Mo!

Today I turned thirty. In this culture, thirty is the arbitrary cut-off date. Saying you're 29 and live at home does not have the same comic ring to it as being 30 and living at home.

I had hoped to be a huge star by thirty. Here is an annotated catalog of my transient ambitions for fame, starting from age 12 in 1988:

12: Horror novel writer
13: Comic book writer
14: Heavy metal bassist and singer (WHAT WAS I THINKING)
15: Video game maker (WHAT WAS I THINKING)
16: Horror writer/comic book writer
17: Literary writer/Poet
19: Screenwriter/Movie Star/Literary writer
20: Britpop rock star(WHAT WAS I THINKING)
21: Screenwriter/Movie Star/Poet
22: Director/Screenwriter/Movie Star/Conceptual Artist(WHAT WAS I THINKING)
25: Poet/director/screenwriter/star
26: Rapper/DJ/Literary writer/Director/Screenwriter/Movie Star
28: Web Cartoon writer and voice/Web Comic writer/Fiction blog (Flog)
writer/Music journalist
29: Stand-up comic/Viral video writer and
star/Flogger/Freelancehumorist/Journalist


Not only were these labyrinthine pipe dreams, but I only actually tried to be a poet, Britpop rock star, rapper, DJ, music journalist, stand-up comic and journalist.

I guess I will have to be an older, distinguished counterculture celebrity like George Carlin, Kurt Vonnegut and Woody Allen were in the '60's.

Now when I lust after thirtysomething ladies, I will be a normal man and not some easy piece of young jailbait with my back against the jukebox.

But the burning question

Is blogging a responsible pursuit?

Answer: Yes.

Commenting on other people's blogs so people look at your blog is immature. Talking all day about how your blog has given you your second wind to take on the world is juvenile. Thinking you can change the world with your blog is embarrasingly naive.
Thinking you can affect the music industry with your blog is cute, but not mature.
Writing for the sake of writing -- now that's fun.

Speaking of which, here's an example of writing for writing's sake.

The Arab-American


The world looks at Americans as fat, rich, lazy warmongering cowboys who drink Starbucks and watch Friends. Since cowboys are now stereotyped as gay after "Brokeback Mountain," we are seen as fat, rich, lazy warmongering gay cowboys who drink Starbucks and watch Friends.

The archetypal Arab image is a paranoid, smelly terrorist who loves Hummus, works at 7-11, pumps gas, can't speak English, beats women, overreacts to public displays of affection and has a lot of facial hair.

So the non-Arab, non-American world might see the Arab-American as a fat, paranoid, rich, smelly, lazy, warmongering, gay terrorist cowboy who drinks Starbucks lattes with hummus froth. This gay terrorist cowboy has a part-time job at 7-11 and pumps gas(he doesn't need sleep -- that will come to him in paradise --bwa-ha-ha). After driving his own cab home, he yells at his wife in Arabic and English, kicks off his camel toe loafers and watches Friends. As his anger at Joey and Rachel's relationship boils to the point where he's foaming at the mouth, he switches to the Cartoon Network, throws a Kaloshinov cocktail at the TV, scratches his unkempt beard and plots throughout the night. Even after he watches "Dukes of Hazzard" on the upstairs TV and screams "Yeehaw" when his wife brings him his Budweiser.



I swear I do not fit into any of these stereotypes in anyway -- well, I am fat, lazy, paranoid and smelly. But Williamsburg smelly, not gas station smelly.

Today is not only my birthday. It is Bob Marley's. And Axl Rose's. I'm going to go celebrate the Bob Marley way, heh-heh. By going out in public and screaming Boy-yo-Boy-yo-yo-yo-yo!