You have two choices as a writer. You can write what people will read, and hope to be read, or you can say fuck all that fame and money shit, I am going to do all my work and throw it in a closet, then when I die leave it to a publisher, for the fuck of it... great story for the jacket cover.... A guy here in town who created a graphic novel of hundreds and hundreds of pages ate at night, after work, and he told no one of this endeavor. The primary characters are little girls, and I think that in the end, he was working out an obsession in a healthy way, if you now what I mean... regardless.
I of course was raised on the teat of a mother who promised the milk of fame and wealth.... I sucked like hell for awhile.... until I figured out she was lying. Most people still SUCK. I can't stop them. Mom has endless teats in an infinity of shapes and sizes and lies specialized for every child she spews from her gaping, hellish cunt.
The internet came along and I learned that I could publish without having to go through an editor, a reader, a couple more editor, a committee at a magazine.... Jesus. One story I wrote about a woman being abused who would not admit it to herself, Iron, was sent out to a psychiatrist to see if they should publish it (at the time, I had already developed my idea to speak to certain audiences, be they working class, or elite poets, etc.... and was publishing in a Christian Feminist magazine with an abuse theme, that ended up in Church basements across the world, where I hoped women like the simple one I wrote in the story would recognize themselves... you know, I wanted the work to have impact, not make me a lot of money or extend some literary rep., like an agent would have told me to do).
In the last few weeks I have come into contact with a lot of people on Facebook who are just being introduced to me as a 'writer.' They may think they are meeting me, have a sense of me, etc... but when you extrapolate that you know who a writer is, or how they a act, etc.. from their writing, you are being tricked. Writer's books about themselves always have to be CORRECTED by later biographers. We have one product to sell -- ourselves, and no matter how open one may be about their faults (IN MY WORK IS MY EVERY SIN... in a way, I offer them up to the context of my life, and indeed see, to my relief, that I act righteously most of the time, thanks I am sure entirely due to my parents, who were about as ethical as two people can be, and very active in all kinds of good works all the time). The only opinions I care about are the ones that address my writing directly, to be honest.... others piss me off or make me happy, etc... but they are fleeting moments -- if I feel burned by someone on the net, or feel the truth demands a comment that is going to piss someone off, I respond once and then almost never go back and look at the thread again.... pissing matches on the internet are not worth the upset. One could do nothing else all day long with my opinions, and that would just add to the hatred out there, between the left and right, because those who think the government is a conspiracy and those who understand NO,, IT IS RUN BY PEOPLE JUST LIKE US... and yes, Senator Rockefeller does a lot for the poor even with that dreaded name, or so I believe... but these opinions don't win friends in the kind of radical crowds where I choose to speak. I don't preach to choirs, we just all sit around and talk, you know?
So one guy told me that he could not read my blog because it was 'too rambling.' He missed the periods when I wrote short comedy everyday and had 1500 readers a day plus... at like five different sites. The revolutionary poetry period when my numbers were even higher during the radio show. Now, I am writing the more serious stuff in Waking Up Jesus, and doing my editorials mostly on facebook, where I do make them short and punchy, like people on the net love.
ANOTHER GUY, who has been reading me since the beginning of my web adventures, and archives all my stuff, thank god (he just sent me over 40 hours of my old radio show that I did not have... because the whore/bitch/cunt I used to work with, when she went to the radio station to download all the shows, only decided to record the last half of the time, when she was on the show... when Jimmy and I and Mary Ann made it a hit, she left all that behind. I could not believe anyone would be such a cunt. 187 IQ, and hangs out without a very stupid comedy crowd that laughs at her stupid jokes. When we had live audiences, she would say something and there would be dead silence, me or jimmy spoke and they could not stop laughing. Ugh. She did not make me laugh in all the time I knew her -- went to one of her shows and it was appalling.... but she networks well, and was good at taking our ideas and playing characters, as long as we told her what to say.... anyways.....
This other guy said that he loved when I just talked about my life lately. When I was off the issues and being myself, writing a letter to my buddies on line about what is happening with my work and in my head, in my day to day existence here in Chicago....
So I have to take both opinions into consideration. The guy who thinks this is rambly, I told him this is all first draft stuff, that the finished work comes out in the books, and he should read me there.
For the other, Jerry, one of my Chosen Brothers, the second best kind (and the ones you tend to get along with best in my opinion), I write this essay here.... and go on not caring too much about what people think who do not know enough about my work to have an opinion). I have had only a few readers there from the beginning, and they are very dear to me. Dreaming in Blue, Bobby USbombs, Jerry.... and then the others, the spies and such that made their ire with my radical writing all too well known.
They exerted their power over me a week ago, when a tragedy with another Chosen Brother, Matt, who many who read me know of from my work.... a famous fighter, fierce father, lived with my family as a teen, etc.... his wife was having brain surgery and he needed me to take care of his autistic boy, to keep him from being sent to a temporary home that he hated, and just cried at.... After discussing my plans on the phone with M., my internet and the phone both began cutting out at crucial times. I could literally not make the plans. Then, my medication, for pain, the only one that is crucial, really, disappeared from the post office for five days. I tracked the fuck out of this package to make sure I was not ust being paranoid, to the point of talking to the hospital to find out exactly when it was picked up, the supervisor at the mailroom, and the mailman who was delivering, temporarily, for my regular woman who is on vacation. I always get this medication on monday when I call it in on thursday. It is only sent across town. The supervisor and the mailman both were sure that all her packages were out every night.... and the supervisor then suddenly called me four days after it was to come to say they had just gotten it. Funny..... never happened before. NEVER. Same with the phone going out.
You people think I am kidding about needing security are fools. They must have needed a few days to get ready for what I was going to do. My first day at my destination, I went out on the porch to smoke a cigarette, and about seven cop cars were sitting down on the corner. Matt said he had never seen such a thing. Every time then, all day, I would go out to smoke, and a cop car would drive by. Later, when I was out for a walk, a cop stopped as we crossed a street, elaboratly holding up traffic to let us take the small boys across the road, and We practically saluted -- he seemed very excited to see me. Cops around this country like me.... but this guy, well... it is nice to be liked. And I want to thank that cities police officers for the excellent security.
Anyways, I had my computer fixed up while I was on the trip. I had been having problems with my computer, and since I was close to my bro Jerry's he told me to drop it off.... and in an hour found a chat room taking about how sound problems were endemic with Aspire One's, and a dude had made a fix,.... he slapped that in, and then boosted my sound... a fucking great program that made this thing, literally, five times louder. His act of kindness probably paid for my trip, to be honest, because I cannot imagine a computer store would find the chat room for the repair, etc....and if they did, I would have found out a couple hundred bucks later. I thought it was the sound board and was ready to have it replaced.... I am an idiot when it comes to some aspects of computers.
I know words and psy-war and how to see what is really happening in the news, or at least what to believe and what not.... I mean, I do not know what is happening in the world.... really... I run from people who are too convinced.
So, if this isn't what you want.... you should really check out the short stories I am slowly accumulating on my comedy site, http://peacepipedreamsandpain.blogspot.com
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