(no subject)
i got my first rejection letter, which means i am like a real writer or something.
it said this:
Dear Kristen-
thank you for letting us read your story. After careful consideration, we've decided we won't be able to use it in THE FIRST LINE.
then a hand writen note said "nice story, kristen, comical and a little odd. keep writing."
dude...a little odd is my m.o. as they would say on law and order s.v.u. when describing a serial rapist. so i guess i am doing something right.
in other news...i owe sbc yahoo way too much money, i owe verizon wireless a lot too, but not as much as i owe sbc. i need a job or something that sort of resembles a job. i think i have given up on becoming a productive member of society and am considering growing out my hair, losing some excess weight and becoming a stripper. i would have to wax my asshole...which i think would be hard. i also think you must be 21 which is something i am not, and also something that continualy (i am aware i spelled that wrong, and totally don't care) holds me back in my life.
i have this story i really like, and essentially it is about giving up on life and becoming completley hopeless, and i sort of want to do that, you know, give up on life and not get out of bed. because most of the time it just seems i fuck up more things every day, and that not getting out of bed would just prevent my life from getting any worse. and i would stay in bed and write that story about not getting out of bed until i finished it, and upon finishing it, i would give up food and water like that old lady they did a whole series about in the oregonian over the summer. the story isn't about me, it isn't self serving naval gazing, you know, that isn't why i want to write it, i was just writing it, and was like "me too" i don't know. i think it has potential.
so i drank really strong bad coffee tonight, the kind that gives me a stomach ache. i made it that way for a reason, because i wanted that stomach ache. i was telling someone today how really bad coffee is one of the last things that makes me feel real. and i haven't been feeling real as of late, not like real as in the j-lo version, but i just don't feel grounded, i just feel like really i am wasting time in everything i do, and none of it matters anymore. that kind of real. i feel like an extra in life a lot, and drinking really bad coffee, for some reason, makes me feel like i am at least in a supporting role, if not the main character.
i really don't know what i am saying. i know i like bad coffee, i know i like it black, i know i just read some really shitty stories that i have to give encouraging comments to, i know that right now i feel like i am living in some really exterior place and that life and i are not meeting on that common ground, other than that i am lost, because well, life is the only context of understanding anything, and if you can't get that then you are fucked. i am getting close to that point where everyone i know becomes a figmant, and everything i do becomes a construction in my brain, and i stop acting appropriatley because i dont think it matters.
i am spending thanksgiving alone eating dominos and drinking pbr and throwing crushed beer cans at the television, and i am not saying this so anyone feels sorry for me and invites me over to their house for thanksgiving, i am saying this, because this is what i wish i could do every day.
it said this:
Dear Kristen-
thank you for letting us read your story. After careful consideration, we've decided we won't be able to use it in THE FIRST LINE.
then a hand writen note said "nice story, kristen, comical and a little odd. keep writing."
dude...a little odd is my m.o. as they would say on law and order s.v.u. when describing a serial rapist. so i guess i am doing something right.
in other news...i owe sbc yahoo way too much money, i owe verizon wireless a lot too, but not as much as i owe sbc. i need a job or something that sort of resembles a job. i think i have given up on becoming a productive member of society and am considering growing out my hair, losing some excess weight and becoming a stripper. i would have to wax my asshole...which i think would be hard. i also think you must be 21 which is something i am not, and also something that continualy (i am aware i spelled that wrong, and totally don't care) holds me back in my life.
i have this story i really like, and essentially it is about giving up on life and becoming completley hopeless, and i sort of want to do that, you know, give up on life and not get out of bed. because most of the time it just seems i fuck up more things every day, and that not getting out of bed would just prevent my life from getting any worse. and i would stay in bed and write that story about not getting out of bed until i finished it, and upon finishing it, i would give up food and water like that old lady they did a whole series about in the oregonian over the summer. the story isn't about me, it isn't self serving naval gazing, you know, that isn't why i want to write it, i was just writing it, and was like "me too" i don't know. i think it has potential.
so i drank really strong bad coffee tonight, the kind that gives me a stomach ache. i made it that way for a reason, because i wanted that stomach ache. i was telling someone today how really bad coffee is one of the last things that makes me feel real. and i haven't been feeling real as of late, not like real as in the j-lo version, but i just don't feel grounded, i just feel like really i am wasting time in everything i do, and none of it matters anymore. that kind of real. i feel like an extra in life a lot, and drinking really bad coffee, for some reason, makes me feel like i am at least in a supporting role, if not the main character.
i really don't know what i am saying. i know i like bad coffee, i know i like it black, i know i just read some really shitty stories that i have to give encouraging comments to, i know that right now i feel like i am living in some really exterior place and that life and i are not meeting on that common ground, other than that i am lost, because well, life is the only context of understanding anything, and if you can't get that then you are fucked. i am getting close to that point where everyone i know becomes a figmant, and everything i do becomes a construction in my brain, and i stop acting appropriatley because i dont think it matters.
i am spending thanksgiving alone eating dominos and drinking pbr and throwing crushed beer cans at the television, and i am not saying this so anyone feels sorry for me and invites me over to their house for thanksgiving, i am saying this, because this is what i wish i could do every day.