Passion, Art and a Brief Vibrator Review

I woke up earlier than usual this morning. It is strange how when I find myself with free time, I always choose to do something useless. Clean my apartment? No, thank you. Make a healthy lunch? Hell no! Organize my sock drawer? I don’t own drawers.

Instead of all that, I decided to pull out my box of unfinished writings. Why not? I’ve got a writers meeting today, might as well start it off feeling unaccomplished and lazy. It’s the pseudo-writer thing to do, isn’t it?

The thing about that box is that it usually depresses me. What is the point of writing if you never finish anything? And then it hit me.

I don’t write to ‘finish’ things or to share things or even to be successful at writing. I write because I have to. Because I am in love with words. Passionately in love with them. If I go days without writing (which is very rare), I feel... lost. Almost heartbroken.

I know, I know. Sounds dramatic, right? Of course it is! I’m a fucking writer, what do you expect? But it’s also very true. If you have ever been in love, had that one person that made your breath catch, your stomach drop, sent chills through your body with a single touch, then you would know what it is like to need to write. It has a powerful grip on you. It is dramatic. It’s meant to be. Writing is most definitely a lover.

Charles Bukowski once wrote, “Find what you love and let it kill you.” I never really understood what he meant. Why let it kill you? Why not let it keep you alive? But sitting there on the corner of my bed, half asleep and full of PMS emotion, I finally understood. Here is the full quote (from a letter he once supposedly wrote):

"Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain from you your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you, and let it devour your remains.

For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it's much better to be killed by a lover."

Fucking brilliant. Thank you Hank, I think I will do just that. May I have at least ten boxes by the time of my death. With at least ONE finished novel.

I know what you’re thinking. Am I done prattling on about my love affair with writing? No!  Just bear with me and I’ll end with this with my vibrator review. Geesh!

Kevin Smith once did a Q&A session on Red State. In it he had some advice about passion and art. At first I kind of got caught up in his description of passion. I mean, listen to him; he’s hands down one of the most romantic men on earth. Maybe THE most romantic. When he realizes she is the ‘one’ when she agrees that going to Denny’s and getting Moons Over My Hammy is a great idea, it is beautiful. (Swoon). And you can tell Kevin Smith has been in love. How? Lots of men will say are in love or that they have been in love at some point but most have no idea what that even means. Kevin Smith, he fucking knows. And then to reel me back in and tell me this is how I should feel about my art? Holy shit! He’s not just right about this. He is dead on.

Here is the moment where Kevin Smith stole my heart and proved his brilliance:

 

Genius, isn't he?

 

Alright, enough about love and writing. I give you the vibrator review:

First, let me start this by saying there is nothing that makes this vibrator stand out from any other. It’s penis-shaped and it vibrates. However, it is still god damn amazing. The size was perfect, the nubs and whatever the hell is all over it was heavenly, and the vibrating speed did not ruin my teeth. For the price, this thing is just plain awesome. On the other hand, I will spend a little more next time to get something more curved. I don’t like having to work to get to my g spot. I’m a lazy masturbater.

V Day Update:
I was informed by Wil that his nacho recipe, which is called Toxic Nachos, is not made with tortilla chips but with Doritos. And that you can only have one plate. More than one and you will become very sick. So I stand corrected. He is obviously quite good in the kitchen.