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Wednesday, March 10, 2004
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I HAVE ZERO LUCK
It's very hard to come up with multiple posts a day, particularly when I have no life to speak of. There are only really two reasons that I post as often as I do, A) It keeps me occupied, and B) if I went days at a time without posting, I'd lose my enthusiasm and stop writing altogether. As much time as I spend writing this incredibly insipid drivel, I spend a whole lot more time looking for drivel to write about. This entails going through multiple online newspapers and dozens of blogs every day. One neat trick that I've discovered is going through the links on other people's blogs. Much is to be found in what other people find interesting.
Last night, I was reading Outpatient's blog (which, by the way, is very good) and found this. This is the online diary of BBC staff writer, Ivan Noble's recovery from a malignant brain tumour that he was diagnosed with last summer. This is compelling reading as life and death struggles tend to be.
Then, as I read through the diary, detailing Mr. Noble's heroic struggle over adversity, I made a horrible discovery about myself. I was jealous. I considered this at depth and came to the conclusion that Mr. Noble's own body set the agenda for his writing. His subject matter was predetermined. That must be incredibly nice.
That's when I decided that I want a brain tumour as well. Okay, not necessarily a brain tumour, that might be construed as plagerism. Any lethal disease will do. Here's I would go about it, I'd refuse all medical treatment except painkillers and document the disintegration of my own body. I would continue writing it myself for as long as I was physically capable and then dictate my thoughts to someone else to post. When I am no longer able to communicate myself, I'll designate someone to write their observations of my final days. The day I die, the blog ends.
I think that would be fucking incredible. Chances are you would, too. Documenting my own death, day by day. It would be perfect. Another great thing about it would be that, although the final outcome would be crystal clear from the very first post, the readership would only grow. Most people are far more morbid than they're willing to admit to. Who knows? Someone might even want to publish my death trip and I could will the profits to a number of charities that I've supported or intend to support. Everyone would win.
And that, of course, is why it will never happen. The one thing that would make me a compelling writer with a constant source of subject matter is the one thing I'll never get, precisely because I want it. Is everyone starting to see the quandry that is my life?
I just can't win.
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