which sounds quite ex
pletive and a bit like
“sufferin’ succotash!”
only i’d imagine it is
way worse, though
yosemite sam might
disagree. did he not
at least have a job?
it appears that he
sometimes did. as
a prison guard on
occasion, and at
others as a police
officer, but mostly
he was just a cantank
erous gunslinger, i’d
say. more of an out
lying outlaw, right?
(there’s a thought,
hmm...) i think of my
pacifism as some
thing of a hallmark,
but who even knows
me, especially these
days? and even those
who ever did, well,
would they even
have a clue about
my pacifism? would
they think it (another)
delusion? i won’t deny
that i must’ve surely come
across as full of contra
dictions at the very
least. but therein
somewhere lies
a value system
that harbors a
few sturdy truths.
surely? that has
to be the case, or
at least i’d argue (in
terminably, at least).
maybe this is really
just an attempt at
an elucidating ditty
on mental health
issues. i’ve been
a bit obsessed of
late with comed
ians who center
their routines so
transparently on
this subject,
like the brilliant
maria bamford,
whom i’ve spent
hours watching
this past week, and
who has basically
built her entire career,
it seems, around that
subject, as literally
wrapped within it as
she will quickly point
out that she is. i could
name numerous others
whose routines i’ve
watched excessively
as well as obsessively
over the past couple
of years or so that
gravitate toward
similar themes. like
john mulaney, whose
late work centers
on what i’d argue
is at least a sub
genre: addiction.
also carrying on
stage about such
things, often in
a rofl manner:
neal brennan, amy
schumer, chelsea
handler, etc., and
that’s just the list i
have at the forefront
of my memory to
night, but the list
goes on and on, to
the point that these
mental health issues
seem to abnormally
occupy quite a
large percentage
of modern comedy
culture. what about all
of this was i getting at?
well, to bring it all
back, there are two
states of undoing
for me that seem
to bring my
motivation
to a screeching
halt, especially
when they appear
together in what
i’d call a double
whammy scenario.
they are depression
and pennilessness.
it’s not as if they
don’t already have
a codependent
relationship with
each other, as
well as a bit of
a chicken/egg
conundrum
going on, but
it’s very clear
to me that when
either, or espe
cially when both
rear their ugly
heads, there is
nothing that i can
count on more than
finding myself losing
my mojo, slowing
down into a lethargic
creep, if not shutting
down entirely. my
world becomes one
in which all i can do
is try to will the time
away until they both
go away, a counter
intuitive tack if ever
there was one, as i
live in the swamp of
stagnation and pro
crastination. i’ve
tried seemingly
every trick in the
book (where, oh
where, could such
a book be, i do
wonder) to stave
off these derail
ments, the most
recent being a
simple and sol
emn vow to
simply refuse
to enter that
swamp, to veer
away, steer as
clear from the
quicksand and
muck as i can,
and have some
how convinced
myself that this
is possible. well,
i suppose i will
very soon see
whether it is.
possible, i mean.
because i can see
those two villains
arriving as i type
these words to
send to you. if
you’re kind enough
for such simple
things, i’d be
ever so gracious
for a good vibe,
a pleasant thought
aimed in my general
direction, or even a
hushed wish of good
luck. i am ever so
appreciative. and
feel free to stay
tuned for the
next dramatic
installment that
will reveal how
i beat the odds
and revel in the
amazing results
of what a smidge
of remaining
confidence will
surely deliver
to a downtrodden
contrarian like me.
confidence will
surely deliver
to a downtrodden
contrarian like me.
