2004-02-02

Spain Spain Spain

I have to keep holding onto the thought that I am going adventuring again in September. I know how the exploreres felt, I know why Burke and Wills just went "fuck it, let's walk through the goddam middle of Australia". If they'd have had television they would have turned it off cause it was out of season anyway and they would just have been showing re-runs of the Love Boat or She-Ra, Princess of Power. They'd have got up out of their comfy chair, brushed the crumbs of caramel popcorn off their front, farted, twice, and wandered into the bedroom to change from their lounging tracksuit to their action tracksuit. Walking to the shops to get a pack of ciggies, and instead of walking home they just kept going... what's around this corner?

That's how I feel lately, like putting on my action tracksuit. Like actually doing something. Let's face it, marketing (which is what i do for a day to day crust) is not so much creative as it is reflexive and imitative. I have to work in the mediums prescribed - press, radio, tv, flyers, mailouts, mailing lists, instore incentives, customer response - and the marketing version of creative is to get a big blow up doll, stick it on top of your shop and hope some poor cretin driving past who actually requires your services will notice it, be intrigued, come into your store and buy something. Big fucken D.

Not that I hate my job or anything, its just boring. I fell into marketing by way of being a publicist for a film company (now there's a job with oodles of creativity, just none of it coming directly from me). And I've been falling into it for the last seven years on and off. PR, publicity, spinmastery, marketing, bullshit... I've become very good at typing lots and writing nothing.

So the question is: how much longer am I going to play this game with myself? I know what I want to do - entertain. It's useless really, I mean what more selfish ambition could one have than to want to go up onstage or in the magic television box and get applauded for being a fruity ass? Its stoopid, and conceited and selfish, but I really want to do that. I want people to love me (oooh, ouch, hard to admit to those words). But its so much easier to be despised for being a marketing hack, which is totally non-personal, than it is to be despised for being a performing pony. What if, in the end, I really have nothing to give?

Tony Robbins would say I'm creating my own reality by assuming that I'll suck (I've watched the infomercials, i don't need his friggin cassettes). I say that its a valid question, and one that needs pondering some more while I am sitting at this desk trying to think of ways to stick a giant blow up doll on top of the shop roof.

Maybe a coffee would help...

bitch - moan