It’s hard to be weird on the internet. There are guys eating shit,
people on fire, women cutting off guy’s cocks.
That picture up there is where Jeffery Dahlmer killed and ate human biengs. The guy with the visor is Andy Andrist. He just came out with a new CD of his comedy material. Andy is the funniest guy I know. I’m the tall geeky guy in the back wearing my hat sideways like some fourteen year old.
People have begun finding what I write and dropping me emails telling me that it is “disturbing”. I get comments like:
“Why did you do that?”
Or even better:
“How could you do such a thing?”
“I didn’t do that,” is the easy answer.
I’m a writer. What you are perceiving
takes place in your own head when you read the words.
But I love that the readers get really, really disturbed and think that I’m actually doing these things. It’s a statement to the blog mentality. Everyone seems to be living vicariously through other people.
I like fiction.
Mostly my life is so weird that it lives like fiction. But, in writing I occasionally take liberties. I’m a writer. Remember? It’s sort of like eating some butterscotch pudding at a friend’s house and then having your friend tell you: “Hey. I put ground glass into your dessert. Your intestines are gonn’a shred in about twenty minutes and you’ll die a horrible death. It’s going to hurt you real bad,” and it’s the truth.
I’m a writer.
I’ve written about a lunatic killing an entire family and all their guests at a party. A piece which I’ve just reworked and posted. I originally wrote it years ago, the piece is called ‘Safari Night’
Some of what I write disturbs me. Do I stop writing it? I haven’t so far. That’s what I do. I’m a writer. I also like decaf coffee and befriending stray animals.
I am not interested in being, as one of my readers put it, a
chronicler of the mundane. If my writing doesn’t move you, then I
haven’t done my job. I’m b-o-r-i-n-g. I’m fucked.
Toot Toot !
Did I use a bad word?
I get that a lot also. The fat landed housewives snug with their dickless, wonder white bread husbands too afraid to say cunt, nigger, cocksucker, spic or motherfucker.
Remember, these are words. The action takes place in your
imagination. If the words upset you? Hey, congratulations! You’ve
found your very own imagination and you’re using it to be upset at me.
Do I ‘rilly exist? Who is Father Luke?
I dunn’o. Do you?
Have you ever met me?
If you can’t see, taste, touch, hear, smell or…
...what am I leaving out?
Sounds like the internet, doesn’t it?
Welcome to my playground. I hope that my words will move you.
hope that my words will move you.