The Bearded Life: This Invisible Humor

Writing all the time isn't easy. With the paper, it's expected of me. Like, I sign myself up to write stories and I have a deadline. With generating content for the blog, I have less and less time to dedicate to it, which is why there are fewer updates than there was in, say, 2013. Also, I really don't listen to a lot of new music anymore because it's all terrible.

Ok so maybe that's an exaggeration.

Writing my observational essays for the Southern Minnesota Scene magazine is also difficult. It's not about finding the time, but I go into each month thinking they need to be funny. I caught shit from some "concerned reader" a few months back about how I was, in fact, not very funny at all, but rather, mean spirited and ironic, which is the cruelest form of humor there is. Or something. You know, whatever. I laughed it off because I don't show up at this dude's place of business and slap the dick out of his mouth and tell him how to do his job.

So for September's issue, the "art" issue, I didn't want to write about art again, since I did that so well last year already. I opted to write about how it's not easy writing these pieces; it's not easy being funny; and it sure as shit isn't easy being depressed all the time so maybe everyone should cut me a fucking break.

It's a really uplifting read- check it out out!