I had a very good meeting tonight in a tiny vegetarian Indian restaurant on Sunset Boulevard with a couple of nice men from a secret society who may improve my (working) life here in the next few days.
No, they weren’t Scientologists or Hare Krishnas. They weren’t government agents or Mafia bosses. Just a couple of guys.
I enjoy this instant publish/instant feedback of the blog, but I may have to ease off.
Since starting the blog my “real” writing has dropped off to a tiny fraction of what it had been. In the past, if something was pissing me off, I wrote a poem, if something happened to me, I wrote a poem…you get the picture. I communicated through the poems. Now I communicate through the blog, and that’s great for what it is, but it’s not something you can send off to the University of Knobshead to publish in their literary journal.
I had to tell about 20 people today that they were going to be out of work soon.
And it makes me want to puke. The only thing keeping me from feeling really bad is that I am in the same boat as everyone I was talking to today.
That’s scant – it’s scant SOMETHING. But I’ve been drinking Bombay Sapphire and typing very carefully.
But really…in real life…I want to fucking kill someone.
Smile, motherfuckers. smile.