I am not a Writer

     The one thing that I have learned from my class in Nature Writing is, I am not a “writer.”  I am not an artist.  I am not compelled to write.  There is no creative passion spewing forth from the center of my being.  There is no drive, no constant wish to do better, to learn by doing.  I mostly would just like to drink a few beers and go to sleep.  Writer’s write daily.  They use it as a tool.  They write to find solace.  I find no solace.  The worst part is how bipolar writing daily makes me feel.  One day I will be saying how much I hate everything and that the world is a terrible and gloomy place.  Then the next day I am writing about how there is hope, and I just need to find that one thing that I can do to make the world better.  It makes me realize just how incredibly selfish I am.  And how much of a jerk I am.  For instance a lot of my daily writing in my nature class centered around one person in my class.  I was super annoyed by this person.  I would write things like “GAH WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS GIRL?”  It turns out she has asperger’s.  And I am this shitty guy silently judging her for interrupting class with outbursts, and needing everything repeated 1000 times.  I am a shithead.  I am supposed to be this supportive creative part of this learning community, and I am too busy hating people for their faults that they can’t control.  Silently, hating.  I am not a writer.  I am a product of a generation that constantly thinks the world is about to end, so there is no reason to put any hard work into anything.  No reason for this struggle, so why bother.  I have noticed that when I write now, I say the same thing 4 or 5 times.  You could sum up everything I ever try to say with one sentence.  If I was writer I could do that, but I am not.  I am not a writer.  On my way into my first day of my Nature Writing class, I saw a bumble bee the size of my thumb with its stinger stuck in a locust or cicada or whatever they are called.  They writhed on the ground making buzzing noises.  They were both going to die.  The bumble bee thought it would be a good idea to sting, and now he was stuck.  The locust thought it would be a good idea to piss off the bumble bee, and now he was stuck.  How incredibly insignificant this all was, didn’t stop me from watching the two insects fight for their lives on the sidewalk.  I watched, because that is what I do.  I watch.  I am a watcher.  Watching the pointless events happen around me.  I am a watcher.  If the Bumble bee hadn’t stung the Locust, would they still be alive?  No, their death was inevitable.  But, maybe they could’ve had a few more days.  A few more days to pollenate flowers, a few more days of buzzing.  A few more days to float around and watch.  Watching is important.  I watch.  I open my eyes and watch.  I watch with eyes, selfish, biased, ignorant eyes.  But, I watch, and I will never stop watching.

Let Go

                The other night I had a dream.  I was dangling from a ladder attached to a metal catwalk, bolted to a mountainside.  Below me was an endless drop, and a tiny metal platform that my mother was standing on.  The rungs of the ladder were just far enough apart to make climbing down impossible.  I was holding on for dear life.  My knuckles turning white as I gripped the cold metal.  My palms were sweaty, I looked down and the shock of it made it hard to breathe.  I tried to pull myself up higher, but my arms were too weak.  The platform beneath me was just far enough of a fall to be dangerous.  Then my Mom yelled up at me, “ Climb down you pansy… LET GO!”

               I was watching a TV show the other day, there was a man in rehab and he was told to ‘Let go and Let God’.  This expression pissed me off.  No one can ‘let’ God do anything.  If God exists and he is some kind of omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient, creator entity, then there is no letting him do anything.  The truth is if there is a God, he is some kind of voyeur.  A perverted, tabloid journalist junkie who apparently loves watching people when they are at their most vulnerable.  Just waiting in the wings to hack your email, but in his case he doesn’t need to, because he sees all.  He sees all and does nothing.  And of course we were made in his image which is why human beings are disgusting pathetic, self- gratifying people.  We are all hoping against hope that there is another car accident, or natural disaster, or celeb sex scandal, so we have something to watch.  So, we can sit and watch and not do anything.  Just soak in the horror to make ourselves feel better.   

                I don’t know what the dream meant.  Maybe it means I feel like I am on the edge of something.  With no safety net, no parachute, and no one to catch me.  Maybe it means that I need to take a risk, a leap of faith.  Maybe I am just afraid of heights and my mother’s judgement.  I guess maybe all us of need to let go.  To let life happen.  To move forward, and keep moving forward.  We don’t need to let go and let God.  We need to let go and let ourselves be.  Be what we truly want to be.  Get off the sidelines.  Stop watching and do.  It may be sappy and trite and contrived and clichéd.  I for one have hope that when I let go of the ladder the fall won’t hurt because I know I made a choice.  Maybe not the ‘right’ choice, but a choice nonetheless.  Choice is what it is all about.

Another Post About Going Back To School

     Shakespeare in context.  There are theatre majors in this class.  I "SEE" a few english majors that I recognize from other classes, but I can "HEAR" the theatre majors.  They have said the word "CRAFT" a few times.  This may kill me.  I, myself, am a performer who hates other performers.  A wanna'be writer.  A girl enters stage right and screams "Beckah!!!"  then laughs and says to the rest of us, quietly ignoring her, "What an entrance?"  Yet again I am faced with the fact that I am too old for this.  I don't have time to make mistakes anymore, these kids have eight to ten years to get where I am right now.  Which, come to think of it, is only four feet away.  It has taken me a decade to move four feet.  That is a depressing thought.  A snail's pace, a sloth's pace, like Chinese water torture.  A persistent, slow, pointless drop drop drop of water slowing eroding a hole in my brain.  My brain a floating hunk of trash in an ocean of jellyfish.  It doesn't even stir with the constant stinging.  I am starting to sound like Hamlet.  At least my dad is still around.  There is always something rotten in Denmark, or Richmond, or wherever you are...that is even more dramatic than these young theatre majors.  These young beautiful people who are all going to make it on Broadway, or in Hollywood, and really just piss me off.  My professor just made a Mr. Bill reference and I am the only one who laughed.  OHHH NOOOOO!!!!!

Reviews

Some Reviews of My Future Hypothetical Comedy Shows:


"Joe Coleburn You won't know when the jokes begin...or end!!"

"Joe Coleburn the one thing you can say is... He's likeable!!!"

"Joe Coleburn he WILL make apologies!!!"
"Joe Coleburn he takes comedy to a  level that you won't understand, and honestly don't want to!!"

"Joe Coleburn he once ate a bagel off the ground!!"

"Come see Joe Coleburn he asks the tough questions like ' What is the deal with observational humor?' !!!"

"Joe Coleburn... believable..."

"Joe Coleburn...Too Long... Too chubby...Too drunk..."

"Joe Coleburn ain't nothing like him, and there shouldn't be."

"Joe Coleburn umm it was ok, a little slow at first, but I mean it was good.  The beers there were good, I am not much into live comedy.  Did you see the cat video the other day.  Ya know the one with the two cats dancing to 'Turn Down For What', that shit is hilarious.  Totally the bomb."

SARAH SARAH FRRRRRIIIIIIIEEEENNND!

The other day I was thinking about the movie Labyrinth.  Is Labyrinth the greatest piece of cinema of all time?  Probably not.  Does it hold up?  Maybe.  Is it a movie that I constantly think about, and may have had more effect on my life than any other movie?  Yes.  From the moment I first watched it I fell deeply in love with both Jennifer Connelly and David Bowie.  The character Sarah was young and beautiful and a dreamer.  She makes a mistake and has to deal with the consequences.  Once in the Labyrinth she shows her smarts and her determination.  Even though she chooses down, when you should clearly never choose down, I had an immediate crush on Jennifer Connelly that has never gone away.  I sat there and projected myself into the puppet characters.  I was Hoggle who looked at Sarah’s innocence and beauty and knew that she could never love such a wretched cowardly ugly creature as he and I were.  And my heart broke when I realized I was Ludo as well the big dumb animal just searching for a friend.  Even Sir Didymus let me see that loyalty and the virtue of friendship was important.    

            Then there was Bowie, Jareth the goblin King.  As I looked at him with his insane Tina Turner hair and his dramatic eye makeup, strutting about and singing with a devilish smile or a moody stare, I realized I was in love again.  In love with the dark side.  In love with the secret pathetic vulnerability of evil.  I wanted to be him.  I wanted to be this tortured soul who stole babies and turned the world upside down for Jennifer Connelly.  I also really wanted to go to that crazy masquerade even if it was a hallucination.  These crushes were very confusing when I was young.  It is only now that I fully understand them.  Although David Bowie still is a little sexually confusing.  I mean for a kids movie there sure is a lot of David Bowie bulge bouncing around.   If you haven't seen it watch it.  You may learn something about yourself, or maybe learn more about me.

NEW NEW NEW!!

NEW NEW NEW!  Come check it out.  It is the latest advancement.  Ladies and Gentlemen, boys are girls come one come all.  It is here.  Fresh exciting, different, the next step.  Check it out it is really great.  There will honestly never be a better innovation.  This is unprecedented, unparalleled, unrivaled, and undeniably the most important thing ever.

Seriously it is great.

The Best.

I mean it.

Really I do.

Ok so maybe there are a few problems.  But you know everything has a downside.  There is no light without shadow.  You know what, I am honestly not crazy about it, but I mean what choice do I have?  I thought we were ok with what we had, but of course they just had to change things.  To be honest I really don’t even like it.  I heard it is the worst.  I mean you want ‘new’ but at what cost?  How dare they?  It basically came from slave labor and is ruining the environment.  I hate this new thing I want the old one.  This new thing killed my father. 

NEW NEW NEW!!  It’s the new thing.  It isn’t like the old one because it’s new.  It is actually more like the old one.  Classic if you will, retro. 

You know what, I love it.    

Story I am working on

              When we got to the party it was about thirty people all standing in a gravel covered backyard slash parking lot behind an apartment.  There was a group of guys I knew shot gunning beers in the bed of a truck, a small group of  young professionals in one corner drinking cocktails and talking about fantasy football or whoever’s wedding they were going to that weekend, and at the far end of the lot there was a beer pong table and the four people who I knew played beer pong everywhere they went.  I wondered why these people were all still friends and then also wondered why I was friends with them.  After I locked up my bike I hopped into the bed of the truck with my cohorts to a rauckus cheer.  One of them handed me a bottle of Evan Williams and told me to do work.  I tipped the bottle up to my lips and took a long drink.  When I was done I coughed and said geek geek gah damn and passed the bottle on and said do work. 

                The sun has gone down and I am in an alley urinating on a trash can.  I can still hear the party even though I walked about a half of a block to find my perfect bathroom.  The moon is full and I look up at the big son of a bitch as I sway.  My back hit’s the fence behind me, which causes some mangy old dog to have a hissy fit.  It barks and snarls I zip up and growl and bark back at it letting drool fly from my mouth.  After awhile I realize I am fighting a pointless battle.  I begin my retreat towards the party noises.  My walk is swift and purposeful but the alcohol makes it look like I am falling towards something.  When I get back there is a large group of people all singing along to a song we all know.  I don’t feel like singing so I go over to a group that is smoking and ask to bum a cigarette.   I center myself and say the same trying not to sound or look too drunk.