Back to The Bookstore

The most recent episode of The Bookstore is a fair bit of a self-indulgence. But this is my universe, so I’ll construct it as I like, thank you. Actually, the true point of these videos is simply to entertain and tell a story, and it is my great hope that do exactly that.  But I would be remiss in not utilizing it to also promote myself, so why not have Eddie profess me to be one of the greatest writers ever?  I was rather touched by his sentiment, even if he’s just doing so in a vain attempt to bait me into doing an event at The Bookstore.

I’ve upgraded to Xtranormal’s new movie-making program, which they call State.  It allows for more than 2 characters–which I’ve utilized here–and the ability to move characters around.  There’s a nifty voice over thingy that I will ultimately have to give a try, but for now…baby steps.

As with every project I ever undertake, I’m open to comments, thoughts, and ideas.  Additionally, I’m very (I think I mean to say VERY) open to you sharing these videos on Facebook, Twitter, or anywhere you socially congregate.  As well, you can visit the videos on my You Tube page, and add comments, likes, and so forth.  Don’t underestimate how much it helps.  Same with my books on Amazon.  It’s a public forum in which people who have never heard of me (like Stacy in the video) have the opportunity to read what other people are saying.

Ok, enough promoting. Here’s the fourth video in The Bookstore series, Going Viral.

 

Leaving NYC

I couldn’t help but notice, as I was looking over the dashboard to the blog to approve some comments (& blast some junk into oblivion, with some Schwartzenegger like “You’ll be trashed” line in my head), that the corner of the page that details the most often used search results to locate my blog had the following 3 as the top choices:

  1. “Zachary Steele”, “Author Tour”
  2. “zachary steele”, “NYC”
  3. “zachary steele”, “giraffe sex”

Now, please, whichever one of you did the third one, please, please, please, oh for the love of everything holy, please, let me know.  BRILLIANT!  I don’t know if I’m more amused that it exists, or that it worked.  Either way, I’m totally honored to be found under the search heading of “giraffe sex” despite the fact that I have neither written about it, or to my knowledge, had it.

Giraffe sex.  Tee hee.

So, my NYC escapades are at an end.  No pictures today, nor any from last night.  The camera is packed, and the room looks less of a disaster now that everything is placed quasi-neatly in the suitcase.  The coffee has finally woken me from my morning stupor, bringing ME to from a late night, and short sleep.  Last night at The Tank, I had the 2nd of 2 events, and rounded out a birthday celebration without song or fanfare for the first time since I drove alone to Montana.  Harry Terjanian was a hoot and seemed well at ease railing on religion.  We were a small group, but one prepared to laugh, and he didn’t disappoint.  Though I could cite a number of well delivered punchlines, his run on the disappointment of Easter candy was my favorite.  The idea that the large Chocolate Easter Bunnies, are “chocolate covered air” is still cracking ME up.

I plopped MYSELF up on the edge of the stage for what amounted to a cozy little story time with a handful of rapt listeners.  I gave the first chapter of Angelic Malcontentsanother go, and am now convinced that it’s going in the right direction.  The unicorn-head maid lady (did I hear Andora? or was that Andromeda?) was there again, at MY side as I read.  I’m less creeped out by her now, and find MYSELF chatting her up, just in case.  You never know.  She could be real somewhere, and though I’m not soliciting MYSELF to her, it’s always good to keep an open friendship with any potential unicorn-head maid ladies in the universe.  Seems like having one for an enemy could be rather unpleasant.  Just sayin’.

So, all in all it was a great trip.  Saw plenty.  Heard plenty.  Talked plenty.  Read a lot.  And stowed away, for future use, much more story content than even I could have planned for.  Thanks to everyone who has kept up, and I look forward to getting home, where MY wife is likely to squeeze ME into an alternate universe, and my dog is likely to have a coronary, after spending nearly 4 days convinced I was never coming home.  Time to give up this awesome view of Manhattan, take MY weary butt downstairs, and begin the trek to Laguardia by way of train and bus.  Cost savings aside, I’m good for one cab  ride per trip here.  Already did that, and I think I lost a few years in the process.  No need to lose more.  I might lose more hair.  Not ready for that yet.

Giraffe sex.

If Doesn’t Kill You, It’s Worth a Buck

Well, last night’s event at The Tank was a load of fun.  Aside from the fact that the venue is a quaint little, absolutely inviting theater space, it’s also a perfect space for readings.  “Just Working on My Novel” was designed by the ever amazing, always entertaining Russ Marshalek, as an outlet for those who have been working on, talking about, or professing a desire to write, a novel.  Each of these events will feature a published author, and I am honored to have been the writer to have had the priviledge to wear the innagural pair of JWOMN shoes.  I started the affair by reading from Anointed and closed it out by reading the first chapter from MY follow-up, Angelic Malcontents.  It was the first public reading of that particular material, and I was elated to have received such a positive response.

The stage at the Tank

The stage at the Tank

As you can see, the set-up on stage was simplistic, and included a weird little Maid/Unicorn Head…thing that was holding a copy of Anointed.  This too, was a Russ Marshalek special inclusion, and I really don’t know what to say, other than it will find a place in a story of mine very soon.  A bizzare, bizzare piece of, well, whatever you refer to it as.Tonight, once more at The Tank, is the religious roast, Fishsticks for Jesus.  It will be a night of comedy at religion’s expense, and I fully expect that there will be much to write about tomorrow morning, when I sit down, groggy, and struggling through words with a cup of coffee firmly in hand.  Then, sadly, it will be time to depart from the Big Apple.  There’s never enough time to see everything you want to see here.  Even with 3 full days, you just pick what you want to see & leave it at that.Today was a lazy day, to be honest.  As a birthday present to MYSELF, I slept in until 9, staggered downstairs to grab as much coffee, yogurt, danishes, and additional creamer/sugar for coffee later, that I could carry and returned to  MY room to relax, and attend to the weighty amount of birthday wishes and photo comments on Facebook.  I stayed there, spent some time catching up with Alice and telling the dog hello, and finally wandered out after noon or so to meet Russ at The Tank.

???

???

12:35 p.m: I arrive at The Tank and proceed to be a complete ass to Russ in front of his Tank cohorts.  He rightfully reads me the riot act, tells Alice on the phone that I am being a stupid dick, and informs ME that he doesn’t work for ME anymore and “doesn’t have to take that shit.”  I realize that he is absolutely correct, and that I apparently don’t have enough caffeine in ME after all.  To Starbucks!

1:33 p.m: The frap helped.  I’m feeling loose and free again, and after a bit of a ride on the trains, we’re in Brooklyn, heading for food and then, Word, Brooklyn’s best little Indie bookstore.  One problem though, which Russ points out with a question that I cannot answer.

Russ: Where are we?

ME: Hell if I know.

Yeah.  Lost in Brooklyn.  And not that, “well, this is the ok part of Brooklyn that you shouldn’t be afraid of,” but rather that, “Oh, dear God, we’re going to die,” area that you would rather avoid.  Yay Russ!  I ask him if it’s ok to hand him back the, “Stupid dick,” moniker.  He grudgingly agrees.  We head back to the train and the Greenpoint stop we should have gotten off at to begin with.

2:00 p.m: We arrive at Brooklyn Label, and I eat the absolute best burger I have ever had in my life.  It’s a neat place, full of character, and Russ pointed out some guy in the corner that is supposedly a famous musician.  Yeah.  Like I would know him.

Brooklyn Label

Brooklyn Label

 
2:40 p.m: We arrive at Word, where we spend an hour shooting the breeze, bashing stupid books, and discussing why James Patterson is sadly the best thing that Hachette Book Group USA can promote.  Well, except for that Twilight thing, anyway.  I buy a copy of The Book Thief, a Young Adult title I’ve been wanting to read since it came out in 2006, and we head out for the G Train. 

There has been an absence of notable excitement today.  Yesterday, after I blogged, I left the hotel in search of caffeine and dinner.  I got down to 8th street, a block away, when I was halted by 3 fire trucks, 4 cop cars, and 2 rescue vehicle, and a throng of people congregated and staring skyward.  I would find out, very quickly, that a crane had malfunctioned (or something like that), and that a netting that was holding broken concrete was threatening to spill its contents onto the road below.  I would find out later that this is not a rare occurance in the City.  I made it past that, only a block further before I saw 2 more ambulances, 2 more cop cars, another large throng, and a considerable amount of blood on the street.  Just past that, a bicycle split in half.  Yeah, man on bike vs. car, car wins.  From what I understand, the guy was beaten, broken, but would survive.  Crazy.  There’s no shortage of entertainment around here.  I look forward to leaving the hotel, just to see what I see.

Alright, all done now.  Need to make dinner plans and get ready for tonight.  More tomorrow morning before I make my way home!

More ME in NYC, Day 2

I didn’t want to go to sleep last night.  For a long time (once I had fully comitted myself to leaving Facebook and the plethora–what is a plethora?–of comments and such from yesterday’s activity) I just stared out the window at the city.  I think I was still in that, “Am I really here” phase that most of us go through when we’ve come to visit an exciting place, or a place we’re excited about because it isn’t exciting at all but quiet because everyone else isn’t  there.  Anyway, I left the shades open, and woke up the minute the light touched the sky.  Times like this, and times like this only, that I don’t mind short sleep.  Thus began the day.  I have no idea where I’m going now, only that I’m about to walk out the door.

8:32 am: I meander downstairs, showered & happy to MY free Marriott breakfast.  Before you get too excited, free, in this instance, is bagels and toast and cereal and coffee.  Honestly, I was happiest about the free coffee.  More so that they had little packages of Coffe-Mate French Vanilla creamer available.  MY caffeinated dessert, what you mortals call coffee, in hand, I was ready to face the day.

10:15 am: While on MY way to the Library, I stop for the 1st of 2 visits to Bryant Park, situated right next door (door? somehow, that seems wrong).  It’s a peaceful place in the morning.  Probably an excellent place to drink some coffee and wake up while people watching.  Hey!  That’s what I was doing!

I can haz nap?

I can haz nap?

 

Hello funny hat man!

Hello funny hat man!

10:10 a.m: New York Public Library.  I didn’t go in, as I’ve been there before & I’m running short on time before I meet Russ at (or around, on Russ time) 11.  Snapped a couple pictures of the lions, and some various shots of the local landscape, but nothing you wouldn’t have seen a bajillion times before on tourist brochures.  I’m beginning to get a little worried about the calm lack of adventure the day is displaying thus far.  What, Monday comes and we all act normal again?  What’s up with that?

10:21 a.m: Walking up 5th Ave, on MY way to St. Patrick’s Cathedral when it suddenly occurs to ME that I’ve been singing the coffee toffee twisted frosty song in MY head for the last hour.  Damn!  In order to purge the madness, I grant the repetitive lyrics to you

Coffee toffee, twisted frosty!

Do you wanna get frosty with me?

10:32 a.m: I arrive at St. Patty’s to discover that MY favorite NYC landmark is still there.  You can never be too sure when religion is involved.  Could have been swept away in a moment of vengeance.  Glad to see that they are renovating some of the exterior.  Most people are aware that I do not believe you can find God in a church, despite the fact that they exist, seemingly, for the that sheer purpose alone.  You can find religion in a church though, and St. Patty’s never disappoints.

Stained Glass in St. Patty's

Stained Glass in St. Patty'sCeiling at St. Patty's

St. Patrick's Cathedral

St. Patrick's Cathedral

 

11:11 a.m: Lunch with Russ at Chipolte’s.  I need about 3 more cups of coffee to keep up with the speed at which he is talking.  Russ, I’m still a Southerner!  Slow down!

12:25 p.m: Russ & I have broken up, though I believe it to be short term.  Once he slows down his speech, we’ll be all right.  I decide to head back to 42nd street, and over to Grand Central Station, since I didn’t have time before, then head back to St. Patrick’s because, well, because it’s so freakin’ awesome.  Aside from the fact that I think of The Day After Tomorrow everytime I go into Grand Central, I rather enjoy it.  It is the pinnacle of activity.  Busy, busy, busy little people scoot around from one to the other, or from one floor to the other, to the fooditorium downstairs, or simply dodging pesky tourists with cameras.  OH!  Actually, the main floor of Grand Central is home to a scene from one of my favorite movies, K-Pax, so maybe all isn’t bad.  The travesty has been undone.  Sorry Mr. Gyllenhal and Mr. Quaid, but that movie just sucked.  Wolves?  Really?  Wolves in NYC? 

1:35 p.m: Back at St. Patrick’s for about 30 minutes.  It’s fantastic to absorb to just sit and absorb the history of the place.  Unfortunately, and by design I do believe, the pews are dreadfully uncomfortable to sit on for an extended period of time.  How can you feel the presence of God if you’re massaging your butt every five minutes!

2:25 p.m: Back at the hotel where I attempted a nap.  No go.  Nap fail.  Too easily distracted am I.  Answer the phone?  Sure!  Text messages, absolutely!  Facebook chats?  Well, I can’t be rude!  Anyway, it’s 5:30 now and I’m about to get ready for night one at The Tank.  I may, and or may not, post pictures and update the blog later this evening.  MY guess is on the no side.  You may just have to wait until tomorrow.  And, hey, whoa!  I totally buzzed a fly today!

I seez you mister flyz!

I seez you mister flyz!

Ok, so maybe it isn’t that cool.  But still, I had to wait a long time for that shot.

Trolling about in NYC

Taking the author’s tour of NYC for the next 4 days.  I’ve been here before, so it’s not your “country boy in the big city” kinda deal that is trademarked with open mouths and schedules chock full of touristy sites.  It’s still an amazing place, and it still leaves ME waddling in awe and inspiration.  I’ve never come to New York on MY own, with no guide (read in: friend) to show ME the sites or take me to great little shops in Little Italy where stories linger through time (I’ll share that one later).  But, I’m here, I have book events at The Tank on both Monday and Tuesday (where I will silently sing birthday wishes to ME, and will disallow others to do the same out loud), and I have brought the camera to let you see what I am seeing.  In order to do this proper, I’ll just have to check in as I pass through the hotel and update posts daily.  So, what you read now will have more later.  I’ll make sure to let MY Facebook friends know when the updates are in, and I’ll be dumping all of my photos there as well.

And so begins Day 1.

6:30 am:  I wake up, even though I don’t need to get up for another 45 minutes.  I’m a travel geek, and have, on many occasions, departed from quality sleep to get things going, jumping up and down like a kid on Christmas (albeit at 4 am, 3 hours before mom & dad are comitted to waking).  Coffee!  Quick!  I manage half a cup before I realize I didn’t need the caffeine to begin with.

8:00 am: Alice drops me off at MARTA.  I make it to Five Points, and switch to the Southbound train, where the automated voice informs us all that the train is going Northbound.  I quickly send the all important message to Twitter (& Facebook): “Oh MARTA, you do live to entertain.  Telling ppl on southbound train that its going north.  Very cheeky.”  I realize at this point that I needed more caffeine.

9:00 am: I arrive at the airport, where I realize at check in that airlines have changed their luggage check in policies.  No longer is it free for the 1st bag.  Now you pay $15…IF, IF that is you meet the size and weight requirements.  Ugh.  Are you kidding me?  I should have figured out a way to just carry on.  I would have threatened the lady that I would send me pet dragon out of hiding to destroy the minions of Air Tran, but she was really nice.  No worries Sandra, here’s my card.  Abuse ME.

10:20 am: I board the plane, sitting across the aisle from a young woman, who felt it necessary to bring her floatation devices with her.  Both of them.  They seemed to fit pretty snug in her shirt, and I don’t know what her plan was to deploy them.  Anyway, she slept the whole trip with her mouth wide open.  And I mean, she slept.  Hard.  Comatose like.  Through the take off, through the landing, and through most every other inconvenience in between.  I thought of grabbing her once we got off the plan and suggesting that she steer clear of any opportunity to fall asleep in the presence of her fellow college students.  But then I thought she probably already had, and if I looked hard enough, I could probably find the eveidence online.

1:13 pm: I grab a yellow machine of death for MY march into oblivion–or Manhattan, whichever came first. 

The View

The View

“Hello Mr. Cab driver.  Please don’t make me sick today.  Kthanx,” I said in a Tweet.  He didn’t listen.  Instead, he drove at breakneck speed through the barriers of time & space.  Somehow I managed to coerce him into dropping me off a block shy of the hotel, rather than sit in traffic and sneak up on the hotel a foot at the time (note: cabs DO NOT charge by the foot). 

1:47 pm: I am at the hotel!  YAY!  Here’s a few images from the 24th floor.  The ironic placement of McGraw Hill does not escape ME (though that is not entirely due to the publishing aspect, but because of sister Ali, who was convinced that Faith Hill & Tim McGraw had formed a business).

McGraw Hill

McGraw Hill Back for more later...So, an eventful end to the day. Here goes:2:24 pm: I wrote the words, "Back for more later..." and proceeded to flop on the bed & watch some of the Braves/Sox game. Completely useless info, but it made ME happy, so pfffbbbbbtttt!4:00 pm (or thereabouts): I make my way out onto 40th street, head over to 9th and walk the 5 blocks to 45th street to find The Tank, where I will be, as I've mentioned, the next two nights. I took this picture:The Tank

While I took this picture, I heard a tumble and groan to the left.  I turned and discovered that an elderly man–whose name I would discover was Billy–had lost his balance and fallen on the sidewalk.  I ran over to help him up, and with the assistance of another gentleman and one of Billy’s neighbors, helped escort him up the street to the entrance to his apartment.  He seemed to want to fall backward with every step, so it was quite the chore to get him there without him falling again.  So, there you go.  Welcome to The Tank.
 
 
 
 
 
 
4:50 pm: After wandering through Times Square, where I witnessed the most butts in the air ever at a Yoga gathering celebrating the Summer Solstice, I headed on a pizza hunt.  I wound up at Monetti’s Pizza, and partook.  While sitting there, enjoying MY pizza, a young couple (youngish?) passed by in order to pay for their grub.  This is the part of the conversation I heard.
Young Lady: “Am I overbearing?”
Young Man: (after a careful pause) “Well, yeah, sometimes.”
Young Lady: (takes this in with a nod) “Well, you know, I really think we need to get moving with things.”
Young Man: “What?”
Young Lady: “I mean, marriage.  You really need to propose to me.  We need to get married already.”
At this point, the guy looked over MY way, lowered his head (and his voice) and said something to the effect of: “We really don’t need to be talking about this here.”
Conversation WIN!  Pizza & Entertainment!  Well done Monetti’s!
 
5:00 pm:  I had the world’s biggest Caramel Mocha Frappuccio. 
It kills!

It kills!

It’s as big as the city!  And delicious!!! WOOOOOO!
5:30 to 6:45 pm: I wander through Central Park, where I see a whole many bunches of weird people, some bubble blowers, a photo shoot of a young girl that was beyond awkwardly dangerous and was just ultimately bizzarre, and accidentally ate an Oreo Ice Cream Bar. 
I have discovered, also, that though the majority of the pizzaria’s are five or more blocks from here, I will not be short of porn, should the need arise.  Apparently, there is an urgent need for porn and adult novelties on 40th street.  Should you ever be in NYC, and succumb to lonliness.  Or something.
Ok.  8:09 pm: I’m done with MY blog for the day.  Either Union Square and Battery Park tomorrow before the event, or Grand Central Station and the Public Library (I WANT TO SEE A GHOST DAMMIT!).  Either way, I’ll have more for you.

In absentia

I’ve been away.  Maybe you’ve noticed.  Maybe you haven’t.  Maybe you cared.  Maybe you didn’t.  Maybe I know that I should have written something on here since MY last blog, but then again, maybe I don’t.  Maybe I haven’t had anything to say.

Maybe I should stop this maybe train of retardation and write something worth reading.

Ok.  Right.

I’ll be in NYC for events on June 22nd and 23rd.  I’ll post the event details here and on MY Anointed Facebook Fan Page in the next day or so.  I’d be more specific, but I’m a bit smidgy right now, and I’m not even sure what that means.  Once I figure that out, then I can move on to the details of MY events.  I know they are both at the Tank, in the Theater District, off 45th street, and that they are pretty cool pairings.  I also know that I’m geeked about getting back to New York, and that I’ll be there on MY birthday, which may not really enhance the moment, but is still cool all the same.

I’ve been working steadily on both the follow up to Anointed (working title of Angelic Malcontents), and also the first book in a young adult fantasy series, the title of which is The Storyteller, though I’ve yet to subtitle it.  There will be 5 books in that series, each with The Storyteller title, followed by a book-specific subtitle.  I’m very happy with the progress on it (I scrapped 50ish pages and have rewritten almost all of them, now), and I look forward to blitzing through to the end, and then finding a home for it.  Which I will.  I think it’s an appealing story, to be honest.  At some point, I’ll post some more info on it, but well…truly, right now I’m blitzed.  Or smidgy.  One of them.  I’m something that isn’t totally coherent.  I’ve been helping MY good friend, Jim Mundy, this week at a chess camp he puts on each year.  20+ kids, 5 days, 6-7 hours a day.  Exhausting, and I didn’t even do the bulk of the work.  Been hard, squeezing in writing on a tenth of the brain power.

Oh, and if you happen to be interested in the timeline of Anointed, we reach an important date on Tuesday, June 9th.  That would be the day, within the world of the book, in which Billy Christ anoints Timothy Webb as his successor.  Despite the fact that it hasn’t developed the way I had hoped, or planned, I will still be following through with the Twitter switch over.  Billy will announce his retirement on Monday, spend the day reflecting on that, and then Timmy Christ will come in a few days later.  He’ll assume control of Billy’s twitter account, and I’ll be working to gain him a true following.  I plan on using his account more than I did for Billy–though in fairness to Billy, he has never truly embraced the technology at his disposal–and also hopping back on the TCC website and revisiting the blog, with Timmy in control.  Then we’ll all go for a six-week ride, as Timothy’s story unfolds.  I think, of all the things I have looked forward to with this project, these next six weeks may be at the top of the list.  Now, more than ever, the time to ruffle feathers has come.  I shall let (Timmy) Christ lead the way.

So, make sure to check in.  I’ll be tying all the sites and tools together in order to innundate everyone with what I’m doing.

But now I’m a bit smidgy and blitzed.  I shall sleep.

Here’s a video to entertain you, and make sure that this visit wasn’t entirely in vain.  Go.  Watch it.  Enjoy.  You’ll love it.

Letting Facebook Do the Work For ME

Quote of the day is from a CNN article about the growing concerns of the growth of Twitter: “I keep getting the fail whale.  Twitter got too popular too quickly.  I blame Shaq.”

The Fail Whale

The Fail Whale

A few bits today before moving on:

  • Terribly sad, sad news from Miley Cyrus.  I just don’t know if I’ll be able to go on. 
  • If you smoke, you should quit.  If you don’t care that I care, then at least think of your wallet.
  • I’m very disappointed that math was never quite like this.
  • What? Twilight isn’t real?  GTF out of here already!  I want vampires dammit!
  • The Pope has decided, for some reason, to offer his Holy insights on condoms.  Really?  Condoms don’t prevent disease, they make it easier to transmit them?  Is this a South Park episode?
  • A Republican hottie?  No way!  Thank you Mehan McCain!  There is hope for the future, and it has washboard abs!

Ok, enough for now.  I like links by the way.  You get many more.  Just not today.  Let’s talk about ME again.

In the ongoing effort to initiate you all into the finer nuances of ME, I have decided that further information is required into who, exactly, I am.  You should be thrilled now.  I’ll wait a sec for the effect to take root.  (Insert Jeopardy tune here)  There now?  Excellent.  Given that it would take some time to get together a list of oddities regarding ME, I decided to let Facebook do it on MY behalf.  So, from the meme of “25 Things About ME”, I offer you this look into MY life thus far.  Where necessary (by “necessary”, I mean to say, “Where I so chose to do as I wished”) I have made alterations or additions to the original.

1. If I could sit at a computer all day and simply communicate by the written word, I would do so, which would ensure that you all continue to find ME “funny and uplifting”. Or something like that. Talking…er…not always so much.

2. I have a dog, Curbie (or Poohsie Poo, as Alice calls him), 2 cats (Maggie the Hungry Bitch and Ray the Mildly Retarded), a rat (named One), and two bunnies (Nyven the Sweet and Cadbury “TARROC” the Bunny).  I am fond of them all, but find that having a 65 lb dog sleep on MY legs at night makes it difficult to move.  I deal with it.

3. Until very recently, I had no idea that women (generally speaking) actually found ME attractive.  I’m still not sold on this idea.  I avoid mirrors as if I were a vampire.  Which I might yet be.

4. I’m much better at being Timmy Christ than Billy Christ. Could be a function of self or of desire.  But Billy’s way more funnerer.

5. When I was, like, 8, I stole money from MY mom’s purse at home to go buy a big Chewbacca figure. No joke. Very sad. Unfortunately, MY mom happened to be in the store at that time and walked up behind ME while I was in line to pay for it. Um…not good.  Hearing, “So, whatcha got there son?” still haunts ME to this day.

6. I don’t believe that I am that good of a person. I don’t know why I feel that way. Maybe because I live in my head and know what’s there. You’d probably feel the same.

7. I don’t enjoy being poor. I refuse to be that way much longer.

8. I smoked for a week when I was 12. I got tired of rushing home to brush MY teeth before mom got home and quit. Way too much work.  I’m not that motivated.

9. After failing to cut the lawn (as ordered) at 15, I told my dad–from the lay sanctity of the sofa–“Do you ever notice how work gets in the way of having fun?” Genius.  I decided that day to be a writer.  Nothing could help ME realize MY dream more.

10. I went to a Debbie Gibson concert. Yes, I know. Just know that I am still not embarrassed by those 4th row seats.  And then I balanced that out later that year by going to see Motley Crue. Oddly, the canceling out effect did not take place. I somehow still remember the DG concert, depite MY best efforts. Total Recall? Memory wash?

11. Do not read MY work in my presence. I will hover. I’m terrified you won’t like it.  Additionally, do not read over MY shoulder while I type.  I don’t like the stalker feeling you leave ME with.

12. I miss MY cat Rocky. He was the best. I blame she-must-not-be-named to this day.

13. I came very close, in ’94 or so, to just getting in MY truck and driving off. Don’t know where I was going, but I just wanted to disappear. I had everything I needed packed, cash in MY pocket, and all the desire in the world. I stayed because of family.

14. I refrain from drinking to excess because I have seen firsthand what it can do to a person. I am sad when I see it happening to people I care about. And I won’t say anything to you because it’s your damn life you’re ruining.  I’ve got MY own problems you probably don’t have time to work on either.

15. I wonder at times if I am, in fact, Truman. I’d like to speak to the producer please.  Still one of MY favorite movies, in case you were wondering.

16. Cheese should not just be a food group, it should be a spiritual icon of hope.

17. If I had it to do all over again, I probably wouldn’t. MY littany of stupid decisions and faulty awareness have made ME who I am. I’m fine with that.  You should be too.

18. I am not hopelessly addicted to fantasy baseball as some may believe, though I will never cease to enjoy the banter between Billy Christ and Kim Jong Ilstein.  To the fray I feel I can now add the one we call, “Shank”.

19. I don’t make friends–REAL friends mind you–often at all. But if you are my friend, well, suck for you right? I mean, really, you want to be MY friend? Haven’t I scared you away yet?

20. I used to believe that writing a memoir would be pointless. But, over the years, as I continue to do stupid things that produce rediculously hard trials, I realize that even I am entertained. God, I’m an idiot.  Be prepared to laugh at MY expense.  I will leave you countless opportunities.

21. I am not atheist. I am not agnostic.  I am also not Mormon, thank you, 8lb 6 oz Baby Jesus.  I believe in God, and I believe in spirit.  And I believe that I will talk your ear off about it.  But I am not religious.  I don’t believe in organized “anything”.  I believe only an individual knows what is in their heart.  Don’t try to tell ME what’s in MINE.

22. I am a reality tv junkie. I totally dig watching people make asses of themselves.  I still dream of being on Survivor.  I would likely be the first contestant to vote others off Agatha Christie style.  DIE STUPID PERSON!  DIE!

23. When I was 12, I wanted to be a professional bowler. Kids laughed at me so I wrote horrible stories about them. I decided being a writer was way cooler. And therapuetic.  For the record, I did bowl in tournaments when I was 20 or so, averaged about 200, and topped out at a 299 for a high game.

24. As MY publisher can attest, I loathe the rules of grammar. I think they should destroyed as soon as possible. And, I, don’t, get, commas, or…elipses. 

25. I want you to succeed more than ME. Even more than that, I want to help you do it.  Just don’t let your pride get in the way.  You’ll regret it.

Funny thing is, I don’t do these memes often, but I like this one.  I’ll probably do it again at some point when I don’t feel it will bore ME to no end.  Feel free to opine.  I know I do.