Nurture Insanity

I done touched on everything, but little boys
That's not a stab at Michael
That's just a metaphor, I'm just psycho
I go a little bit crazy sometimes
I get a little bit out of control with my rhymes
--Eminem, Just Lose It.

Many people do not care for the music of Marshal Mathers III, but for me, Eminem, as he monikers himself, is my kind of crazy. He is offensive to the point of being a nuisance to the common good. If I had an army of Eminems, I could take over the world, or at lease cover Dubuque in bodily fluids. He is the nuisance against which I judge my nonsense.

I am not, not have I ever been a sensible person. I say inappropriate things. I dance jigs behind people's backs. I make claims about atrocities committed by the Dave Mathews Band. I threaten to hug semi-prominent authors.

Sometimes I wonder why I spend so much time learning to write conventionally. Am I compromising my awesome insanity for the future hope of saleability? What's the purpose of writing well if you have nothing to say?

As human beings, we tend to settle. We work our way to the lowest groove, worrying about cars and mortgages and what is going to be made for dinner. Beaten by the ignominy of daily life we lower our heads, narrowing our vision, disavowing responsibility towards our higher potential. This disenfranchisement of the soul is no good way to live.

Henceforth, I pledge myself towards nurturing my gift. No more compromises. No boats will be left un-rocked. No hornets nests undisturbed. Common sense will be given no quarter. And gentlemen in England now a-bed will fight on the beaches holding their manhoods, and not liking what they see here shall get the funk out with us upon Saint Crispins day.