I am about to share something with you, scary as that may fucking seem.
I am a protege, in the lamest sense, of the late, spectacular George Carlin. I’ve seen all his specials, own every CD, his books, everything I could get my hands on. Even RECORDS. Yes, vinyl records. I’m THAT big a fan. When I say I’m a protege, I mean I sat down, listened to how he deconstructed things and formed arguments and then I learned to do it myself. So I never met the man. But it was my goal to see him in concert one day. I got tickets finally last year, and was SO happy, almost to the point of giddy fangirl happy. I know, fucking disgusting on my part, right? I couldn’t believe it, years of waiting and watching and listening and loving, learning from the man who I considered a father figure more than my actual father figures, it was FINALLY going to happen! Maybe I could tell him how much he had inspired me to learn to write and think the way I do, maybe I could tell him to go read some of my stuff to prove that! Maybe I would become internet friends with him! The ideas that bounced around in my head were endless, I was so ecstatic about it! My hero, my mentor, my idol was going to be only a few hundred feet in front of me, saying the things that needed to be said and the things I truly believed in! What a rush of joy! I couldn’t WAIT to get to the concert.
He died a week before I could attend.
I was heartbroken, I was dead. I couldn’t eat for days, I couldn’t think, all I could do was grieve. The night he died, I was up until about 6 in the morning from hours before when I learned it had happened. What was I doing for so long? Watching. Listening. Learning. I had just watched and listened and read everything he had ever produced all in a single night. I didn’t care about anything else, and I certainly felt no need to do any god damn work of any kind. I know, you’re going to think I’m so dramatic, that “oh my god, he was a celebrity and you didn’t even KNOW him!” Well no, I DID. On a very impersonal level, but I got what he was trying to do, trying to say. Just last night I was re-watching Carlin material-as I had for some reason just really started having a craving to hear him again-and I realized something. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to see him, maybe…in some weird way…I wasn’t supposed to see him because I was supposed to carry on what he did, complete a legacy.
My entire blog here was inspired by him. Most of my WRITING has been inspired by him. He taught me to learn how to look out for bullshit, and how to deconstruct shit that made NO sense. How to use words in ways they had never been used before. He was more than a comedy writer, he was a teacher, he was a teacher and to ME, a father. I promise Carlin, I shall continue your teachings, and shall continue the legacy. I know he would hate this sort of thing, but I had to say it.
I love you George.
m@rk
