On the phone after sending a chapter to my editor :
- Editor : There's some good things in there.
- Me : IT'S SHIT
- Editor : Maybe you went a bit overboard with the lyricism but...
- Me : IT'S SHIT
- Editor : ...like the part when they lock the room...
- Me : IS SHIT
- Editor : Oh for f... No it's not. You should rewrite it in the first person like you said...
- Me : I WON'T, IT'S SHIT, IMMA KILL MYSELF
- Editor : Have you been drinking?
- Me : I'M DRUNKEN WITH GRIEF AT MY OBVIOUS SUCKNESS.
- Editor : Don't drink tonight. You're still sick. Sleep it off and start fresh in the morning.
- Me : I'LL KILL MYSELF TONIGHT.
- Editor : Yeah. Sure. You have my blessing to not write tonight. Watch your stupid sci-fi series, but you better send me that chapter before sunday.
- Me : I'LL THROW MYSELF IN THE FUCKING SEINE.
- Editor : Love you.
- Me : FUCK YOU.
Somewhere behind the camera : pizza.
Yes, that is me on stage in Salt Lake City, stagefright like a motherfucker. Oldie but goodie.
Getting drunk w/ hipstshits
Sedona, Arizona.
November 2011
Shooting an arrow.
Mancos, Colorado. October 2011
I WROTE LIKE A FUCKIN SOVIET WORKER AT GUNPOINT TODAY.
Also back in my appartment for the first time in ten days.
Now for that booze…
Back from the Egida Aurea concert.
My roommate waited, camera at the ready.
GPOY. Cookin’ for the writers
