The Boner Way Out

“It's the terror of knowing what this world is about/ Watching some good friend scream, 'Let me out!'”

--Queen & David Bowie, “Under Pressure”

It's no wonder I'm depressed. Writing is my favorite activity, and when I think about the reasons why I do it, what I find is not so encouraging.

For me, writing is a lot like passing a series of kidney stones. This column deals in part with ailments, you should be warned, and kidney stones are an ailment I've so far been able to dodge. I don't think too much hyperbole is required to contend that aspiring to write professionally is about as hurtful as passing kidney stones habitually, and even though I suspect I'm being melodramatic on the matter, the metaphor still applies. Kidney stones are shards of crystallized minerals that cause considerable pain and discomfort as they tear through your urinary tract. The torment they reap is alleviated after the stone shreds through your urethra and the tip of your penis in a torrent of liquid relief. Similarly, ideas of mine materialize for mysterious reasons and provoke a sort of pain that isn't reduced until the thing is transferred from inside of me to the outside world. From this admission you can gather that, for me, the most gratifying part of writing is when I finally complete the piece I've been working on, and also that all preceding parts of the process are, at best, arduous.

Put another way, writing is the manifestation of obsessive-compulsive disorder in a very basic form. For mysterious reasons, I become transfixed with an idea—such as relating sadomasochism to playing the video game “Mariokart: 64,” or finding correlations between listening to an oldies radio station and living with my parents at age 27—and I feel strongly compelled to see the idea actualized, made into something tangible and complete, for the benefit of fewer people than I care to admit.

When I write, I'm mostly trying to rid my system of nuisances.

And so it seems the paramount reasons I choose to write are pain and neurosis. Third on the list of writing motives is vanity. Speaking as someone who is largely unblessed by aptitudes and talents, it is immensely satisfying to feel secure in the knowledge that few people can match or exceed my ability in one specific area...and I mention that for what it's worth (not a whole lot of money or women hitherto)...but more importantly, I mention that for what it's worth TO ME (a damn good reason to live).

The synthesis of pain and neurosis is depression. Josh Andrew Koenig, who played the part of the dimwitted yet affable neighbor Richard “Boner” Stabone on the 80s sitcom “Growing Pains,” suffered from depression. I use that verb, SUFFER, in the past tense because Boner died by his own hand in February of 2010. It would be pleasant to use SUFFER in the past tense because Boner lived to conquer his battle with depression and is now leading an inspired and courageous life.

No such luck!

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