When I don’t write anything on this site for a while, I start feeling guilty about it. I don’t like feeling guilty about this because there are too many other things for me to feel guilty about at the moment, and I don’t want to add “not writing on my blog” to my stupid, guilty shitlist.
When I feel guilty about not writing, I usually type out some asinine “update” post where I tell everyone how busy I am and how I’m such a monumentally occupied motherfucker that I don’t have time to do something I’m “not being paid for.” When that happens, someone will invariably email me and tell me how stupid my updates are, and how I haven’t posted anything of substance in several months. I, in turn, will invariably tell this person to “fuck off” because I’m not running a “subscription service” here, and because, after checking my bank statements, I have no record of receiving his or her “subscription check.”
So, what I’ll do right now is save everyone – including myself – the hassle. I’ll just go through with the bullshit update post without the guilt, because making a federal case out of this nonsense doesn’t do a damned thing for any of us at this point. I’m sure you’ll agree with this course of action.
This is sarcasm.
Everything is going pretty well right now. I’m deep in the process of working on my second book. I’m not sure how people – my agent and publisher – will react to my subject matter when I eventually submit a proposal, but I’m enjoying myself, and I’m enjoying the process of writing about something other than nightclub bouncing. Even if this book idea of mine turns out to be a total disaster, some other opportunities have come up as a result of what I’ve been doing lately, and things are definitely going in the right direction for once.
As far as bouncing goes, I’m still doing it. At this point, who the fuck knows when I’ll ever stop doing it? I’ve had the same conversation with the same guys, night after night for years now, and it always goes the same way:
“How much are you making doing that shit now?” they ask.
“I dunno, maybe four hundred a week now, if that?”
“So why do you keep doing it?”
“Well,” I always say, “if you think about it, four hundred a week comes out to be sixteen hundred a month, which translates to almost twenty grand a year. You know anyone in this economy who wants to take a twenty thousand dollar pay cut?”
And for those of you who know how long it took, I finally got my 700 pound squat – below parallel, with just a belt and knee wraps. It’s no world record, but it’s not half bad for a beat-to-shit has-been with a ceramic body. If I ever dunk a basketball again, I’ll let you know.