When I first saw “The Room” I did not see it that way, but after reading the class required essay I was given further insight. Of course, most of this is being projected by myself onto the film. Just like the romantic traits mentioned in the last paragraph are projected onto small, old, dirty dogs. The film itself is just a terrible film. I have rarely seen one so bad. I don’t get any of the nuances of “reaching for the stars” that people like to associate with it. To me, I just see the trastic end product. I just invented the word “trastic”. To me, it seems to encompass aspects of words such as “melancholy”, “terrible” (In the awe inspiring sense and in the modern sense of something simply being really bad) and “plastic” (due to its artificiality in delivery of lines and scenes and ease of malleability to individual sensibilities due to the movie being devoid of any meaningful or defining substance) I think there are few things on earth as trastic as “The Room”… (maybe aging, sad, unhealthy, poor people in sweat pants and outdated floral print shirts shopping at wal-mart, or cheerful, pudgy toddlers drinking Coca-cola with tear stains still on their faces are equally trastic). Trastic is a brand new word though, so you are welcome to assign your own connotations to it. I certainly understand the failure of great ambitions, (Pretty much everyone can, I think) but I don’t think this is the draw for people as the paper attests. I don’t think a lot of people deserve that much credit.

There is a phenomenon humans evolved as we rose through the evolutionary free-for-all to the coveted position of “planet cancer”. We are incapable of recognizing our own incompetence. If there is something we genuinely want to do, we could literally be the worst in the world at it, and unless we decided to analyze it rationally and logically we would never know just how terrible at that activity we were. We are even able to tune out people who tell us personally how inept we are if the activity means enough to us. This is a very beautiful thing. We have evolved the ability to chase our dreams, even if they are impossibly out of reach. Hope is our wonderful inability to recognize absolute doom. I think most people who see the room are like this. They can’t see themselves as being that inept, even though many of us truly are. This movie is their verification that they couldn’t possibly be that bad. I really like the room for this reason. It is hilariously bad, but also beautiful and sad in a way. Just like a small, dirty, old dog gnawing on a dead cat on the side of a road.

That was a pretty good hook, but now I need to tie it in with Tao Lins’ essay. Isn’t this free book thing about that? I think I need to write about Tao Lins essay to get a free book. Tao Lin is pretty cool (hi, Tao Lin) and I like his writing style so I guess I’ll give it a shot for a free book. Tao Lins’ essay made me laugh. It was funny. I liked when he talked about drugs. I like to do drugs. It makes me feel like Tao Lin. It makes me feel like  my life is meaningful because I party a lot or something. This somehow makes me more valid as a person; much like Tao Lin. I think if you both appreciate art in a cynical yet edgy way and do drugs then it means you are on the cutting edge. It means you could be so easily dismissed and yet… deep inside, you mean so much more but only you and those who truly understand that (such as edgy neurotic girlfriends who want meaningful mates and edgy insecure friends who want meaningful friends but you secretly think they are the meaningful ones and you are the edgy insecure one) can see it. The beautiful part about this is that the more successful you are, the (at this point the author of this essay took a break to watch a black girl with straightened hair and blue contacts get her “pussy” stretched. He felt dirty and did not get an erection) harder it is to be valid by those who are not directly involved in your area of success. This can be counteracted by having an authentic proxy friend who is a failure but has some abstract merit you can reference.

The last two paragraphs were horrifying, but the overarching concept of what they demonstrated is certainly a focal point in this essay. I do not know Tao Lin. I almost certainly never will. His unemployed friend who drinks a lot and does a lot of stimulants may well be a fabrication. He could be anything. This person who I have only read about once and will forget tomorrow is no one to me.What if he is a friend Tao Lin is worried about, but felt it would not suit his image or the tone of this essay to include him such a manner? I don’t know Tao Lin. I suspect he tries to live his life in a sincere way, but its impossible to not compare aspects of this essay to Hunter S. Thompson. I do not write the way I did in the first two paragraphs. It’s not my voice, but Tao Lin has a charismatic writing style that is easily aped, so the temptation to do so when writing an  essay to him personally is very strong, especially because I am only writing this essay to get a free book. I certainly want to be thought provoking (at least to some degree) and I want my essay to be an enjoyable read, but I also am a human being, which means I like things that are A) free and B) rarified. A free book from Tao Lin is both. Ideally he would sign it and write a note that is either flippant and eccentric or sincere and thusly suspect, merely because I am so immersed in the writing style he uses on the internet.

This is I think (finally) the crux of my essay. I know I mentioned cruxes and focal points in the last paragraph, but this time I mean it. Who is Tao Lin? I have never looked into his personal life; I’ve never been interested actually. His work speaks for him. I am an art student so I think about these sort of things a good bit, and if I could know an artist or not, I think I would rather know the artist for the interest of knowing the mind of the creator of a work. However, I feel his or her work would be diminished or at least altered by knowing the artist because it is no longer standalone and thusly reflects the artists vision rather than mine. Of course, I feel the more work from a given artist I see the better I know the artist, but as I just described to my friend on Ichat, even if he knew all about the internet personas of “HenryX”, “Henryu”, “Henryx5288”, and “Henry Bell” it would still be an incomplete or altered portrait.

I think your essay and the promise of a free book was pretty good for me. I just moved up to San Francisco from the suburb of Cerritos, Ca in LA (bordering Orange County) to go to art school. I left all my friends and maybe had some affectations when coming up here about leading a “new life” but really all I’ve done since I got to the “big city” is sit in my apartment. When school starts in the fall I’ll probably make some new friends and life will stabilize somewhat, but this essay project gave me something to do for the meantime which is much appreciated. I kind of am curious who you really are now. I won’t stalk you or anything; in fact, judging how people work I will probably forget about this within a few days, but I don’t think you’ll take it personally.  At least, I hope you won’t. Hopefully you will give me a free book to remember this brief episode of my life by. That’s pretty much it for my essay.