HAIRSHIRT
Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery
|
HAIRSHIRT Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery |
|
Sunday, May 07, 2006A Note to My Tens of Readers
Right now, there are approximately 30,000 bicyclists riding by our apartment. All these people are participating in the 5 Boro Bike Tour, in which cyclists ride all around the city. It's a gorgeous day for it, too. Sunny, cool. My wife is out right now taking pictures of the tour for a company which will post them online for the participants to buy. And I'm sitting on my fat ass in the apartment, letting my muscles atrophy.
You'd think I'd be in a better mood. The Cleveland Cavaliers made it past Washington to reach the second round of the play-offs for the first time in thirteen years. It was an amazing game. The list of Bush administration resignations just keeps getting longer and his approval ratings continue to go down like limbo champ. And, yesterday was Free Comic Book Day! Despite all this, I find myself decidedly unchipper. I'm thinking this is probably because my shit is so amazingly not together. I've been writing on this blog for nearly two years now. I started it in part because I wanted to make sure that I was writing something every day, or at least almost every day. But I come home from teaching, a job that wears you out fairly good, despite people's perception that it's a vacation-filled skip through Candyland, and I sit here at my computer and, most days, I manage to crank out a post and then I proceed to waste time on truly pointless shit until it's time to get dinner ready. Maybe I make time to work out. Maybe I gather up my stuff for a trip to the laundromat. But I'm not getting done what I need to. I'm reading, right now, The Portable Dorothy Parker. In the introduction, the editor of the revised volume writes about Parker's approach to writing. How she looked at is as a job like any other. This is what I haven't been doing. I think somewhere in the back of my caffeine-addled mind, I harbored some kind of inane fantasy that someone might read my stuff here, out of the 6.73 trillion blogs currently out there, and fall so in love with my prose that they offered me a multi-million dollar contract. This is akin to thinking that a venture capitalist might be so taken with your lemonade stand that they're driven to invest in a nation-wide chain of them. So what the hell am I blabbering about here? I guess what I'm saying is that I'm going to take a stab at getting my shit together. I'm going to attempt to focus my energy on actual writing. I'm not going to stop writing on my blog, but I'm not going to bust my ass to write something every day. So please bear with me if there are multi-day gaps between posts. It doesn't mean that I don't love you and think you're very pretty.
Comments:
I have read your blog and, out of the 6.73 trillion out there, it stands out, it's wise, beautiful and at a slight angle to the universe. I would like to offer you a multi million dollar contract to continue, to help bring life to the inert matter of the masses. The contract is ready and will be posted to you just as soon as you do something really extraordinary,
Yours, God
Great idea my friend. Not blogging every single day has made all my stuff pure genius, or pure something anyway.
Post a Comment
|
|
|||
| . | |||||
