Wall Street

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

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