Leave the crazy at home even if you’re already at home
I wrote a bunch of things this week that probably make people think I’m crazy, but it’s okay because I believe in the idea of “Leaving ‘the crazy’ at home”* and all these stories were written while I was at home so it was okay to be crazy. Also, I’ve started drinking coffee again a few weeks ago. Just in case you didn’t know, this is what spider webs look like on caffeine.
Here’s a few words on some of the things I wrote:
America is a barrel of automobiles… This story was actually created from taking that book “Democracy in America” and reorganizing it and then injecting the text with some emotions I would have made if I was a fourteen-year-old pimple and I just learned everything bad that has ever happened on earth.
Three days ago I posted a bunch of things from a novel called ”Angus Burgers” that I tried to write four years ago. I found this document on an old hard drive. I took out the best pieces of this novel and threw out the rest. If you would like to read an “Angus Burgers” novel then please write it yourself and then you can read it whenever you want.
A good way to talk to an adult person is a story about when I used to spend every weekend at a dance club and try to talk to people, but mostly I wasn’t very good at talking to people so I would just sit in the corner and eat dried pineapple which I think is the official fruit of Minnesota.
The time I thought I was “Jesus” is a story about the time I thought I was the song of god. Whoops. I wrote “song of god.” I meant “son of god.”
This is an excerpt from a novel by James Franco called “Emma Watson” is from a novel I wanted to write three years ago about James Franco and Emma Watson. I was in grad school at the time and both James Franco and Emma Watson were always hanging out on campus near my department so I thought I would write a novel about them and get rich and then get richer when someone made a movie about the book starring Ryan Gosling as James Franco and James Franco as Emma Watson.
This line is from a ninety-page poem I wrote a few weeks ago, but none of the other lines are any good so I threw out everything except the good parts.
I’m not really sure about this one. I guess it came from a statistic I read in Harper’s that said something like “66 americans were killed by guns last year and only 33 americans have been killed by muslim americans since september 11th.” I thought of the line about Doug being afraid because he only works with white people while standing in line at the post office and realizing that everyone working at the post office was white.
*from an article called “advice to a young man trying to go somewhere.”