before i left portland, i created a little store to sell my little books. the only thing up there is ‘GRITT CALHOON AND THE MIDNIGHT ASSAULT’, which is a story i wrote when i first moved to california, and later heavily edited and added to when i had $12 to my name. i created a professional-looking [???] eBook and sold about forty copies to forty (probably regretful) people with weird taste. i have two more fully completed books that i just haven’t put up because i’m exhausted and catastrophically sad. i will, hand on MOBY-DICK, put them up soon . . . probably thanksgiving weekend. and for god’s sake i need to finish the audiobook for ‘midnight assault’. i destroyed my voice doing the first half because i’m juggling like four different characters’ gravelly voices. yeah.
i came to oakland years ago to publish stupid books that nobody else would ever touch. i ended up not doing that at all and i don’t really know why. i guess i was broke and broken, and so on.
and now, because the world is ending, and because i’m rapidly ending inside of it, i’m going to go balls-to-space with this thing. you could use math to prove that i am an abject failure and a lifelong loser, and you don’t need no crystal ball to tell you that for me at least, IT ENDS BADLY. there’s no way around it: i’m doomed and destined for the skeleton pit any day now. but before i go i have to pump out as much of this stuff, whatever it is, as humanly possible.
it makes me so sick how bad everything is. god: i got this moviepass thing, and i’ve been watching basically everything because, as mccune says, “sometimes you’ve got to know who the enemy is.” this puerile trash, man. this weird filthy propaganda. i don’t wanna make nothing like that. i’m gonna try very hard not to.
you’ll get some stuff out of me before i head down to antarctica to die in a snowstorm. i’m not going to pretend like that means anything, but i said it anyway. uh-huh