Today’s accomplishments:
• Wrote about a page and a half.
• Spent $70 on a bottle of scotch I read about in a men’s magazine.
• Posed for a new profile/book jacket picture in front of some cool graffiti.
• Made a vevo playlist of literary-inspired rap videos.
• Tried a new tapas place I hadn’t tried before.
• Left comments on 40 of my best friends facebook walls about how much it would mean to me if they read my blog.
• Logged into myspace. Thought about updating my status. Didn’t.
• Started reading “war and peace”, the wikipedia-entry version.
• Posted an ad on craigslist for my services as a freelance creative genius.
• Drank 6 cups of coffee.
My friend has some photos up in a coffee shop over in Potrero hill.
I didn’t make it to the “opening” a few weeks back, so I decided to truck my old laptop over there and check it out today, while working.
Unfortunately, the place didn’t have free wifi (in 2011!), so I didn’t stay longer than it took me to check out the photos, eat a blackberry scone and make small talk with the counter-girl about why they didn’t have wifi.
The photos themselves were mediocre, a series of candid, black and white shots of little kids, looking at things (tv screens, starfish, art, etc…), but what got me was the prices she was selling them for. Like $60 to $90 bucks.
One had sold.
To me, they should be selling for $6000 to $9000.
Not because they’re worth that, or one of the patrons of a dinky little non-wifi-having café might buy them, but because the only way to create value in the art world is to create the illusion of value.
Free advice to anyone looking to pay their cell phone bill with their craft; you’re wasting your time. Go big or go home.
You know, they say many great writers had to toil for hours upon hours, staring at the blank page, committing 12 hours a day, months and years at a time, in mind numbing frustration while they waited for inspiration.
I’m lucky I don’t have to do that.
For me, inspiration is a constant stream, rendered through beautiful applications like google reader, tumblr and twitter. Every linked post can lead to a constellation of new creative ideas.
Just today, a post comparing Lady Gaga to David Bowie, got me thinking about how Kanye West was the new Prince. I even scribbled some notes about the various comparisons for a future article, while watching old episodes of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia on hulu plus.
I know my gift is not only my unprecedented creative talents, but the era in which I received them.
The only way I can be one for all time is to be one for my time.
This morning, my plan was to get early, go for a run, then write until the Bulls-Heat game at 5:30.
The hangover slash late night tacqueria shits slowed my running plan down, so I had a big breakfast with the girlfriend at Blue Jay, figuring I’d work it off when I went to the gym later.
Then, since it was such a nice day, we decided to walk down to the mission to check out vintage clothes shops.
We bumped into another couple who we’re friendly with and wound up at Dolores park for the better part of the afternoon, actively participating in our youth by slowly depleting a case of Tecate.
By the time I got home, it was 4:30 and I was drunk.
Despite what Bukowski apologists might say, writing drunk isn’t for serious writers, which, above all, is clearly the role I am bound for.
So, with writing shot and exercise out of the question, my fallback was to continue drink, which I did, with the natural grace of Jordan is prime.
Bagel shop to café to bar to living room to bar to tacqueria.
That was my trajectory today, and in a perfect world, it would be my trajectory every day.
What matters, I guess, isn’t the points on the map, but what you do when you get there.
I spent bulk of the day at the bar, and on the living room couch, watching a friend play LA Noire, which deserves the accolades it has gotten.
It truly is a post-modern masterpiece.
I wish the café had been a more prominent part of the day, but, as they say, real-life intervened.
This afternoon at Lucky 13, I got in a giant argument with an old friend about which one of us would be more famous.
I came to the realization that he actually thinks he’s smarter than me, which was eye opening.
We’ve been friends for a long time, but I actually got some insight into his character today.
Sometimes, you have to treat your narcissist friends more delicately.
I’m sure glad I have a little more perspective than that.
