Jealousy!

What a great song by Liz Phair. I envision one of my ex-girlfriends finding a box full of photos, still life of the good times we shared thorugh a haze of green and malt. She looks over the photos, one by one, going quiet and introspective, dead to the real world around, trapped in a world of yesterday that wasn't quite as sweet as it could have been. As she continues through the pile, she begins to frown, gentle fondness gives way to bitterness and anger as she thinks about all the intimate times we shared cheapen as I turned away and walked out of her life. These photos full of smiles betray the truth, a truth of hurt.
In a flash of rage and acid she grabs scissors, lighter fluid, the Liz Phair CD. Blaring "Jealousy"she lets the music wash the memories away as the fire spreads and removes all remains of these still-life smiles.

Unfortunatly, that's not what this post is about. Nope. Today Weitzel sent me a link to a website, (www.brokenfrontiers.com) in which a friend of his - an acqauintance of mine - is writing reviews of recent comic books. Now, don't get me wrong, I think this is really fucking awesome. I mean, he's reading comic books and sharing his opinions. for others to read. excellent.
However, that's where the jealousy kicks in. I want to be sharing my opinions. I want people to value my opinions. No, wait, I don't know that that's right. I mean, of course, I like people to think I have some sort of taste, but that's not where this feeling is coming from. It's that he's being PUBLISHED. Someone, somewhere took the words he formulated inside of his mind, accepted them, and put them on their sight. "Here, world, are the words of a fellow mortal."
I mean, hot damn, what an accomplishment. What a beautiful dream. And here I am stuck mouthing off to no one in an unread, self-publshed blog.
well, shit.

Of course, having just read "The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand, I should be wary of my attitude towards publishing. According to Ms. Rand's take on Objectivism, I should not care what people think, but rather care that I am doing at all. I am better for publishing whether by my hand or anothers. hmmm..... breath of air, smack of lips... tastes like poop.