© 2011 Josh This-guy

Borderline Personality Recorder.

I wonder if Charlie Sheen needs a biographer.

I couldn’t help but write it in the first person; diving into the muck and sculpting it into a hunched giant, slouching into perdition. I’d be less homer and more odysseus, bent, nonetheless, to the whim of the arrogant gods. I might run errands, but maintain a lazy aloofness; as if I were condescending to fulfill the duties of a job I, no doubt, slew a hundred suitors for.

Cribbing cryptic notes, assuring, at each doorway, that I was, in fact, with Mr. Sheen, and yes, I’d try to keep him under control this time, and yes, I’ll be sure to spell your name right. From time to time, benders give way to morning’s ranting reminiscence, and all the while I’m recording every slur and depraved revelation. I’m pushing the cocaine off the mirror to watch my own reactions.

The final product, a voluminous tome; a bandwidth hungry download, would be an autobiography, innocently named for it’s intended subject, something terrible like “Faded Sheen” or “Man at Work”, but even the most cursory perusal would reveal that it is as much about Charlie Sheen as Fear and Loathing was about the Mint 400 Desert Race, because I am a self-aware narcissist, and that’s the best kind.

 

One Comment

  1. Posted February 28, 2011 at 7:45 pm | #

    Fantastic.

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