Besides the blunt force trauma of endless fart jokes, there's a subtle ironic humor that I try to achieve in my writing. For those of you who don't know me in person ( I have a curiously huge following in Afghani nationals) that twist might be lost on you.
For all my ranting and complaining about whatever situation I've gotten myself into there are a couple of undeniable truths.
1. I'm really happy. I have a great wife, incredible kids, and a job that I really enjoy. I'm exactly where I want to be metaphysically. Physically I'd rather be in Costa Rica, but that's somewhat besides this point. I write crazy shit like stealing Schwartz's life, but for me that IS the joke....I wouldn't trade place with anyone*
2. I completely realize that the conflict and endless commotion around me comes from one primary source.....ME. I'm quite self-aware. I'm a maniac. And either by design, attraction, or infection the world around me is affected. Stick me in another job and the people where I'm at quietly go back to shuffling papers, move me to another town and my poker and golf friends probably never end up drunk parking a stolen front end loader on their front lawn, and move me into Schwatz's house for two week and his kids will begin starting dumpster fires and my kids will take up the cello. I get it. Schwartz's wife smiles because she knows I'm going home. I smile because of who I'm going home to.
Hopefully that puts some of the writing in context and that pulling back the curtain a little adds to the story.
I wish all the readers and their families a safe and Happy New Year, my Afghani friends a premature Happy Nawruz, and here's a a crazy and exciting 2013.
* I would think the Brad Pitt rule still universally applies.