Some doodles by my sweet, talented 12 year-old daughter after she watched Orphan... over and over and over and over again.
YES! I'm back. Don't ask for how long. The seal hunt is just about to get started and I'm sharpening my sling-blade and varnishing my club -- triple-coat this time!
Oh, stop with the tree-hugger indignation. It's how we earn our living out here in Newfoundland and, besides, it's wonderful quality time with the kids. They learn so much about nature and vivisection.
I'm in such a positive mood today! Nothing and no one can rain on my parade! I'm on top of the world! FLYING! Leaping from mountain peak to mountain peak! SOARING through the great blue firmament! DIVING, head-first, into the clear, crisp void!
These antidepressants sure work good! Yeah baby!
Let's come down to earth a little, shall we?
I came across an article on Oprah's website (Man, she can do anything, or what!?) about the power of negative thinking.
Yeah, right.
Like, that's all I need, to add more wet blankets over my already bleak brain functions.
Anyway, somewhere in that article, I have been reassured, is a beneficial effect. Something to do with dialectics, doublethink, cynicism, and a good old-fashioned mind-fuck.
Enough said, even if it's NEVER ENOUGH. You dream and sweat and hope and yearn and develop an ugly rash in your armpit that's makes you pause and say, "Oh fuck. Now, what IS that?" as you chase that elusive Holy Grail -- that screenplay that gnaws at your insides demanding to burst out of your subconscious and spread its butterfly wings so it may flutter in the faces of millions as they gape in awe at your magnificence. But, there is only so much life in you. FACE IT. Soon, the light will begin to fade. Your walk will have less bounce. Things -- like that box cutter you're holding as your eyes dart desperately from it to the pulsating purple blood in your wrist -- will fumble out of your hands for absolutely no reason. The odd run to the bathroom in the middle of the night will become many RUNS to the bathroom as your prostate grows exponentially trying to break free from the prison of your anal canal.
Okay, I'm out of funny on that one...
So, without further ado, and because I have nothing better to share, here are some quotes I came up with that you, my fine delusional scribe, may consider using as daily affirmations in order that you may better cope with your dismal existence and the realization that (and I do hope for your sorry ass that that realization manifests itself as a sublime religious epiphany) the hours, days, weeks, months, and years you've spent creating your great American screenplay turns out to be just so much more drek:
"You will do foolish things, but do them with a stupid 'I didn't do that, did I?' look on your face."
"There is the risk that you cannot afford to take, and the risk that you cannot afford not to take, and the risk that you may need to be sedated."
"The center that I cannot find is known as the unconscious mind, or better, the warm, cosy glow I feel crashing on the couch to watch hours of Judge Judy that I recorded on my PVR ."
"All you need to do to receive guidance is to ask for it and then beat the shit out of the person who just gave it to you because YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!."
"Shoot for the moon! Even if you miss it you will be propelled into the black void of nothingness that separates the stars."
"You are lost the instant you know what the result will be, so why not self-medicate?"
"A discovery is said to be an accident meeting a confused mind."
"Man is not free to refuse do the thing which gives him the most pleasure than any other conceivable action other than to bang his head against his keyboard and realize that he is a complete and utter failure as a screenwriter."
"It's a funny thing about life; if you refuse to accept anything but the best, you very often develop a maniacal laugh and spend your days in your underwear staring at that pile of dirty dishes in your sink."
One last thing... You have PLENTY of time on your hands, right? Come on, don't tell me you're not stuck in an Act 2 fugue that you swear will melt the neurons in your brain and cause them to leak out of your ears in the form of chunky green pus. So, why not take a break? Give those synapses a chance to cool down and use up another 5 minutes and 20 seconds of your precious meaningless existence by watching this...
