Finally watched Tár. Is it not Whiplash but opposite? Anyways, I liked it. I liked the weird nighttime scenes because even though I had no idea what they meant, I still felt smart because I knew they were doing something cinematically. I knew cinema was at play. And I didn’t pick my phone up once! (more like 5 or 6 times;))
I finished the movie around noon (I’m fine!), then went to my part time job at the gym where I made a bear out of two hand towels. I then proceeded to post about it three times on Instagram, twice on BeReal, and send a picture to my mom. I’ve been needing a win, and so far this is as close as I’ve gotten.
At the gym I work front desk and I like it. I like being behind a big computer the customer can’t see the screen of. It is especially useful when committing errors, because so long as I keep a straight face the customer has to assume that selling a granola bar requires 14 clicks and typing. That it’s all a part of the process. When I’m at the front desk I’m the king of the castle. Patrons come up to me meekly, desperately, with questions. And I have answers. I’m like an ancient shaman, except instead of having a deep understanding of mysticism and the laws of the universe, I know what the hours are for Thanksgiving.
When I’m not reigning over the lobby area and vending machine, I’m folding towels. I have quickly risen to the top ranks of towel folders with a fold I’ve been told has militaristic qualities. This is particularly interesting because I lack discipline in every other aspect of my life; It’s only when I have a towel in my hand that I demand perfection, finessing each to form a perfect stack that will be noticed by maybe four people.
Beyond watching Tár and folding towels, I’ve been working on an invention. I call it doubleglasses: one pair of glasses designed for two people. You can see the ad campaign here. After I created the ad, interest skyrocketed, requiring me to purchase wire to create my proof of concept.
Now, many have questioned what exactly the concept is, what problem it solves, and why anybody would want it. These questions I find to be very negative. Here is a short gallery of images that show the process of bringing the dream to reality. “Deranged” is a word I’ve heard thrown around. “Cry for help” I’ve heard whispers of. “If you put this amount of energy into finding a job…”, “oh jeez”, and “wowza”, have all been launched as attacks against my vision. It is to these unhelpful, inhibiting, unappreciative naysayers I ask: you think Steve Jobs wasn’t laughed at when he designed the iPhone? Or that black guy who came up with peanut butter? Major blowback and harsh ridicule is part of the process. To be an inventor is to be classified as a listless idiot who can’t get a real job. It is to be called “unhealthy looking” and have “bad skin”. It’s to have medical professionals question your alcohol intake. Sure, in a vacuum, finding a beer can in your comforter is troubling. But within the lifestyle of an inventor this is par for the course. A race car driver needs a car. A scientist needs little beakers and gizmos. An inventor needs to not brush his teeth until noon. The process is specific, demanding, and incredibly precise.
Entrepreneurship is, however, a fast paced endeavor and I sometimes question if I’m built for it. It’s not for lack of ideas, however. Alcoholic gatorade, for instance; I thought of that. Or how about a specially designed frame to put around the fireplace that makes it look like a youtube video. My hesitancy to commit to the inventor lifestyle is not for lack of inspiration. Alcoholic gatorade alone would catapult me into fame and entrepreneurial stardom—but I like things slow. I like chillaxing. I like the simplicity of nobody texting me or asking whatsup or hey how are you or hows the job hunt or I found this job you’d be perfect for or hey do you want a bubble tea it’s on me. I love my phone being completely silent for the entire day. Not a peep. Totally tranquil. I love it.
What else, what else. I had a cold recently and it made me realize something very important about myself: it takes next to nothing for me to have a meltdown. Slight discomfort, maybe I’m kinda hungry, and that’s it: I’m a brat. I went to work in a little mood and will now spend the next two weeks racked with guilt because I was snippy with some innocent guest whose only crime was walking in the front door when I was slightly warm.
Looking forward, I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I might grow my hair out to provide me a sense of progress and trick myself into thinking I’m pursuing a respectable goal. I was elated to learn that one of the best things you can do for hair growth is limited washing which is a discipline I had long been committed to anyways.
People keep asking me, “@Tim-Durden-1, what’s your Venmo? How can I send you money? How can I support you and your really infrequent blog posts with an ever widening range of quality?” Well, you can keep dreaming because I’m not accepting any handouts. I am only accepting tips on how to make a turtle out of a bath towel because I can’t seem to get the little feet right.
With love & until next time,
Tim
I’m literally growing out my hair. I feel called out. I deserve it. Only a great writer can do that.
TÁR— Culture!!!
Part time job— Relatable !!
Bath Towel— Art !
Tim Durden never disappoints and this post is no exception!
Watching tar at 9 am is a cry for help. I respect it
alcoholic gatorade is something i’d buy. the peanut butter inventor’s name is george washington carver btw