))

Writing is just plain hard. At least for me. I’ve read about people who feel as though the words just flow right through them, like chocolate milk through a crazy straw. But I am not one of those people. Even the words I am writing now are causing me tremendous agony. If you could see me, you would see that I am bleeding through my forehead, a direct result of my concentration in service to my blog, and thus, to you. As Will Ferrell said while portraying George W. Bush in his recent Broadway show, “You’re welcome.”

Yes, the work is challenging, the rewards few. But I am not a martyr. No, I am a conscript in the army of Art. A lonely soldier on culture’s battlefield, lobbing my joke-filled grenades towards a mirthless enemy, those grim-faced automatons who never met a fart joke they enjoyed. My purpose on this earth is to slay those people, either with my comedy, or with my anti-biotic resistant bacteria. 

So while I am currently trudging through my “Everything is Terrible,” this is just a minor skirmish in a much larger campaign. Tomorrow the battle will be joined again, and when the smoke clears I will still be standing. Or, as I was today, sprawled out on a couch in the lounge eating Wheat Thins. Because I love Wheat Thins.


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Dude, where's your email address. I've been looking for it for, like, two days now. I must not be bothered with such insultingly shallow egosity as to visit a site with no way of directly contacting its author listed verily upon its home page. I say good day to you, sire.

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