Saturday, July 24, 2010

Dear Max/Dear Jared - June, 2010

Dear Max,

I'm drowning in a maelstrom of self-pity. The cause?
Amanda Setton came into the office again today. The mean-looking brunette from TV shows I’ve never even seen, Gossip Girl and One Life to Live. She’s beautiful and I’m only moderately good-looking.
I really do want to see the first season of Gossip Girl, though maybe I shouldn't. Entourage used to be so much fun, but when I turned it off I got depressed. It was like, here is this really glamorous life that's not yours, now go back to your mundane existence. Some people enjoy seeing good-looking people. For me, it's a painful taunting of greener pastures.
I have never talked to Amanda Setton. Through Google stalking I discovered we share a mutual friend - my good friend's ex-girlfriend attended college with her - but I cannot mention this for obvious reasons (read: stalking, ahem, internet research, is a tough sell), and even if I did, I would have to make such a confession in front of the other models/actresses waiting for auditions. That would be beyond awkward.
The helplessness I feel with the Amanda Setton situation only exacerbates the crisis of joblessness come 6pm tomorrow. I’m 25, without riches, without dynamo girlfriend, and without creative masterpiece. Now I shall be without job. The goal of becoming a complete intellectual who expresses himself through film and writing (read: dilettante) has proven ripe with pitfalls, abstraction, and ambiguity of financial viability. When there is no structure, all frightening existential fears come to an overwhelming head.
Damnit, pretty girls kill me. This solipsistic mind of mine can only wrap its tentacles around death and girls, girls and death, death and girls, and once in a while, creative output, which it doesn't take a genius to tell me is merely a means of getting the girl and avoiding death.


Dear Jared,

Amanda Setton came over last night and gave me head while I finished my novel. I told her we had a mutual friend in common at the distribution company, but she was more concerned about using her tongue correctly and when would be a convenient time for her to come around tomorrow. Read: fellatio.