Fuck you Cameron Crowe. You, the goddamned Doogie Howser of writers. You, the idiot savant, who at 15 was writing for Rolling Stone, when Rolling Stone was cool. So ya, fuck you Cameron Crowe. Last night I watched Almost Famous. Does it show?
Jealousy is an ugly trait, I know. But don't cha think it all just came a little too easy for Mr. Crowe? Hot shot writer for Rolling Stone Magazine as a teenager. Married to one of the queens of rock 'n' roll Nancy Wilson. Screenwriter and director extraordinaire. Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Jerry Maguire, oh and the aforementioned Almost Famous. Geesh man leave a few nibbles of cool for the rest of us, what are you greedy?
I love Almost Famous. It's a little too saccharine, you'd have to think that there would be more obstacles on the road to success then just an over barring mother, but hey, it works. Maybe it is the ease to which the Cameron Crowe-like character went through life, and ultimate success that bothers me. Maybe I wanted to be the idiot savant, the child prodigy, maybe I dislike anyone that is successful? This might explain my disdain for Bono (but that is a rant for another day). I dunno? All I know is that after watching Almost Famous for the first time in years, my first reaction, after the shit-eating grin subsided, was to yell fuck you at Cameron Crowe! It ain't that easy.
I hope I am not being misread. I have a lot of respect for Cameron Crowe. He is a helluva writer, I enjoy most of his work. He is being used as a symbol of my challenges as a writer, the disdain I express is not directed personally at him. Nope, it is symbolic. Cameron Crowe, you are the rock 'n' roll dream, hell you are the American dream. A doubly impossible one for me to met, 1) because of debatable chops, and 2) because of geography (I am not sure it's right for a Canadian to dream in American?).
My point is... do I have a point? Yes, yes, my point is, we are all almost famous. Or better still, we all want to be famous. Do I want to be a household name? Fuck ya, I do. I want to write the next piece of brilliance in Rolling Stone. I want young or just plan struggling writers to look at me and say: 'fuck you Joseph Lane, it ain't that easy'. And it isn't. Every day is a battle with beasts.
So fuck you Cameron Crowe, and I mean that with a ton of love and respect. When is it my time to dance with Penny Lane? When will I get the chance to stress out the editors of Rolling Stone magazine? When is my time to shine? Oh and why am I whining? Must be the mid-October rain. Ya that's it.