Ya know, if I had like, $7000, my whole entire life would be different. I wonder what it was like centuries ago when there were patrons supporting artists. Should I finish The Art of Asking by Amanda Palmer? I keep thinking magical thoughts. Like, "Maybe seven thousand people will give me a dollar." That's how it works, right, Amanda? I only read the first part. Okay, I only read the cover. At the bookstore and I didn't buy the book. I don't have any extra money. Maybe I'll hit the library, but I have the feeling that the big take-away is gonna be, "Start by being Amanda Fucking Palmer." I just wanna finish my first book and launch my Diary of a Low Budget Superhero blogcast. I know Amanda Palmer. I'm no Amanda Palmer.Because we didn't have a lot when I was a kid, me 'n my family always just sort of had to roll up our sleeves and push forward anyway. When I found the Arthur Ashe quote, it sang to me, so I wrote it on a piece of paper and taped it to my wall. It's the one that goes, "Start where you are, use what you have, do what you can." It's basically what my mom always tried to tell us, only she used different words. But same thing. Be fierce, claw your way out. Eye of the tiger. But you guys, I'm so tired. The thing is, I'm getting too old for this perpetual hamster wheel. You get a small raise at work, same week you get hit with another increase on your health insurance that wipes out the raise and takes even more out of your check so you're worse off than before. Then you get a Christmas bonus and it's just about enough to cover the extra taxes you owe because of whatever. Pay off a bill finally that sucked up $50 every month, then the rent gets raised by $50 a month. You get an extra pay check in a month that happens to have three pay periods in it, your car dies, along with any hope of ever collecting any real savings. Repeat until exhaustion sets in and you go insane. Fuck everyone that says you just have to work harder. Fuck you, seriously.
I'm so tired.
Need a new laptop, need some software I'll never afford at the pace I'm going. Everything is sky high — rent, food, meds — and I don't understand how people are doing it. We don't even have kids, or a car, or even a hamster. I need new glasses. I can't see. I'm worried about myself, I'm worried about everybody. And I need more sleep than I used to need back in the days when I did the things. So tired, while hopes and dreams gather dust on the proverbial vine (EDIT: holy ballz, that metaphor doesn't work at all and I don't even care. Wow, that's shite. I'm leaving it in because why not, at this point. Is this thing even on? Is there anybody out there?) I dunno, you guys. I dunno what to do or how it all works anymore. It's all just a sour ambrosia of mid-40s angst and all my heroes are dead or settling out of court.∎
#FirstBookProblems #PodcastWoes #EyeOfTheTigerIsBloodshot #Declawed #HardTimes
Is there an art to asking?
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| Help get Michelle a new pair of glasses. |
3 comments:
Oh for fuck's sake. I sound like if Marc Maron didn't have the 80s and was a Catholic chick. I'm Bizzaro-Maron.
Lock the gates.
But it'd be pronounced "MARONE!" with the hand gesture. I might just be too baked, but it's just the body swap movie we've been waiting for. An east coast blogger famous all the way up and down the street, say "WHAT THE FUCK" at the exact same time, and body swap for 24 hours. But in this body swap movie, it's peak Gen X: we never understood why they kept the whole thing a secret. It goes right online, "Hey folks, this is Marc Maron. Yeah, it happened again. I didn't know. I didn't know it was gonna happen, but it happened. Yeah that's how all of life works, asshole. You don't know what's gonna happen, but this time I jumped, I leaped, I Quantum fuckin' Leaped, I don't know. I don't know what I did. This is something so new that we don't even have the terminology for it yet. It's a body swap, it's like a body swap thing and they say, some MIT guys or think tank thinkers. These guys thing we opened up a portal of some kind, and maybe it's a thing where the internet is just, causing some kind of rift, some kind of tear in the space time continuum. And this is what happens. This is what happens when technology gets out of control. I'm not in the cat ranch right now, I've leaped and I'm on the east coast, and it's a snowstorm, it's in this shitty little neighborhood called Lower Allston. It's in Allston, they say Allston Rock City. It's a thing, it's a place where a lot of people who play music and do art and put on shows live, and it's, I shouldn't say shitty. I don't mean shitty, I know these people are lovely and it's a, it's got a lot of character, Lower Allston is where I have leapt, and, well, it looks like I get to spend the next 24 hours as a plump, very plump, and I'm trying to be politically correct here, but I'm in the body of, she's a, it's a, she's a blogger and she's got a lot of crap in her studio. There's parts I think, I hope are parts, doll parts, and a shelf here, there's dolls. A lot of dolls. I don't know what this is, but I'm here, I'd better find out what I need to do. Things don't feel right. I don't know what this is. I just shit my pants."
If I body-swapped with Marc Maron, he would probably take this thing on a run and kill me on the first big hill.
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