I was in Italy for the past two weeks. It is a country in Europe (the one shaped like the boot) where carbohydrates are a condiment and wine is drunk as though alcoholism were an old wives tale. I thought about posting something to the effect of “I’m going to be in Italy” before I left, but it seemed like bragging. Whereas saying, “I just got back from Italy” at least conveys a modicum of despair, like I might be sobbing while I write it, or at the very least drinking.
But to come back and see all these comments . . . it’s touching. Like the kind of touching that you don’t tell your parents about because you think it’s your own fault. But after years of drawing on yourself in pen you finally confide in a therapist and he calls it “progress” when deep down inside you’re like, “Progress? I shower with my underwear on, and you want to talk about progress?” Really, heartwarming. (Recommended Usage: Apply sarcasm only where necessary.)
Last night I was watching Double Impact, arguably Van Damme’s most ambitious film (twin brothers separated at birth – both played by Van Damme – must avenge their father’s death against wealthy businessmen AND the Chinese mafia, all while reconciling their newfound brotherhood with their markedly different stations in life). Unfortunately, it is also Van Damme’s worst film. Point being, I like to think of [redacted] as my Double Impact.* Sure, it doesn’t have the same level to dedication to craft or not-so-vaguely pornographic title, but all the hallmarks of a great metaphor are there, namely that that makes my previous blog Bloodsport, which is as close as I will ever get to fulfilling my childhood dream of fighting in the Kumite.
I may just be writing all this because I drink with lunch now, but if a blog is supposed to be a place where you unload all your deepest, darkest fears on to the public so that when you are found wandering the Jersey Turnpike barefoot and covered in an unidentifiable musky odor, people can go back and say, “There were warning signs all over his blog,” (and I think it is) then what’s the point of holding back? Think of it as a really scary journey that you take with a complete stranger, because the alternative is to actually get to know your co-workers.
Seriously though, Italy is like the opposite of my soul right now. It’s beautiful. Ask me about it (Italy, not my soul) and maybe I’ll elaborate. Perhaps in a Q&A Friday!
Oh, and what the fuck did the Cream of Wheat guy ever do to you? Besides cook up a delicious warm cereal? Do you have any idea how hard it is to make a good warm cereal? There’s only like five in existence. There are more flavors of hummus than there are warm cereals. Think about that.
* Note that this statement is not an admission of guilt, nor a promise of better writing in the future. Although more frequent bad writing is certainly a possibility.