Quickly, I remembered my new publicist ordered me to pay the SEO marketing specialist $20,000 to build a fan base on a blog which I had no desire to understand or participate in. You see I had written a book, a book I didn’t care for-a book that was really just a copy of a journal I had received from a friend of mine. Actually it was the base of a nasty lawsuit. But the blog is where the trouble started. I started seeing things, I was an actually interested in-similar goal and ideals and I longed again to connect. I fired my publicist and friend the SEO marketer on Google circles just to prove a point. Up yours marketing man-I know what the Face book is too. I like to call it The Facebook when I meet nice girls who can’t tell how old I am. This way I can instantly get at their father complexes and still look young.
We are 7 months out till publication and already I am frustrated annoyed, agitated, and haven’t written in weeks. How could I? How could I possibly find a moment of peace to collect a thought or tell a story? I found my mind slipping, along with my small jar full of left over poker winnings, I was now calling my retirement fund, to any interested parties.
Who am I kidding; there hasn’t been an interested party in months. My poor internet server is probably clogged full of things it can’t un learn in my quest to take my few moments of freedom and focus on the task of a temporary solution to loneliness rather than exploring a long term solution to my current confusion. I am not a unique and beautiful flower. Thanks Palahniuk. You’re like that cut at the roof of my mouth that would heal if I could just quit licking it.
Yes I stole that. Or paraphrased poorly at least. A good writer borrows a great writer steals. (That’s stolen too). From a great writer.