Josh And Failure Vs. The World: Day 28

Josh and Failure Vs. The World: Day 28

Here’s how I failed today:

I didn’t get up at eight in the morning, go for a run, write the next great American novel, and eat a healthy breakfast of kale, spinach, and integrity.

I slept in until twelve thirty, thought about my constipation, and ate a fruit and cheese plate at Coffee Bean.

I thought negative thoughts about everything in my life. I regularly envision imaginary conversations with people in which I lecture them into submission. If I focused this energy on actually doing something productive, maybe I’d be somewhere by now.

Oh, right – I also took the opportunity to feel jealous of several different people. I’m able to do that while worrying about my constipation – call it an ability to multitask.

I’m burned out. How is that possible when I’m only 36 years old? Oh, right – anxiety. It takes a toll. When I try to envision my future, I see only darkness and despair – Mordor, but with more Hondas.

Outside the coffee bean, a street musician is setting up – about to play. This sight terrifies me. Will this be me one day? Doing stand-up in front of five people in a small room somewhere, telling myself not to give up, but being too old and irrelevant?

I’m supposed to do things for the sake of doing them, without obsessing over the results – but I want results! It’s not that I’m looking for fame and fortune. I’m looking for celebrity and money.

More specifically, I want to earn the respect of my peers and of the best in comedy, and earn enough to afford health care – so, in order for that to happen, I guess I do need fame and fortune.

I’ve stopped trying to write anything other than stand-up. I’m trying to focus specifically on the stand-up. And on jokes – working on jokes – trying to be the best I can be with jokes.

Why did the chicken cross the road? Because I’m lonely.

As you can see, I have my work cut out for me.

Comedy is about what is wrong with me. In other words, I should never have writer’s block.
Can we discuss how, as a result of me using a space heater at work, I now have a rash on my leg? Perhaps this is why I don’t date much. My genes are steering me away from the pool.

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