• on the @sex20con google group, someone just wrote that they + their friend really want to go to my session. OMG, OMG, OMG! awesome! #sex20 #
• Bunch of cool blac kids on broadway and houston, with hair like kid ‘n play and jewelry from yo!Mtv rap days #
• just realized – he’s just not that into me. Classic signs: less calls, emails, txt, IMs. My ego is breathing into a paper bag now. #

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• One of many reasons I can’t be anorexic: my stomach growls like that MGM lion. On surround-sound stereo. #
• Did I need that 3rd plate at the Indian buffet? No. But the little birdy told me to eat it. My stomach looks like an alien will pop out. #
• I think I’ve gained 5lbs in past 3 days. My leggings feel like a lower body cast. Can’t…Breathe… #
• Yesterday, told ex-bf I felt fat. He said, “let’s join gym” instead of “aw. Have more ice cream.” Men are no fun. #
• Bomb diggety collage/graffitti bit near bowery + spring. Look on the construction wall. #
• Eating at mcdonalds. I only eat here when I feel nihilistic to the max. #
• Old black woman nxt to me took out an old crumpled mcdonalds bag from her purse. She doesn’t want to get kicked out 4 loitering. #
• She’s eating ketcup. She’s so thin and frail. And here I am, porking out on an Angus burger meal and nuggets. #
• She is pretending to eat fries from that bag. She doesn’t want people to know she’s destitute. #
• The lady sitting in front of me just left all her trash. No wonder chinatown is a dump within a dump. *seething irrationally* #
• Old black lady asked me 4my mcdonalds bag. She said she needs it 2pack her lunch. I almost burst in2 tears – my suffering is nothing vs. Her #
• wanna hear #Obama drop the N-bomb like a smack-talkin’ baller? http://tinyurl.com/ameg2k (wave to @Mollena) #

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• The river looks like the skyscrapers vomited diamonds all over it. #
• boss half-jokingly wondering if I have swine flu. I sort of coughed on him, too. Oops. #
• There is “sold it on ebay” store on 38th + Lex. Wouldn’t b surprised if 40 yr old virgin movie was inspiration #
• At Polish Consulate with sister, ready 2 hear Julia kociuban (2008 Polish piano champion) play Chopin. #
• Julia kociuban is SUBLIME! 17 yrs old and her playing makes my eyes glisten, my heart twirl, and my brain to turn to babyfood. #
• Phenomenal. Fucking … AAAH! #

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• According to American Apparel, i have size S thighs, size L hips/ass, size XS waist, size M boobs, size S shoulders. #
• How the hell am I supposed 2 find clothes when I’m so disproportionate? #
• I feel like my hips/ass is outta control in a bad way. I better give birth to fat twins or else the size L will be for naught. #
• Day 1 of Slade Roberson’s enlightening Money Shift Program (http://bitly.com/m8mpY). Step three of learning 2b responsible adult. #
• RT @curlyboop Least promising subject line for spam: Potty All Night Long #
• discussing Schindler’s List, Killing Fields of Cambodia, Rape of Nanking, and Hiroshima with co-worker. He and I are about 2burst into tears #
• Peeps in chinatown are always picking their noses. Like, really digging in. Is this a culture thing or do they just have more boogies? #
• Less than 2 weeks ’til @sex20con! Press release: http://tinyurl.com/d92h8q. I’ll be leading a session on romantic erotica’s bomb diggetyness #

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A few weeks ago, a friend and I discussed why other artists, such as dancers and painters, don’t get “boogie woogie block” or “watercolor block.” Why do writers seem to own the blockage market?

I believe it’s due to the nature of the beast. Writers are neurotic assholes.
sshole

Neuroses

Writing is the most unnatural form of art. Humans were painting and dancing and singing waaay before scroll and hieroglyphics came into existence. Kids don’t know how to write – until you teach ‘em.

Writing is the attempt to take the sublime and turn into a bunch of abstract alphabet letters. Most of all, good writing requires great characters. And this requires an ability to put yourself in other’s shoes, to question motives, to analyze them ad nauseum. Yes…a certain neuroticism.
uroticis

Asshole-ness

Writing is also the most intimate art. There is a psychological bareness in writing, a diving into and illumination and analyzation of the inner lives of the author.

People have this image of writers writhing in their own pain – not realizing that a person has to be an emotionally tough to endure such mental torture. Most people could not handle the suffering that writers go through – but writers are born assholes. They stubbornly walk through the scary corridors of their mind, just because.
because.

Me, Myself and I

Am I a neurotic assholes? Oh, no doubt. You just have to read this blog, or read my writing, to know that it’s all about me, me, me  and then me some more.

So, if you’re a kind, reasonable type of person – don’t be a writer. Be a social worker.

Insufferable SOBS and drama queen biyatches – welcome to the wonderful world of scribblin’.

• I should learn 2b sushi chef. Then I would have business write-off to eat at Nobu. #
• Sushi purists can kiss my ass: brown & multi-grain rice tastes better w/raw fattier slices of fish. #
• Not to mention, the bite texture of brown rice is so much crisper. White rice easily turns to bland mush. #
• Black teenage boy just went “oish!” (macho Japanese greeting) and gave ‘u-my-bro!’ hugs to the sushi chefs. #
• Girl on street walked by sobbing, weeping. Now I’m ready 2 cry into my red bean gelato. #
• 13 plates?! Wtf was I thinking? I can barely walk. I look like sausage in my dress. Someone needs 2 roll me home… #
• Someone is blasting Luciano Pavorotti in Little Italy. Ah, sempre dolce vita, #
• I’m humming “un di felice” from the opera La Traviata while walking under pink dogwood blossoms & midnight blue sky. Utter bliss. #
• RT @ctkingston RT @bortflancrest Can someone offer me some IT advice ? My floppy keeps popping out. I think I need more bytes on it #

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• Sorry guys, but aladdin pants, no matter how slim cut, r so wiggety wack. Esp. w/wife beater and flip flops. #
• The cute half-Asian boy working at Organic Ave today. Erf, I wish I were flirty ’cause he’s super friendly. But I just freeze. I’m lame! #
• There’s a new place in St. Marks called Seoul Station. Korean style tacos and such. #
• Under a canopy of fluffy cherry blossoms. They will wash away w/first storm. They have no one to protect them. This hurts my heart. #

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Write fast
Write clean
Write from your lizard brain
Write like you don’t give a shit
Write because it’s nothin’
Write sloppy
Write slow

Write from your neo-cortex
Write from neuroses and analysis
Write to be heard
Write because it’s everything, and you know it.

• thnx to @ctkingston, I have a new noun to use in hypothetical situation where I’m talking shit behind ur back (me, never!): knob cheese. #
• After reading p.27 of @chrisguillebeau’s latest e-manifesto, I wrote a sloppy post about how I need to copy Murakami: http://bitly.com/5ad27 #
• tips from @MizzChievouz “How to wear hot pink lips w/out looking like a douche bag” I need 2study this ASAP! http://bitly.com/NpBzv #makeup #
• Lal maas is fast becoming my fave Indian dish. I like how baby animals taste – guilt! God help me resist such barbarism! #
• Banjara restaurant has the BEST mango ice cream I’ve ever tasted. Mary, mother of god…! #
• I have lamb stuck in my teeth but no toothpick. God is punishing me 4 eating cute baby mammals. #
• Guy with typewriter in front of NYU dorm in Union Sq. He writes poetry while u wait. So bomb diggety. #

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I just finished reading Chris Guillebeau’s free e-manifesto ’279 Days to Overnight Success’. It’s filled with common sense, which is something I can’t seem to process well – too bad for me.

Then I turned to pg. 27, which has a quote from famed Japanese writer Haruki Murakami. And a lightbulb not only went off in my head…it smashed itself like a punk beer bottle on my thick-ass skull.
my thick-ass skull.

Oh, hello…I like this definition of  “A Writer’s Life”

Fo me, the wow-ee part of the pg. 27 quote:

I placed the highest priority on the sort of life that lets me focus on writing…I felt that the indispensible relationship I should build in my life was not with a specific person, but with an unspecified number of readers

– Haruki Murakami, “What I Talk About When I Talk About Running” (as quoted in Chris Guillebeau’s ’279 Days to Overnight Success’)Din
g ding ding!

…she cut off their tail with a carving knife…

I placed the highest priority on the sort of life that lets me focus on writing…

One of the strangest part of life is that we live so unconsciously. We don’t see the obvious.  Life is a book we can’t read because we hold the pages too close to our eyeballs.

I’ve always had this arrogant belief that I’m more self-aware than the average person. Which, of course, is UTTER BULLSHIT! Most of the time, I’m as blind as those Three Mice. Squeak , squeak. And guess what happened to their tails?

(Note to self: there is a world of difference between self-aware vs. self-analytical.)

Until I read the above quote, I didn’t realize just how LOW I’ve prioritized writing. Looking around my work cubicle, the realization is sobering: my priority is earning a paycheck.

I’ve unconsciously bought into the idea of keeping a “real” job, and visiting my writing when I can. The job is the wife, the writing is the mistress. No wonder I’m struggling to write – my inner and outer worlds don’t mesh.
nd outer worlds don’t mesh.

But before I bash the Cubicle Nation..

Two years ago, I arrived back in America from an expatriate assignment in Tokyo. And I promised myself, “no more corporate work. I’m gonna be a writer.”

I’ve sort of held that promise – but I’ve sort of fudged it, too.

My current day job is a long-term temp position that pays hourly. Compared to my previous position in Tokyo, it’s 3 steps down in terms of pay and responsibility.

There is a certain freedom (I can take off whenever), but that freedom comes with a price (I don’t get paid. Ouch).

But I see it as a necessary transition.

Some people, like Steve Pavlina, say, “quit your job and follow your passion.” Ugh, no offense to his hardcore fans, but he’s so fucking annoying! Hello, his wife was working a day job while he was pursuing his passion.

What happens if you don’t have a spouse who will work a soul-crushing job for years while you get your pet project off the ground?

I don’t even have a boyfriend – who is going to ensure I have a roof over my head? My mom? You? The government?
nment?

A woman should be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen

I felt that the indispensible relationship I should build in my life was not with a specific person, but with an unspecified number of readers

Maybe this is the curse of being a woman – all you see around you are other women, who sacrifice their lives for romantic partners, for L-O-V-E, for THE ONE.

I can’t be the only woman who loses herself in a man. Women, as a gender, are notorious for nesting way too soon, of ditching ‘hos for ‘bros.

How can one person possibly fulfill you? It’s impossible.

And if you’re a bottomless pit for affection and emotional validation (i.e. yours truly), then the “twooo wuv” theory is totally useless. I need and want that intense emotion 24/7.

Confession: some of my happiest moments were in my writing classes, when people gushed over my work. I felt…seen. My gender, my looks, my ability/inability to give the pussy faded to the background.

Just thinking about the full, peaceful feeling while being praised for my words – I am getting heart pangs. That’s what I want.
at I want.

What is the fundamental question?

What can I do to make writing the foundation of my life?

Maybe this blog is the first step. Keeping a writing schedule, as Chris Guillebeau suggests in his e-manifesto (have you downloaded it yet?)

Write blog posts 2-3 times a week.
Just shoot the shit.
Be as neurotic as need be.

And because this is non-fiction writing, I don’t give a shit how sloppy it is. I mean, I’m sure I’ll look back at these beginning posts in a year and think, “jesus, I sucked!”

But I’ll deal with the inner critic then.

Right now, I’ll just assume I’m spittin’ some hot ass fire.