Love,

Jay and Silent Bob

Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back

You know what I have been wondering.

Well to bad, I'm telling you anyways.

I have been wondering if I'm to crude and crass to apeal to a larger audience. Sure, there is always an audience for good old fashion dick and fart jokes with tons of vulgar language for flavor.

The thing is, you can swear all you want, crack sick jokes all you want, but you have to be entertaining when you do it. No one wants to see a foul mouthed SOB bitching up a storm if they can't get some kind of entertainment out of it.

Now I really got to thinking about how crude and vulgar I can be when I was filling out an application at interview.diaryland to be interviewed.

So I'm looking through the rules, so far all is good tell I get to the "Littered with swear words" rule.

Well Christ on a pogo stick, I swear.....a lot....I mean a lot.....ho boy, I do swear a LOT

It seems I can't fucking help myself sometimes.

See, I just sweared right there.

Its unbefuckingleviable how often I turn to fucking swearing to make my point.

Fuck I just sweared twice then.

Damn it, I swore while explaining how I swore twice before that.

Shit.

OH FUCK, SOMEBODY STOP ME!

*Crawls into the corner and curls up into a little ball. Weeps uncontrollably tell making soft, gasping noises as I hyperventilate. Three hours later I wake up, run to the bathroom to clean the snot off my face, does a quick wipe of my ass...just in case, then settles back in front of the computer with a deep sigh*

Ok, so I'm dealing with my limited vocabulary and pention for swearing more then Denis Leary and Andrew "Dice" Clay combined.

So despite this rule, I decide to apply anyways and ask them to try and look past the swearing and look at the actually content of my work.

Thats about when I realied, remove all my consistent swearing and what do you have.

Well a lot of incoherent sentences since you have just butchered it like a good R movie sent to cable television.

Ok, fine, so its even MORE incoherent then usual....but at least I'm normally semi-coherent.

When you take it all away, I have got to wonder how good is this diary after all.

And I'm a little bothered to say folks....not very good.

This is probably low self esteem talking here, but I'm thinking I'm nothing but a big bag of wind sometimes...a lot of the times....pretty much nine times out of ten. I'm the human equivelent of buying a Parakete, teaching it all kinds of swear words, then get it high and let the mirth begin.

And since swearing so much is usually frowned upon for publication purposes, once again I'm quiestioning if I could ever make it as a writer for my career.

God, I do love the idea of my writtings reaching people. Seeing my name in print, feeling the exhiliration from knowing people are reading my works.

Of course the fame and fortune are very apealing, especially when you can get a book or a few of yours put up on the silver screen, but this is not what apeals to me most about writing.

You see, so many authors have touched me very deeply inside, conected with me in ways I never thought possible. They have expertly lifted me in there caring hands and carried me into the worlds, filling all my senses, focusing my attention on the story lines as they progress. And I go willingly, loving every little minute of it, losing myself in there world. Feeling a deep, sorrow filled loss when I'm come to the end of the book(s), knowing these characters who I have come to love and know intimately, that this is last I will see them. Sure I can reread the books, get back some of that feeling I experienced the first time, but its not the same then. In the end, many authors have changed my beliefs, captured my heart, and givine me something I will cherish to the day I die.

Now THAT is what I'm wanting the most out of my writting. To touch someone like that, to lose them in my story so much that somewhere in there heart, all of this story is real to them, the characters are as real as you and me.

I so desperately want that the most, I really couldn't ask for more.

Say I finally get a book published and I'm on a signing tour across america. One person comes up to me, someone unbiased, someone I have never seen in my life before and have absolutely no connection with them other then my book. Say that person comes up to me with there eyes filled with love and deep admiration for me and poors there affection for my writing, telling me how much I have touched them deep inside.

Thats what I want...thats what makes me choke up when I think about being a writer. That is what makes this pissed off at the world tough guy exterior melt away,, leaving me feeling raw with emotions, eyes brimming with tears.

The fame and fortune of being a multi-published writer is a defianent perk, but I'm not asking for that. Sure I would be in heaven if my writting career kept me finacially comfortable, but I'm not asking for the kind of money that lets me throw it around at a whim.

Give me a enough to buy my own house, furnish it modeslty, and able to keep up my bills and love for movies without having to wonder where I'm going to get the money for it all.

I guess in away I want to give back to others what has been given to me by a few books in my life. That this feeling of being touched so deeply is so good that it just has to be shared.

Now that is my idea of heaven on earth, to be given that feeling you get from losing yourself in a really good book.

Though my love for some really good books can cause me a few problems though. Mostly because when I love something so dearly, cherish it so deeply and hold it tightly in my heart, something that forever has changed me, when someone I come to love and/or respect doesn't feel a modicum of the same as me about this, or even worse, takes a complete opposite belief then me, I can't help but feel like its a personal attack on me. That this person rejecting this book I have come to love, or anything else I have come to cherish so much, in my heart its like there rejecting a big piece of me, because I can see myself or who I wish to be in this book *music, movie, etc.*.

Which I try not to take it personal, but the heart is fickle that way, can't think these things through logicaly like your brain.

I realize I have loved the idea of being a writer, loved writing so much so long. Despite all the career ideas I went through as I grew up, that deep down inside my heart said "fuck that buddy, we are going to be a writer and thats it."

With my many years of wanting to be a lawyer, which turned into a lawyer/political scientist. To moving on and wanting to be a architect and/or mechancial drafter. Through dreams of opening my own business or being a computer science major. One thing remained constant through all this. In my heart I wanted to be a writer.

In hindsight this is very clear to me now, but for so long I didn't even have a clue. Hell, I didn't even really get into reading tell my late teens. Mostly because in school you had to read for the classes and I really had a problem with doing things I "had" to do. So I ended up depriving myself of such a magnificent thing like reading a good book.

In hindsight I realize deep down inside I did know this fact. All the ideas I had, all the short stories I wrote, the fact that when it came to creative writting, somehow I just took for granted knowing I was a better writer then the majority of the people in my school.

Which has worked for my determent in ways. Because I find myself in the mind set that "I'm a writer", and when I look at my work and see how shitty it can be or see someone else's work and realize how much they blow my shit out of the water, it crushes my heart a little each time, extinguishes that flame a little more with each moment.

With that, a severly low self esteem, and a massive negative streak of self criticism. I find it all but impossible to think anything I write holds any kind of merit.

Though I do struggle to try and remain positive about my writing, that I'm just to hyper critical of my own work that it can be crippling at times. That if I just give myself a chance, I will see that I'm better then I thought.

Then something usually comes along and crushes that little bit of postive thinking and sends me spiraling down in the dark depths of "this writing sucks, that story sucks, all my writting sucks, I suck."

The best example I can give, would actually be this diary and diaryland in whole.

I look around and see so many pages that are getting ungodly hits each day, a list longer then my arm of people who list them as a favorite diary, see how there guestbooks and message boards are nearly flooded each day by so many readers. I look at this and I wonder why aint I one of these people. That why am I stuck with wondering for long periods of time if anyone even reads this diary, my hit counter the only proof that anyone one even comes to this page. Wonderng why it can be weeks before I see a single guestbook entry and that getting a message board on here with be more heart crushing then anything since I'm pretty sure I'll get as much traffic on there as I do in my guestbook, which is very little.

Now don't get me wrong here, I do see why these people get so much traffic and guestbook love, they deserve it since they are a very entertaining read. Many of them so good I can't help but wish desperately that I was nearly as good as they are.

I'm just starting to think I'm what you call a required taste kind of read, and not a cool kind either. Like people who truelly love reading Shakespere, it imediatly places them in that "smarter, higher class" type of person in people's eys just for this fact.

I'm more the "Ugh, dude, whatever floats your boat I guess" kind of required taste.

Now I know I bitch a lot on this page or crack jokes about how little traffic I get through this page, but let me tell you I do very much apreciate all you readers who come back each day to read what shit I have spewed out on here with the occasional wise crack and they very often swear word.

And I shouldn't really complain because there are so many other diarist who probably wish they get nearly as many hits as I do a week.

Its just, well I'm wishing I reached more then a handfull of people I guess.

Uh gawd, I'm whining and babbling to much here now.

Bet you though this entry was going to get funnier if you just stuck it out for a little bit longer, huh.

Well dick fart fuckity fuck fuck, eat shitty moose juice and dickty fuck your dumb ass dog with a pogo stick.....I just pooted my shorts a little bit.

There you go, a little funny ha ha Chrome style. Just so you don't feel like you wasted all this time on this entry with no laugh at the end.

Oh, and the people at interview.diaryland.com, if you happen to read this as you are evaluating on if I should be interviewed or not. I'll save you the time now and just say delete my submition.....I don't know what I was thinking when I thought the content of my page would out weigh my constant swearing.

It's about time - Wednesday, Jul. 07, 2004
An Honor for Chrome - Friday, Feb. 20, 2004
A great loss - Monday, Oct. 20, 2003
a terrible announcement. - Tuesday, Sept. 09, 2003
Chrome speaks: - Friday, Sept. 05, 2003