Tuesday, December 30, 2008

God Hates Us All

I wanted to write something fresh.

Something I've never written before. But all I have on my plate right now are rewrites. I hate rewrites.

It's like when a prostitute has to go back to the guy she just fucked and redo anal or something.

It's part of the job.

And to top it all off, I'm coughing up blood. I can't concentrate. My meds are making me drowsy.

So I SMSed the producer of this film I'm writing and I said I am going to send him the reworked script by the New Year instead of tonight. And that I might be hospitalised tomorrow.

Then I laid down, tried to sleep, and I decided I didn't want to sleep.

So I got up, started smoking again, and I'm writing. Re-writing.

Some self-important motherfuckers who want you to think that writing is such a magical job would equate the oh-so-precious 'process' as some sort of labour. Not labour as in working. Labour, as in, giving birth and shit.

And the Femi-Nazis say that no man can ever know the pain of giving birth. Meanwhile, doctors told me that passing a kidney stone is more or less the same shit.

And surprise, I passed a kidney stone or two in my day. So fuck you.

This rewrite, though, feels like passing a kidney stone through my dick the size of a baby. With all the coughing up blood shit.

I wanna write, I gotta smoke. I smoke, I start coughing. I cough, I can't write.

And I can't sleep.

I have half a mind and call up a hooker or something. That'll stop me from coughing.