What the Heroin of Flag & Cross Kills

Raised to believe I desperately needed an invisible man to save me from Hell and the communists, I grew up addicted to the heroin of flag and cross.  It has taken me a lifetime to cleanse myself of enough of that cruel mental haze to actually take some rudimentary ownership of my life. To embrace my blasphemous desire to … create. America is a difficult land to be a creative. Institutions are scientifically engineered to manufacture obedient citizens willing to submit to acceptable authority. Children are impaled with beliefs and education, so that they may one day be harvested as productive employees who buy enough stuff to distract from all the rape, theft, slavery and murder committed so generously for “freedom”. Literature, stand-up comedy, film, and music have been my 12 Step Program, the shards of beauty amid the horror that is so much of human civilization. The “truth”, if that idea even has any useful meaning, is nothing more than the experiences we create for ourselves.  While we can.  A rather intoxicating idea for some.  Bewildering and frightening for others. I’m gradually learning to embrace that reality, to feed my curiosity, to expand my experiences, pursue my joy.  To create my life.

I love writing.  I love that the act of publishing a student newspaper not controlled by a college president fucking his son’s wife put me on the FBI’s Subversives List before I could legally drink alcohol.  I love that my country considers me so dangerous they won’t let me kill on their behalf.  Because I dared to publish.  Without permission.  I love Hollywood. I love living and working here.  I love how I feel working out at the gym daily. I love feeling California sun on my skin, knowing the Pacific Ocean is just over that hill.  I love writing scripts and stories that one day might become TV or film.  I love performing, banter and improv.  Whether I wear a costume or not.  I love taking people on a surprise magical journey, if even for a moment.  I love singing The The songs like I’m about to start a cover band.  I love that the idea strikes me as less ridiculous with each passing day.  I love getting to work and associate with so many wonderful creatives in this town.

I love creating joy out of cruelty.  It is what us creatives do.

Which is exactly how I disappoint my parents.

And exactly how my son makes me proud.