starving writers

"you want the good life. you break your back. you snap your fingers; you snap your neck."
-prong

This Halloween, I dressed as a starving writer*. If I had it to do again, I'd have picked up the bass at a young age and been a starving musician. Every band's looking for a bassist and you never even have to be all that good. But you still get groupies and free beer from the bar. Even a starving artist probably gets free cheese and wine at those gallery openings, not to mention all the nude models.

But what does a starving writer get? Caffeine shakes and carpal tunnel. Isolation and self loathing. Disappointment and more disappointment.

I have this brand spanky new lap top that has this fun gadget, essentially a Post It pad on my desktop. I guess it's for notes, but all I have written on it is a question I ask myself every day: Where's your heart, fighter? As long as I can still answer that question, I know I'm not done yet.


*Actually, for halloween this year, I dressed as a swimmer getting eaten by a shark. I sewed a stuffed great white to my beater, spread some fake blood on the shirt, then bought some swimmies for my arms which cut off the circulation to my fingers. the problem with Halloween is that it is often cold, at least wherever I've lived, and so your kickass costume is usually covered by a parka. but, i was able to wear swimming trunks and a Hawaiian shirt because I was at a party with a bonfire, so i was plenty warm, but the plastic swimmies did feel like they were melting and the temptation was too great for me not to throw my stuffed shark into the fire.