Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Tuesday morning insomnia.

There's an old Yiddish saying I just made up that goes something like this: "If it weren't for beating myself up, I'd get no exercise at all."

Tonight--after today--has been one of those Golden Gloves insomniac nights. A night where I spend too much time and energy applying haymakers to my glass chin and think about what might have been.

About ten years ago I was the head of a giant, dumb and faceless digital agency. I was about as far removed from actually doing work as I could be. The agency had about 800 people, with 140 or so of those in creative. I was insulated through those 140 from ever having to do anything but--pretty much--employee evaluations. My problems were not communications issues. They were about talking to people who flipped someone the bird, who gets raised and who gets axed.

I left that job, impetuously if you must know. And haven't yet recovered either my lofty position or my paycheck.

Today, I'm a writer again. Taking it up the ass with a crowbar from clients and agency people alike.

On nights like this when the stupidity of the world and my surroundings closes in on me like Harrison Ford nearing the gold, I wonder if I blew it.

I'm getting old for this.

Spinning out ideas.

Spinning out ideas for ingrates.

Spinning out ideas for ingrates who have never themselves had one.

It's tough keeping up with the Jones' at one end and the 25-year-olds at the other.

It's tough hurtling through ever higher and ever smaller hoops everyday. Keeping my quality and my spirits up.

It's tough being grin-fucked when all you can do is grin-fuck back.

It's tough, most of all, having to be good. Everyday. Everyday ringing the bell. Being sharp, fast, on-brand.

I could be an executive if I hadn't exploded. It's way less demanding. A judger, not a judgee.

As Preston Sturges wrote in "The Sin of Harold Diddlebock," "A man works all his life in a glass factory, one day he picks up a hammer."

But what's done is done.

I am just a writer. Again.

And tomorrow I have to be good all over again. Not just good. Better than anyone else.

That's all for now.

I need my sleep.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...


At least you know you ARE good. Despite the "eye of the beholder" crap that goes for a standard of quality these days.