Explaining why he took offense to Belafonte’s critique of his lack of social responsibility, Jay-Z says, “My presence is charity. You know how many people are inspired by my story? Period. Cause it’s actual. It’s realized. It’s not hypothetical.”
Emmy found a cache of old NYC photos and now I’m getting a lil misty over here.
The police, the port authority and his mom are all really mad at him, but John Morillo takes comfort in the fact that he now has bragging rights.
Morillo sparked an international rescue operation late Monday when he loaded up on about eight beers then jumped in the river and swam to Detroit, just to prove he could do it.
“If I’m going to be in the paper, I’d at least like them to say I actually made it, even though I got in trouble and everything,” Morillo, 47, said Tuesday. “I gotta pay fines and stuff. But I don’t want it to sound like I didn’t make it, because then my buddies are going to say ‘ha, ha, you didn’t make it.’ Because that was the whole thing, to show them I could do it.”
Who is the patron saint of those who feel the need to get wasted and prove points to their buddies? Also: “‘The harbour master was extremely mad at me,’ said Morillo. ‘I don’t know, maybe they pulled him out of bed or something.’”
Anonymous asked: How do you deal with prolonged creative frustration? How often do you write each day?
Worrrrrrrd. There was like a six-week period a couple months ago when I felt like all my work was shit and I should quit and throw my computer into the trash can. It was like this invisible goblin sitting on my chest and whispering into my ear, “You will never write anything again and what you’ve written up to this point is terrible.” That’s happened to me a few times now, but thus far I’ve always gotten over it.
I’m not really sure I’ve got a method for dealing with that sort of thing. If the words aren’t coming I tend to just get up and leave. Sitting in bed and worrying is useless, so I go to the gym or go to the beach or go to a bar and drink five negronis with some people. And then, on occasion, after the third negroni, I’ll get up to use the restroom and an idea will pop into my head at the urinal and the whole piece of writing I’d been stressing about before will fall into place like dominoes. Other times that won’t happen, of course, but at least then you spent that time laughing with your crew instead of locked away in your apartment telling yourself how much you suck.
I try to write at least something every day, even if it’s just an email. But, as I said, if the words aren’t there they aren’t there, so screw it. Having a willingness to go live your life and say to hell with writing is, in my experience, always the quickest way to overcome an inability to write.