|Behind the Poker FacePage 1 of 1 |
|I feel a little like Hank Moody today. The nagging in the back of my skull that attempts to correlate my reality with the disillusioned naiveity of the general populous is so severe it is now tugging on my retina. My vision is literally blurred just from witnessing my fellow species blindly strolling through life as if there is nothing out there but that which pertains to self. Even in the attempt of a selfless act we all tend to find some form of self-gratification--however deplorable it might be considering the cirumstances--in the way in which we acted selfless.|
Now, for someone like me, for someone who thinks he's a writer...it's automatically hypocritical for me to even state these words. Of course I am selfish. I live to be rushing after some form of a high because an inebriated state makes the marquee of words above my head move swifter and with a wider lexicon. I live for self and the betterment of my art. I want only for me to succeed in my own endeavors and wish nor even think of others as I'm bashing on these keys. But, with this gift I think I have comes an ability to not only astutely observe the world around me but also put myself there with the rest of the shallow crowd.
My only point to this small, incoherent rant is that if we choose to make these moves for our own gratification...if we choose to be a hedonist instead of a utilitarian...then we at least need to be honest with ourselves about doing so. Don't try to hide behind an obvious facade. Honestly, most of the others living out there won't notice your naughty, sinful deeds. Most won't even have realized you were there committing them. But I, and everyone like me, are daily tortured by having to know and not speak. We sit here with clenched teeth and tightened bowels as the words to **stardize your bull sit like sulfuric acid on the tips of our tongues.
Real Eyes Realize Real Lies...as I've heard it put. So, when you're out there creating your fun and you connect eyes with someone you know can see through your poker face...please go up to that random hume and relieve some of that bottled up stress. You never know, it could be me. You could have just given some idea starved novelist the enema he needed to clean out the feces and begin working on something brilliant. That, my friends, is a truly selfless act.
I hope you guys feel a little South Park after reading this.
I hope you learned something today.
|Behind the Poker Face|
Posted: 8/8/2010 3:07:19 AM
|First of all, selflessness and being a writer certainly don't have to be mutually exclusive concepts. There are certainly a plethora of postmodern hacks who might lead one to think otherwise, and I daresay they're becoming the norm. But there is no reason why putting words on a page must corellate with narcissism. That's not to say that writing is, in and of itself, a selfless act, but neither must it be a selfish one. The grandiose idea that our society has made out of "Being a Writer" is no different from "Being a Rockstar", but to this, I say flippantly, screw this societal notion.|
I can't say I think too highly of those who claim altruistic motives behind their every action, but neither is there much value (or truth) in confessing the opposite. The fact is, every human decision is riddled with self-interest, even the most seeming selfless act. But that is a problem with the self, not the act. The acts must continue as the self, hopefully, learns and grows.
In the field of writing, I think, the question is better left unaddressed. The true writer is an observer and a prophet in the most abstract sense, that is, a speaker of truth. And the question should not be one of selfishness or selflessness because, in speaking truth, all are concerned. The one who learns to speak truth can be no more willing to stop speaking truth than he can be willing to starve himself, or, to watch the world as a whole starve.