I often write blog posts when I am procrastinating. It's not like I sit down here with the intention of doing it, but it happens.
In a way, they act as a good primer to me actually sitting down and working on a novel or a short story. It's also good insurance, because if I talk about it here, then I kind of have to get it done; otherwise, I look like a jackass.
Maybe I do anyways, I don't know. I am sure there are some out there who think that.
*Thumbs nose at those people*
As a primer, though, it is like taking a shit before going to eat an expensive restaurant.
I will let you use your imagination on that one. Otherwise, I would probably be forced to fire myself as the blogger and replace myself with 40 Specially Trained Ecuadorian Mountain Llamas.
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Wednesday, December 30, 2015
Monday, December 14, 2015
Booking Marketing...Or Lack Thereof
Shortly after Scott Weiland died, I started writing a blog post about Stone Temple Pilots being my first concert, but the point seems moot now, so it will probably never see the light of day.
Today I am writing in honor of nothing but own shameless self promotion, because that is the name of the game.
You have to really whore yourself out to get any hype.
Luckily, I am not above that. I like skiing in those waters; although, I confess, I try not to let myself get submerged for very long. Otherwise, I might black out and wake up forty years from now, and find myself some sad old guy in a tux hitting on college girls I never had a change with when I was that age, either.
No, I can't let that happen.
Instead, I will make up for my lack of ability by calling it art and pretending it's sacred. My hope is that some day I will start to believe my own bullshit and get trapping in my own fantasy-delusion once and for all.
Oh Hell, who am I kidding? I have been submerged in those brown waters my whole life. Maybe that actually does make it art. If I am delusional, at least I am honest.
Today I am writing in honor of nothing but own shameless self promotion, because that is the name of the game.
You have to really whore yourself out to get any hype.
Luckily, I am not above that. I like skiing in those waters; although, I confess, I try not to let myself get submerged for very long. Otherwise, I might black out and wake up forty years from now, and find myself some sad old guy in a tux hitting on college girls I never had a change with when I was that age, either.
No, I can't let that happen.
Instead, I will make up for my lack of ability by calling it art and pretending it's sacred. My hope is that some day I will start to believe my own bullshit and get trapping in my own fantasy-delusion once and for all.
Oh Hell, who am I kidding? I have been submerged in those brown waters my whole life. Maybe that actually does make it art. If I am delusional, at least I am honest.