And George Clooney. I want to fight George Clooney.
Here’s a haiku about today:
What a waste of time.
Didn’t write a goddamn thing.
Well, that’s not quite true.
I’m actually writing and working quite a bit. The problem is that I’ve got about 7 things I’m writing now, and I’m making progress on all of them, but not finishing any of them. The going is slow, but at least it’s going.
Still no rain. The situation is dire. See, rain to me is like wind to a sailor: without it, you just have to sit there and hope the crew doesn’t gang rape you while you die slowly of scurvy and shame. Whatever. I am about to roll the dice on a supernatural solution and try a traditional Nekid Celtic Rain Dance in the backyard. If that doesn’t work, I will sacrifice a goat. Somebody’s got to do something, and I’m somebody, dammit.
Okay, enough of this bilge…this whiskey isn’t going to drink itself.
Ten days into 2014 and thus far I am simply putting it to the items on my New Years Resolutions list. Things like drinking (last year I could dispatch 3 Jack and Cokes in rapid succession without displaying any effects of inebriation such that anyone notices…I think this year that number should grow to 5), and pornography (I should be producing far more than I have been recently) have been dealt with handily. At this rate I am on track to have all of my resolutions completed by the end of the month.
One of my resolutions is to finally start replying to some of the reader emails that have been darkening my inbox for over a year now.
Getting “fan” mail has always been far and away the most interesting part of being published. The morning after my first story was published on Salon.com, I woke to find 53 emails waiting for me (previously, any more than 5 emails in a day would have been considered hectic). The first letter in the queue was from the United Arab Emirates. It was a very simple yet wonderfully mystifying note which read, “can you get white women make fuck us so happy.”
Ever since that moment, I have had a deep and abiding admiration and love for my readers. Soon people were attaching nekid pictures of themselves. Then came the videos. Then someone sent me a finger. Indeed. Continue reading
And now for some haiku. A little 5-7-5 to clear the head and loosen us up. Here we go.
What a bad motherfucker
Hell, this is easy.
Douglas Adams rocked
He wrote The Hitckhiker’s Guide
Let’s try another.
Not necessarily real
He’ll eat your liver
Holy shit…I’m awesome at this.
I like the new Pope
He thinks gay people are cool
Listens to Abba
Thanks for burritos
You really outdid yourselves
Mexico kicks ass.
Holy shit, Jesus!
You said love one another.
Nailed you to a tree.
This is so much fun.
Man, I could do this all day.
Okay, I’ll stop now.
Namaste. And good God, wasn’t 2013 just a big bag of shit? It wasn’t the Worst Year So Far, but it was a very close second. Well…to hell with it. It’s over, and we got through it. Cheers to us.
Sorry I’ve been out of touch of so long, but I have been On the Goddamn Move. I am presently still hiding out in the suburban flatlands of California. It’s awful. Everything is exactly the same here every day. High of 63F in the daytime, just about freezing at night. No ice, no snow, no wind, no rain, no fog…nothing. Every day is sunny: not one cloud in the sky for three months. It’s the middle of winter, for fuck’s sake! Never in my life have I been this meteorologically bored.
[Takes a long slug of whiskey, looks to the sky, displays a defiant middle finger to the deity, then refocuses on the keyboard in front of him. Takes another drink of whiskey. Starts typing.] Continue reading