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Thursday 7/9/20

The syntax of the whole "can you describe your favorite movie as boring as possible" prompt on social media starts me on the way to a headache. Why must we always sound like idiots now?

Speaking of idiots--after trying for three hours, I could not figure out how to put together the new air conditioner I had to buy, with money I did not want to part with, given where things are at, and how I have to write like 20,000 words to make two grand. The wings on the side? Nope, could not figure that out. The bar across the top? I couldn't screw that in right. I also got the wrong kind of air conditioner, I think, but screw it. This apartment is truly unlivable. You cannot move in here, and not a lot of cooling seems to be happening after I finally just stuck the thing in the window, and put strip upon strip of duct tape on the sides. Person who can write a story for the ages whenever he wishes, is also too stupid and too helpless to figure out how to set up an air conditioner. You really can't overstate how stupid I am in some areas. What's more, I wasn't sure if I should go to the hospital, because when I reached into the box to pull the unit out, my pinky finger on my right hand hit something--maybe that metal grating on the back, I don't know--but the blood started spurting, I covered my clothes in it--which was my disgusting workout clothes, the shorts portion I'm throwing out anyway--and I've been more or less bleeding for like five hours now, but that's probably because I've been typing. Trickle at this point. So definitely a pretty unsuccessful time.

I felt like such a loser because of the way I live with this apartment that I had to write an excellent short story, so I just did that. How the hell can I do anything I want to do with art making, but I am utterly inept with things that anyone else can do? It's a very helpless feeling. I'm not exaggerating--I could have worked on this AC unit for years, and I'd not have figured out the parts on side.

Despite my loss of blood, I'm going to run now, because I don't want to feel like a fat pig additionally.

And that Harper's letter? It's just a desperate publicity move. An attempt to trend on Twitter. This was the mindless way to try and do that. Say some cliches, various platitudes of vagueness, get some "luminaries" to endorse. It's just PR. Pathetic, really. You shouldn't fall for it. I don't think anyone really does, actually. Maybe some of the people who signed it. But that was just about their egos, and for many of them, signing their name was more than they'll write the rest of this year. Good God do people get tongued for doing so little and do their so little in such a mediocre way. There is also the irony that Harper's fired James Marcus for reasons the letter says that the likes of Harper's is against. That's pretty funny.

You know something? I've performed like garbage today. Absolute garbage. For me. And even on garbage day, there is a full short story, conceived, begun, completed, a couple blog posts, came up with a new op-ed idea pertaining to the Negro Leagues, pitched a Miles Davis thing, and now I am back from my run, and I'll work until bed, and try not to disgrace myself like this again tomorrow. You are not going to get out of this apartment, son, and back to your house in Rockport, away from this sty, this filth, this space in which you cannot move, unless you do better every day than you did today.

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