DAYS I HAVEN’T MET CHARLIE BROOKER

It’s a Designers’ World Out There

Inner Thoughts

- Who reads people? –

Day 50

When you spend as many hours as I have inside the same coffee shop, working, procrastinating, trying to find Charlie Brooker or just waiting for that attractive barista to smile at you the same way she does to better looking customers, your mind starts to wonder. Whenever someone sits next to me and takes a quick glimpse at my computer — because people are naturally curious about a 30-year old watching cartoons, 11am Monday, at a coffee shop — I like to imagine that I became so established in the future that those people are just fans that came through a time machine to check on me writing non-sense stuff at this humble coffee shop, before I became THE dude. Too much? Maybe too much…

I know it’s stupid but we have to put some faith in our selves. Sadly, the peculiar thing that strikes me the most about my ego-trip here, making it so incredibly impossible, is not the idea of people taking time-machines to see, I don’t know, whatever they believe is worth seeing more than the birth of our Universe, Dinosaurs or how the bidet came to be; but the fact that there would be anyone out there actually giving 2 shits about any scriptwriter. That’s the craziest thing about it!!!! And I’m not even joking about this! If you ask the average Joe to name you 5 directors, like I did a few times, he’ll probably give you the usual suspects like Spielberg, Scorsese…you know, those brands. Try asking anyone to name you ONE fucking writer. I haven’t even heard a name like Charlie fucking Kaufmann, not even once! And that guy did for writing what Starbucks did for Coffee Shops — I’m trying to get back on good terms with my possible sponsor.

Anyway, that’s alright. I mean, I’m not a big fan of idolizing others — despite my daily writings about Mr. Brooker highlighting quite the opposite — and I’m only doing this because I’m looking for attention. However, it points out the obvious pattern, that no one gives much of a shit about writing or reading these days. Especially something that’s gonna take a little over a minute of anyone’s life away. I’m even bored as hell writing this crap myself, and I’m me!!! What can I expect from the dude who’s just trying to pass the time. Fucking images, man. Drawings and designs and pictures and stuff. I wanted to be one of those cool people who can actually display their true selves through some sort of visual thing. Instead, I’m the “genius” trying to cope with less than 140 characters now, in the hopes I can persuade people to read a couple of pages someplace else, hoping they’d be interested enough in reading one of my 60 something fucking pages specs!!!! How the fuck do we get anywhere through writing? My best friend used to say, “dude, you’re an analog man stuck in a digital world”. Fucking A, I am.

I’m not exactly Musil nor Proust, but it’s not like I’m expecting people to suddenly give me the same amount of attention they would to 99 other hipster pages. I can’t compete with that. I’m handing pamphlets for the Bocce Finals to kids playing Pokémon Go. And ironically, I just can’t wait to finish this so I can try catching that Charizard too.

Day 50, Charlie. The number makes it special…