…the new Matrix movie is pretty good.

People are complaining about it because nobody actually likes original stuff, even when they say they do. But I’m happy it exists and gave me something to keep myself occupied while recovering this week.

I enjoy that it’s a simple love story stretched out over layers and pits of genre that the main characters kinda don’t really care about as long as they can be together. It’s one of those great tricks where the story is really laser focused even when it seems like it might be bloated.

Not gonna be for everyone. I suspect it’ll be like all of the Wachowskis’ works in that people won’t truly enjoy it for another 10-15 years, because in moments when you’re confronted with genuine expressions of emotion, it’s easier to be a cynical grouch that shuns sentiment than it is to flex your empathy muscles. But late one night, long after the fact, it’ll sneak up on you and chew at your brain. And in a moment when you’re less guarded, you’ll let it in and feel the unbearable weight of all you’ve missed out on.

So don’t be a dick, is what I’m saying. Watch the movie like a parent who cares about their kids instead of like a dumbass 17 year old Limp Bizkit fan from 2002.


…my daughter is interested in her fears.

Any time she convinces herself that something is terrifying – like diseases or monsters in Minecraft or Venom – she does this weird dance where she insists she doesn’t want anything to do with it for like a month, then she demands to know everything about it. Which is why she now wants a Venom stuffie for Christmas.

I’m fascinated and relieved by it. She still has fears she hasn’t quite worked out, but she has this organic way of processing the rest of them.

My other daughter wants to have a sleepover in a graveyard and become a bug doctor. I’m not sure if having no fears is better. But I’m in for a hell of an observational study.


…I’ve made good progress on my misogyny.

Goddamn I was a shithead when I was 20.

I mean, I know that’s not a surprising thing for anyone to say. If you make it to your 30s and don’t hate your past self, then you’re doing it wrong.

I had such a shitty attitude toward women that I didn’t recognize at all. Like just blindly and needlessly hating on Britney Spears or Jessica Simpson or other pop stars of the era. Only the girls though; Justin Timberlake was a dork, but Britney? Oh, she was ruining America.

And like all prejudice, the insidious part was I genuinely thought I was a progressive feminist. I thought I bemoaned “bad women” because they were hurting “the cause.” Somehow, it just didn’t dawn on me that hostility toward anyone is still fucking hostility.

Nowadays I still catch myself having sudden anger and wanting to attach it to women. But I’ve gotten a lot better at recognizing it and I’m doing my best to correct that shit. Like, it’s okay to hate Candace Owens because she spews hate and misery all the time. But when I had that weird feeling that I didn’t like Chloe Grace Moretz? Turns out that was my gross brain ulcer flaring up. Moretz is a great actor, nothing wrong there. I had a bad time with Kick-Ass because it’s a shitty movie, not because of her.

Apologies to Britney, Jessica, Paris, Nicole, Christina, Monica, and more. The problem wasn’t that I misjudged you but that I judged you at all.


…I didn’t get famous when I was 20.

I often get bummed out by the lack of an audience for my books. I mean, that’s kinda the whole premise of this blog. But no matter how much despair I might feel about shoveling my writing into the void, I gotta remember: at least I’m not famous for something I did back when I was 20 and both my writing and my brain sucked.

Like, it’s not just that the shit I wrote back then wasn’t good. It’s that if I did somehow have a huge hit at that time, I’d have spent the last 17 years thinking I was the greatest fucking thing on the planet. I’d be shitting out all kinds of lazy opinions like a somehow even worse Max Landis, and I would never understand why people thought I was a fucking dick.

Fame seems to be bad enough for people who actually do have self awareness. Thank Christ, man. I know it probably sounds like bullshit that I say to get through the day, but I really mean it. I’m much happier that I became a better writer instead of peaking before I had a fully developed frontal cortex.

Apologies to all the kids actors out there who never had a chance, I’m sure you did your best.