Wednesday, November 10, 2004

Is This What I Want?

Any of you that read And I Am Not Lying For Real regularly know that I harbor giant, vague dreams of being a somebody, a big-shot writer. Like a Hunter S. Thompson or a David Sedaris, or a an Alan Moore...somebody that tells stories that move.

One of you reads from the offices of WW Norton in New York, and has read the site pretty extensively. I imagine you out there in the cluttered halls of publishing Valhalla, chain-smoking and stroking a cat (two nasty habits) while you think to yourself "shit, this guy is hot stuff. Let's give him a contract." Once I sign that contract, a bestselling book will automatically fall out of my shirt and land on top of a movie deal that appears on your desk. That's how dreams work.

Seriously, that dream keeps me up all night on the air mattress in my apartment that doubles as a desk, writing, revising, etc. I get so behind here at work uploading stuff, writing, tracking pageloads and eyeball time, because one day I'm gonna propel myself into something better.

Then I read stuff like this and think "fuck everything. I'm just going to ride my bike up on the highway and see what happens."

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