First of all, infuriation is a word. I called it. My world. My rules.
Second, as I recently revealed, I’ve been on a mission to get a book written by the years end (or maybe next May actually, but fingers crossed). I also do music and photoshop art (like art garfunkle).
And I strive in these areas to get better and, over the years, I think I have gotten better. At times, heck, I’ve thought, “Elias, you’re so good, if I were a girl, I’d give you a rosy welcome of smooches and vaseline fun time.” It all just comes together.
And that is precisely when that creative of creatures henceforth known as a goddamn motherfucker, wittily whisks his way into your viewing, smelling, tasting, touching, ear hole filling range and proceeds to show you that, in fact, all your efforts are heaping helpings of halfassness.
I imagine it must be much like when Black Sabbath were coked out of their gourds, spying a balding fop fapping his way across boys and girls to get to the stage in order to prance his fingers around on the ol black and whites of his piano, thus giving them a real royal rogering of awesomeness by ballading us with “Rocketman” and “Crockodile Rock.” At which point, I’m sure Ozzy said, “Oi! Oos this Elton John queer and why’s he making us look so bad?” (not that Sabbath didn’t have their moments).
There are some people, excuse me,…goddamn motherfuckers, that are just plain lucky in the talent area. They can snap their fingers and turn shit into shinola. They just have IT. Maybe they have some insight and maybe they’re good in a secondary way, but mainly they just have something that makes them amazing. It’s like when I met Evan Dando a few years ago and talked with him a while (he was trying to bang this girl I knew….and he did). His voice is absolutely of the angels, but he’s a fricken moron’s moron.
I was never a big Janis Joplin fan, but then I watched that movie about her train ride across Canada with the Dead and the Band and you realize after comparing her performances with the other major acts that she can be only one thing….a goddamn motherfucker.
About a year ago, I was getting my blogging chops razor sharp until I just knew I sizzled. Then I happened upon the Wuc. Who is the Wuc? Well of course, she’s a goddamn motherfucker that can turn a phrase like she’s turning a record at a Kim Kardashian touch-my-booty-a-thon. She isn’t just amazing. She’s so amazing at blogging that she makes me realize I really do suck. Kind of like when Salieri realizes 99 percent of the world is nothing but mediocrity when he hears Motzart and he hates God because of it. (By the way, that Motzart guy? Total godamn motherfucker.)
These people exist in every walk of life to make me (and probably you too) feel bad about myself. Not because I totally awful. That would actually be something, like being so bad that you’re good at being bad. No, it’s worse. It just shows you that, no matter how salted up you get with spirits, no matter how much self-talk you sell to yourself about your suave and debonair Ricardoness, you, in fact, are just one more foot in a million mile string of hackery. File under blah.
But maybe if I just try hard enough. Maybe I can be one of them too.
I want to be one! I want to be one! I want to be a goddamn motherfucker!