Last night, as Bridgette and I were visiting with our church small group, conversation somehow turned to this blog. I did not direct the conversation in this direction, nor was I entirely comfortable with it. I sometimes like to pretend that my writings are fired into a vacuum with no real-life consequences, a fantasy that was interrupted last evening.
So anyway, the JLP was mentioned, and suddenly people were asking all about my blog. What is it like? Where can I read it? A couple who we’re friends with took it upon themselves to describe it. With grimaces on their faces, they detailed how I write about pig intestines and baby guts. Having remained silent on the issue thus far, I felt compelled to break in, “Hold on, it’s not about pig intestines!”
Now, putting the pig intestines issue aside (I don’t actually think I’ve ever used “pig intestines” for a joke – clearly, it’s beneath me), I think this is an important distinction to make. The John Larroquette Project is about human frailty and longing, about passion and vulnerability. Granted, I will concede that there are occasional themes of vomiting and homelessness that thread themselves through these posts, but I would contend that those are merely guises, or code words, for frailty and longing.
Believe it or not, people, this website (which most of you so cruelly dismiss) is actually about my innermost dreams and hopes. Oh sure, I gussy up a post here or there with detailed accounts of violence and brutality, but that’s simply to meet public demand. How else am I supposed to compete with the FOX network? I urge all of you to look below the surface of my words. Peer beyond the Dairy Queen fetish and the hyper-patriotism to find the meek little boy merely asking for your affections. Will you deny him? Is he really so unlike yourself?
The answer is yes. He is really messed up, and he probably wants to cut you.