I just saw Jerry Seinfeld's Comedian, which, in addition to providing strong documentary evidence of how incredibly assful nightclub audiences can be, also offered great wisdom. Seinfeld was speaking with a young comedian who was fretting over where he was in his career-- or, to be more specific, where he wasn't.

"I see my friends working on Wall Street," he said, "and they have jobs and families and careers, and I think about how little progress I"ve made, and I get worried."

And Jerry Seinfeld made a "What are you talking about?" face and said, "What are you talking about? Wall Street? What does that have to do with anything?"

"It is good for me to hear this," I aloud to his face, for indeed, the fact that the great majority of my friends are normal and settled and reproducing doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with where I am now. What I do as an artist is completely separate from their goals, and I can't measure my writing career by the payscale of a network security engineer.

Then Seinfeld told a story about a jazz band whose airplane crashed in a field, and they had to hoist their instruments and head through the snow to get to their gig. And they passed a house where a cozy little family sat in a Normal Rockwell scene-- mother, father, dog, fireplace, 2.5 kids, etc, etc, etc.

And one of the musicians said, "Why would anyone want to live like that?"

September 13, 2003

Lots of talking heads today ruminating whether or not we should make 9/11 a national holiday. What a great idea. I'm really looking forward to the day that 9/11 morphs into 9/11 Weekend, heralded by sales fliers announcing that we must (as I actually saw this past Memorial Day) DECLARE OUR FREEDOM FROM HIGH PRICES. I for one do not relish the thought of my future nieces and nephews one day sitting around all, "Maaaaaaaaaan, can't wait for 9/11. Gonna drink 'till I puke."

Go to work. That's precisely what every single person was doing the day they died two years ago.

September 11, 2003

When you're wearing your sunglasses on top of your head inside a windowless office, you have lost the battle. My hair is now short. So was the "It's a really good idea to chop my hair off" bender.

September 7, 2003

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Mary Beth is an introvert.

She is eager to communicate but prefers doing so via email, a giant stage, or intense conversation about Important Things.

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