Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Step 16: Panic, Plunge Into Crippling Despair and Self-Destruction

What's wrong with me? What the fuck am I doing? This whole thing is a fucking joke, except it's on me. I'm like a child, but stupider. Fuck.

It would be easy to blame my wife for coming up with this idea and then encouraging/subliminally pressuring me to actually write the damn thing. So I will.

If it was possible to puke on a blog, then burn it to the ground, that's what I would do.

If you can think of a way to make this crapheap worth anyone's time, comment away. But don't say porn, for god's sake. It's childish, and what am I gonna do, publish videos in this farcical book? Porn flipbooks? What is this, 1815? Or maybe some "erotic literature"? Please. Get real.

1 comment:

  1. Whoa, whoa, settle down. These things don't happen overnight. It takes at least a week to get a book deal. Anyway, since you don't seem to be on board with the live, streaming, traffic inducing suicide, I have another no-fail idea. Celebrities. I know, its been done, but what you need to do is find an angle that hasn't been covered. For example: Celebrity poop. How often do they go? How does it smell? How long do they take? Do they wash their hands? Perhaps you could collect some samples and have it analyzed. Or, you could sell it on eBay to raise funds and publish your own book. Think outside the box (and in the stall).

    Hang in there. I seriously doubt this will ever happen for you, but I will stick around in case.