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Word vomit about life and death, blah blah blah...

Submitted by Tom Sorrell at 2015-01-19 06:50:30 EST
Rating: 1.6 on 7 ratings (27 reviews) (Review this item) (V)

If I kill myself in the future I guarantee I didn’t. I'm terrified to die, even though I spend a good deal of time praying for death. I often worry about what will happen after I close my eyes for the last time. Will I wake up? If I do, where will I be? An alternate timeline? The "real world"? The Heavens? Hell? Somewhere else? Where am I now? I don’t know and no one's telling. Wherever I am, it doesn’t quite feel real. Not anymore. Sometimes I ask myself how unreal would another place feel if this place doesn’t feel real ... then I say it three times fast for no good reason. Truth be told, I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t exist, at least not in a modern sense of the world. I don't like anything I used to. I don't go out much. I exist like a mole. I work and go home and hide in my cave. I write sometimes, but I’m the antithesis of Burroughs. That man lived to write. He wrote all the time. I burrow and write infrequently. No one reads it when I do and why would they? I obviously don’t believe in anything.

It's nobody's fault but mine. I don’t know even what’s true and what’s false. After the millions of odd coincidences I've witnessed I still can’t believe anything strange is happening because there are too many strange things happening to figure out what's actually going on. What's up? What's the score? What's next? Even now, as sit at my desk with a freezing chill on my right forearm, as if a ghostly grip is holding me tightly, I type this out and the goosebumps on my neck raise slightly. Like a fool I still don’t believe the sensations are a result of anything other than my arm going to sleep, or carpal tunnel … or The Cancer. It could always be The Cancer. After all, I have little lumps scattered here and there. I should get them checked out, but I don’t have the money to go to the doctor. That’s a lie. I’m scared of what they’ll tell me.

I also know their job is a job like all others, meaning it’s done to make money, which means it's in their best interest to keep me coming back. I’m not a patient. I’m a customer. It's like this: I go in to have a doctor look at lumps. The lumps turn into tumors that need to be tested by another doctor in a different office, one who makes more money and is only available for appointments between rounds at Inverness, Sawgrass, Pebble Beach or whatever goddamned golf course they're on that day. It’s cool, though. I’ll just request another day off and get attitude from my boss for the next week, all so samples of the tumors can get sent to a lab to be glanced at, labeled and sent back by an overworked, underfed tech who stayed up until 4 AM the night before smoking drugs and watching Pulp Ficton for the 38th time. Why? Because their brain won't let them sleep ... or maybe that’s just me. Maybe it's all of us.

Or ... or, maybe we're all asleep and this is all a dream. It's a popular theory these days, especially for anyone who's seen the world the way Richard Linklater has. Who knows? Still, I bet if Dick goes outside Today and kicks a rock his foot will connect with it. He's stuck here too, regardless of what may have happened to a blurry Wiley Wiggins when he finally let go. Or maybe he's not. Maybe he and Wiley are out there somewhere in the ether "All-right, all-right, all-righting" with their friends and I'm picking it up like a radio tower ... but then, what would that mean? Am I dead? Are we dead? I don’t know. I don’t have a clue and apparently I'm not smart enough to figure it out. There are too many options. Too many fake saviors. Too many false prophets. Too many choices and too many power-hungry assholes who believe their way is the only way. "I try my best to be just like I am, but everybody wants you to be just like them." Indeed. An old friend of mine sang that in front of a crowd way back in the sixties. They boo'd the ever-living-shit out of him for it. So it goes, eh?



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Submitted by tenofspades at 2015-02-15 15:47:03 EST (#)
Rating: 1

this sounds slightly similar to my time travel post.

Submitted by Shlongy at 2015-02-07 12:08:34 EST (#)

Picks nose often, below.

Submitted by Linus at 2015-02-06 19:25:05 EST (#)
Rating: 2

Come dance with me, to sounds composed by Japanese programmers who told global fairytales through languages interpreted by machines.

Do you ever feel the strings of time itself pulling you and finally, not worrying anymore, just being pulled?

If you can just forget the too many others for a moment I bet you can. Forget me and them.

Submitted by Tom Sorrell at 2015-02-05 21:37:37 EST (#)

Taylor Swift, eh? Well ... it's been nice sharing this space with you.

Submitted by TaylorSwift at 2015-02-05 14:12:31 EST (#)

To this guy I'd say he's inside a sphere with things he can control, not I'd tell him not to worry about the things outside that he can't control. Then with mock exasperation I'd say come on dude this was figured out like, thousands of years ago!

Also I'd say Bob Dylan aimed for pop songs but couldn't get things out straight, made believe he was special because of it, then started running from himself. He's still running

Submitted by Mr T pities jonnytexmex the old child toucher at 2015-01-22 12:00:31 EST (#)

MR T SEAM TO RECALL THAT WHYSENLOSER IS A PUBLISHED AUTHOR. WAS THAT IN THE ADVISE COLUMN OF BEDROOM PROBLEMS MAGAZINE?

Submitted by grÜeMaster emeritus and uberlord supreme at 2015-01-22 11:56:09 EST (#)

you two should definitely work together

Submitted by Perk "Grownman Perkiness" man at 2015-01-22 02:05:28 EST (#)

(Continued from below)

My friend had been working on a comedy movie for the last 2 years. Finally had it done, and he told me it was the, "Best movie written in the last year for comedy movies" as he used to work at IMG, as well as other places, and did the research, what grossed the most, what movie sold, why it sold etc...

He has a pretty big time Manager that saw his script, read it, and just told him, "This is good, but this isn't the genre that's selling now, sorry", my friend was beyond pissed off. Then he kknew a girl that knew someone that got it in front of one of the actors from the movie "The interview" (Guess which one) and got it to him. The person's assistant read it, liked it. Got it to the guy... They read it.

The actors company liked it, but then told, "wasn't for his brand", and they asked my friend if he had something else... my friend said, "no, I'm sorry I don't"...they thanked him, and said, "oh, good bye". That was that. He could have gotten in with a very powerful person in that industry, his prized script didn't sell, and wasn't the right genre for the actor.

But to get it in front of those guys, for them to even read it, consider it, is a big accomplishment in Hollywood. Now, they'll read him. Now he just has to write something else, or something good. But they'll read him. I have no doubt in my mind he's going to make it within the next 2 years. He's been pursuing and living in Hollywood, meeting people, hustling, and doing it for the last 7 years. In the belly of the beast, living off Santa Monica and Westwood. What are you doing? These people have a million scripts that are great, you have to get it there. My buddy is writing a script now that they said, "he'd read, if he got his genre right", so my buddy is figuring out his genre, but he can get this script to an A-List actor now... He's going to be rich in 2 years, bet on that. So... What are you going to do? (all true story, don't make shit up, don't need to.)

Kind of like a quote I like to say, "What's the point of knowing Pete Carroll if you don't play football?" there isn't a point. You have to have scripts ready to sling at people, and they may not purchase the script you think is "best" but if you have something else ready, or a myriad of things, they'll know you're serious, then they might have you write a movie with them.

They're always looking for new writers as the industry is changing, and getting less commercial with the advent of Digital, Youtube, Amazon,Netflix people need unique shit... oh, you could also produce a short and make your own "movie" or 15 minute short, and put it on youtube... I've thought about it, but I've been deemed good enough to sell my stuff directly to an agent, spent the last 2 years earning that, now I'm not in Hollywood, but just had my current script read, got back the info, too long, have to cut it down to 110 pages... it's at 150... So I'm editing now....

Submitted by Perk "Grownman Perkiness" man at 2015-01-22 01:50:59 EST (#)

Tom Sorrell- I understand. But the old adage, "Closed mouths don't get feed" is completely true in Hollywood.

I'm not in Hollywood right now (handling some stuff and going back in 3 months), but I have made and impressed enough people that they'll read me. Which is almost impossible to do. I impressed them with my first script. It was too big budget (upwards of 200 million dollars, due to it being a Roman period piece), and all of them told me to write something modern.

I spent a year and a half (almost 2 years, read the saga on here on ubersite, it showed how nuts I went) and I have written 4 movies, 2 T.V. show pilots, as well as another movie I'm working on now. two of the movies are rated PG-13-R, one is a kid's movie, another is a Cartoon show. I also have written a full length 13 episode T.V. show that I'm waiting on to sell.

One thing a professor of mine told me about in Hollywood. They bet on you... not the script. They bet on the person, so they have to see you, gauge you, understand you, then from there they'll see if they can work with you. Unfortunately Hollywood is "out of sight, out of mind" as most people in the world are. Hollywood is the worst.

Whatever you've written may be great, but you have to keep writing. Let me tell you a story of a buddy of mine that just happened 2 weeks ago...

Submitted by Tom Sorrell at 2015-01-22 01:18:48 EST (#)

And you know, maybe you have had success. I don't know. Maybe you're Martin Scorsese. You could be Tom Hanks. Hell, you could be Bob Dylan Himself. I don't know. I don't care. This is Ubersite, the asshole of the Internet. The only things that happen here are awful.

As I've said before, if you want to work with me, cool. Email me. Use a real name. Prove that you're worth my time. Or don't. Whatevs, bro.

Submitted by Tom Sorrell at 2015-01-22 01:06:18 EST (#)

Dude ... I've written two full, 110 page screenplays and a TV show. My problem is I don't have an agent ... The irony of unsolicited query letters is how will they ever be solicited? Subterfuge? Lies? Phony networking bullshit? Sorry ... I don't do that. I don't play those games. I have talent and I have something to say. eventually it will get recognized ... or it won't.

What I'm not gonna do is jump through hoops over the Internet for some random dude who claims to know what he's talking about when he doesn't have any success of his own. No offense. Nothing personal.


Submitted by Perk "Grownman Perkiness" man at 2015-01-22 00:28:44 EST (#)

Tom Sorrell- Good, looks like you still have some moxie in you. I have a task for you. Write a script. I don't know, a coming of age tale of 4 twelve year old boys, going after something. Write it. Then put some pages up on Ubersite.

Read the script for "Stand By Me", "Casino", "Goodfella's" (My favorite scripts that helped me learn to write a script, and I can screen write now), then write a full length script.

I think if you ever want to have a chance at Hollywood, you need to do that. Completely a full script from beginning to end is the hardest part. You need to do this, just to accomplish it, learn to edit, and learn what intrigues people, and learn that you can do it. So do that.

I dare you... use some of that irony that you think you'll show me up on, and prove me on.

You have a million +2's on here, that doesn't mean shit in Hollywood world. You need a Hollywood person, or an actual script, not a short story to get into this. So, write a full length script.

It has to be 110 pages on the dot. Nothing more or less...(No producer will even look at a script more or less than that, don't come off as an amateur)...

Well, prove me wrong. Fight for your life on this one, show me some moxie...

Submitted by Mr T pities jonnytexmex the old child toucher at 2015-01-21 16:12:30 EST (#)

MR T IS REALER THAN PERKFOOL

Submitted by Fucking foul at 2015-01-21 16:08:13 EST (#)

Perkman is real. Real ANNOYING HAHA AMIRITE

Submitted by Tom Sorrell at 2015-01-21 15:56:02 EST (#)


Thank you Perkman, for months of cynical, unsolicited advice. It's been helpful. As to your opinion about my lack of "moxie" ... this video is for you. Enjoy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l3HYLLruJis

Submitted by Perk "Grownman Perkiness" man at 2015-01-21 13:51:43 EST (#)

Tom Sorrell- I'm pretty real. This just isn't a 'free show', you want to make it in writing, and in Hollywood. You have to move down there, work for free, learn to write for a network and what that entails, and fight for it. There are a million writers just as talented, and more so than you, or me, or anyone else, and they don't even make it.

You have to have the balls to win, nothing is handed to you in this world, especially in Hollywood. Just how it is, also it is expensive as shit, and it does just suck. How it is... I'm about to give it up and go to grad school, I'm cool with it. But you seem as if you'll never be off this "writing bug" so for you it'll be eternal torment... That sucks. I don't know what to tell you, but I'm real, real enough to tell you that you don't have the moxie for LA... sad to say. Don't waste your time anymore.

Submitted by Tom Sorrell at 2015-01-21 11:18:14 EST (#)

Nothing about perk man is real.

Submitted by JonnyX at 2015-01-21 10:34:29 EST (#)
Rating: 2

Perkman lives in LA, surely if he can afford it, you can.

Submitted by tenofspades at 2015-01-20 15:19:45 EST (#)
Rating: 1

Submitted by Tom Sorrell at 2015-01-20 14:02:22 EST (#)

Funny thing is I'm not upset or depressed or anything. I'm just bored as shit. I work at work and I work at home with the writing ... nothing comes of it. I'm terrible with networking and all that kind of stuff. I want to move to LA, but I can't afford it. it's frustrating. I keep hoping something I write will get noticed like, Hey ... we'd like to give you a chance to write something and we'll pay you for it. It just doesn't happen. Ever.

Submitted by RoadSong at 2015-01-19 18:42:42 EST (#)
Rating: 2

Fresh air and sunshine works for me.

Submitted by JonnyX at 2015-01-19 14:51:48 EST (#)
Rating: 2

You were actually funny for once.

Submitted by whysenheimer at 2015-01-19 09:02:51 PST (#)

Submitted by skrapmetal at 2015-01-19 10:25:00 EST (#)

I have a theory, called The Skrappion Theory, and it is that there is a finite amount of interesting in the world and unlimited amounts of boring. The boring is measured in Skrappions. This means you can be as boring as you want as you release your Skrappions into the world, thereby making everyone in your vicinity hate your fat ass for being so boring. And blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
UberTranslator®

Submitted by Fucking foul at 2015-01-19 12:55:28 EST (#)

This reminds me of the episode of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" where Larry gets high with his dad and a prostitute, then locks himself in the bathroom and gets stuck in a feedback loop of saying a bunch of unhinged shit to himself in the mirror. Yes, that's a compliment.

Submitted by grÜeMaster emeritus and uberlord supreme at 2015-01-19 12:02:51 EST (#)

Submitted by skrapmetal at 2015-01-19 10:25:00 EST (#)

I have a theory, called The Skrappion Theory, and it is that there is a finite amount of interesting in the world and unlimited amounts of boring. The boring is measured in Skrappions. This means you can be as boring as you want as you release your Skrappions into the world, thereby making everyone in your vicinity hate your fat ass for being so boring. And blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
UberTranslator®

Submitted by Tom Sorrell at 2015-01-19 11:40:13 EST (#)


Submitted by skrapmetal at 2015-01-19 10:25:00 EST (#)

I have a theory, called The Happion Theory, and it is that there is a finite amount of happiness in the world. This happiness is measured in Happions. We all have some, but there are only so many to go around. This means that the more you whine and complain and are miserable, the happier the rest of us can be because you're releasing your Happions and thereby not using your portion of happiness. Your Happions get redistributed more or less at random. Now, some people are worried that they might become unhappy so they figure that if they purposefully go make someone else unhappy, they will be happier. That generally doesn't work, though, for two reasons. Firstly, because the removed Happions are redistributed more or less randomly as I mentioned before, and secondly because even after they make someone else unhappy they remain worried and hence, unhappy. Their deficit of Happions, however, distributes their apportioned happiness to somewhere else in the world, and so some pimply nerd gets to squeeze a boob at Prom or some starving kid in Africa gets a bowl of rice from the aid truck instead of just keeling over in the dust, or whatever. So you and Perky down there, you guys go ahead and feel sad. Keep on kicking those Happions out of your reserves to be used by somebody else. Someone has to shoulder that stone, and I'm happy to say "thanks for getting out there and taking it for the big ol' Team". And perhaps if a selfless act of altruism such as a self-initiated Happion deficiency for the sake of others maybe makes you feel good, then next time I accidentally smack my thumb with a hammer or unexpectedly run the keg of Yuengling dry I'll know my minor release of Happions will be properly utilized.

Submitted by Perk "Grownman Perkiness" man at 2015-01-19 07:32:37 EST (#)
Rating: 1

Wow... Well, I've been in that same funk and thought process for the last 2 1/2 years...It's not good. It's feels like "Everything is bullshit" then you go insane because you see that people are starving,and other's are wasting food.

Or if people know how, "Fucked up the real world is" in the U.S. (Job markets and such) then why do teachers fuck students over? Why are they destroying peoples records? Why are people being vindictive cunts? Why did my cunt sister screw me over during my grad school test?

It's simple, people are jealous, disgusting, vindictive pieces of shit, that want misery to be around them. I realized that, and since then society disgusts me.

All there is, is money. That's it. All that matters. I know, I thought there was something more, but there is not. Money gives you people, friends, admiration, and everything that matters, but doesn't matter if it's not "true", but that's all we got. Only thing you can truly have faith in.

Not your friends or family, work, school, government, nothing... I don't bank on "Man's ethics" I know they are evil and tainted, there are no more saints in the world. Think about this...(something I've thought about for years)...

If Jesus came back tomorrow, we'd kill him again. We would, think about that...

We're disgusting things in the west. All I believe in now is money, that is all there is. Find that solace, and live your life, and get a dog.... that's it.


Flanders! My socks feel dirty! Gimme some water to wash 'em!

-- Homer Simpson
Boy-Scoutz n the Hood