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Thursday, January 18, 2018

I'll Title You!

      Sounds like fun.  Now I'm in control.  Of titling things.  That sort of crap.  Got a small pocket notebook from Amazon.  Wrote in it throughout Monday Night.  Thought of a few goof-em-ups that I wrote down for Future Entry.  Which is Current Entry.  Here's one--  Barenaked Ladies, One Week-- "I'm the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral, can't understand what I mean?  You soon will."  Sounds like a death threat to me.  That's one.  Not bad.  Cause it's true.  What else could it mean. Here's another one-- I have a fool proof method of avoiding murky potentially sexual harassment situations-- I just assume no one is interested in me, and I don't talk to anybody.  Kind of more true than funny.  Insight into my character.
    That's two!  It appears that's only it.  I also ranted some BS about how I Feel and crap like that.  The point is What Else Is Going On.  Thursday Afternoon.  You can't make this stuff up.  I don't know.  I got Pizza Hut yesterday.  Because I don't respect my body.  Puttin' it through all sorts of crap.  Gotta start losing weight.  That's my feeling.  In a Freeroll right now, already won 20 cents.  I get to 40 cents, that's the minimum amount to buy into a 1/2 cent game!  Now we're talking.  We've been talking the last eight minutes.  In writing form.  And We means Me.  Anyway.  Still no confirmation I'm graduating.  Next week I'll call someone or e-mail someone.  Preferably with a relation to Queens College who knows what I'm talking about.
    Crap and crap.  Apparently Trump is in excellent shape.  On account of passing his cognitive test where he had to identify shapes.  Circle.  Rectangle.  Don't know.  Next.  Next.  Circle again, wait, no.  Is this a trick question?  That's how it went.  We don't have the privilege to know whether he was right or wrong.  Oh well, such is life.  Third paragraph.  This is fun.  I'm writing stuff and making people(s) read it.  That's my idea of a good time.  Anyway.  Reached a point in my Open Mic Career where I've done pretty much every song I have at least once, and have to re-do some.  Kinda takes some of the fun and excitement out of it.  There's still 2 or 3 songs from that era I haven't done, because I forgot a verse or something, and haven't been motivated to come up with a new one.
    Whatta jip.  Oh well, such is life.  Up to 23 cents.  That's almost a quarter.  And all I did was spend 4 hours every day to earn it!  What else.  Still no clue what to do with my immediate/non-immediate future.  So far I've narrowed it down to Figure Something Out.  What else.  Ya see, it sounds like a fun song, but the guy literally threatens to kill us.  And then lagh about it.  I read on Wikipedia the guy just free-style ad-libed the lyrics.  Wow!  He didn't know what he was saying.  But the truth is in the pudding.  Something like that.  Never liked pudding.  Never tried it, I don't think.  Seems gross to me, though.
    Wow!  Fifth paragraph.  Whatta jip.  That's become my philosophy these days.  Whatta Jip.  Sums up what's going on in my life.  Anyway.  I watched Click for the 13th time yesterday and it's charm is starting to wear off.  There was a period between the 3rd and 9th time I saw it where I considered it one of my top 20 or 30 favorite movies.  It's got some real heart in it.  Wore off, though.  Click.  Anyway, what the what.  Up to 25 cents.  I don't believe it.  I wish I had a remote that could do things.  Why didn't Adam Sandler use the remote to help mankind.  At the end, he realizes it was just a dream, but then when he gets home, he sees the remote again.  This time, throws it out, so he can be a Family Guy.  Bad Move!  Use those supernatural powers to help people.  Whatta jerk.
    Point is What Else Is Going On.  Sixth paragraph.  I don't know.  Nine Movies Where People Are Hidden Jerks.  Let's get started on that.  169 people left in freeroll.  99 get at least 40 cents.  I'm right in the middle of the pack.  I don't believe it!  Anyway, sixth paragraph.  I don't know.  Over the weekend I got paranoid I forgot to pay for my drinks the previous open mic.  Then on Monday, no one said anything, so I guess I didn't.  So that's a relief.  Apparently Trump doesn't like Haiti or Africa.  My guess is because he's racist.  Your thoughts?  Anyway, jeez.  I think he's racist, but if only there was some proof!  What else is crap.
    Seventh paragraph.  I don't know.  Watched some clips of George W Bush acting stupid.  In retrospect, not that stupid.  He mispoke a lot and, yeah, said and did some stupid things.  I'd guess he's smarter than Trump, though.  Your thoughts?  Anyway, jeez.  Up to 28 cents!  I don't believe it.  Every day at 7:30 they have an 11 cent buy in tournament.  I already have enough to do that twice!  So I already got some money to play with is the point.  Anyway.  Saw a new pyschologist last week.  Or maybe the week before.  Who can remember.  Think it was the week before.  So I either already talked about it, or already decided it wasn't worth talking about.  Either way, I wonder what the next paragraph will be.
    Cool!  I don't know.  Lately I've been unenthusiastic about how my Open Mics went.  In retrospect, I've been doing solid 'B' work.  But I still feel like I should have done better.  I was talking to some guy last open mic and he was saying the one before, he thought I was the best guy there!  And then I take that compliment and let it twist inside my head until I feel bad for some reason.  Anyway, jeez.  Could do an Open Mic on Satuday.  Sounds like fun.  But I'd have to get up early and all that sort of crap.  And then go to another one 2 days later.  Might as well just wait.  Cool.  Anyway, jeez.  Busted in the freeroll.  27 cents. 
    Such is life.  Somehow I spent 1 cent on nothing.  They have a thing where after you leave a table, you can pick a card for a 50% chance to either double up, or lose what you won.  I accidently clicked something where they just took a cent and didn't do the gamble for me.  That's my life in a nutshell.  Losin' cents on nothin'.  Anyway, jeez.  I follow 7 people on Twitter, and I keep wanting to add Andy Richter, but I think it would be weird.  Wait a minute... that's my life in a nutshell.  Anyway, jeez.  I'm I'm sick of clicking on Conan, clicking on Sarah Silverman, clicking on Patton Oswalt, and then finally getting to Andy Richter.  There's Got To Be a Better Way!  But I like reading those first three, too.
Such is life.  Tenth paragraph.  Played the last hand in that freeroll bad.  I take responsibility.  Jeez.  Under normal situations, I wouldn't risk a pittance to see if I could double up, but with 28 cents, I double up, I can play the 1/2 cent table, if I don't, well, I couldn't anyway.  What else is crap.  Maybe aim for 15 paragraphs.  Then see how I feel.  Probably dejected on account of not making 40 cents.  Oh well, Freerolls come, freerolls go.  There'll always be another freeroll.  That's my adage of life.  Maybe get started on a new round of music.  With the 8 track.  Fruck computer, can't figure it out.  8 Track, I know.  And the cable to connect it to my mini-amp has been working.
    So that's great news.  Five paragraphs to go.  Then back to Nothin'.  Whatta jip.  That's my adage of life.  Whatta Jip.  Feels right.  My computer clock and my cable box clock are exactly one minute apart.  My guess is one of them went with Einstein to become the world's first clock timetraveler.  If you've gota better hypothesis, I'd like to hear it.  Not really.  I got things to do, can't be listening to all your hypothesises all the time.  What else.  Gotta get back in the zone.  Been sitting here for a solid 10 or 15 minutes with Nothin'.  Point is What Else And Crap.  I don't know.  I think my computer was a minute behind.  Corrected it.  Hopefully to the correct thing.
    12th paragraph.  Sweet.  I don't know whatta do for dinner tonight.  Fish or somethin'.  You'll think you're looking at aquaman.  Does Aquaman eat fish?  You'd think he'd have to, that's all that he's around.  But maybe fish are his friends.  It's okay to eat fish, they don't have any feelings.  Hmm.  Maybe I should get chickity china the chinese chicken.  I've given myself a lot to think about.  Maybe get me a stirfry.  I could eat some rice.  Can't get the seafood stir fry, though.  THey don't give enough seafood.  Would have to get the chicken stirfry or something.  What else is going on.  Three paragraphs to go after this one!  Cool!
    Yeesh.  I don't konw.  Whattado with the rest of my day.  Can't just have it revolve around my meals.  That's something a Fatty would do.  And when I wear shirts, I only look fat in my belly!  So I'm not fat is the point.  Jeez.  Maybe start doing treadmill.  Or eliptical.  Or eat healthy.  Or find a magic pill that makes your metabolism faster.  I'm leanin' towards the magic pill.  Now We Play The Waiting Game.  What else is going on and crap.  I also got a spiral notebook to have by my bed.  Mini notebook for pocket when I leave house.  Spiral notebook for when I'm in house.  I got it all planned out and everything.  And I've already started!
    Two paragraphs to go.  I can do that for some reason.  No one is quite sure why.  I guess I could get the seafood stir fry.  No one's stopping me.  It's enough seafood to compliment rice for one meal.  Then there's a lot of rice left over.  But I'll deal with that later!  Anyway, jeez.  Or just get a seafood dinner.  Like a Chump.  No rice!  Now what will I feed to birds to make them explode.  I think that bird that Randy Johnson exploded committed suicide on purpose.  What are the odds that a bird would be right there by accident.  I mean, how often do you see someone pitch a pitch and a bird flies by between the pitcher and batter and evades harm?  Never?  Well, this one time, it was right there.  It had to have known what it was doing. 
    These are my kind of conspiracies.  The kind of conspiracy I could really get on board with.  Suicidal Birds In Sports History.  Which is interesting because I find Randy Johnson looks like a bird.  Something's going on there and I'm gonna get to the bottom of it.  Anyway.  Last paragraph.  I feel like if I was in Film School and I had to make a Student Film I could do a really good job with it.  Taking into account I would have been studying film and what it's all about in this scenario.  I feel, with those base skills, and my creativity, the sky is the limit.  Sorry outer space, no gettin' there quite yet.  I guess.  Anyway.  I like fantasizing about lives where I get to do something.  I'll see ya later.

-5:21 P.M.


Thursday, January 11, 2018

Live a Little

      Hey Friends And/Or Jerks!  It's me.  The guy who you've grown accustomed to reading on Internet.  Been a couple of weeks since last entry.  Did my Show at Sidewalk Coffee.  Real C+.  I'm a C+ living in a B- world.  So lonely.  Still no confirmation I've graduated.  Had an idea of what to do over the next few weeks/months.  Write a Spec Script(s)!  I can do that probably.  Already had an idea.  For The Simpsons.  Something with Moleman being the main character.  Pretty much all I got so far.  Well, I have the general idea that he becomes acclaimed for something.  Wrote a book, or something like that, that put Springfield on the Map, and now he's a local celebrity or something.
    So I got that going for me?  Spec Scripts are good.  Fruck Screenwriting School, I can do this on my own!  Moleman writes a blog.  A little too on the nose, though.  Anyway, jeez.  I can't think of any modern sitcom running that I like and would also be a good subject for a spec script.  Oh well, live and learn.  The point is Great I Got Nothin' To Do When You Really Think About It.  Write a packet of dozens of potential Late-Night-Comedy-Newsy-Type-Jokes.  Figure that's a thing that gets ya places.  I'd love to get to a place.  One popular comedy website that takes any writer as long as they like the article is Cracked.  They're the ones with the lists and all that.  Had a few ideas for that.  Ten Words That Are In This Title Right Here.  And then the list has them shuffled.  Seven Good Names For Your Baby No One Else Has Thought Of.  There's another good idea.
    The point is I got nothin' goin' on.
  Oh well, live and learn.  Apparently Time's Up.  As of last Sunday.  I guess now we're living in a Post-Time World.  Great, just great.  I got all these clocks and calendars and everything.  Now totally useless.  What else is going on.  Moleman and the Molars.  Moleman starts a rock band.  We'll put that in the Maybe Pile.  Actually kind of like it.  Now all that's missing is  What's a Screenplay.  Crap and crap, I don't know.  Homer goes into business with Moleman over something.  That way we got a Simpson involved, that's probably something encouraged.  Anyway, crap and crap.  I'm not sure how old Moleman is supposed to be.  In one episode he says he's 34, but I'm not sure if that's canon or just a throwaway joke.  Perfect, episode is about Moleman's birthday.  Nah. 
    What else is crap.  Fourth Paragraph.  Whole Lotta Nothin'.  Just my luck.  Haven't been in the mood to work on music.  Live and learn.  I don't know.  Moleman and the Molars-- their big break is doing a jingle for a dentist.  Or, Dentist is A story, Moleman and the Molars is a throwaway joke.  Hmm, dentists.  Ripe for parody!  I don't know.  Still no new TV.  Whatta jip.  I had my birthday like a chump and what have I got to show for it.  Nothin'!  I find it odd that it's medically accepted that midlife crisis is in your 50's, third life is in your 30's, and quarterlife is in your twenties.  It's almost as if doctors and psychaitrists don't understand the simple concept of life expectancy.  GGreat, just great.  If I quit cigarettes, all else considered, my life expectancy is around 80 years old, now that I've already made it to 29.  That's basically, I get to do 2 more of what I've already done, if I'm lucky.  That would get me to 87.
    Great, just great.  Well, by that time, they'll upload you onto computers and you'll live forever.  Hmm, sounds good.  Normally when that thought is broached, you imagine just living in a computer intelligently.  In practice, Fuck, they could probably give you a body!  Make you an android or cyborg of some sort.  That sounds pretty good.  Fifth Paragraph.  Can't I just start my own comedy website where it's just blogs about nothing.  I coud call it Seinfeld2point0likeoncomputersthistimearound.thistimearound.  Or, I could write, eleven numbers you haven't considered appropriately.  I don't know, what the what.  Gotta get started on my Late Night Comedy Jokes for my Packet.  So, Trump is in the news again, have you heard about this.  That phrase makes no sense.  Nobody needs to say Trump is in the news again because he's never not in the news.  Great, now he's messing with our set-ups.  Time's Up!  Anyway.  I support the Time's Up movement, but for creepy reasons.  Women are what makes Hollywood thrive.  Because of their sexy, sexy, sexiness.  Just speakin' my truth.  Anyway, crap and crap.  Also, cause they're strong.  Strong in a sexy manner.  Strong=sexy. 
    Sixth paragraph.  Can I write a spec script of When The Whistle Blows.  Wonder if anyone's ever done that.  They might admire my ingenuity.  Dr Nick is featured on an episode of Opal and hilarity ensues.  Not a fan of Oprah running for president.  She seems like a genuinely good person, sure.  But I'm kind of in the mood for someone who is experienced and crap?  Call me old fashioned.  Just don't call me late to dinner!  I don't like that old fashioned expression.  Was there a paranoia among the working class that they would perpetually be late to dinner-- and be ashamed of that fact?  Sounds like a good premise to an episode of Modern Family.
    I figured out 2 and a half men.  They're each 75% men.  What else is going on.  That makes 2.25 Men.  Okay, two are 75% men, one is a full man.  That settles that.  Ten years ago, coulda written a spec script of The Office, or 30 Rock, or Parks and Rec.  All gone, now.  There goes my idea of 30 Rock getting stuck in an elevator and reliving past times.  That was one of the five guidelines in an article I read about spec scripts.  20% of the advice was don't do a show where they all get trapped somewhere.  I guess that's me livin' and learnin'.  One of my favorite jokes ever from 30 Rock is Dot Com says something smart and Tracy Jordan goes That reminds me of my favorite website, stop showing off dot com.
    Whoever came up with that should have a city named after him/her.  Anyway, jeez.  Eighth Paragraph.  As of now, 10 would be fine, but aiming for 15.  Probably not over that.  Anyway.  Jeez, 2018.  Whatta clunker.  I think it's pretty impressive how every year the temperature goes up, what, roughly half a degree, and the winters are also colder than ever.  That just means the other 3 parts of the year are that much even hotter!  Sure I know math, what of it.  Anyway, jeez.  Show went alright.  Had it recorded, didn't have it in me to listen to it for a few days, on account of thinking it was bad.  It was okay.  A few songs were mediocre, a few were adequate, and a few were pretty good.  Plus, I got to make a joke.  Some guy started chanting Ad-e-quate!  Ad-e-quate! jokingly, and I was like, it's funny, because it sounds like Attica, which, at the time, I assumed he meant, but listening back, maybe I came up with it. 
    Also got a big laugh before my last song.  You wanna hear a song that starts with the letter A or the letter H.  Crowd consensus as H.  Good Choice.  Laughter!  I don't know about a big laugh.  But maybe 3-6 people.  That's pretty good.  Anyway, what the what.  Article trending on Facebook-- Scientists Discover Clean Water Ice Just Below Mars' Surface.  Great, so now Mars has more clean water than Flint!  Oooh that's goin' in the portfolio.  Anyway, jeez.  Ninth paragraph.  Whattado when this is over.  Back to Crap I Got Nothin'.  Anyway.  Hey, I got my jacket back from Sidewalk Coffee!  So that's great and stuff.  What's 2.5 over 3.  Nobody knows.  Time's up.
    Tenth paragraph.  Each of them is 83% men.  That settles that.  What else is going on.  This'll be the last paragraph I'm guessin'.  It's been Fun Enough.  What else is going on.  Time's Up.  My watch must be broken, it's still going.  Commentary.  I don't know.  What the what.  I think the cyst in my scrotum is getting bigger.  At this rate, I'll have three balls within five years.  So I got that to look forward to.  I'm seein' the urologist in February, it's all taken care of.  Anyway, jeez.  Time to close it up.  I have absolutely nothing to do for the rest of my life as of now.  All I can think of is  Bingwatch Shows-- not sure which ones-- probably ones I've already seen.  This'll be easier once I get my new TV.  I'll see ya later folks.

-5:22 P.M.