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damn the muse |
HER: you need to write in it more So, I just gotta get addicted to this, hunh? Well, I have my story all ready to be sent out, just need to get the address. Of course what I want to send out can't just go to any place. I can't find the email address to send a story to Bound and Gagged.
Yeah right, and if you believe that I'd blush over sending a story to Bound and Gagged, you obviously haven't read any of my stuff. GARGH... I am so behind on everything. These books, just found another thing that is selling for $105 online. And, my copy has a little squiggle at the top. And, DAMN IT! People, when you get a book, especially paperback... Don't ever put your name in it. Come on, if it's in your house who's gonna take it? And, if you give it to someone to read, they aren't gonna give it back. So, just leave the book beautiful. K?
Procrastination is just sloth in four syllables.
I think I have gone through every book in my garage, gotta be a crapload of shit there. Now, hopefully there is someone out there that is interested in first edition Louis L'Amour or a first edition Mignon Eberhart or even my first edition Philip K. Dick. But, I have to tell you I got tired of being out there, so that's why there is a new look here. Nothing of interest about myself, but you can applaud nik for not caring that I basically copied his everything... hence i've got no shame. Listening to this great song called 2wicky by Hooverphonic, at least I think that's right... I have so many mp3's downloaded I am not even sure of the names... ahh, and Air is next... love them. All creativity has left my body... I must start entering books into my inventory doohicky...who said those dots were annoying? Good think it wasn't directed at me.
I had to crawl in through the window, because my mom locked the keys in the house when she went out. I was in the garage, working on my massive book collection, heard my stomach growling and voila, the door is locked. Not a pretty picture me climbing through the half window, although, I must admit, while I straddled the window I did like the sensation a bit. :) Had to take a lunch break, I fear this has gotten overwhelming, and now I have convinced the parentals that we need to go back and get the remaining boxes of books. Ok, I pledge that when I come in this evening from the book garage, I will post the first week of erotica at bastardgenres, and change the features.
I have been sitting here listening to the soundtrack from fight club, bjork, clannad, sarah brightman, dar williams, sarah mclachlan, diana krall and vast. A nice collection of sounds... music to read by, and enjoy. I dont know if anyone reads this or not, but if you do... you have so got to go to neverland and go to the imagination link and read The Cool Air of Mourning. You'll soon be immersed in the intoxicating world that niko wilde has created, and witness a great writer in the process.
Finally, today is my Friday. I can't believe it, I mean if I had wanted to work five days in a row, I would have gotten the typicaly 9-5 job. The fuckers had me scheduled New Years Eve and New Years Day, and then this morning at 7. Just fucked. So, it's 6:27 and I'm sitting here eating my soccer balls and reading mail, answering ICQ's and wondering why I haven't written on this thing. I suppose it didnt matter, because Im feeling that people dont come here, even though I guess you do it for yourself. I need to work on my erotica thing for bastardgenres, need to work on the story for spiritwars and need to finish something god dammit. So, not only am I angry that I have to work today, but that I have to work creatively and that muse who is/was/has been there, aint anywhere in sight. Gotta go.
Been doing a lot of thinking lately, about what I want to do with my life. Perhaps it's the fact that I'm gonna be 36 next year, erm... in two months; or that I have a shitty low paying job, or that I have no aspirations, or that I can't seem to write anything, or that I don't believe I write well, or that I am just sitting here waiting for someone to come and rescue me. Have been making people laugh a lot lately, flirted with the idea of making an ass of myself and doing an open mike sort of thing, but I stopped and thought, what if I'm not really all that funny. It's the same thing with the writing, but then... maybe I should just write and stop waiting for someone to say something. just do and do and do it because I like to do it. Fuck what others think about it. The only other great thing that has happened, aside from my dick. I ran into someone I knew about a year and a half ago. And, well... I'm going on a non-date in January sometime... just saying that if I don't do anything, things happen. if I just dont look... people appear. Oh, and this afternoon, my first customer was this guy I use to work with... god, he was so hot 10 years ago. Now, he's fat. Sorta funny, because I was fat then... and well I'm still fat, but, 10 years later... I'm not so boyishly fat. I guess, because I was in a great mood. Oh, and my dick that I was talking about? I found Solar Lottery by Philip K. Dick 1st edition ace paperback copyright 1955. In excellent condition. I'm thinking of starting my own bookstore, or at least online store called bastardgenres. Selling new and used books. We'll see.
Well kiddies, gotta tell ya... take care of your teeth now. Brush and floss or you could be in the boat I'm in now. I have had so many teeth removed that at 36 I will be having a partial in my upper mouth, have to have an implant on the bottom and another partial. There is nothing worse than the feel of your mouth coming off of novacane. Oh wait, when I a local during my ankle surgery. Now that was weird, when I woke up... my legs were two huge sausage links. And, my crotch? could't even feel it. But, boyhowdy! Musta been the beginning of my fascination with CBT... oooh, the pins and needles.
I never know how to start writing on these things. I don't know if many of you know how much I adore books. The heft of a hardback in my hands, the mustyness of an old paperback, the worn edges or crisp paper, I could go on just describing them. On my last move, I had about 13 boxes of books... and that was what I could put in boxes. That wasn't counting how many wagon loads of books we carted to the car. At the last garage sale I had, I was able to bring those books down to the 4 boxes of my favorites that I didnt have room for in my book shelf. Now that I had nothing else to discover, my grandparents told me of the lady who moved out across from them. And, I now have over 5000 books in my garage. And, the funny thing is they are mostly harlequin romances. I swear this woman was a humongous pack rat. The place was a sty, although I could see myself living like that just to be close to my books. My grandmother couldn't understand how a woman could live like that, or how she could read so many books and about so many different things. I just explained that when you get obsessed with something, you need to know every little thing about it. When I read The Vampire Armand, and discovered that Santino may have been around during the plague... I found books on the plague. When I read a war novel, I started getting books on WW2. When I read erotica... I even got books on sex. Sad, but true.
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