My Subconscious Mind Is Screwing Me Instead Of Ms. Bernard

I had a dream the other night that I was talking to a giant and we were saying how lucky he was that no one could ever punch him in the face because they couldn't reach that high. That was the whole thing. He seemed really nice.

I usually don't remember my dreams, but if I do it's always just me sitting around talking nonsense or eating a sandwich or something. My most erotic one on record was like ten years ago and it was about Crystal Bernard from Wings. It's kind of sad that my best sex dream was about somebody named Ms. Bernard, and it's even sadder that we barely made out the whole time. We were sitting on a blanket having a picnic outside and I was asking her about the show, which was weird because I didn't really watch it. I think we messed around for a little bit, and then we ate some fruit. And not pomegranates or whatever symbolic sex food people put in poems when they say how juicy it is after you break the skin. This was more like "Fucking a Crystal, have you tried these nectarines? They're delicious!" She seemed really nice too.

I read somewhere that you can influence what you dream about by concentrating on something right before you pass out, but so far I haven't been shot out of a cannon into an enormous coconut cream pie, and I've never played cards and smoked cigars with chimpanzees either. I guess you have to wait until heaven to do that kind of stuff.

In the new dream I'm trying to have I'm driving a clown car really fast into a brick wall while Bon Jovi's Bed of Roses is playing on the radio, but instead of an airbag there's a huge boxing glove that comes out of the steering wheel on impact. I want to hit the wall just as Bon says "With an ironclad fist, I wake up and French kiss the morning" and then wham I get knocked flying out of the car and I'm laid out on the ground. I'm not sure what happens after that. I'll let you know.........Paul

It's Not A Hate Crime If You Do It In Glue

Yeah sorry I haven't posted anything in a while. It's just been really hard since we lost Anna Nicole. I've also been working. I was at this temp job where I had to paste worksheets inside manilla folders with a glue stick all day. That was what I did. The worst part was when the dude actually "trained" me on how to do it. I had to stand there and watch him scribble glue on a folder, then press the paper down on top. He did three of them before he turned to me and said "Think you got the hang of it?" and I was like "I know how to use a glue stick." He said "Great!" like he was really excited for me and impressed by my skill set. Then he said "Any questions and I'm in the next cubicle over." The only question I had was "Are you fucking kidding me?" but I didn't want to talk to him anymore, so I just closed my eyes until he left.

At first I scribbled the glue like the dude had taught me, but then I started messing around and playing tic tac toe with myself. But I'd get too ashamed every time I lost, even though I was winning too. The duality of man is a lot harder to face when you realize that half of you is a dumbass capable of repeatedly losing at tic tac toe. So then I wrote messages like "I Hate This" or "Fear Me" or "You Are Ugly" or "Repent! Repent!" and eventually I started drawing pentagrams and racist caricatures of my co-workers, just to pass the time. It was a victimless crime though because once I slapped the worksheet on top you couldn't see what I'd done underneath. Unless you held the folder up to a flourescent light apparently. Then whatever you've drawn in glue and despair is clearly visible. So yeah I don't work there anymore...........Paul

I Threw My Dirty Clothes In The Garbage And Went Back To Bed Instead

I found this picture in the laundry room of my building the other day and it made me sad to be alive:

I think it's from one of those weight loss scams like in Requiem For A Dream where they'll give her a perm and then photoshop another less horrific body under her head for the After shot, to show what she'll look like a month later when she's toned and skinny and addicted to crank. It'd be nice if they took a picture from when she was a little girl in a frilly dress blowing out the candles on her birthday cake--wishing she'll be a ballerina princess when she grows up--and used that as the Before, then made this one of her flexing the guns with a newspaper up her ass the real After. It would be a much more accurate portrayal of what it's like to grow up than any movie I've ever seen. Either way I'm using this as my official author photograph from now on...........Paul

My Vertical Is Not What It Used To Be

So on New Year's Eve I rolled my ankle trying to jump over a friend of mine and I landed wrong and fell down and wound up covered with mud in the bushes outside a Day's Inn. The first thing I did in 2007 was go cane shopping at Walgreens the next morning. Looks like it's going to be another classy year.

Other than that I'm hanging around, trying to find a job and working on things. It's kind of a weird scene writing something new though, because whatever I come up with I immediately compare it to other stuff that's already finished, which isn't really fair since that finished stuff has been written and re-written hundreds of times, so the new thing looks like garbage in comparison. It's like yelling at a baby and saying "Go to the store and buy me cigarettes! Oh man, you can't even talk? You have a big head and tiny legs! Are you kidding me? You're useless! I hate you!" So you give the money to your grown up dirtbag son and you don't see him for three days and when he finally comes home he's got crabs and a black eye and he never bought you the cigarettes and the baby has shit his pants again. That's what writing feels like for me sometimes, and I don't even smoke.............Paul

These Are Some Of The Things I Did At Work Last Week

Struck two paper clips together really fast for like ten minutes straight, trying to make fire. I was unsuccessful.

Pretended to be Jewish so I wouldn't have to help decorate the company Christmas tree.

Wept bitterly as everyone debated who would win an all-time Dancing With The Stars dance off.

Changed my screen saver to scrolling text: "When Lord, when will your servant be free?"

Invented a new game called Stand in Front of the Urinal. It's exactly what it sounds like. I guess it's more a test of endurance than a game. Bonus points if the same guy sees you standing there after he's already been in and out of the bathroom more than once, and for saying "What's up dude?" whenever someone's at the urinal beside you, and for whistling the entire theme song from MASH. Hero points for doing any of this with your pants pulled all the way down.

Didn't correct the lady at the front desk who thinks my name is Nathan when she said "Good morning Nathan!" like she does every day, then felt glad inside on Friday when I was leaving and she said "Have a great weekend Nate!" I really think we're becoming friends............Paul

Yeah I Like Spaceships

So they've excerpted two very romantic sections from Apathy over at nerve.com. It's called Beatdown. Go read it and remember what love is. Also remember that the guy in the picture up top isn't me, which took me like ten minutes to figure out even though we don't look alike at all. My name was right there though so I figured it had to be me. It was like I'd been born to different parents but still had the same name. I might have been in another dimension.

And check out this review right here. To the people of Louisville, I say yes.

And here's something I do every day just because it makes me happy. Have a good weekend.............Paul

More Notes From A Hockey Game

I wonder if Charles Dickens introduced himself as Charles "Big" Dickens or Charles "Deep" Dickens when he was hammered and hitting on women back in Victorian times. Either way he probably did all right for himself.

After the Rangers last goal I got up on a table and sang Tom Jones's "Sex Bomb" but I used the alternate "Sex Mom" lyrics instead. My performance was not well received. It was not well received at all.

If I ever had to write a public service announcement to plead out of jail time in a manslaughter case I'd go with "Fight obesity. Beat the shit out of a fat guy." I really think I can help.

"You're a fascinating man."
"Yes, thank you."
"So tell me, how do you think of your characters?"
"I go out on the street and just sit on the sidewalk, and I sketch the faces of people passing by, or the faces of people I remember from a long time ago, or that I used to know but don't anymore. And then I go home and sit at my writing desk with the pages and I look at the faces that I've drawn and I say 'Well all right. Go ahead. Tell me about yourselves.' And of course they don't say anything, because they're only fucking cartoons. Then I get drunk."
Excerpt from my new book of conversations on the craft of writing called Fingerbanging The Muse. If you'd like to pre-order a copy email me, and I'll put you on my list of people who make me afraid to leave the apartment...........Paul

ps--Check out this review of Apathy right here. Fuck yeah. I rule.

Notes From A Hockey Game

So it's hockey season and I go to this sports bar to watch every Rangers game that I can. I'm usually there by myself so in between periods I write notes and scraps of things in a little notebook before the game starts up again and I'm freaking out and shouting at the tv. These are some of the things I think about when I'm alone:

If they put Digger the dermatophyte on a tampon commercial 85% of the men who saw it would kill themselves immediately. If they had him do something like he does in that foot fungus ad when he lifts up the toe nail like it's the hood of a car the number would be 100. A lot of women would probably kill themselves too. I might try to be him for Halloween.

I had no idea that Charles Wang, the owner of the Islanders, and Mr. Wang from Caddyshack were actually the same guy. Their team makes a lot more sense now.

If my name was Paul Rodeo I would've had a completely different life. I'm sure of it. Goddammit.

I want to be in a video that has huge guys with metal teeth shouting and black girls swinging their asses around like sledgehammers and asian girls in stupid hats and too much lipstick making faces like they're faking another orgasm and skinny white girls just standing around looking rich and confused and in the middle of it all is me furiously riverdancing with my arms straight down at my sides, ripping shit up with my feet. That's my version of the I Have A Dream speech.........Paul

Charity Is Easy When You Watch It On TV

So my girl Marlee Matlin was on Extreme Home Makeover last night, that show where they find a banged up disabled family or a kid with a sad disease and then builld them a new house with free stuff they get from Sears. I like it because I go from hating everyone and how sanctimonious and annoying they are about their charity to bawling at the end when the sick kid sees his new room. It's really cathartic and you get to feel like a better person just for sitting on your ass in front of the tv. Watching other people volunteer is much easier than doing it yourself, and just as satisfying.

The family last night had a blind dad and two mostly blind daughters and a deaf son, so the dad and the son could never talk to each other since he couldn't see what the kid was signing and the kid couldn't hear what his dad was saying. That's a perfectly placed kick in the ass right there. But the worst part was when all the designers put in some eyedrops and wore glasses to make their vision blurry so they'd really understand what it was like for these blind people, like when hot women wear a fat suit for half an hour so they can say "Now I know how it feels to be like you, and I pity you even more. I'm so glad I'm me." The people got a nice house and a trip to Disney World out of it at least.

I want them to start doing a Punk'd version of the show, like the blind family would come home to a house that had sudden flights of stairs they'd be falling down and low hanging lights so they'd be bumping into shit, but they'd still have to pretend to be happy with it because it was free and they were on tv. They'd have to give them a real new house after watching them stumble around for a while, but at least there'd be some laughs so you'd get the full range of emotions. And then the family would beat Ty Pennington within an inch of his life, every week. It would be the happiest ending on tv............Paul

ps--Check out this link right here (It isn't any good anymore because I was only on the list for one week goddammit). Now I can call myself a best-selling author and it will technically be true (I'm still standing by this).

At Least I'm Not Billy Bush

So I had a job interview on Friday and it went really well. It was set for 2 o'clock and I sent the guy an email around noon and said "Sorry to cancel at the last minute, but I've accepted a position at another company." Unfortunately that company is imaginary, but it felt good to lie. And rent's not due for another three days, so that's plenty of time. People have died, been buried and risen from the dead in three days, and that was before technology, so there's a small and miraculous chance that I'll be fine.

I watched the Emmy's last night. The best part is the beginning when everybody's walking in on the red carpet and those douche bags from Access Hollywood stop all the celebrities and have to ad lib questions because there's no teleprompter to tell them what to say. That's when the stupidity really shines. Billy Bush, that jackass who's George Bush's cousin or nephew on the idiot side of the family was asking Jeremy Piven a series of ridiculous things about how Ari on Entourage would represent Tom Cruise now that he's crazy or I don't even know what he was talking about, when Piven said "You need a new job man. Seriously, you have some potential as a human being. You can't be doing this." And Billy was like "You. Ha. Ha Ha. You're such a character." Then he had to smile and keep it going and tell Piven what a nice outfit he was wearing. I want to find it on YouTube and watch it over and over again to see if I can spot the exact moment when Billy realizes what a trifling and humiliating man he's become, even if it's just for a second. "Right there. There it is. He knows and he's already trying to forget. He's laughing it off but he can't because it's true." Aaaah, that's good tv.

And check out this review of Apathy right here. I just found out about it from a comment on this blog. Thanks April. I'm so half assed I can't even break news on myself..........Paul