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Okay, I actually feel kinda bad about fucking off work tonight but oh wells. Breasts is a nineties woman and she's more than capable of doing things!
Instead I took the opportunity to get shit faced with The Great Hawaiian Hope and Mr. Mutual. Mr. Mutual just sold and I don't know if it was modesty or what, but he didn't seem very excited about publishing. Then again, he decided to teach and that's gotta fucking suck. I tutored for a millisecond at KCC and it nearly fucking killed me. I can't imagine having to actually teach. Ugh... Remedial English as well. Talk about signing your life away.
It was interesting to find out what local companies do to your book after you sell it. I think Goddess is right. I should concentrate on finding an agent instead and going national. You get the strange feeling that the locals aren't quite all there.
Then again, I should concentrate on finishing the book. In fact, last night, I composed one sentence. Yes, I'm definitely on my way to fame and fortune. At this rate, instead of the end of summer, I'll have the book finished by the year 2010. Fab.
Actually, I don't want fame and fortune. Just fortune. Overpublished constantly asks me how come I don't do readings. Cause it's embarassing? Cause I'll fucking puke all over the mike? Ohmygod, that's the worst fucking part about publishing with Them. They cart your ass to every fucking bookstore on the island and you gotta do readings. I'd rather eat a copy of Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus.
I also got to have a long ass talk with The Great Hawaiian Hope. He's a real fucking cool guy. Especially when drunk, he's alternately hilarious and philosophical. I think it's the weed. Real humble too. All things considered, out of all of us, he's the one with the most award potential. I actually learned a lot talking to him tonight.
In a way, by the time I got home, I was kinda depressed. The Great Hawaiian Hope said something like we're all basically waiting already. It's all a matter of time for us already. I don't know. Sometimes I get the feeling that I'm having too much fun writing. I should concentrate on doing stuff that's a little more serious and less commercial and mainstream. I don't know. But yeah, I guess it's real interesting right now. We're all getting to the point where we're either gonna publish young or end up signing that death sentence and end up teaching for the rest of our lives.
Kinda depressing cause I seriously wasted a lot of fucking time. I should've finished at least one book and at least attempted to get it out there.
But on the other hand, I also did a lot of other shit too and that was kinda worth it.
Die with as few regrets and as many DVDs as humanly possible.
I feel much better now though. Just came back from the gym and lifting heavy objects always cheers me up. Made a new max on pullovers. That was funny. I kept grabbing a heavier dumbbell until finally I'm all like, wow, I can't believe I did that! If there wasn't people in the gym with me, I would have done a little dance, especially cause they were actually playing this song by Arcadia that I haven't heard in a long ass time.
Oceanic music kicks ass. One night I actually asked the front desk guy where the music is getting pumped from and he said Oceanic. They're pretty fucking good. I wish my car got Oceanic. Hmm... Maybe I can hook a Gerald box in my trunk...
But anyway, I don't know... I think I'm feeling neurotic. No shit. Talking about writing, especially fiction, really embarasses me. Honestly I have no theories or ambitions, etc. A story is a story is a story and that's basically that.
I really should go and watch a DVD already.
Went to keep Crabby Boba company again last night. I almost fucking won that game of Scrabble. Only because I didn't notice that I could have spelled "up." That stinks.
Ball And Chain nearly gave me a fucking coronary. Off the top of her head, she goes to Crabby Boba, "Let's all go to Maui for dinner for your birthday. We don't have to stay overnight. Hmm... Actually if we're going, we may as well stay over night. I wonder if I can get Friday off?"
I just stared at her across the Scrabble board and it took all the self control I had not to throw the wooden letter holder thing at her. Where the living fuck am I-- no-- is SHE gonna find the money to do something like this? I swear, I really want to know what kinda batteries her brain is fucking running on.
And she knows I don't care for traveling unless it's planned way in advance. I can't just fucking pick up and go. I don't fucking want to just pick up and go. What the fuck is wrong with just parking your fucking ass? I really don't understand this constant need to be DOING something. Of course, that something has to be something that SHE thought of.
Regardless, I'm sure she came to her fucking senses today cause there will be some serious words if I get to her house tomorrow and she comes out with a fucking suitcase and plane tickets.
So Gramma comes up to me today and goes, "Aaron. Me, Margaret, and Lillian went to Kahala Mall and Lillian wanted to go see show so she wanted to go see 5 star Academy Award movie Life Is Beautiful. So we go in the movie and the movie start and HO, it's not in English!"
"Wasn't there subtitles?"
"Yeah but by the time you read the thing and look up, the picture's all different. So we ask the girl at the counter, is this the right movie? And it was so we got our money back and left. Ho da junk!"
"Gee, Gramma, next time you see a movie, ask me first."
I guess Gramma has something against the Italians.
Spunker
Aaron's Movie Reviews 2
