Not happy people. Got to be candid. After all with a least five views a day this is obviously a hot blog . We’re moving up the charts with a bullet. It is a big responsibility that I do not take lightly. So in total honesty and full disclosure I will tell you why I am not happy. It was like this…
I had a killer idea. Straight to the electric chair stone cold killer idea. A Jerry Lee Lewis. Then I started to write it down and it wasn’t so killer. But it still had big mauling potential. Oh yeah, you would know it if you rumbled with this bad boy. Better make sure you’ve had a recent tetanus shot because infection from an open wound is always possible. A couple of sentences later it wasn’t the street brawler I had hoped for. Sure it would still call you out. It could still do the dance but once it was done taunting you it didn’t have much game left. So I was left with Billy Joel not Jerry Lee.
THE KILLER
Nothing wrong with Billy Joel. Wrote some nice pop music. But he ain’t Jerry Lee. He plays piano but he doesn’t attack it. Jerry Lee once pushed a piano off the stage, out the door and right off a pier into the ocean. “Great Balls of Fire” wasn’t just a song on the nights he would actually torch the ol’88’s. One time he went to tell Elvis to stop hiding behind the gates of Graceland and start living. To start rockin’ again. Of course he did it at three o’clock in the morning while waving a loaded pistol and being pretty loaded himself. Yeah, sure Billy Joel smashed up a car. He went to rehab. He apologized. Blah, blah, blah. Rockers don’t apologize. Can you imagine Keith Richards apologizing? And Jerry Lee could sing anything. Country. Gospel. Even a pop tune. But he always made it his own. If Jerry Lee Lewis ever sang “Don’t Go Changing” he would have made it sound like a threat.
You don’t really know if what you have is a bad idea until it’s too late. Like getting married to your thirteen year old cousin – ok, ok first cousin once removed. Oh that Jerry Lee, what a cad! Sure there are warning signs. But probably you will ignore them. And it takes just as much time and work to produce bad art as good art. Sometimes you luck out with the “it’s so bad it’s good” thing. But be warned. Never set out on purpose with the so bad it’s good premise. People know the difference. You can’t make a cult film. You can’t predict what will go viral.
What did I do next? I couldn’t abandon the idea just because it didn’t grow up the way I imagined it would. The need to live vicariously through my idea wasn’t fair to either of us. I toyed with the idea of a re-write. Just maybe I could patch it up. You know throw in some obscure sub-references and oblique sub-text. Maybe go all existentialist on it‘s behind. But I knew I was trying to jam a Hemi into a Vespa. No, there was nothing I could do. I had done my Pete best.
So I did the humane thing. I finished it. I wrote it up real nice. Even ran it through the spell checker. And then I filed it away. I’ll give it a day or two and then well put it down.
I know the whole writing about having nothing to write about is rather clichéd. A hackneyed ruse. But I thought I had something. Really, I did. I was Sam Phillips and I was cutting a gold record. Solid gold. Or at least I thought it was pure Au. Turned out to be iron pyrite.
So there you have it.
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