A wise man once told me to capture the dream. At first I was inspired, ready to take on life in the metaphorical octagon. Ready to become the next President of Def Jam records, or have my own wildlife show on Animal Planet. Ready to pecker check a TMZ reporter, and call him bozo. Ready to make my mark on society. You know? Then, I realized I was in a Navajo gift shop purchasing a dream catcher, and that all seemed silly.
So, I'm elbow deep into writing this book. Also, I will never use elbow deep to describe anything ever again. I'm sorry (lie). It's abundantly clear that I have no idea what I'm doing. I literally wrote an entire chapter about how terrible of a writer I am. Only I could manage to discredit my own writing in my own book. They didn't call me captain sabotage in college for nothing. Okay, nobody ever called me that, but you get my point. I can honestly tell you that writing a book is ridiculously hard. The writing is probably the easiest part. It's getting the motivation after drinking seventeen crown and cokes and eating not one but two plates of homemade nachos that makes it tough.
What's taking me so long you ask? First off, shut your mouth. Secondly, I can't write the next great American classic overnight. Though my work ethic is undoubtedly in question, I'm still a writer...of the highest caliber. What was that? How am I a writer? HOW AM I A WRITER?! Um, did you not read Barstool magazine circa 2006? Yeah, that was me. I've been jizzing out quality literature for years now. Hell, I even bought a tweed jacket with elbow patches. I'm the epitome of a writer. Sure, I lost my way a bit when I tried to dabble in witch porn, but that never stopped me. I'm what the French call "resilient." So my publicist threatened to sever my penis with a hole puncher if I didn't turn in a manuscript soon. And? You think that's the first time my penis' safety has been in question? Hardly. Actually, my penis is on the most wanted list in Uruguay, but we won't get into that.
I love how people think writing is easy. I guess I don't blame them; they'll give a book deal to just about anyone. This includes an out of shape 30 year old that likes bird jokes. In all seriousness, my book is going to be the manifesto of a culture, the script of a generation dying for someone to step up and be their voice. Sure, one chapter is comprised of only emoticons, and the prologue is pretty much a love letter to the band, O-Town, but that's neither here nor there. Just read the fucking thing when it comes out. Deal? Now, go back to gratuitously "liking" Facebook statuses.
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