Goodbye To Comics:
Why I Write
There are only two times in my life that I have actually written this much in such a relatively short period of time.
The first was right after I resigned from my job and had, for almost two years, absolutely nothing. Everything that I had used to give myself a sense of identity was gone. I always related it to that scene in The Jerk where his pants are around his ankles and he's cradling his thermos. Kind of a flip metaphor considering my situation, but...
Anyway, one day I just started writing. Out of nowhere. And I didn't stop for like four months. And I wrote a book! A big-ass Stephen King-sized book! And I was like -- where the hell did that come from?
Several days ago, I broke up with Donovan Paul. I think it had something to do with the fact that I couldn't accept that Britney and Bush were smarter than I was. Or maybe it was the culmination of a dozen of little things. Or simply because he reminded me of Comics.
And I didn't feel bad or sad -- I felt all that in the weeks leading up to it. But I did feel empty.
And then I just started writing.
It all feels rather indulgent. But like Donovan told me that day in the ambulance when my vagina got "broked," maybe the "silver lining" is the writing. Of course, at some point Donovan stopped mentioning the thing about writing about my broken vagina -- probably just around the time he realized that in the movie adaptation of the story, he wasn't going to be played by George Clooney.
Remember Shelley Duvall in her prime? That's who I'd like to play me. She's fucking awesome.
And I'm really ashamed that, when I read your final line in this post, the first thing I flashed on was Duvall as Olive Oyl singing, "He's LARRRGE..."
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