I read a lot of books on psychology. Specifically, Jungian psychology and philosophy. I tell you this, so you can do one of two things:

a) Stop reading, because this is going to be especially self indulgent and boring.

or...

b) Go, "oooooooo! This guy's smart...better listen up."

One Jungian acolyte named Robert Johnson (not the bluesman) has written many short, interesting books about western psychology that have really resonated with me.

His theories on, "inflation" and "deflation" have especially touched a nerve. One of the big problems I have (and I suspect a lot of people in the arts have...yeah, I just said, "the arts" ... I'm an asshole.) is self inflation. I have this terrible drive to pump up all of my endeavors externally...telling anyone who'll listen what a genius I am, and how my work is god damned gold.

Meanwhile internally, I'm harboring a deep and foreboding sense that I'm a complete sham who's going to be called out at any moment and banned from entertainment forever.

What inevitably happens is, the inflation goes so far that it can't sustain...then the unavoidable deflation occurs, and I sink way below the acceptable self deprecation line, into a bizarre phantom world of cackling 14 year olds, and naked women throwing me off cliffs.

Let me explain that.

Jungians, Budhists and Vedic Yogis believe in the, "middle way." Don't get too high, don't get too low. Don't soar to the top of that cliff on ego-wings, 'cause they're just going to get clipped...by those naked women...who then throw you off that cliff....and that pack of cackling 14 year olds hold up their iPhones and record your epic death plunge, posting it to YouTube faster than you can say, "that guy sucks!"

Does that make sense? Probably not if you're a well adjusted "middle way" person, living your balanced, don't rock the boat lifestyle.

Assholes!

I'm kidding...I love you.

See? That's inflation/deflation in action!

All of this comes to the surface today, because my (and John Gemberling's) Adult Swim show, Fat Guy Stuck in Internet starts airing tomorrow, June 15th.

Now, the inflation side wants to say, "watch it! it will change your life for the better! It'll put hair on your chest and stiff in your cock!"

But, then, almost immmediately, I want to say, "Please...don't watch. Instead, imagine something amazingly good, and associate our show with that in the pleasure centers of your brain. Just let it slip by, unnoticed. Also, punch me in the nuts for even talking to you."

Neither of those is a healthy thing. I'm making my contentment contingent upon external factors. i.e. people loving my work. Instead, I should be finding a simple, ecstatic place within, a contentment-gazebo that I can sit comfortably in as the world storms mania and confusion all around me.

Right now I'm just sitting in a mud-puddle, in my filthy crapped in underwear, gurgling like a retarded baby at the sky, with my mouth open...taking in psychic rainwater like a fucking turkey, hell bent on drowning.

Whattya gonna do?

Inflation.

What I will say about our show is this; I loved making it. I love the people who worked on it. It's been the best experience of my life, and I wouldn't change a thing.


This is not a plea for well-wishes, or sympathy. (Unless it's in the form of oral sex*) I make it public only as a matter of record, and empathy for anyone else who experiences the same thing.

*Totally JK, no I'm not! YES I AM!