Thanks. My dogs were really barking, maaaan.
This is the point in our journey where I collapse, the weight of this burden I have taken upon myself getting the best of me and bringing me down. From where I lie, the jagged rocks of this cruelly formed mountain cutting into my back, I look up and see only poisonous darkness, black clouds belched up from the final point of my destination, the place that I meant to finish off in.
But I cannot go on. My legs won’t take me, my will won’t rouse me.
This is where you, chubby and always filled with hope take me up in your fat, fat arms and carry me the rest of the way because you know, you know that this journey was for a good reason, and the only reason that matters.
The music swells here, and though people may giggle at the overwrought vibe of it all, you could not care less what they think, because without you, without us doing what we’re doing, their smarmy-ass faces would be toast in short enough time.
A google search for obstacle course gets you this. Where are the rats? The rusty nails?
Look, I know you’re tired. I’m tired, too, but we have to keep gong on, alright? These things are killing me as much as they’re killing you, but you don’t see me getting all cranky, do you, you miserable garbage-faced lizard?
When I was a little kid and I’d get a cut from running scraping against something, or from not being good enough when running the obstacle course my dad would make me run on occasion to prove that I was worth carrying on the Vasquez name, making him unhappy as the razorwire would slice bloody tracks down the flesh of my back, I would do a thing to make the pain less immediate. What I’d do is to project my thinking weeks, days or even just hours away from the moment in my present where the pain was so pressing. Knowing that time healed all wounds, I would simply rewire my mind to exist in that time to come where the wounds were healed and the pain just a memory.
Yesterday’s entry was maybe just a bit too amazing, I think, and I have to restore the balance by making today’s twice as awful. Them’s the rules, as they say, and who am I to break them?
Besides, today I’m just a bit too busy to be sitting here not doing what I should be doing when not doing what I’m currently doing, writing this entry for you.
Baking these words with love.
These ZIM facts are old enough to drink now, eh? Pretty crazy to think that just a few weeks ago they were still chubby and new and crawling around on the carpet, shitting everywhere and almost suffocating to death when we left it in the parking lot while getting pizza. Soon they’ll be shitting themselves again, I guess, only not nearly as cute, and smelling of death.
But let’s focus on the positive, please. Let’s not get bogged down in gloomy thoughts. ZIM Facts is still vital enough, still able to throw the ol’ ball around without needing to take so many “breathers”, and pretending it’s just a cramp and not really a ruptured lung or something.
So today’s falls on a Sunday, and we all have better things to do, right? I know I do. I’ve got a friend coming over and we’re gonna try to make new flavors of tea with things that aren’t actually tea, like pencil shavings and cereal flakes. I watched Ratatouille again recently and I got to thinking that maybe I have that ability to pair flavors and sensations in such a way as to create some pretty great stuff. So far everything I’ve made has made me throw up to where it really hurts, but I’m not giving up. Never give up, that’s what I always say. Shut the hell up and taste it. That’s another thing I say.
THE MAN. THE LEGEND. THE MONSTER.
I know I threw an entry focused on the writing for the show just a few days ago, but you really have no say in the matter and it’s not like you’re not a vegetable by now and I enjoy your company so much more now than when you were able to kick and scream and plead for mercy.
You know what, though? I think that, even if you did still have any of your brain left, you’d give your cries for someone to please come help you escape from “this screaming hell” a rest and actually be pretty interested in what today’s ZIM FACT was about. Woah…did you just move your pinky? Hmmm… Hold on while I go get the power drill.
Now, theeeere…isn’t that so much better? Yeah, sometimes the brain tries to repair itself by assigning certain functions over to sectors not originally intended to perform said functions. You read about it now and then, but you rarely see it in action! Pretty amazing, the workings of the human body. Either way, I just drilled the fuck outta that thing again, so you should be pretty quiet again.
I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU, TAPE.
It’s just you and me now, man. Everyone else has pretty much given up hope that there’ll be anything worth learning from these entries and they’ve gone back to their 40 character snippets of info fired from the Twitter cannons into their brains. Not you, though. You love the torture of reading beyond a single paragraph. You’re special. You’re also so terribly brain damaged that you think you’re a roll of duct tape. You’re my only friend now.
I’ll be honest with you, Sticky, taking on this ZIM FACT a day thing was a bit of a major undertaking for someone with as many video games and bars of fine candy to eat as I have. Right now I should be playing God of War 3, trying not to cringe at the horrible dialogue and voice acting while stabbing monsters and nearly choking on the pool of chocolate attracting bugs in my open mouth.
Why am I black and pantsless?
I ONCE SAVED THE WORLD BY BEATING A LITTLE GIRL TO DEATH WITH HER OWN CAT.
Alright, now that we’ve gotten the intro part of these posts out of the way, we can really just dive right into the pertinent stuff, the stuff you want to shoot up between your toes while everyone in the room looks away sickened, the hard stuff…
The ZIM stuff.
At the time of getting my own show on network television, my only writing experience had been in comics, and even then comics written as though I was being chased by bears in the forest as I scrawled down whatever I could and getting lucky if any of it made a bit of sense. What’s sad about that is, of all the comic books I had done up to then only one of them had actually been written while I was being chased by bears.
The network took that huge leap of faith, putting me, untested, in the gunner’s seat of a huge operation the way it did, but it wasn’t quite okay with not putting a few safeguards in place around me. These came in the form of far more seasoned professionals who had experience working either in animation or in television production in general.