Thursday, September 26, 2013

I WANT TO HURT YOU (YOU CAN'T CAUSE I'M ALREADY DEAD)

Sit down.
You're seated?
Then stand up, and sit back down again.
I have some news.
Big news.
Hard stuff.
Heavy.
Have you watched the latest Breaking Bad?
Did you cry?
Did you pull your hair out?
Did you call your mom and ask her to check your online banking balance because you're afraid to do it yourself but need to know if you have enough money to go to therapy?
Then you've felt 10% of what you're about to.


We need to take a break.
It's not you, it's me, and by "me" I mean my book.

I haven't really been posting ~original~ content here for a while and that's partly because I've been living like a Glamour Gypsy the past few months but mostly because I've been trying to seriously get famous before I turn 26 and though the dozen dudes who have seen me do stand-up didn't boo me off stage, I feel all hope of that happening lies in my Debut Novel.


The only problem with writing a Novel is every single thing about it. I'm both almost done with it and not even close. I delete entire pages after writing them and immediately regret it. I reconsider the whole thing in my sleep and wake up in a sweaty panic and grab my boyfriend's hair and wake him up and force him to tell me that I'm Very Talented and Destined For Greatness and then yell at him for lying to me. 

Anyway, I've decided to dedicate Every Possible Moment I can to this before it drives me crazy. Luckily, I've found twerq work which will supply me with enough funds to buy enough soy dream and kale to get through the next few months I plan on spending all non-job time on finishing this thing.

I'll still be doing my Dear Sugar, Sex.Com and Wired videos (find me on the Wired Italia iPad app!) and obviously my Vice and Wired columns but I have no more  ~free time~ for posting here or anywhere else until January (when I plan on being done and moving into a Manhattan high-rise).

Ideally as soon as I start making big buck$ I can get back to being as self-involved as I was as a student but until then, just wish me luck and by "wish me luck" I mean send money! 


(Via the DONATE button on my homepage and/or by sending envelopes full of jewels to my haus, whatevz). 

Anyway, thanks for sticking with me so long and thanks for giving me ~love~ and a reason to not only wake up in the morning but to stay up all night as well. 


PS: I will still be linking my other work here, duh! So if you don't follow me on FB or Twitter or Snapchat you won't have to check into a mental hospital via ~grieving~ the loss of regular updates on my bowel movements. 

PPS: I'm going to miss you.

PPSS: Not as much as you'll miss me. 

PPPSS: I just farted.

2 comments:

  1. I feel your pain! the perpetual pain of being a writer! the isolation! the self-doubt! the manic states where words just flow out of you seemingly without conscious effort! it's horribly wonderful isn't it xoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxxoxo

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