here: more truth than you get at your average dinner party.
i don't really know what i'm doing.
i have no idea how to write a novel.
it could take me many more years before i do.
i'll die trying though. whether that's soon or not. i'll die trying.
also, it hurts a lot. the learning how to aspect.

the contradictory part?

it's also the funnest thing i've ever done and better than any other job i can think of except being a movie star. until i think seriously of what it would actually be like to be a movie star. and then realize that would be an enormously difficult job. never mind the acting, or the weight training, i'm just thinking of the boredom. waiting in a trailer. doing that 800th interview for the Buffalo Herald or whatever.

it's late. i don't usually blog like this. lower case and at such fast pace. perhaps even i'll take this post down. could be like, this blog will self-destruct in ...
this is a different voice from my usual, i think. the one i usually share here, i mean. i suppose i'm writing this influenced by a guy who blogs in new york. i won't share his name because he's so vain he probably thinks this song is about him. also, he already publishes books. and i don't. so i'm jealous. screw him.
this isn't a side i usually show of me.
i should run and hide.
write and revise.
you think i'm wasting my time?
that was rhetorical.