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I was in a thoroughly pissy mood but I just came back from the gym and had a super cool workout: abs and arms. Nothing cheers me up like doing arms. Granted, I should be working on shoulders, legs, or chest, but fuckit.
Nothing puts me in pissier moods than putting a bunch of English majors together for a Shindig. By the time I left, I was in such a bad mood, I didn't even feel like seeing a movie; American Beauty at that, and I really really wanted to see that. The only reason I volunteered for the Shindig was to get outta class, and of course, The Hairy Editor acts like he's fucking paying me. My fault, entirely, yes. I should've just went to class. (On top of that, somehow, I ended up being his partner for the mid-term project. Just shoot me. I can see irritating email clogging my box for the next two months. Fab. Granted, it was a really nice gesture on the Great Hawaiian Hope's part: he decided to work with someone else cause he didn't want me to be left out. Granted, HE probably didn't want to work with the Hairy Editor...)
Anyway, me and Bright Eyed And Eager Freshmen Chippie™ went to pick up coffee. (I won't elaborate but trust me, it isn't as easy as it sounds. One word: Kalihi.) Then, try and watch a bunch of English majors try and figure out how to work the damn thing. I kept telling them how and they kept telling that "No, this shouldn't be on," and it kept going back and forth and finally I told the Hairy Editor, "Why didn't you recruit some folks from the Engineering Department," and I lit a cigarette and walked away. Granted, I did it with a smile. But it takes two PhD's to make a fricken pot of coffee?!
Oh, but the one that totally fucking made me leave early and go see Ball And Chain instead (you know it's bad when I'd rather do THAT): Director Woman walks up to me and politely asks if I could do her a favor. No prob. "Could you obtain herbal tea for Nobody Writer?"
My jaw just fricking dropped. "Are you kidding?"
And the Hairy Editor's goes, "That's why you're here Aaron. You're supposed to help."
And right in front of the director, I went, "Fuck you, Hairy Editor."
The Great Hawaiian Hope came with me to obtain herbal mint tea. Even he agrees with me. He goes, "Who she think she is? Rock star?" I told him, if I ever somehow get fandangled into doing a reading, I'm making a fucking huge ass list of requests: suite at the Colony Surf, limo, a bottle of scotch (preferably single malt) to wet my throat doing the reading, and when I'm announced, I want to be carried in on a fucking chair. But that won't happen in a million years cause:
I mean, FUCK! Who the hell does Nobody Writer think she is? Axl Rose? Herbal tea. Gawd, gimme a break and half.
And you just fucking know the Hairy Editor would have been totally bitching his ass off if HE was the one that had to go hunting all over campus for herbal tea.
I really had to get that one out.
But there's more. If you wanna skip just-plain snotty bitching, keep scrolling cause I'M NOT FUCKING DONE YET GODDAMNIT!!!
Then I run into Cucumber Poetess and it goes smoothly and I get a miniscule chance at a job I might enjoy, but then I go and pull a 20% shot in the foot. You see, after we spoke, I stopped her later on to tell her that I thought this poem I heard her read way back was cool. Then I thought, oh shit, I hope she's not thinking I'm just kissing her ass to get the job. That was something I should've brought up the first time we talked, instead of after. And the bloody irony is, I NEVER give compliments unless I absolutely mean them. I mean, I never gave the Hairy Editor a single compliment about his writing. Ooh, that was low...
Then I give myself another wide open shot in the foot and allow Treacherous Male Professor to snub me. Fuck, I asked for that one. And I hate his guts, on top of that, but like the thing me and the extremely bored Great Hawaiian Hope agreed on, we were so bored out of our noggins that we were chit-chatting professors.
I took that as a sign to dig out early.
Hairy Editor: "But we need help cleaning up."
Me: "Sorry, gotta go." Translation: SUFFER!
New rule: I seriously should not hang around "literature" people for more than one hour. Max.
Oh yeah, forgot, Nina took me out for my birthday. Brew Moon. But you can read about it later on in Spunker. Typical. We would go to a porn shop afterwards. Why didn't I see that one coming? But yeah, go check it out sometime in the near future. It's basically blow by blow accurate. Basically.
That night, I stopped at Border's and found Sony Cell Phone's book. Wow. He's the first one of us to actually do it. Seriously though, I got absolutely no jealousy whatsoever cause that fucker seriously deserved it. I remember reading drafts in workshops and thinking, damn, this fucker's gonna sell. On the other hand, I'd be totally ripping my hair out if it was the Hairy Editor. Okay *hand over heart*, if someone actually gives the Hairy Editor a publishing contract, I will run him over with my car. (And for those in the know, I'm only 80% kidding.)
If anything, Sony Cell Phone's book makes me want to write harder. That's kinda why I haven't been updating. Since I have soo much free time, I've been kinda working on the novel. But I hate saying that out loud. It sounds so pretentious. So... You know... So... Fuck, I can't think of words and I expect to write a goddamn book? Niggah please...
Anyway, it's a shockingly good book. It's more straight-forward, not thematically complex like Great Hawaiian Hope's work, but man, it's got heart. Not many books have that, just plain heart. And it's really hard to do sincerely too. In fact, I think it's so good that I really don't think there's any need for there to be another book of its "type." I seriously hope it'll make it outta Hawaii. sigh. I wish I could tell you the book so maybe you guys'll go out and get it, but that would be compromising identity. Damn, we've gotten to that point already: my stupid journal is going to be even more fucking ambiguous. Then again, you could probably figure it out, but anyway... Oops. Just thought of something: if you do figure it out, promise, PROMISE you didn't hear anything from me. "Website? What website? Who the hell is Aaron? Never heard of him."
I'll hunt you down and run you over.
Kidding. A joke. And a really fucking tasteless one at that. Damn, I'm gonna get some mean-ass bachi for that one.
Stir Of Echoes was basically the better written version of The Sixth Sense. There's more of a review in the Home Depot article in you know where.
