Once in a while the Complete and Total Loser gets the idea of writing a book. How wonderful it would be, the Loser thinks, to produce a slab of bound paper with ink markings on pages that readers could look at and hear voices and receive images from, things that would entertain their dull hours and even make them form ideas that would subtly change their lives. He likes the notion that centuries after his death his words could inspire someone to strive to live a life previously unconsidered, that quotes from his work would win arguments or set young minds on fire. Power. Relative immortality.
But the Loser knows that his intelligence and ability are second rate and his confidence and discipline are far below average; that time has passed and his writing style has become ponderous, unimaginative, and is often seen as condescending to readers who comprehend his simple insights long before he's finished laying them out.
Nonetheless, he has, in his manic, caffeine-fueled moments, aspirations. The Loser knows he'd need a gimmick of some sort. His latest is to write a novel that would be upbeat, hilarious, and helpful to its readers, the kind people read twice and buy for friends. The title would appear in large bold block letters on a white cover and be this: Fuck You.
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| David Brancaccio |
Being awful at everything, the Complete and Total Loser has been working in a gift shop for the better part of a decade, despite his master's degree, which is in something he's no good at doing. Sometimes notable people visit the store, as it's in a building with objects worthy of perusal by those interested in beauty and culture. Such notables have included actors like John Lithgow, Willem Defoe and Demi Moore, the movie director John Landis, musicians David Byrne, Judy Carne and David Crosby, and the odd visit by his city's mayor and other political figures.
On a recent Sunday, David Brancaccio visited. The Loser, who has seen him host NOW on PBS, likes Brancaccio and waited on him four years before. This time, he approached him when he saw him in the store and greeted him, welcoming him back. He did something he seldom does to anybody: he thrust out his hand and shook Brancaccio's.
Journalism, the Loser's failed career, is the best job there is. In no other job are you paid to get away from your desk and go out to meet people and learn new things, after which you turn those experiences into short, written pieces that, if you've done them at all well, strangers will compliment you on. Journalists frequently complain about their low pay, yet they're paid a salary that one can easily live well on; an Associated Press reporter at a bureau makes in the mid 50s -- not bad for a job that requires no specialized training and is one that an honest journalist once said he'd "do for free."
In the Loser's dreams he's achieved Brancaccio's level of success. He's doing well enough that his worries are about deadlines and getting stories, not about paying his bills and retirement, but he isn't so famous that he can't go on a cultural outing with his wife and teenage daughter without an entourage or special arrangements. He works hard at his day job, but has time to write a book, in this case "Squandering Aimlessly," which is about "money and values in America."
His beats are those of a Renaissance man: politics, human rights, national security, the environment, health care and science policy and, at his level, whatever the hell else he wants to cover. He and his staff have won awards—the George Foster Peabody Award and the DuPont-Columbia Award, an Emmy for a story on an innovative way to deliver health care in Africa, and the 2009 Walter Cronkite Award for Excellence in Television Political Coverage.
A nice life.
A meaningless aside: In nearly all of the photos the Loser found of Brancaccio, he looks gay. When you meet him, however, you don't get a whiff of that.
November 23 update: The Loser read two days ago that Brancaccio's show has been canceled. Sorry to hear that, David.
It's important to have goals, the Complete and Total Loser has been told his entire life. Pick a target, make it your goal, devise a plan to reach it, and a time frame. Finish school by age W, get this job by age X, be self employed by age Y, retire by age Z. Achieve these things by breaking down the larger goals into steps with smaller goals, write down ways to reach them retrench when needed, adapt, revise.
The Loser, however, has bad management skills and zero self confidence. He has no friends or family of his own, and his parents are old and suffering with the agonies of advanced age. His brothers, both successful, reasonably happy family men, have enough to occupy themselves without being concerned about their younger yet middle-aged brother, who never quite saw things their way.
So the Loser, tired, defeated, has settled on a new goal, one he's sure to reach and, by all accounts, is well on his way to achieving already. His goal is to die without every really having lived.
