By Mike Jasper
“So when do I get to see it?” Roger asked. Roger’s my bartender. All the great writers have one.
“I don’t know,” I told him. “I’ve kind of got a block. I’m a comedy writer, but this is serious work. We’ve got Trump as president. We’ve got a Republican House and Senate. We’re fucked, and I want to do something about it … but I’m having a hard time putting pen to paper.”
“Look,” he said. “You’ve already got your angle, right.”
“Right,” I said. “The Progressive Spring. But I got that from you.”
“That’s all right. You’re stealing for a good cause. You’ve got the domain name already, right? What is it, turntexasblue.com or something like that?”
“Yep.” (Pause) “That might be stolen too.”
“Right. So just run with it. Just start writing. Get it up at WordPress or something like that and start typing way. Don’t worry about being as sober as a judge, just use your voice. You can be funny and still be serious, that’s your voice.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “I mean I often just write about whatever’s going through my head, whether it’s real or not.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Well, for example, we’re not actually having this conversation. I’m sitting next to Lefty at the old guys’ bar and just thinking about what you told me a few minutes ago. The actual conversation was pretty boring … I think you said, ‘Just fuckin’ do it, man,’ and that was that. But now I’m thinking maybe you’re right. Maybe I just need to be me and do the best I can, even if it’s just writing down things going through my head while sitting at the bar.”
I need to break in here for a minute. Even that’s not true. I’m not at a bar, I’m at my desk in front of my computer screen thinking about what I thought about last night as I sat at the bar after my conversation with Roger.
It’s all so complicated.
But he’s right, you know. I need to be me because I don’t have any other choice.
“See! That’s what I’m talking about,” Roger — who is clearly a voice in my head at this point —told me.
Okay then. We’ll just fuckin’ do it.
“To a Progressive Spring,” I say, as I pretend to down a shot of Jameson.
— Roger Linehan contributed to this report