why i did this

While seated in my oral surgeon's office awaiting the packing of a painful dry socket several months ago, I happened to pluck from the rack a year-old issue of the New Yorker magazine, which contained an article about George Meyer, allegedly the funniest writer on the funny writing staff of The Simpsons. In the article, Meyer describes a life-changing event. Hanging out one evening with a crowd that included the legendary comic artist R. Crumb, Meyer was allowed the privilege of thumbing through Crumb's personal journal. As he returned the book, Meyer thanked Crumb, to which Crumb responded, "Hey, my life's an open book." Meyer immediately became obsessed with Crumb's comment. He realized that his own life book had always been shut tight, that he had forever been rather disconnected from his feelings, and had been afraid to just let go and be himself. This revelation turned everything around for Meyer. After bawling about it to his therapist for a while, he was able to transform himself into a less repressed person.

Reading about Meyer's fucked-up childhood and resulting neuroses and subsequent methods for dealing with said neuroses--and doing so in a pain-induced heightened state of revelatory intensity--made me think about my own neuroses and fucked-up childhood and subsequent failure to deal adequately with the aforementioned fucked-up-childhood-induced neuroses. So I started thinking about this "open book" business, and I thought to myself, Wait a minute, R. Crumb's life is not really an open book, although it was a critically acclaimed arthouse film, which I never actually saw but heard was pretty good. But then I thought, Why would anybody even want their life to be an open book? The Secret World Government seems determined to make everybody's life an open data file, but that's sort of different. And even if you like this open book idea, why settle for an open book when you can now make your life an open website? You can even buy one of those slick webcams so the whole world can watch you blow your boyfriend in live streaming video. Not that I've ever actually watched such a thing, but it's on my list, along with renting Crumb.

Anyway, thinking about streaming and repression brought to mind that EST thing where people used to pay hundreds of dollars to go into a crowded convention hall and piss themselves in a big room with a bunch of other urine-soaked neurotics. I figured, why spend all that money when I have a perfectly good convention hall and a perfectly full bladder available at no cost right here in Madison? So I went over to the Frank Lloyd Wright-designed Monona Terrace conference center and pissed myself there. Only I had taken my pants and underpants off, so really I just pissed the carpet in the Grand Ballroom, but it was certainly a very liberating experience. Unfortunately the security guy was not self-actualized enough to appreciate my liberation, and he kicked me out before I could really savor the moment.

So there I was feeling kind of lost and only halfway liberated. In a confused haze, I wandered over to the Alliant Energy Center -- which I had recently discovered is not actually an energy center at all but is the former Dane County Expo Center newly renamed to reflect its corporate sponsorship by Alliant Energy Corporation -- but by then I was all peed out. Next, I tried the Kohl Center, home of the Badger basketball team, but the result was the same: still no streaming. Finally, after a few more pissless minutes of soul-searching, I was suddenly seized with an idea: I would emulate George Meyer and turn to writing as therapy! I would launch a new publication of my own. I would call it, for no apparent reason, No Stamina. This would be my salvation! This would be the therapeutic outlet that would allow me to avoid unwanted neurotic urinary buildup!

You are presently gazing at the result.