Speaking of former HBO CEO Chris Albrecht (the genius who green-lighted mega-hits like The Wire, The Sopranos, and Six Feet Under), Jane Tranter, a BBC Worldwide executive, said, “Most people who have greatness–and Chris definitely does–have some kind of fault line. That’s part of what makes them brilliant.” She was speaking, of course, of the man’s penchant for liquor binging and domestic violence. (This happened in the November, 2010 issue of GQ.)
I don’t think that I am a brilliant man, nor that I have a brilliant streak, and I never have wanted to be. Since high school I have mostly striven to be average and under-the-radar. When we were kids, we did a lot of crime, and most of my friends from those days are in prison or dead. They are the kind of young men who don’t know what Facebook is because Facebook isn’t real to them. I would get a Facebook one day, but I’m not particularly handsome and I don’t think I’d find my friends. I’m not even sure why I have an e-mail account most days.
What brings this to mind is a letter I recently received from my mother, complaining about the fact that I don’t have a telephone she can call me at, and informing me that another of my friends passed away recently. I should probably fly back there, to where I’m from, and make an appearance at the funeral. But I don’t want to. I don’t know if I’m ever going back there.
If I were a brilliant man, I think my fault line would have to be my never looking back. I don’t learn from the past because I only live in the present. I am easily distracted by my pleasure-seeking nature, and I never treat a woman the way I ought to. Mostly I am selfish and stupid. The paychecks are still stacking up in my drawer. On days like this I fantasize about burning them all and moving off the grid.
The wolves are forever on their way. I have no idea what I’m doing anymore. There isn’t even any realistic reason for someone like me to have a column, but I appreciate the opportunity to say things, and one day I think I might write a few more words in other forms. Or maybe I already am.
I am growing a beard. That should be enough.
I’ve been listening to Third Eye Blind a lot lately. The world darkens around me. I put these old CDs in the CD player and often think about the fact that no one is using CDs anymore. I wish I could even get up the gumption to be opposed to technology. Mostly I’m indifferent to it anymore. I am thinking about buying a computer. That should be enough.
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