I’m a fucking writer

Self-loathing should come naturally to any writer. It is simple –if you peer deeply enough into yourself, you should recoil; there has to be something that makes you go, “oh god that’s a part of me?” And that’s introspectively speaking. In terms of bringing forth that ugliness, well, I think Anthony Bourdain said it best: “Let’s face it. Anyone who writes a book with the notion that they have a story worth telling, that people want to listen, you’re already, by definition now, an abhorrent personality of self-regard. That’s not normal. That’s often at odds with being a functioning, well rounded, good person.”

So what is a writer but an oscillation between two polarities? One: a fink who ritualistically goes to coffee shops, mooches off Wi-Fi for hours, occupying that very outlet you need, who at the end of a torturous dredge, seems no happier –an eternally gloomy funk. Two: the unholy combination of narcissism, vanity –I mean the medium of a blog is vanity itself, and this ungodly inflated ego. This explains why I tend to like very few writers in person.

This all sounds rather scathing. Of course there has to be some sort of reconciliation. I mean I fucking write. Anthony Bourdain wrote. And reading others’ works can elicit many emotions and beauty. So what is it about writers that makes them write…? I mean why subject ourselves to this constant self-examination and this self-absorbed practice? I think! I think… somehow this oscillation between vanity and self-hatred is magnified in writers. Perhaps this constant sliding is just what it means to be human?

I mean how many people consider themselves excellent drivers? Hur dur I considered myself a good driver. Who hasn’t sat in traffic in a fit of rage, thinking if only that one person didn’t suck at driving, then this whole lane would be moving more efficiently? No one else? Fine. Well after a second of rage, I reflected. There were probably, most likely, many times people went, “this guy, this fucking guy,” because of how I was driving.

A study conducted by Allstate shows that 2/3 of Americans consider themselves excellent drivers. Anyone who has been gridlocked in LA traffic can attest to the delusion of this statistic. Anyone who has sat in their friend’s car can attest to this…What I’m trying to say from this horribly drawn out example is that people probably have a hard time stepping outside of themselves. And writing is perhaps an attempt to step outside of oneself. And maybe, it’s not so much an oscillation, rather a cycle of god mentality (vanity), the fall  (self-hatred), and then the slaving away (reconciliation), and that this cycle is an inherent human cycle. Writers probably go through this cycle a lot of fucking times because their subject is often the human condition.

Jung talks about this! This is the hero’s journey, the process of individuation, as he states, “the attempt to free ego-consciousness from the deadly grip of the unconscious”. The unconscious is the god mentality, the fall is the realization you’re full of shit, and the slaving away, the climb up to become different, better is the freeing of the ego-consciousness! This is the story of the fall of man in the bible. Perhaps, life composes of these micro-cycles, and that writers write stories because their stories somehow reflect this micro-cycle in themselves.

Published by

alanwrites

unadulterated writing straight from my head entiendoenglish@gmail.com