So says my good friends at PerfSpot.com. This is quite the compliment. And I would know, I looked it up. For those not in awares, this fine website you're currently perusing was recently featured on their site. Apparently, the mixture of randomness, misogyny, and references to alcoholism is just what the doctor ordered. Can you blame them? I'm the shit! But seriously, your boy is taking off. Big time. This opportunity has re-energized me. I would love to get paid for something I already do for free. Now if only I could find a way to be rewarded for masturbating, watching television and sampling assorted spirits.
Various collaborations are in the works with PerfSpot for the future. You can look forward to artist features, interviews, assorted articles and more shit jockin' the fantastical nature of my genius here on Can I Live?, all involving yours truly. You really should check it out. (As of the date of this writing, you can find my feature a couple pages down the music outlet section.) Plus, you can expect the same level of drunken ridiculousness you get from me on this site. I made it a point to put it in my contract.
Quick side note: I wish people could see how long it takes me to type these posts. I'm almost always too drunk to type, let alone put cohesive thoughts together. It takes me forever. Take tonight for instance. The time stamp you all see on the site is from the moment I open a new post. In actuality, it's probably gonna take me more than a half hour to get through all this. That's because I 1) can't type worth shit, 2) need to constantly backtrack to fix mistakes, 3) don't have the mental fortitude to follow what I'm writing about, and 4) must go back and reread what I've just written on an alarmingly regular basis just so I can put a consistent thought together. It's a real pain in the ass.
Anyway, please don't let that deter you. Charles Bukowski, as it turns out, is someone I should probably consider an influence and hero. His shit is hilarious and amazing. If my writing could be even a fraction as poignant as his I'd be more than satisfied. I'm considering taking a series of dead-end jobs, making it a point to sleep with loose and immoral women, drinking (more) profusely, and sending a bunch of treatments to just one publisher out of spite. Hey, if it worked for him, why can't it do the same for me?
*** Up next: Top Five Hangovers. This will hopefully be a good one. Look for it sometime mid-week.
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2 comments:
Good to see that you are alive . . .the last time we hung out you were passing out in your beer at 7:30pm on a Thursday. . . .clearly you have had better showings.
Is that what happened? All I remember is being accosted by plain-clothes police officers for trying to squeeze past the turnstile without paying. Good times.
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